In the Studio: How My Hybrid Paintings Are Born

 

Contents

1. The Starting Point: An Idea Taking Shape
2. Preparing the Boards: The Raw Material
3. Visual Memory: Photographing the Painting
4. The Preparatory Drawing: The Skeleton of the Work
5. The Union of Painting and Digital
6. Between Discipline and Surrender: Listening to the Painting
7. Time, Patience, and Transformation
8. Abstraction and Figuration: Two Paths That Converge
9. The Quest for the Human: Beyond Representation
10. Painting as Resistance
11. The Moment of Encounter
12. In the Studio: An Inner Territory

 

Introduction
Entering my studio is stepping into a place where every gesture becomes a language. Each work is born from an inner impulse, from an emotion seeking its form, from a need to translate what words cannot express.

Within these walls, hand and mind advance together, searching for a delicate balance between idea and trace, between the visible and the hinted.

1. The Starting Point: An Idea Taking Shape

Creating a hybrid painting is initiating a dialogue between two worlds: that of pictorial gesture and that of digital imagery. In this space, I stand at the intersection of instinct and structure, between the texture of reality and the precision of the image.

This is where my process takes root—within the constant back-and-forth between hand, thought, and screen.

Even before a work takes form, there is an idea, often vague, a spark, a sensation. Sometimes a movement, a silhouette, a play of light. This first impulse is not something I seek—it imposes itself. I let it grow, transform into intention. It is the most fragile moment, the one where everything is still possible.

2. Preparing the Boards: The Raw Material

To prepare my hybrid paintings, I developed a method that allows me to combine the spontaneity of gesture with the precision of assembly.

I begin by working on wooden or canvas boards, applying acrylic paint with a palette knife, brush, or roller. Each stroke deposits matter, a fragment, a trace. These raw elements become the foundation of my compositions.

Over the years, I have created more than a hundred such boards. Each is painted according to a palette of fundamental colors, those that form the signature of my universe. These shades are not chosen at random: they represent my emotional constants, my anchoring points. They tell the story of my moods, my impulses, my silences.

3. Visual Memory: Photographing the Painting

Once the boards are finished, comes the time of photography. Each surface is captured in high definition, under neutral light, to reveal all its nuances, thicknesses, and details.

These images become a kind of living memory, a library of pictorial material. I then draw from them the fragments I will assemble to give birth to a new work.

4. The Preparatory Drawing: The Skeleton of the Work

On the tablet, I create a preparatory drawing—a sketch that outlines the composition, the volumes, the balance. This is the skeleton of the painting to come.

Then, in the software, I carefully cut and select fragments of my boards, as one would choose the words of a poem. Each piece is moved, adjusted, layered, until it finds its exact place. There is no chance in this assembly, only a patient search for harmony and tension.

5. The Union of Painting and Digital

At this stage, matter and image meet. It is no longer painting in the traditional sense, nor digital collage. It is a space of fusion, an intermediate zone where color becomes form, where texture becomes vibration.

I love this moment of balance, when the painting begins to breathe, when it escapes all control.

6. Between Discipline and Surrender: Listening to the Painting

In this work, technique is never an end in itself. It is a means to access presence, to access emotion. Each work is, for me, an attempt at reconciliation—between gesture and thought, body and memory, fragility and strength.

Through painting, I seek a sensitive relationship to the world, a form of truth. Creating under these conditions requires as much discipline as surrender. One must learn to listen to the painting, accept its detours, its resistances.

Sometimes a work remains unfinished for weeks. It waits for the right fragment, the right light, the right balance. Then I let it rest. I return later with a fresh eye. Often, I destroy an almost finished composition to regain its accuracy.

For me, creation is never linear. It is a gentle struggle, a silent conversation between intention and accident.

7. Time, Patience, and Transformation

This process has taught me patience, but also trust. Every stage, every hesitation, every doubt is an integral part of the work. Nothing is lost, everything transforms. Even a mistake becomes material for exploration.

Through this practice, I am not seeking perfection but accuracy—the moment when the painting finally holds itself, when it emanates its own energy.

8. Abstraction and Figuration: Two Paths That Converge

My work navigates between abstraction and figuration. In my figurative works, I focus on human presence: bodies, faces, gazes. They are never represented realistically, but through fragmentation and recomposition.

I aim less to show than to suggest, to evoke the inner life of beings. In my abstract canvases, on the contrary, I let myself be guided by the material itself. Colors respond, clash, and merge. There is a total freedom here, a breathing space.

Yet abstraction and figuration are not separate worlds: they nourish each other.

9. The Quest for the Human: Beyond Representation

At the heart of this duality lies the same question: how to represent the human, not as they appear, but as they are felt?

My hybrid paintings attempt to answer this question. They aim to capture the vibration of the living, to make visible what cannot be seen—the tension between body and mind.

10. Painting as Resistance

I deeply believe that painting, even in the digital age, remains a space of resistance. It brings us back to slowness, touch, contemplation. It reaffirms the value of gesture in a world saturated with instant images.

My work aligns with this intention: to make the old dialogue with the contemporary, the tangible with the virtual, without ever betraying the essence of pictorial gesture.

11. The Moment of Encounter

Each finished work is an encounter. An encounter with color, with matter, but also with oneself.

When I contemplate a completed painting, I do not only see the result of a process: I see the journey, the hesitations, the moments of doubt and grace. Each painting carries the memory of its own construction.

12. In the Studio: An Inner Territory

In the studio, time stretches. Hours no longer matter. Painting becomes a territory where I lose and find myself at the same time.

It is a place of listening, of silence, of clarity. Here, in the solitude of work, but always with music, my hybrid paintings are born—works that draw equally from the memory of gesture and the precision of image.

And perhaps, at heart, this is my quest: to seek a point of balance where form and color meet to give life to a singular vision of the human.