Visiting an artist's studio means entering an intimate field and breathing the creative environment that surrounds the author's work. When one enters this space, all senses are on to trace and locate those little details that tell us a little more about the spirit and thought of the artist, the corrected sketches, the rectifications, the essays, the tests pinned on the walls, the traces in reused paper, the notes, the newly sharpened pencils, the stains of paint... We speak of orderly chaos, of a sphere where work and inspiration coexist and that the creators resist sharing, because, sometimes, opening the doors of the studio is almost like opening the doors of the soul.

Visiting Rubén Martín de Lucas' studio during Art Madrid'19

These spaces also have a halo of mystery, intimacy and familiarity in which we must move forward cautiously, being careful not to go too deep, to discover the secrets as far as the artist wants to confess. But it is also the ideal opportunity to enter into direct communication with the work, to know the production process from its beginnings to the end, to understand the doubts, the intentions, the aim and the message of a project from the bowels.

In the past editions of Art Madrid, we were lucky to visit Rubén Martín de Lucas's and Okuda San Miguel's studios, guest artists in 2019 and 2018 respectively. With Martín de Lucas we were able to know in detail his great vital creative project “Stupid borders”, from which different concrete actions with their titles derive. Still, all of them respond to the same idea: deepen in the relationship of man with the earth and understand the artificial patterns that we impose as a society. In the studio, we could see his most recent pieces and understand the process of conception and expression, the reasons for choosing one discipline or another, his latest video works and the millions of notes and sketches of each line of the project.

Okuda San Miguel opened for us the doors of his studio in 2018. This large diaphanous white-painted unit looked like the perfect canvas for its multicoloured pieces, in the middle of shelves and tables full of spray cans. At the time of the visit, the artist was giving the final touches on the work "Lake of Desire" of 6x3 m, which he made exclusively for Art Madrid and could be seen at the entrance of the fair. This painting is inspired by the Garden of Earthly Delights by El Bosco, an author of reference for Okuda and that continues to arouse the interest, surprise and curiosity of many. The large format pieces coexist with small-sized enamels, in addition to sculptures, test boards and huge sketches for buildings' facades. Because Okuda works big and has a complete team that helps him focus on his work. As he explains, the creative process never stops, and having a team allows him to carry out so many projects at once.

Guillermo Peñalver, “Yo, dibujando” (detail), 2019

Some other artists make their own home their studio. This is the case of Guillermo Peñalver, to whom the ABC Museum of Illustration dedicated an exhibition within its program "Connections" with the title "Self-portrait inside." His voracity for the cropping, the use of paper in various shades, the overlapping of whites and the discreet use of the pencil make Peñalver's work a delicate and intimate one, like the scenes he recreates. In this case, the vision of his collages is like a visit to their house/studio, where the rooms become multipurpose spaces, and the daily actions take the stage. The last work of this author is a sincere exercise where he represents his day to day from the precarious reality of the creator that fuses his work with his daily activity.

FAC 2015

Honouring this direct relationship with the author that occurs when visiting the studio, David Heras launched his project FAC (Home Art Fair), which counts already on five editions. The idea is to foster an open dialogue with the creators by exhibiting their works in a domestic environment and eliminating traditional market barriers. Although the initiative continued to grow, the original proposal was born in David's own house, who opened his studio and his home to exchange, knowledge and experience. It is about linking to art from personal experience, meeting the artists and enjoying their work, whether in the kitchen, the living room or the bedroom.

The artistic practice of Chamo San (Barcelona, 1987) revolves around a poetics of attention, in which the seemingly insignificant acquires a singular reflective intensity. His works emerge from a persistent observation of everyday life, understood not as a narrative repertoire but as a field of shared experience. Within this framework, the minimal gesture becomes a form of sensitive knowledge, placing the viewer before scenes that are both recognizable and, at the same time, estranged by their temporal suspension.

The progressive shift toward a more atmospheric painting has allowed the environment to cease functioning as a mere support and become an active agent of meaning. Restrained color ranges and carefully constructed spaces generate a sense of stillness that evokes a pictorial tradition attentive to duration and waiting. The human figure—a constant presence in his work—is presented immersed in contexts that amplify its affective and existential dimension.

The silence permeating these images is not absence but condition; it constitutes a space of resonance in which the time of doing and the time of looking converge. Situated between compositional control and openness to the contingent, Chamo San’s work affirms painting as a territory where planning and accident coexist.

Bathtub. 2018. Ballpoint pen on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.

Many of your works show meticulous attention to the smallest gestures and seemingly trivial moments. What interests you about these micro-choreographies of everyday life?

The seed of my work always comes from the sketches I make from life in small notebooks that I can carry with me at all times. Later, I either transfer them to another format so I can work on them more calmly, or they become the final piece in themselves.

Composition, staging, and perhaps those micro-choreographies are what I allow myself to bring to the scene as an artist. For me, these everyday moments are the most direct and honest way to connect with the audience because—even though they are intimate—they reflect universal experiences.

Feet. 2023. Oil pastel on paper mounted on board. 30 x 30 cm.

In your pieces, the presence of sober tones seems to generate a particular type of atmosphere. How would you describe the way that atmosphere emerges during your work, and what role does it play in the overall construction of the image?

Atmosphere and colour are relatively recent additions to my work. Previously, I focused exclusively on the figures as the central element, and they were often left floating in a kind of void. It was when I realised the need to provide context—especially as I began working more closely from the notes in my notebooks—that I came to understand the importance of the environment for the character.

The human figure will always remain the main element for me, as it is through its representation that I find the greatest enjoyment. However, little by little, I have become interested in exploring what surrounds it. I see the creation of an environment and an atmosphere as essential in order to situate the figures within a more complete and fully constructed scene.

Mamant. 2025. Colored pencils on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.

Are the silences in your works inherited from real experiences, or do they emerge during the painting process?

The silences in my work are inherited from real experiences. When I capture those small moments of everyday life—which is essential for me—I tend to be focused and quiet. At the same time, I also believe that the contemplation of artworks naturally invites this kind of calm. In that sense, for a brief moment, both the artist—throughout the entire creative process—and the viewer, when engaging with the work, can meet in the same state of tranquillity and silence.

The Kiss. 2024. Oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.

To what extent do you plan your works and how much space do you leave for the unexpected to happen?

Some of my works are very planned, even excessively so, with lots of sketches. On the other hand, I always have that starting point that appears in my notebooks, and I leave experimentation and the unexpected for the end. Although it's also true that when I've thrown myself into improvisation from the beginning, wonderful things have happened, so now I try to combine those two worlds as organically as possible.

Cinema. 2025. Ballpoint pen and oil pastel on notebook. 14 x 18 cm.

Although your work has shifted towards the pictorial—with an aesthetic closely linked to cinema—echoes of illustration can still be seen in your visual language. Which elements would you say remain, and which have undergone a radical transformation?

For me, illustration has been an intense learning process. I deeply admire artists who have combined commissioned illustration with studio work for galleries, such as Ramón Casas and James Jean. I believe these two worlds can connect on a technical level, but their language and purpose are fundamentally different.

The existence of a unique, original work allows for accidents to occur—things that are very unlikely to happen in illustration. It is this condition of uniqueness, and above all the intention behind it, that makes the two practices radically different.