With 12 years of experience, PROYECTOR has established itself as a reference festival in our country dedicated entirely to video-creation, a discipline that continues to win followers and attracts many contemporary creators inside and outside our borders. Video is, in fact, one of the most widespread means of expression in our days. The power of the image in movement is undeniable, and the public demands new artistic languages that are in tune with their habits of cultural consumption. Contemporary art has surrendered to the attraction of this complex and dynamic technique, although it still strives to carve a niche among the traditional disciplines in the most consolidated exhibition circuits. For this reason, PROYECTOR was born, to give voice to so many authors who have found in video-art an ideal channel to hold their creative projects.

PROYECTOR aspires to offer a real vision of the international cultural fabric and the most recent contemporary trends around this speciality, with an ambitious program of activities held in different parts of the capital. Since it was first launched, this initiative has also wanted to be known abroad, and every year, the participation of international authors increases. From Japan to Argentina, passing through Israel, Austria, Brazil or the United States, to name just a few of them, the representation of foreign creators reveals the enormous interest that exists in the sphere of contemporary production in this discipline, which this way becomes a formal vehicle of an expressive language shared worldwide.

The next edition will take place from September 11th to 22nd, 2019 in a packed schedule of events that will bring together more than 50 artists in 14 different venues in Madrid. As every year, the program will host the invited artists along with those selected in the call for projects opened a few months ago and in which more than 400 artists from around 20 countries participated. The result is a rich panorama of the most up-to-date video-creation that opens its doors to the whole world, in the path traced by PROYECTOR since its beginnings: to bring art closer to the general public and pay attention to its experimental and committed nature around which the most critical and reflexive artistic discourses are currently built up.

Març Rabal, “Les eines i els dies” (frame)

In addition to the usual talks, projection cycles and workshops, the 12th edition of PROYECTOR will also host several site-specific projects created for the festival thanks to the program of artistic residences carried out in collaboration with Conde Duque, The Instant Foundation, Medialab Prado and Extension AVAM. Another novelty is the participation of the INELCOM Collection, which will open its doors to publicise its impressive funds dedicated to video-creation and technological art, as well as the "endorsements" where renowned international professionals will curate the artistic proposals coming from Europe and Asia. Also, we must highlight the award that the collector Teresa Sapey has granted to Març Rabal, to be delivered during the festival, and whose video-installation work will be on show in September.

Julieta Caputo y Ariel Uzal, “Un derrumble posible” (frame)

PROYECTOR 2019 promises to surprise everybody with its novelties. We look forward to the arrival of this essential event that for 12 days will conquer major spaces of the city, such as CA2M Centro de Arte Dos de Mayo, INELCOM Collection, Conde Duque, Cruce, El Instante Fundación, AVAM Extension, Cervantes Institute, Medialab Prado, Quinta del Sordo, Room Alcalá 31, Room Equis, Room The Eagle, Secuencia de Inútiles and Plaza Pública.

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.