Interview with Joaquín Morales Molero
Exclusive Interview with Joaquín Morales Molero
“I was painting from memory, repetition, expectation, control. I needed to come undone.”
From a very young age, you were influenced by your mother, Amparo Molero, and by leading figures of figurative art in La Mancha. How do you think that early connection shaped your visual language, particularly your later affinity for black and white drawing?
The fact that my mother was a painter allowed me to personally meet important figures of Manchegan realism from the 1970s and 1980s, such as López Torres, Gloria Merino, and Manuel Villaseñor. The latter had the greatest influence on me, both for the emotional depth of his themes and the austere, sober color in his brushwork. From him, I learned that restraint in color enhances the strength of an image.
Your specialization in drawing techniques reflects a conscious decision toward a limited yet powerful expressive language. How did you come to value drawing, and particularly the contrast of black on white, as a medium capable of conveying emotions that might be easier to express through color?
During my time at the School of Arts and Crafts, I learned the technique of charcoal drawing, which truly surprised me for the intensity of its contrasts. From then on, the aesthetics and language of black and white captivated me, as they allowed me to express more than I could with color. It was a risky decision because drawing is not highly valued in Spain and is mistakenly considered by some to be a lesser art form.
You have participated in competitions such as the ARC Salon, ModPortrait, and Figurativas, receiving awards and distinctions to this day. How has your creative approach evolved through these competitive experiences, and what profound lessons have you drawn from repeatedly participating in international arenas?
Since participating in these competitions, my style has evolved to focus more on portraiture, which is the most highly valued discipline. Regardless of winning prizes, these contests provide significant visibility for your work through social media and through the exhibitions that accompany them.
Critics have praised your work for its visual poetry, melancholic atmosphere, emotional hyperrealism, and its ability to convey both introspection and social awareness. Can you speak about how you seek that duality between technical precision and emotional depth in your pieces?
My language is figurative realism, and sometimes even hyperrealism, but I never limit myself to showing technique alone. I always want each work to carry a story to tell. My intention is for my drawings to move the viewer or make them reflect on the reason behind the image.
In 1992, you painted a posthumous portrait of Gregorio Prieto, and in 2022 you received the Fine Arts Medal bearing his name. What significance
do these two moments hold for you in relation to memory, your city, and the tradition he represented?
For artists from Valdepeñas, Gregorio Prieto has always been a reference, and especially for me, as he was an exceptional draftsman. I also received several awards in the drawing competition named after him when I was very young, so receiving the Fine Arts Medal was like a golden seal on my career as a draftsman. I encourage artists to visit his museum, which is truly magnificent and has recently been renovated.
Your exhibitions Sueños a lápiz (2003) and La Vida a Trazos (2022) mark key stages in your work. How has your relationship with your own art changed over these two decades reflected in retrospectives, and what insights have you gained about the passage of time and your artistic evolution?
These two retrospective exhibitions clearly mark two stages in my career. The first focuses mainly on rural themes and a less refined technique, while the second centers on portraiture and urban subjects, though I have not abandoned costumbrismo. The drawings from this later period are more reflective, created with greater calm and attention. Technically, they are more precise, especially in their detailed execution. The use of new materials, such as Conté Pierre Noire pencils, provides greater contrast and intensity to the blacks.
You were a member of the now-dissolved group Mancha 10. What role did that collective experience play in your technical, conceptual, or emotional development as an artist, and what elements of that dynamic still remain in your creative process today?
Mancha 10 allowed me to move from anonymity to having greater exposure throughout Castilla-La Mancha. Sharing experiences with emerging figures of Manchegan figurative art, many of whom are now well- known artists, was personally and artistically enriching. It also opened doors for me, such as the opportunity to exhibit at the Sokoa Gallery in Madrid.
Your work has explored a wide range of themes, from traditional scenes of La Mancha to urban landscapes, nostalgic interiors, portraits, and rural scenes. How do personal memory and collective memory interact in your art, and what draws you to alternate between the intimate and the universal?
In figurative realism, one paints what one sees. In my case, that has always been La Mancha, its people, and its landscapes, which from a very young age became the main subjects of my drawings. Over time, my vision broadened toward more social and urban themes. My work bears witness to the times we live in and is therefore no longer focused solely on the customs of my homeland.
In some of your pieces, you have subtly incorporated color through pastel or chromatic accents, although your work is best known for your mastery of charcoal and graphite. What motivates you to introduce this hint of color? Is it a conscious gesture toward rupture or toward a new nuance?
It is important to note that I started out painting in oils, so color is not foreign to me. I sometimes continue to use it with pastel pencil. I generally use it as a complement to a black-and-white drawing, or in other cases, when I want to depict something whose color particularly attracts me. It is true that I use it sparingly because my true artistic language is monochrome.
Through works that explore solitude, memory, and the silent dignity of everyday life, Joaquín Morales elevates drawing to its purest form of storytelling.
His portraits, both rural and urban, reveal introspective characters and the passage of time, while his technique, rooted in charcoal and Conté pencil, creates a tactile realism that feels both immediate and timeless.
Your drawings have been described with poetic expressions such as “verses drawn in blood” or “atmospheric magic.” How do you receive these descriptions, and what do you feel when conveying such emotions?
People have always said that my drawings carry a poetic weight. I don’t consciously seek that; I simply try to transmit emotion or feeling to the viewer. As for atmosphere, it is true that my drawings look different in person than in photographs, as they have a kind of flou effect that gives them a certain atmospheric quality.
Could you tell us about specific works such as El joven de la capa, Naturaleza urbana, or In Memoriam, and what they represent within your body of work in terms of technique, theme, and expressive strength?
I consider these three drawings among my best works. They also coincide with my use of new materials and drawing tools that have allowed me to achieve greater expressive power, almost photographic, by emphasizing the darker tones. I have a special fondness for El joven de la capa, which won the 2019 ModPortrait Drawing Award and is part of the MEAM collection.
Drawing has been described as the “framework of your artistic expression” and the “intimate essence” of art. How would you define the mission of drawing today, both in your own work and within the broader context of contemporary figurative art?
Ingres once said that drawing is the honesty of art, and for me, it represents the artist’s true imprint, around which the entire creative process revolves. If the drawing fails, the entire work collapses. That is why I do not understand the lack of recognition given to drawing, especially in Spain, unlike in the United States or Northern Europe. I can attest that creating a good drawing can be as challenging, or even more so, than producing a fine oil painting. It is unfortunate that many important competitions do not include drawing categories, or if they do, they offer smaller monetary prizes. Fortunately, more and more young artists are dedicating themselves to drawing, producing truly talented works. In this regard, the rise of academies devoted to figurative art in recent years has been a great help.
