Alex Pascual is a figurative artist whose coloured pencil drawings explore the shifting relationship between memory, perception and the human figure. Working primarily on paper, his practice moves between observation and ambiguity, allowing recognisable forms to fragment, dissolve or remain deliberately unresolved.
Originally from Barcelona and formally trained in Fine Arts and Design at the University of Barcelona, Pascual has lived and worked across Dublin, London, Glasgow and Copenhagen. These changing environments have played an important role in the development of his visual language, particularly his interest in domestic spaces, human presence and the way places are remembered rather than simply observed.
His drawings develop slowly through layers of coloured pencil, often beginning with a photograph, figure or remembered space before moving gradually away from the original reference. Colour becomes both descriptive and psychological, while distortion and incompleteness allow the image to remain open to interpretation.
Earlier works frequently centred on interiors and everyday environments, but Pascual’s recent practice has increasingly focused on the female figure. Bodies emerge and recede within less defined surroundings, caught between clarity and dissolution. Rather than presenting a fixed narrative, the works suggest moments, memories and psychological states that the viewer is invited to interpret for themselves.
For The FLUX Review, Alex Pascual discusses the evolution of his practice, the influence of artists including Bonnard, Vuillard, Matisse and Schiele, the importance of place and memory, and why knowing what to leave unresolved has become central to his work.
Are you self-taught, or did you undertake formal artistic training?
I undertook formal training in Fine Arts and Design at the University of Barcelona. However, much of my artistic language developed afterwards through drawing continuously and through the different places where I have lived.
I have spent significant periods in Dublin, London, Glasgow and Copenhagen, and I think moving between cities and environments has influenced the way I look at people, interiors and everyday situations. My education gave me a foundation, but the practice itself has evolved much more gradually through observation, experimentation and experience.
How would you define your visual language or conceptual approach?
My work is primarily figurative, but I am increasingly interested in what happens when the figure is not completely fixed.
I often begin with something recognisable, a body, a face, an interior, and then allow it to become less certain through colour, distortion, fragmentation or areas that remain unresolved. I am interested in that point where an image seems simultaneously present and slightly out of reach.
Memory is important to this process. We do not remember people or places photographically; details disappear, others become exaggerated and different moments overlap. I try to allow some of that instability into the drawings.
I want the work to remain open enough for the viewer to enter it without being told exactly what is happening.
Can you describe your creative process from conception to completion?
My drawings usually begin with observation, but I try not to remain completely dependent on the original reference.
I may start from a photograph, a person, a remembered space or a combination of different visual fragments. As the drawing develops, I gradually allow the image to move away from its starting point. Proportions may change, areas disappear, colours become less descriptive and certain details become more important than others.
Coloured pencil is a particularly useful medium for me because it is slow. The image builds through repeated layers, and that slowness gives me time to reconsider what I am seeing.
One of the most difficult parts of the process is knowing when to stop. I try not to resolve everything. Sometimes an incomplete or ambiguous area contains more tension than something perfectly described.
Does narrative, symbolism or storytelling play a role within your work?
There is usually an implied narrative, but rarely a complete one.
The figures often appear as though something has happened before the moment depicted, or might happen afterwards, but I deliberately avoid defining what that story is.
I am much more interested in atmosphere and psychological suggestion than conventional storytelling. A gesture, an unusual proportion, an empty part of an interior or the distance between figures can suggest something without explaining it.
In that sense, I prefer the viewer to construct the narrative rather than receive one from me.
Which artists have most influenced you historically or contemporarily, and why?
Pierre Bonnard and Édouard Vuillard have been important influences because of the way they transform domestic spaces through colour and perception. Their interiors are recognisable but never completely objective; figures, patterns and surroundings often seem to merge.
I am also very interested in Matisse and his ability to simplify form without losing emotional intensity.
Egon Schiele has influenced me differently. His figures demonstrate how distortion can sometimes communicate more than anatomical accuracy.
What connects these artists for me is that none of them simply reproduce what is in front of them. Observation becomes something subjective, and that transformation is very important to my own work.
What personal, cultural or environmental influences shape your practice?
Place has always influenced my work.
I grew up in Barcelona and spent a lot of time around the Mediterranean coast. The light and colour of that environment remain somewhere in my visual memory, even after many years living in northern European cities.
Later, I lived in Dublin, London, Glasgow and Copenhagen. Moving repeatedly between countries has made me very attentive to everyday environments: apartments, rooms, people sitting at home, temporary spaces and the small details through which a place becomes familiar.
My drawings have often functioned almost like a visual diary, although increasingly they are moving away from documenting specific places and towards something more psychologically ambiguous.
Where is your studio based, and how does the space inform your creativity?
For the last few years, my studio practice has been based in Copenhagen, although I am currently in a period of transition between Copenhagen and Barcelona.
I have never needed a particularly formal studio environment. Because I work mainly on paper, drawing can happen in relatively intimate spaces.
That suits the work. Many of my subjects come from domestic situations and moments of quiet observation, so there is a natural relationship between the spaces in which I work and the spaces that appear in the drawings.
I also like living with unfinished drawings for some time. Seeing them repeatedly outside an intensive working session often tells me what still needs to change, or, equally importantly, when I should leave them alone.
Do you have any rituals or rhythms that anchor your studio practice?
I do not have a rigid studio ritual.
My process is quite slow and concentrated, so I tend to work in sessions and then leave the drawing visible for a while before returning to it.
Looking is probably the most consistent part of my practice. I spend a great deal of time deciding what not to add.
Music, films, photographs and images I encounter in everyday life also remain around the work indirectly. Sometimes something I have seen days or months earlier suddenly becomes useful in a drawing without having consciously planned it.
What bodies of work or projects are you currently developing?
My recent work has become increasingly focused on the female figure.
Earlier drawings often concentrated more strongly on domestic interiors and everyday spaces. I am now allowing the figure to dominate while the surrounding space becomes less stable and less descriptive.
I am particularly interested in figures that seem to move between definition and dissolution, bodies that are recognisable but not completely fixed, and faces or gestures that resist an immediate reading.
I want to continue pushing this ambiguity further rather than moving towards greater realism or illustration. At the moment, the question I keep returning to is how little information a drawing needs before a human presence can still be strongly felt.
Where can collectors encounter or acquire your work?
My work can be encountered through my website, Instagram and Saatchi Art, as well as through selected galleries and exhibitions.
I have previously exhibited work in the UK and Denmark, and selected works are also held by Liza’s Gallery in Stege, Denmark.
Saatchi Art: https://www.saatchiart.com/en-gb/alexpascual
Website: https://www.alexpascual.uk/
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/alexpas
