Art Madrid'26 – Exhibition Le Corbusier, an atlas of modern landscape in Caixa Forum Madrid.

CaixaForum Madrid hosts until October 12 a special exhibition devoted to this creative, organized by the Museum of Modern Art in New York and in collaboration with the Fondation Le Corbusier in Paris. 
 
The exhibition offers a truly vital tour through Charles-Édouard Jeanneret's life with his early influences at his birthplace, in La Chaux-de-Fonds (Jura, Switzerland., 1887), and tracking of all his movements at the planet, which had a great influence on his work and his concept of architectura and urbanism. 
Jeanneret was more than an architect and furniture designer, was also a painter, writer and photographer, and, moreover, was a visionary, critic and ambitious, whose revolutionary projects were breathtaking for everyone. But what it was most fascinating in his works was the idea of questioning the status quo and ambition as a radical change in concepts, starting with the material used itself and following the organic character of the buildings. In 1920, already established in Paris, founded with poet Paul Dermée magazine of art and avant-garde culture L'Esprit nouveau, where he began signing his articles with the pseudonym Le Corbusier, not to link your real name to provocations contained in his writings. 
Its buildings are the aesthetic lines of the 50s, however, the zenith of his creations blossoms between 1920 and 1930 never would have said that some of their best ideas are from this period, but it is. The commitment reinforced concrete housing construction modular and expandable and movable plates, the vast redevelopment projects of European capitals ... The ideas of Le Corbusier soaked all their architectural conceptions and in them was always the deseeo of espetar dialogue with the landscape and the environment, and create a magnificent work which incorporate all the good that had been collecting throughout his many travels abroad. From this period are the groundbreaking proposals for redevelopment of the center of Paris or Moscow Kremlin, projects that never saw the light. 
 
The insatiable ambition of Le Corbusier not always (or rather never) coincided with the desire for change or reform who had to approve their projects. Le Corbusier was busy, tireless in attack the obsolescence of these thoughts and the obtuse and limited character who cercenaban, again and again, his view of revolution and urban transformation. Few of his extraordinary complete renovation projects were carried out, and that fruited did outside Europe. Indeed, Le Corbusier was almost bound to an intellectual exile. In his many lectures, in which he drew while setting out his ideas, to the amazement of the audience, did not hide his disappointment with the impositions of power and constant denials that he was a victim. 
Le Corbusier did not hesitate to go to South America, Africa and Asia. However always dreamed of returning to Europe. And he did, accepting projects 
lesser importance in which he could also implement some of his ideas, such as building known unités d'habitation, modular homes designed to facilitate the building and be functional, or designs in harmony with the landscape, such as the well-known chapel of Notre Dame du Haut, Ronchamp. 
 
In recent time, Le Corbusier became melancholic and nostalgic, and drastically reduced its activity, taking refuge in his painting studio at the foot of the Mediterranean, to live with what he called "my island".

 


ART MADRID’26 INTERVIEW PROGRAM. CONVERSATIONS WITH ADONAY BERMÚDEZ


The artistic practice of Chamo San (Barcelona, 1987) revolves around a poetics of attention, in which the seemingly insignificant acquires a singular reflective intensity. His works emerge from a persistent observation of everyday life, understood not as a narrative repertoire but as a field of shared experience. Within this framework, the minimal gesture becomes a form of sensitive knowledge, placing the viewer before scenes that are both recognizable and, at the same time, estranged by their temporal suspension.

The progressive shift toward a more atmospheric painting has allowed the environment to cease functioning as a mere support and become an active agent of meaning. Restrained color ranges and carefully constructed spaces generate a sense of stillness that evokes a pictorial tradition attentive to duration and waiting. The human figure—a constant presence in his work—is presented immersed in contexts that amplify its affective and existential dimension.

The silence permeating these images is not absence but condition; it constitutes a space of resonance in which the time of doing and the time of looking converge. Situated between compositional control and openness to the contingent, Chamo San’s work affirms painting as a territory where planning and accident coexist.


Bathtub. 2018. Ballpoint pen on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Many of your works show meticulous attention to the smallest gestures and seemingly trivial moments. What interests you about these micro-choreographies of everyday life?

The seed of my work always comes from the sketches I make from life in small notebooks that I can carry with me at all times. Later, I either transfer them to another format so I can work on them more calmly, or they become the final piece in themselves.

Composition, staging, and perhaps those micro-choreographies are what I allow myself to bring to the scene as an artist. For me, these everyday moments are the most direct and honest way to connect with the audience because—even though they are intimate—they reflect universal experiences.


Feet. 2023. Oil pastel on paper mounted on board. 30 x 30 cm.


In your pieces, the presence of sober tones seems to generate a particular type of atmosphere. How would you describe the way that atmosphere emerges during your work, and what role does it play in the overall construction of the image?

Atmosphere and colour are relatively recent additions to my work. Previously, I focused exclusively on the figures as the central element, and they were often left floating in a kind of void. It was when I realised the need to provide context—especially as I began working more closely from the notes in my notebooks—that I came to understand the importance of the environment for the character.

The human figure will always remain the main element for me, as it is through its representation that I find the greatest enjoyment. However, little by little, I have become interested in exploring what surrounds it. I see the creation of an environment and an atmosphere as essential in order to situate the figures within a more complete and fully constructed scene.


Mamant. 2025. Colored pencils on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Are the silences in your works inherited from real experiences, or do they emerge during the painting process?

The silences in my work are inherited from real experiences. When I capture those small moments of everyday life—which is essential for me—I tend to be focused and quiet. At the same time, I also believe that the contemplation of artworks naturally invites this kind of calm. In that sense, for a brief moment, both the artist—throughout the entire creative process—and the viewer, when engaging with the work, can meet in the same state of tranquillity and silence.


The Kiss. 2024. Oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


To what extent do you plan your works and how much space do you leave for the unexpected to happen?

Some of my works are very planned, even excessively so, with lots of sketches. On the other hand, I always have that starting point that appears in my notebooks, and I leave experimentation and the unexpected for the end. Although it's also true that when I've thrown myself into improvisation from the beginning, wonderful things have happened, so now I try to combine those two worlds as organically as possible.


Cinema. 2025. Ballpoint pen and oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.


Although your work has shifted towards the pictorial—with an aesthetic closely linked to cinema—echoes of illustration can still be seen in your visual language. Which elements would you say remain, and which have undergone a radical transformation?

For me, illustration has been an intense learning process. I deeply admire artists who have combined commissioned illustration with studio work for galleries, such as Ramón Casas and James Jean. I believe these two worlds can connect on a technical level, but their language and purpose are fundamentally different.

The existence of a unique, original work allows for accidents to occur—things that are very unlikely to happen in illustration. It is this condition of uniqueness, and above all the intention behind it, that makes the two practices radically different.