Urban art is here to stay. Society is increasingly inclined to admit this form of artistic expression, albeit within guidelines. Differentiating street art from vandalism is still a tricky subject that generates discrepancies. However, there are more and more urban spaces set up to receive the proposals of these spray masters and clean walls left at their disposal, ready to receive a layer of creative paint. This trend contributes to give identity to the neighbourhoods, to generate movement around art and to revitalise more quiet areas that in this way, charge energy.

Walls of Tabacalera en 2016 (©Daniel Mesa, via madriddiferente.com)

The Muros-Tabacalera initiative responds to these ideas, a project that is now in its third edition and that Promoción del Arte launched in 2014 to recover the walls of the perimeter of Tabacalera, in Lavapiés. In May of that year, a contest was opened to receive proposals from the artists and to paint the walls of the old tobacco factory. 2014 was an open proposal, without a defined theme, in which 32 artists linked in some way with the Madrid urban scene and with the neighbourhood participated.

Mural 2019, by Kenor (via madridstreetartproject)

In 2016, 25 new artists gave new life to the walls of the Glorieta de Embajadores and the streets Miguel Servet and Mesón de Paredes, with works inspired by the title Urban Natures. Under this topic, the idea was to create pieces that explore the distance of the natural environment that comes across the big cities and invite to reflect on this disconnection of contemporary society, covering the grey walls with colourful and dynamic works.

Mural 2019, by Srger (via madridstreetartproject)

For this new edition of 2019, the topic is Azar (chance). 25 artists will put their imagination and sprays at the service of this evocative title. The participating artists in this third edition are 108, Amaia Arrazola, Ampparito, Anna Taratiel, An Wei, BYG, Boa Mistura, Liquefied Collective, Dafne Tree, Eltono, Gviiie, Iñigo Sesma, Kenor, Manolo Mesa, Mario Mankey, Maz, Nemo's , NSN997, Null, Wigs, Sara Fratini, Son3k, Spogo, Srger and Yksuhc Juan.

Mural 2019, by NSN997 (via madridstreetartproject)

With initiatives like this, urban art gradually gains a niche in the cities and conquers the hearts of the neighbours. In fact, the murals have become an important attraction for tourism, and this has also had its consequences for the day to day of the neighbourhoods, which see how the cost of living raises by the power of attraction of this type of interventions. What is clear is that the graffiti has come to stay and has gradually made its way into the walls of the city.

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.