Isabella Despujols

Isabella Despujols (Venezuela, 1994), is a young visual artist with a focus on handmade embroidery. Despujols graduated in Fine Arts from the International University of Art and Design in Miami, and holds a degree in Art History from the University of Palermo in Buenos Aires (Argentina).

Isabella's work reflects her own history, born from her earliest visual references. "My parents are architects and I grew up surrounded by geometric drawings of projects they worked on. They also collected Venezuelan artists who were based on geometric abstraction, so the first works of art I came into contact with already posed that language. For me, geometry is the basis that speaks of what my first influences were, and also of the strong tradition of these movements in my country, which grew out of great masters such as Cruz-Diez and Jesús Soto. I pay homage to both of them in my work".

For the artist, embroidery is currently her favourite discursive medium. Due to her knowledge of oil painting (she was trained in Fine Arts with a specialisation in painting) she develops a technique in which she works the embroidery as if it were painting: "I embroider layers of colours that are juxtaposed and form new colours, resulting in that chromatic degradation that is perceived in all the works".

Isabella Despujols

34, 2020

Lienzo bordado

80 x 120cm

Interview:

What inspires you when you create?

When it comes to creating, there are two universes that particularly inspire me, on the one hand Kinetic Art, especially the artists Cruz Diez and Jesús Soto, and on the other hand everything that has to do with embroidery and that feminine tradition. In my family there was always this tradition of manual work, but all confined to the domestic environment and thought of those things that can be useful, such as towels, bedspreads, I always had this fascination for manual work, whether collage or painting. I began my training in Fine Arts as a painter, so I carry a bit of this legacy of working with oils, but the feeling of thread and making with thread, creating things from nothing, was something I always felt a fascination for.

Basically I combined these two universes and from there I was able to give life to the work that I have been developing for a short time, a couple of years, and which I have been perfecting over time. It's a bit like the visual project of the kinetic artist that has to do with reproducing real movements in the work, but my contribution has to do with the sensitivity that embroidery gives. I take the legacy of these artists and try to translate it with lines and the imperfections of manual work and make it so that it doesn't look like manual work, but in reality it's all done by hand through an artisanal process. My main objective, let's say, has to do with extending or expanding what we all generally know as embroidery and its characteristics, which are mainly figurative images and above all utility, the non-artistic and every day, which is found in a domestic environment, and by combining it with kinetic art I try to elevate everything that has to do with the tradition of embroidery and this craft, so that it ceases to be a craft and a work with an artistic finish can be achieved.

Isabella Despujols

Díptico, 2021

Lienzo bordado

100 x 200cm

What are you working on recently?

My most recent work are two works here in the background, in which the main elements are spheres. I've always felt a fascination with geometry and in fact it's a visual language that I'm quite close to, because my parents are architects, and I grew up with this visual reference to geometry, straight lines, planes, three-dimensionality. Here I try to achieve through a composition, achieved by circles, a work that wants to create a movement through the juxtaposition of different colors and how through the embroidery of different colors, new tones are created in our eye, and this gradient effect emerges. Basically, my current work has to do mainly with the study of color and the new possibilities that can arise through embroidery.

Isabella Despujols

48, 2021

Lienzo bordado

100 x 100cm

Tell us about your creative process

My work process is inspired by oil painting, I first start by painting the background in a homogeneous colour, because my idea is to highlight the embroidered work. The way I embroider emulates the process of oil painting, I first start by applying a first layer of a single colour with the embroidery and then I add layers of colours, it is a very gradual work. It is precisely this process of embroidering different layers of colours with the threads that generates the kinetic effect that I want to achieve in my work.

What do you expect from Art Madrid?

I'm very excited to be able to participate for the first time in Art Madrid and I think that this contact with the public and this exchange that takes place with the public that approaches the work is very enriching for me. My idea, or what I would like, is to be able to show my work for the second time in Madrid and for people to connect with my proposal and for them to get to know a little about other possibilities that can be done with embroidery.

How did you start working on your latest works?

At the beginning when I started my approach to embroidery, one of my first references was a Mexican tablecloth that a Mexican friend had given me, she knew that I was very interested in the technique. I remember it was a tablecloth with geometric shapes and extremely colorful, one of the approaches I wanted to take was to be inspired a little by these synthetic shapes that are typical of Mesoamerican, pre-Columbian embroidery and to see how I could develop my own technique. I found myself by imitating and copying these figures until, well, I started to separate myself from the figuration of Mesoamerican embroidery and developed my own technique, which is what I am currently working on. Those looms were a very important reference for me, especially when I was beginning this project of combining painting with embroidery.

Isabella Despujols participates for the first time in Art Madrid with the Brazilian gallery Jackie Shor Arte, together with the artists Aline Sancovsky, Nathalie Cohen and Osvaldo González.

The painting of Daniel Bum (Villena, Alicante, 1994) takes shape as a space for subjective elaboration, where the figure emerges not so much as a representational motif but as a vital necessity. The repetition of this frontal, silent character responds to an intimate process: painting becomes a strategy for navigating difficult emotional experiences—an insistent gesture that accompanies and alleviates feelings of loneliness. In this sense, the figure acts as a mediator between the artist and a complex emotional state, linking the practice of painting to a reconnection with childhood and to a vulnerable dimension of the self.

The strong autobiographical dimension of his work coexists with a formal distance that is not the result of conscious planning, but rather functions as a protective mechanism. Visual restraint, an apparent compositional coolness, and an economy of means do not neutralize emotion; instead, they contain it, avoiding the direct exposure of the traumatic. In this way, the tension between affect and restraint becomes a structural feature of his artistic language. Likewise, the naïve and the disturbing coexist in his painting as inseparable poles, reflecting a subjectivity permeated by mystery and unconscious processes. Many images emerge without a clearly defined prior meaning and only reveal themselves over time, when temporal distance allows for the recognition of the emotional states from which they arose.

The Long Night. Oil, acrylic, and charcoal on canvas. 160 × 200 cm. 2024.

The human figure appears frequently in your work: frontal, silent, suspended. What interests you about this presence that seems both affirmative and absent?

I wouldn’t say that anything in particular interests me. I began painting this figure because there were emotions I couldn’t understand and a feeling that was very difficult for me to process. This character emerged during a very complicated moment in my life, and the act of making it—and remaking it, repeating it again and again—meant that, during the process, I didn’t feel quite so alone. At the same time, it kept me fresh and connected me to an inner child who was broken at that moment, helping me get through the experience in a slightly less bitter way.

Santito. Acrylic and oil on canvas. 81 × 65 cm. 2025.

There is a strong affective dimension in your work, but also a calculated distance, a kind of formal coldness. What role does this tension between emotion and restraint play?

I couldn’t say exactly what role that tension plays. My painting is rooted in the autobiographical, in memory, and in situations I have lived through that were quite traumatic for me. Perhaps, as a protective mechanism—to prevent direct access to that vulnerability, or to keep it from becoming harmful—that distance appears unconsciously. It is not something planned or controlled; it simply emerges and remains there.

Night Painter. Acrylic on canvas. 35 × 27 cm. 2025.

Your visual language oscillates between the naïve and the unsettling, the familiar and the strange. How do these tensions coexist for you, and what function do they serve in your visual exploration?

I think it reflects who I am. One could not exist without the other. The naïve could not exist without the unsettling; for me, they necessarily go hand in hand. I am deeply drawn to mystery and to the act of painting things that even I do not fully understand. Many of the expressions or portraits I create emerge from the unconscious; they are not planned. It is only afterwards that I begin to understand them—and almost never immediately. A considerable amount of time always passes before I can recognize how I was feeling at the moment I made them.

Qi. Acrylic on canvas. 81 × 65 cm. 2025.

The formal simplicity of your images does not seem to be a matter of economy, but of concentration. What kind of aesthetic truth do you believe painting can reach when it strips itself of everything superfluous?

I couldn’t say what aesthetic truth lies behind that simplicity. What I do know is that it is something I need in order to feel calm. I feel overwhelmed when there are too many elements in a painting, and I have always been drawn to the minimal—to moments when there is little, when there is almost nothing. I believe that this stripping away allows me to approach painting from a different state: more focused, more silent. I can’t fully explain it, but it is there that I feel able to work with greater clarity.

Crucifixion. Acrylic on canvas. 41 × 33 cm. 2025.

To what extent do you plan your work, and how much space do you leave for the unexpected—or even for mistakes?

I usually feel more comfortable leaving space for the unexpected. I am interested in uncertainty; having everything under control strikes me as rather boring. I have tried it on some occasions, especially when I set out to work on a highly planned series, with fixed sketches that I then wanted to translate into painting, but it was not something I identified with. I felt that a fundamental part of the process disappeared: play—that space in which painting can surprise even myself. For that reason, I do not tend to plan too much, and when I do, it is in a very simple way: a few lines, a plane of color. I prefer everything to happen within the painting itself.