From Art Madrid, we pose a key reflection: Is it enough to talk about emerging art, work with emerging artists, and be a platform for their promotion? Reality shows us that many of these creators, at the beginning of their professional journey, face structural barriers such as a lack of public support, the absence of galleries willing to invest in them, or the disinterest of cultural institutions.

This situation, persistent both in the Spanish landscape and in other international contexts, leads us to ask: Where is emerging art truly heading? What defines emerging artists? And why do we tend to associate the emerging solely with age, as if emergence were inexorably tied to youth?

The V' Day in Coiled Dragon Garden. Acrylic on canvas. 2022. Sun Pei Mao. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by Yiri Arts.

Emerging art should not be merely a category confined to novelty or a specific life stage. It should be a dynamic concept encompassing the freshness of ideas, the courage in proposals, and the capacity to challenge the status quo, regardless of when or how an artist emerges. It is time to broaden the conversation and rethink the space we grant to those who, from any corner or circumstance, choose to make art their way of breaking into the art scene.

The term "emerging art" has been, from its inception, a nebulous concept deeply dependent on the structures that define and promote it. Initially conceived as a category to describe artists in the early stages of their careers, the concept has transformed into a contested terrain for galleries, institutions, and art critics, often becoming more of a market mechanism than a designation of genuine creative promise. But in the 21st century, does it still make sense to talk about "emerging art"?

Untitled. Sculpture. Wood, wax, oil, and tannins. 2022. Hirosuke Yabe. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by 3 Punts Galería.

In an increasingly hyperconnected world, where the barriers between the "emerging" and the "established" are blurred by the rapid circulation of artistic images and narratives, the term may begin to lose its weight. Social media has democratized, at least in theory, access to the visibility of artworks, allowing artists from all latitudes to project their work to a global audience without traditional intermediaries. This phenomenon raises a key question: What is truly "emerging" when a creator can go from anonymity to viral notoriety in a matter of hours?

The paradox deepens when we consider how the art market has absorbed this concept. "Emerging art" has shifted from being a temporary category to becoming a label that fuels speculative desire. However, this often results in the instrumentalization of the artist, whose work is reduced to a mere vehicle for economic transactions. In this context, the concept of "emergence" refers less to the potential for exploration or innovation and more to a speculative promise of financial return.

Chromatic Dream Space. Acrylic, oil, resins, and spray paint on canvas. 2024. Gemma Alpuente. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by Canal Gallery.

Emergent: relative to what?

Another fundamental issue lies in the relationship between "emergence" and the systems of power that legitimize it. Traditionally, the idea of an emerging artist suggests a narrative of ascent, a transition from the margins to the center of institutional recognition. However, this narrative presupposes a fixed cultural hierarchy, where centers of power (New York, London, Berlin, among others) dictate what is emerging and what is not.

In recent decades, movements like postcolonialism and decolonial theories have challenged these hierarchies, pointing out how they perpetuate historical and geographical inequalities. From this perspective, labeling an artist from a "peripheral" region as "emerging" can be problematic, as it reinforces the idea that their value lies in their ability to adapt to the standards imposed by hegemonic cultural centers.

The Virginity Machine. Acrylic on canvas. 2024. Brenda Cabrera. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by Collage Habana.

The impact of technology and new forms of emergence

In today's world, the artistic landscape is shaped by digital technology, which redefines how art is produced, distributed, and consumed. Platforms like Instagram, TikTok, and NFT marketplaces have created new avenues of visibility and parallel economies that escape, at least partially, the control of traditional institutions. In this context, emerging art is no longer necessarily tied to galleries or museums but to a creator’s ability to navigate digital environments and build virtual communities around their work.

This generates new dynamics that challenge the usefulness of the term "emerging." On the one hand, it broadens the definition of what can be considered art and who can participate in its production. On the other, there is a risk that the focus on the "new" and "disruptive" is reduced to a mere algorithmic strategy, where the quality of the work is subordinate to its capacity to generate interactions.

Apple and Blue bear. Apple and larva. Ceramic. 2024. Yasuhito Kawasaki. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by Ting Ting Art Space.

Should we abandon the term?

In light of these complexities, we must ask whether the concept of "emerging art" remains useful or should be replaced by other categories that better reflect contemporary realities. Perhaps a more fruitful approach would be to focus on terms like "independent art," "decentralized art," or simply "contemporary art," which avoid the hierarchical and market-driven connotations inherent to "emerging." Ultimately, questioning the concept of emerging art is not just a terminological issue but a critical exercise to rethink the structures that determine how we value artistic creation. In a world where the boundaries between the emerging and the established are increasingly blurred, perhaps the real emergence lies in reimagining the very foundations of how we conceive art and its role in society.

Untitled. Acrylic on canvas. 2024. R.S. Babu. Represented at Art Madrid'25 by Gallery 1000A.

Contemporary art is a territory without fixed maps, a fluctuating space where the only rule is that nothing is set in stone. In this context, the word "emerging" takes on multiple meanings, because contemporary art is not only a product that emerges from thought or technique but is also linked to a constant process of emergence. We invite you to rethink and question its definition beyond prejudices and reductionist conceptualizations, and instead, from the spirit and commitment to open new paths toward understanding the art of our time.

The pictorial work of Sergio Rocafort (Valencia, 1995) is articulated as a field of questioning rather than a system of closed visual statements. His paintings do not seek to close off meaning, but rather to activate an open perceptual experience, in which the viewer participates in a critical exercise of reconsidering the ways of seeing, interpreting, and conceiving painting in the present. The image thus presents itself as an unstable territory, where perception constantly oscillates between the visible and the imagined, and meaning is constructed in a provisional and shared manner.

One of the structural axes of his work is the tension between scale and intimacy. The format functions as a relational device, alternating physical immersion with concentrated attention, generating an expository rhythm that prompts the viewer to move around, approach, and withdraw. This spatial dynamic engages with a painting situated on the threshold between figuration and abstraction, sustaining a reflection on painting as both window and physical object, while emphasizing its material and spatial condition.

Rocafort’s creative process is also grounded in a dialectic between intuition and control. Far from a romantic notion of chance, the unexpected is understood as guided pictorial thinking, in which every decision—even those that appear accidental—responds to a critical awareness of the act of painting and a progressive refinement of the means of expression.

Untitled. 2024. Oil on panel, 30 x 45 cm..

Questioning seems to inhabit your painting. What kind of questions do you want your work to pose to the viewer?

Generally, my intention is for the work to provoke more questions than answers. Ultimately, I believe my work refers to shared spaces that nevertheless remain open to interpretation. I think that this interplay of questions—questions that arise for me as an artist in the studio—is interesting when it is later transferred to the viewer in the exhibition space. These questions usually concern the way we look, the way we interpret, and the way we conceive painting. It is a constant game between what we see and what we imagine.

Untitled. 2025. Oil on linen. 32.5 × 22.5 cm.

Your works seem to constantly stretch scale, moving from the intimate to the immersive. How do you decide what format each investigation requires?

I believe the main reason I choose one format or another depends on the exhibition installation. Beyond how each individual work functions, I think it is the overall vision that completes the project and gives it coherence and meaning. In many cases, these contrasts arise because a small work encourages an intimate approach, while a large work can have a stronger impact. Ultimately, this play of tensions causes the viewer to move closer, step back, and generates an interesting dialogue within the exhibition space itself.

In my case, I tend to work quite a lot with large formats because of the impact they produce. I believe there is a kind of translation that takes place—one that extends to the tools themselves—and this allows for greater expressiveness and a stronger impact on the viewer.

Untitled. 2015. Graphite on paper. 80 x 65 cm.

Critics often highlight your attention to proportion and detail. How do these concepts operate in a painting that resists figuration?

I do not think my painting resists figuration; rather, it constantly plays at its edges. Most of my references are figurative, but I seek to continually tension the relationship between volume and classical notions of pictorial construction, without losing the idea of the painting as a window—or rather, as an object. This relationship between painting-as-window and painting-as-physical-object is fundamental in my work; both aspects share common ground.

The result would be very different if one of these elements were set aside. But the game is not only formal: it is about generating ambiguity, creating a point at which the viewer must complete the work. I believe this operates both in hyperrealist figuration and in geometric abstraction, which is what I have been working on recently.

Abstraction allows me to detach completely from the image. In fact, I do not work with photographs or a predefined imaginary; instead, I generate my own notion of volume and space without relying on a prior model. Ultimately, even if I do not start from a figurative reference, this freedom coexists with the basic principles of painting. Neo Rauch, for example, does not need a maquette or a photograph, and I believe that same freedom is present in my work without abandoning those fundamental notions of painting.

Untitled. 2025. Oil on linen. 32.5 x 22.5 cm.

In your relationship with black, contrast, and chromatic vibration, how do you decide when a chromatic tension should be restrained or emphasized?

I think something similar happens here to what occurs with formats—it largely depends on the exhibition space. A painting can be small yet possess great chromatic force and a high level of contrast; even if it alludes to intimacy, it can generate a strong visual impact. In a larger format, the opposite may occur: low contrast or subtle nuances may function better. Everything depends on the relationship established between the works in the exhibition space and on how we want to bring the viewer closer or push them back in order to generate visual tension. In my work, synthesis, clarity, and the depth offered by color and material have always been present. I increasingly try to limit my resources so that the work functions with the bare minimum. Lately, for example, I have been drawing a great deal and working almost entirely with monochromatic ranges, because within that simplicity I believe many nuances can be explored and revealed—transparencies, density, contrast. This is, in essence, the chromatic game in my work.

To what extent do you plan your work, and how much space do you leave for the unexpected—or even for mistakes?

I have always thought that I leave a great deal of room for error and chance, but lately I believe less in that version of the creative process. I think there is always a reflection and a guiding hand behind these “accidents.” I do try to allow unforeseen things to happen, but what emerges I would call intuition rather than chance, and I try to embrace it and guide it. This is, essentially, my way of understanding painting.

As for how I manage the timing of my projects, toward the end of this year I have a solo exhibition planned at Shiras Gallery, which will be a good moment to consolidate the works I have been developing and their visual impact. Recently, I have also been focusing on Art Madrid, which is approaching, and I am seeking for the exhibited works to have a cohesion, coherence, and clarity that some earlier works lacked. This time, the luminosity and saturation present in parts of my work shine more than ever, and I trust that the gallery will achieve a very successful exhibition installation at the fair.