Magdalena Morey’s paintings move with a quiet urgency, a searching, intuitive rhythm that reveals as much as it obscures. Working from her studio in Asturias, Spain, Morey builds her canvases in layered fragments: colour, gesture, and texture accumulate like sediment, drawing from emotional memory and lived experience. Magdalena Morey practice weaves together abstraction and figuration, often edging toward the spiritual or psychological, where bodies dissolve into their surroundings and landscapes pulse with interiority. There is a raw beauty in her work, one that embraces imperfection, vulnerability, and transformation. In this conversation, we speak with Morey about her evolving relationship with the figure, the tactile language of painting, and how she navigates the balance between control and surrender in her studio.
Magdalena Morey, you were born in Lublin, Poland, and studied art there for 10 years. What was your childhood like, and how did your early environment influence your artistic journey?
My childhood was full of contrasts; I grew up during communism and most of the year we lived in a flat in the city suburbs and didn’t have much in the way of luxury. My most vivid memories are from summers spent barefoot at my grandfather’s watermill in the countryside, surrounded by cousins. For me, this is still my luxury. I was often off on my own, discovering hidden corners, looking for places to hide or clues to some imagined story. That mix of being part of a big, lively group and also being a quiet, curious explorer shaped me early on. I think that’s where my artistic instinct began, driven by a need to look beneath the surface of things, to discover what others might not see and to express that inner world. That sense of belonging to a place in motion and of feeling simultaneously supported yet free, still guides my work, whether I’m painting landscapes or more abstract reflections of emotion or memory.
Working full-time at a local art studio while studying in the evenings sounds intense. What motivated you to stay committed to your craft during that time?
It was my dream to be an artist since I was about 10 years old! After finishing art college, my goal had been to study textiles at the university in Łódź, home of the largest textile museum in Poland, but there was huge competition for the limited number of places available and I wasn’t accepted into the program. The following year, my parents’ financial situation deteriorated considerably and I had to start working to support myself and to supplement the rest of my family, but I was still determined to study. Luckily, the nearby university offered the option of studying part-time for a Master’s degree in Painting, so that’s exactly what I did.
You have a Diploma in Textiles and a Master’s degree in Painting. How do both disciplines come together in your work today?
My paintings are usually multilayered, often texturally complex and when I’m working with coloured pencils or graphite, it almost feels as though I’m weaving threads. Part of what I love about textile work is that they are three-dimensional and I’ve noticed that my figurative work in particular often resembles three-dimensional objects as I emphasise movement, so time almost becomes my third dimension. I occasionally also work using fiber or fabric, and include sewn, embroidered elements and beads to give the surface more interesting texture.
You describe each painting as beginning with a feeling or a need to express something. Can you walk us through that emotional starting point?
I think of it as my emotions needing to be poured out onto the canvas. For me, emotions have colour, so I usually start with a blotch on the canvas; a dynamic splat of colours representing my emotional state, then observe whether I can see something more in it; dynamics, forms, something that can pull me further into the process. This is still the stage of happy coincidence, which I then begin to shape and transform. That’s when I feel a dialogue begins between me and the canvas, and for me, this stage, when the very sensitive, fragile, still-fresh relationship develops, is the most exciting moment. A bit like starting any new relationship, there is so much to discover!
Later, I start adding more elements, blurring things until I see the outline of what I want to convey.
Abstraction and mixed media play a central role in your work. What draws you to this style and technique?
My love for abstraction comes from my early influences; my university professor was an abstract artist in his own right and encouraged me to explore and experiment. I was also very much influenced by the Polish post-war avant-garde artists, in particular Magdalena Abakanowicz and Teresa Pągowska. I find a delight and mental freedom in the undefined and the obscure! By deliberately leaving things to the imagination, I hope to actually communicate more than I ever could by painting all the details. You can never capture every nuance of a moment in a two-dimensional artwork, so I prefer to explore ways of representing the sensation of a moment, of how it feels to exist there and then, not just how it looks. I don’t limit myself to just one media and have spent years playfully experimenting with how different media interact and learning how to repeat effects that I particularly enjoyed.
I like having different “flavours” in my work. I enjoy experimenting, mixing different techniques – I’m just constantly curious and hungry for new discoveries. And I think it’s the same with abstraction: sometimes I dive deeper into it and let my imagination take over. Other times, I feel the need to express something more tangible, to “return to reality,” and maybe that’s my way of marking my presence.
You’ve mentioned the concept of fragmentation and healing in your work. How do personal emotions and experiences shape your art?
Art has always been a form of self-therapy for me. I experience emotional pain very physically, and I think that’s how I express it in my art. I also believe I am part of something greater, something that goes beyond my understanding. I believe that I share my life energy with this world, so when you see my art, a fragment of me stays with you because I’ve make certain artistic decisions that have then affected the way you perceive it.
Sometimes our illusions fall apart and we have to rebuild ourselves from the fragments that remain. After burning myself out from trying too hard to fulfil other people’s expectations, I became interested in art therapy and slowly began to rebuild myself. Trusting myself, accepting that I’m not perfect and that I don’t have to meet others’ expectations, learning to accept the sadness, sorrow, and anger within me, but also to accept the things that are beautiful and valuable. That’s what I want to share, what I want to speak about through my art.
You’ve lived in several countries – Poland, England, Switzerland, and now Spain. How have these different cultures and landscapes shaped your artistic voice?
Each country has given me a new perspective that has subsequently been reflected in my art. In England, I began exploring the theme of landscape. The low-hanging pastel clouds full of light, and the soft hills of Somerset inspired me to develop this subject further. That’s also when I began working with my first gallery.
Switzerland brought abstraction into my paintings and it was a time of experimenting with geometric forms. At the same time, I had my first solo exhibition there, showcasing my figurative work.
My artistic expression really really blossomed in Spain though. This is a tough country to make a living as an artist in; in order to start working with online platforms, I had to officially register with the tax office and social security and that costs a significant amount every single month, regardless of whether I actually sell anything or not. It was very much a question of all or nothing, so it became a full-time commitment. I continued working on landscapes, driven largely by my desire to find the ideal landscape in which to raise my family, and a new fascination emerged with gold leaf, which I used to represent the intense light of the Madrid landscape. And then we discovered Asturias!
Asturias was different. We bought our first house and our family of four was soon joined by a small colony of rescue cats. Over the years that we’ve been here, I realised that I had lost something of myself in the daily routine of trying to make ends meet, and I understood it was time to grow and return to my figurative work.
Asturias, where you currently live, seems to hold special meaning for you. How does the local environment influence your landscape work?
Part of the goal of moving to Spain was to find a place where we could lead a more sustainable lifestyle and we just fell in love with Asturias from the moment we first crossed over the mountains; everything was full of colour, the textures of the landscape were mysterious, and the social fabric, whilst recognisably Spanish, is also deeply rooted in the mystical Celtic culture, and it’s green. It’s not a place for lounging about in a resort, but rather for contemplation and challenging yourself. The landscape here is something unique, unlike anywhere else we’ve been, and we quickly understood that there’s a reason why the Spanish call Asturias a “natural paradise.”
As I mentioned earlier, we’re finally putting down roots here, but this has affected my landscape work deeply. I have found the place that I imagined in my earlier landscapes, so this side of my work had to evolve if I was to continue working with it. I had to start looking beneath the surface, and I began exploring the geometry and the sense of connection. I began drawing more and more abstraction into them.
What have been some of the most significant challenges you’ve faced as a fine artist, either creatively or professionally?
Where to start! Of course, when you rely on art as your family’s sole source of income, selling your work becomes one of the greatest challenges, especially right now when there’s such competition and an ongoing global economic crisis. It’s a job and it demands patience and consistency. It’s not made any easier working from my small bedroom-sized studio.
There’s also the pressure to stay relevant in today’s ultra-connected world, with its continually changing trends, fashion shifts and an overwhelming flood of content. The challenge here is to continue to create in a style that’s already recognisable whilst also trying to bring in something new and fresh.
Then there’s my age and sex. The art world, especially in Spain, is still a very traditional and largely patriarchal institution although thankfully this is changing as more women discover the independence that the internet now enables us to claim. Following on from that though, social media continually pushes new ways to entertain people that often have little to do with real art. These days, anything goes, and it’s often not a question of talent or skill but about who can satisfy the algorithms that control what you see and what you don’t. I find it sad that being an artist now often means being a kind of performer, constantly coming up with new tricks to grab attention, often at the expense of quality. That said, I truly admire those who manage to translate their talent into a visual language without exposing themselves too much. There are still many of them out there.
Working with galleries, both online and physical, also requires effort. For me, collaborating with galleries here in Spain hasn’t been easy because the process here is very traditional. You’re often expected to have certain achievements, like awards or competition wins, which I honestly never really pursued. So my path has been somewhat different. Interestingly, all the galleries that I’ve worked with here in Spain have been run by women.
But the biggest challenge for me has always been confidence. I’ve often repainted works because I felt I wasn’t good enough. That’s the real killer, the fear that stops you from creating. There are, of course, other smaller obstacles, but I believe that self-worth is by far the most important one.
How did transitioning from raising a young family to establishing a full-time art career unfold for you?
The first year was very intense but it was so exciting to start painting again! We’d been in Spain for a year and my husband, Tom, was working remotely as a software engineer. We were both incredibly motivated to find a way of living that would allow us to be present for the children, but where we could do something we both enjoyed doing. I was driven by the idea that I could finally do what I love and Tom had had enough of doing software but needed something to keep his mind busy! Even with small children, we had so much energy and put so much effort into making it work! We were realistic enough to understand that in order to sell art, you need more than just good paintings; we both worked so hard during that first year, painting and programming during the day and then learning the business skills needed to start selling art in the evenings, after the kids had gone to bed. By the end of the year, I’d renewed the relationship with the gallery in England, had started selling some of my figuratives on an online auction site based in Madrid, and had also been invited to join another gallery. By this stage, Tom was confident enough about us being able to make it work that he stopped developing software and started supporting my art career full-time.
It was incredibly exciting but also terrifying! We were living off our meagre savings and were now relying solely on my art for our family’s survival! I remember reading something about “don’t look back, there’s dragons behind us!” and it stuck in my mind! There was no looking back! Tom had figured out how to grow my audience quickly on Instagram and I was invited to join another couple of galleries but we were against the clock and by autumn we were down to our final €350 without any way to pay the next month’s rent. That’s when things finally began to sell and have done ever since.
You work closely with your husband, Tom. How does that partnership function day to day, and how has it helped grow your career?
My husband has believed in me and my work from the very beginning. It’s wonderful to have someone by your side who not only admires your art but also absorbs your setbacks, the emotional “bruises” and the doubts, of which there are so many. They often erupted in different ways, showing up as apathy and a lack of self-belief. He’s the one who helped me get back on my feet and keep going.
We make a great team, even though it’s not always easy because emotions inevitably spill over from work into home life and from home into work. We almost never close that door… that’s just the nature of this kind of life that we’ve chosen.
Of course, another very important aspect is running the business; marketing, packing paintings, logistics, taking and processing photos, tasks that take up a huge amount of time. I don’t think I could have achieved so much without his involvement.
I’m very creative and passionate, but I lose patience and confidence quickly. He, on the other hand, is more analytical and has tremendous patience, especially when it comes to navigating the bureaucracy that Spain is so well known for.
How do you balance experimentation and consistency in your creative process?
I think it’s a personality thing. I like taking risks and diving into experimentation, but at the same time, I have an inner discipline, a kind of drive to create. Then, slowly, I begin to carry over new techniques or solutions into new work. I can’t stand boredom or repetition. After finding something new to experiment with, I’ll often work on a series of say three paintings, and then I’ll see whether the process still interests or excites me.
Despite my experimental nature, I like having balance. I find it by combining approaches and processes that I’m already familiar with, along with new ideas where I can break away from past patterns and step outside my comfort zone. I have a childlike curiosity and like to mix things up just to see how they turn out; I do the same when I’m cooking and come up with new recipes… sometimes they turn out better, sometimes worse.
Of course, staying consistent with the project I’m working on is important to me too. That’s a matter of practice and discipline.
You’ve had numerous solo and group exhibitions across Europe and beyond. Is there one that stands out as particularly pivotal or meaningful?
The most important exhibition for me was my solo show at Galería Felix in Gijón, here in Spain. For the first time, I felt that I could finally work not just on individual pieces, but on the entire space and the overall concept. That was possible thanks to the wonderful gallery owner, Sonia, who gave me complete creative freedom. Entre Tierra y Mar was more of an experience for me than just a landscape exhibition. Since then, I’ve started to see myself differently as an artist and to think differently about my creative process.
With so many international galleries and platforms representing your work, how do you manage those relationships and ensure your work is seen by the right audiences?
I strongly believe that the artist-gallery relationship should always be based on mutual respect and be mutually beneficial, but there are going to be times when it’s simply necessary to call it a day. The reality is that artists’ and galleries’ interests don’t always perfectly overlap. Both the gallery’s aesthetics and those of their audience are continually evolving according to trends and tastes, as are my own interests and artistic directions. If a gallery’s aesthetics lie or evolve in a different direction from my own, we may continue working together for a while but ultimately, there’s no benefit in either party pushing the other to present work that doesn’t resonate with them. For example, many years ago, I painted pretty, impressionistic flowers and landscapes, but they don’t represent me or my artistic interests any more so it would be destructive to my own creativity to try to paint a series like this at the behest of a gallery, in the same way that it wouldn’t serve a gallery that specialises in Impressionism to accept a series of my abstract figures.
In a similar way, we’ve investigated, tried and tested a huge number of online art platforms and through a process of trial and error, have reduced the number of platforms that I work with back down to just a select few that seem to expose my work to an appreciative audience.
The final point worth mentioning is that I have also invested a huge amount of time and effort into organically growing and maintaining a large social media following over the years. This really helps to maintain a certain independence, and I regularly get direct sales of work that I’ve shown online.
You have an upcoming group exhibition, El Tejido que nos Une, in 2025. Can you share a bit about the work you’ll be presenting there?
This was a group exhibition for International Women’s Day, where the focus was on textile-based work. I presented a pair of small figurative pieces incorporating a variety of textile techniques on handmade rag-paper. It was a chance for me to push my boundaries again and plant some new seeds of ideas that I’d like to expand upon in the future.
Are there any new directions, themes, or mediums you’re exploring in your latest work?
For now, I’m focused on my mixed media techniques, incorporating acrylics and pastels. I’m also just starting an abstract figurative project on the largest canvases I’ve worked with so far, which I’m very excited about!
I always have works in mind that I would classify as fibre-based or three-dimensional, but they invariably require more time than I have available and tend to remain in the concept phase, but maybe this direction will evolve over time.
Sadly, my small studio doesn’t allow me to realise too many ideas, but hopefully, in the future, I’ll get more space. I’d love to also explore sculpture and installations!
What dreams or goals do you still hope to accomplish in your career as an artist?
I want to keep creating and I think my biggest dream is to create with a sense of freedom. I would love to be able to work larger, in larger spaces, with larger audiences and to be able to present my work as an experience and special concept, not just individual paintings.
You’ve said art is about “embracing the imperfect and being true to yourself.” What advice would you give to emerging artists struggling with self-doubt?
I think everyone is different, but for me, discipline and staying true to yourself and your values are possibly the most important. Of course, there will be projects that don’t quite feel right but it’s important to take on that kind of work too sometimes, even if it’s just to understand more about what it is that we actually do want to be doing. Sometimes I’ve made pieces just to prove to myself that something is not the direction I want to go in.
Take risks, step outside of your comfort zone, and dive into the unknown. But discipline and persistence are important. Turning up in the studio every day, regardless of whether you want to and regardless of whatever else is going on in your life. Not every piece will or should be a masterpiece, that’s not the point. What matters is finding something that is true to you in the process.
Looking back on your journey so far, what are you most proud of?
My greatest achievement, for me, is simply being here, doing what I do with passion and having a loving family. I know it sounds a bit ordinary, especially in a world where we’re expected to “be someone”. Of course, I’ve dreamed of being like Abakanowicz, of creating monumental works and having my art in museums; I think every artist dreams of something like that at some point, but ultimately I’m most proud of being able to say that after everything I’ve been through, I’m still creating art that I’m proud of and supporting my family from it.
How do you hope people feel when they experience your work?
I hope my work helps people to feel connected to something, whether it’s their feelings and true selves or to the world around us, and our place in it. Our technology today allows us to be connected permanently to entertainment and media streams and yet, because of this, there’s a lot more social isolation. I hope my work makes people pause for a moment and look beyond the immediate aesthetic.
