Artists in their studio: "The studio is like a trench, you come to battle."

PalmHalfway between sacred spaces governed by a series of unwritten rules and laboratories where anything can happen. These are the studios where four Mallorcan artists regularly work: Albert Pinya, Teresa Matas, Rafel Joan, and Catalina Julve. Like their artworks, their studios have little in common: Pinya's and Julve's are large, open spaces divided into distinct areas, while Matas and Joan work in specific corners of their homes. However, they all agree on one thing: the studio, in one way or another, not only determines the work, but also defines the artist. ARA Baleares has entered the studios where these four painters currently create, reflect, paint, and, in a way, live.

Catalina Julve and the Return Home

You'd think it's only been a month since Catalina Julve (Manacor, 1972) landed in the studio where she's hosting the ARA Baleares: her work and her process are so expansive, as she's said on a couple of occasions, that this concept also carries over to the space where she's now settled.

It must be said, however, that it's not a new place for her and her work: this ground floor in the Baix del Cós neighborhood of Manacor was the first studio she occupied, once she took the step of leaving the corner of her house where she used to paint, almost ten years ago. "But I couldn't afford the rent on my own, so I turned it into a coworking space. In the long run, however, I realized I had run out of the space I needed, so I moved to another location that was great, but also had many drawbacks. I had no plans of where I would put everything, and I just arrived and couldn't stop painting," says the artist.

Beyond a few pieces that are part of an exhibition he did a while back at the Museu de Manacor, some arches made from wild olive trees that hang in a corner of the studio, Julve has few of his own works hanging. "And at home there are only two of my paintings, but the thing is that in the studio I don't like to see things I've already done. They condition me, they influence me, and I don't want to," he says.

In any case, one of the most notable pieces in the studio comes from another artist's studio: a Joan Riera Ferrari printing press with which Julve occasionally makes an engraving. "It's not the best machine in the world, but it works really well for me. I can make 50x70 prints, which also allow me to disconnect from painting. It's like with commissions or sculpture, which are also good for airing out," he confesses.

Rafael Juan, in Foravila

To talk about where Rafel Joan (Palma, 1957) works is to talk about the world and life in general. His vegetable garden, the foravila trees, and the depths of the Mallorcan coast are part of the environment that could be described as this artist's studio. Rafael Juan realized his childhood dream of "not stopping walking when reaching the seashore and continuing to wander underwater" in a series of dives that resulted in paintings that are like scuba diving. Beyond specific experiences like this one, he has been shaping his paintings for over twenty years between two different spaces, both in Vilafranca de Bonany.

The first is a warehouse located within the town, where, from time to time, he moves a work to see if he can finish it there. "Sometimes I take them to finish them, but some come and go a couple of times," he admits. The other space, the main one, is a porch outside his house where we find him, paintbrush in hand, about to add a bit of green to a corner of one of his paintings. "I'm in a more contemplative mood; I spend a lot of time looking. I look around, I look at the painting, the booger, the duke under a tree... And suddenly I see a point that changes it, although if I add just a little bit, everything will be different. And that's how you go on, day by day."

He's been working in the village for 27 years, but on the porch there's a painting that's been with him since before, a landscape of bare mountains that serves as the background for the room. "It's from 1986, and I initially brought it here to see how I should finish it. But time has passed, and it's remained here, embedded, like a window to somewhere else. And I like it that way. It's part of the magic of works, that they don't depend solely on your will. It's like nature. They manage to compose things. The same thing happens with painting," he reflects.

Teresa Matas, in a thousand and one faces

Artist Teresa Matas (Tortosa, 1947) says her current studio is "a bit small," although any space would be overwhelmed by the immensity of some of this artist's works, such as a canvas currently hanging in her studio, almost filling it from one end to the other.

According to the Mallorcan artist, to whom Es Baluard dedicated a complete retrospective in 2017, she works practically every day in a room located in the courtyard of her house. It is a space that was previously used to host dinners and family gatherings and that the artist decided to convert into his studio after the death of his son in 2005. "I neither felt comfortable working where I had always done, in the convent of the Nuns of Pla de na Tesa, where I always received very good employment, nor did I really want to. It would be a logical move to come and work here," she explains. She adds, however, that above all she misses the high ceilings she had before. "But my work has been more expansive than expansive, and in the end I've adapted," she confesses, sitting at a banquette speckled, like almost all the furniture, with paint stains.

Matas's multidisciplinary nature is evident not only in the studio, but also in the path she takes. This includes other corners that also serve as workstations, such as an office area and another used as a warehouse: samples of the artist's work, whether iron sculptures, pieces of fabric, or ceramics, are scattered throughout, with the characteristic black and whites that permeate his work. "Now I mostly look at flowers; I look and draw," says Teresa Matas, surrounded by a dozen pieces that demonstrate this, filled with white flowers that stand out against a black background.

Albert Pinya, in the trench

"Walkers drive away their demons by walking. They are always sedentary." This quote by Ibizan writer Vicente Valero, written in the distinctive handwriting of Albert Pinya (Palma, 1985), welcomes you to his studio, located in the Plaza de Toros neighborhood of Palma. "It's good for exorcising myself when I arrive, for leaving the demons in my head out of here and clearing my mind before getting to work," confesses Pinya, who moved into this ground floor apartment just over a year and a half ago, where he has been able to accommodate various workspaces.

In one corner, he can hold meetings or informal conversations; he likes to use another to polish details, and he also has an armchair with a footrest where, if necessary, he can do a little snipe. "But I've always been one of those who thinks of the studio as a trench; you come to battle: there's no time to relax. Now, it's true that I eat here almost all day, and besides, I'm getting older..." he says, laughing.

Among the elements that stand out in the different parts of the studio are a handful of celebrity magazines – "they work very well for me to use as masonry," the artist assures – to a mountain of pieces of adhesive tape that seems about to take on a life of their own, as well as samples of his line art. Among them are models of iron structures inspired by Bruno Munari's series Variazioni on the theme of the human face, and some curious collages made from chewing gum. "I've been working for a while, and the whole process was quite funny because I had to sit and nibble at it to see which texture worked best for me," says Pinya, who admits that, despite the possibilities of her studio, when it comes to painting, she always paints on the same wall. "And I can't really explain why, but it's always been like that for me. I end up doing things right there," she adds.