DDR Art Gallery is participating for the second consecutive year in the One Project program of Art Madrid. “Variaciones" by Virgina Rivas and "Avatares" by Roberto López can be seen at the Fair as part of the project "Salvajes. La cage aux fauves", curated by Fernando Gómez de la Cuesta.

The art works that the artist Virginia Rivas (Madrid,1981) will present in Art Madrid are part of a wide project called "Variaciones", in which the artist investigates about the color in our environment as well as the perception that we have of the same one depending on our emotional state and of the political and social situation of each one of us. Rivas analyzes our reality through colors.

The artist from Extremadura experiments with painting from a classical pictorial process, investigating forms and matter through abstraction and gesture. Rivas also relies on other artistic media such as photography in its various forms (polaroids, slides, etc.), video, light boxes or neon.

Virginia Rivas, Estudio AVNT, 2019

Virginia Rivas incorporates in some of her works small written texts, generally fragmented and sometimes practically illegible, but which are part of a narrative discourse that is totally intentional on the part of the artist, who integrates the graphics of the words as another plastic element of the composition. The expressiveness of the gesture, the colour, the light and the words are part of the abstraction inherent in her work, through which Rivas investigates intimacy and collectivity, establishing a fundamental game in which space and the spectator are indispensable.

The tandem of artists participating in Art Madrid with DDR Art Gallery is completed by Roberto López Martín (Madrid, 1982). "Los niños tele, el nuevo homo videns" includes a series of works with which he participates in "Salvajes". The artist works with different plastic languages that range from his studies in graphite and wax to his collages, present in another series such as "Fluffy Children". In Art Madrid, the artistic proposal is centred on his sculptures, known as "avatars" worked in fibreglass, resin and other materials.

Virginia Rivas, Estudio GTCCR, 2019

In "Avatares", López Martín focuses on childhood, on the innocence of the child when he begins to create a relationship with the objects around him, giving his toys imaginary values and personalizing them in a subjective way. This relationship, according to the artist, "is distorted when corporations enter to participate establishing uses and forms of consumption on the different toys, making these pre-format a way to relate to the world of children".

Roberto López's sinister avatars fight against all manipulation by the toy industry and in his "ready made" pieces he reconstructs and assembles pieces he finds in the garbage or selects consciously using his sense of humor and his most perverse sensibility.

RLM

Avatar Cowboy, 2017

Tela sobre fibra de vidrio y resina

150 x 30cm

DDR Art Gallery focuses its efforts on promoting the work of both established and emerging Latin American artists. In the virtual space of DDR Art Gallery, we find works from almost all disciplines: photography, sculpture, collage, illustration and urban art. DDR Art Gallery were pioneers in the direct sale of contemporary art on the Instagram platform, and without a doubt, the presence both online and in social networks, is the basis of the project since its inception. Its main motto is: "If you're not on Google, you don't exist."

RLM

Avatar El Elegido, 2016

Tela sobre fibra de vidrio y resina

150 x 30cm

Since it was founded in 2006, the gallery maintains two lines to promote the work of its artists: online sales and attendance at national and international fairs, with a clear focus on the contemporary art market. A third line of promotion and sale is the space of Theredoom Gallery in Madrid, where DDR Art Gallery organizes individual and thematic exhibitions. In addition to Rivas and López Martín, DDR promotes the work of six other artists: Annita Klimt, David Delgado Ruiz, David Heras Verde, Evangelina Esparza, José A. Vallejo and Raúl Casassola.

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.