CITY TERRITORY: PARALLEL PROGRAM ART MADRID'25

ESPACIO TECTÓNICA

The city, as Henri Lefebvre argued, is not only a physical space but also a social product, a network of relations and representations that are constantly reconfigured. Its cracks, folds and vertices are more than mere accidents of the terrain, they are material manifestations of a dialectic between inhabitation and transformation. It is in this vacillation of forms and meanings that Espacio Tectónica was conceived, a place to promote the encounter between art, territory and city.

Maternidad geomética. Jeanne de Petriconi y Guillermo G. Peydró. 2023.

Inside the fair, Espacio Tectónica is configured as a space for reflection and action on our relationship with the urban environment. A space that encourages critical thinking and artistic experimentation, exploring the tensions that shape the contemporary city. Through a programme that includes a video cycle and meetings with professionals, the space invites us to think about how the city not only receives cultural practices, but also generates and transforms them. It is a field where differences and contrasts become a source of reflection and analysis, and where art becomes a tool for understanding the social and philosophical complexities of the world we inhabit. Like tectonic plates in friction, everything that happens in Espacio Tectónica shifts, collides and challenges the visitor to generate a state of questioning about how we inhabit public space.

Circular Inscription. Tezi Gabunia.2016.

VIDEO CYCLE: CARTOGRAPHIES OF PERCEPTION

Under the title Cartographies of Perception, during the week of the fair, Espacio Tectónica will host this section, curated by PROYECTOR's Imagen en Movimiento platform, which presents a selection of international video art works that address issues such as migration, territoriality and the relationship between the peripheries and urban centres from a contemporary and analytical perspective. From the production of semiconductors in Taiwan to the mutation of the landscape in Brazil, video art becomes a critical tool that unravels the interactions between urban space, nature, the climate crisis and contemporary perceptions of the environment.

The works presented address migration, territoriality and the relationship between centres and peripheries, examining the city as a complex organism, at once a labyrinth and a tower of Babel. Through video, the artists reflect on the role of the individual in the transformation of architectural space and the dynamics of feedback between peripheries and urban centres in an interconnected world, inviting the viewer to expand his or her perception of the spaces he or she inhabits.

Guest artists: Ilaria Di Carlo (it), Tezi Gabunia (ge), Juan Carlos Bracho (esp), Magda Gebhardt (bra), Lukas Marxt (aut), lololol (Xia Lin y Sheryl Cheung) (tw) and Yuchi Hsiao (tw).

Wafer Bearer Deep Rain. lololol. Xia Lin y Sheryl Cheung. 2022

INTERVENTION CYCLE: 20 DEGREES

As part of the parallel program, Espacio Tectónica will also host the Cycle of Interventions: 20 Degrees, in which professionals from the sector: artists, researchers, professors, curators, etc. will carry out ephemeral interventions to reflect on the city as a symbolic and political space. Key issues such as migration, the evolution of urban centers and the role of the individual in the transformation and atonement of the city will be explored. Through these actions, bridges will be built between disciplines and diverse perspectives, broadening the understanding of how art feeds back into the urban fabric and how public space is a natural environment for artistic creation.

Guest artists: Susi Vetter (al), Helena Goñi (esp), Paula Lafuente (esp), Olga Mesa (esp), Elena Arroyo (esp), Amaya Hernández (esp), Deneb Martos (esp), Guillermo G. Peydró (esp) & Jeanne de Petriconi (fr), Sergio Muro (esp) y Javier Olivera (esp).

La Pagoda de Fisac II. Amaya Hernández. 2022.

Espacio Tectónica functions as a dynamic node within Art Madrid. Its rhizomatic character allows art not only to inscribe itself in the territory, but also to transform it, infiltrating its meanings and re-signifying it. It is a meeting point and a space for critical thinking that welcomes visitors and invites them to discover new ways of inhabiting and perceiving the urban environment.

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.