AITOR GONZÁLEZ

Age: 32
Home: London, UK
Birthplace: Valencia, Spain
Practice: Painting

What was the first artwork that fascinated you?
I got fascinated by these geometrical feathered panels that I found at the Met Museum in New York a few years ago. They were from Peru, dating from 600–900 CE, and still felt so contemporary. I loved the elegance of them and the way they felt so crafted without having the decorative feeling of European work of the same period. Very elegant.
What’s the biggest lesson you learned through your practice?
That patience is key in order to develop work, and any kind of work. Urgency is important, but patience is key. I have always been a very impatient person, especially when it comes to outcomes that I can see clearly. I think the years and my work have shown me that the journey towards something is as important as the result. Now I am trying to feel comfortable in my own practice, and with the errors and discoveries I make along the way.
Who is the artist you would love to meet and why?
I would love to meet Leonora Carrington. I think there is something very generous about the way she allows mythology, animals, humour and everyday life to exist together without explaining themselves. Her work feels like it has its own internal logic. I’d be interested in hearing how much of that world was conscious and how much emerged through making.
When do you feel most creative?
Usually when I am not trying too hard to be creative. I like working at my own pace, when things are settled in my head and I feel relaxed. A lot of my drawings come from a state of contemplation. I also like having a lot of time with the same image. I can leave something for weeks and then come back to it and suddenly see a completely different possibility.
What keeps you up at night?
I am a very anxious person, so probably something to do with something really small and unimportant. Also the things I can’t remember properly. Family stories are always changing depending on who tells them, and sometimes I wonder how much of what I remember is actually mine. I’ve become very interested in that gap between memory and invention. I don’t find it particularly disturbing anymore. I think it’s one of the places where the work begins.
What do you keep searching for?
How to love and how to live dignified and free.

Interview by Martin Onufrowicz

CARLOS BELLIDO