Concrete killed the Oil star

For some time ago the art that captivates the eye in modern museums is to be found in the building. Specially, when mixed media like glass, wood, aluminium and concrete, are strikingly used by Torontonian Frank O. Gehry. Should I say Frank Oh! Gehry.

Long time-life to the AGO.


How to peel an artichoke heart

Lemons are a substitute for plants and flowers in 53m2 kitchenette. Little light in here would kill flowers, so, first: lemons last longer than yellow roses.

Second: you can juice them, while only Chanel really knows how to juice a yellow flower.

Third: Lemons, like flowers, might also have a romantic meaning. A lemon-love could be the kind of love that makes you feel insecure, jealous, irrational, unsafe and sad. I am not talking of a lemon-person, those bitterish beings. Falling for those would probably lead to amoeba-loves. I mean a lemon love as a concept, like those doomed, born dead and romantically tragic loves.

Fourth: Lemon love after lemon love, one goes putting layers on the heart, ending with an artichoke heart.

Fifth: artichoke flowers are also a great decorating option where no light kills other flowers.

Sixth: with an artichoke heart it is harder to really fall for someone, the many layers act as a repellent, romantic breakdowns repeat themselves and lemon love gets recurrent.

Seventh: peeling artichokes might be a pain, but in the end they say those are delicious hearts.

Eighth: never send lemons to peel a girl´s artichoke heart. Send them yellow roses. Or better, send Chanel nº 5.

Ninth: I don´t have a clue on how to peel a boy´s artichoke heart.

Tenth: Somehow I need a gin tonic now.



Fancy my digital illustrations? Write me! If interested in my original works, digital prints or just for feedback. Let´s talk! My name is Amaya:

The game of memories

Memories are a tricky thing. Happy or sad, those facts they bring to mind might not have been objectively  happy or sad. Memories are little liars. It is advised not to stick to them, for a healthy living. But then, how to avoid collecting things that bring memories from the past? Like extending your childhood games, keep only what you feel right to keep. Starting with… games. Like this original super Nintendo Game & Watch from Mr 53. Games bring me funny memories as I never played them. Memories of a neighbour boy who had the big Donkey Kong and Space Invaders Arcade Machines at home; of Tetris, the only game I was ever happily addicted to; and memories of Doom, a game I only played for one week in 2003, with a scary iguana watching from my shoulder, spending time at a friend´s flat in Frankfurt, where my money and flight ticket had been stolen. That was my gameography.

What kind of objects bring you funny or nice memories? Pick them up. Make a pic, a drawing or write about it. Start the game.


Watching TV news you need to shift your gaze elsewhere from to time to time, to swallow the bit s of food from your dinner, trying to ignore the World you left out as you closed the door of your home, a World that shows all its pains in your screen. But it is impossible. The World rotates and revolve and you can´t stop it. Since the earthquake and tsunami in Japan I try not to shift my gaze down, but from time to time, in front of this catastrophe, I still prefer to look around. Useless. I see all the lovely and cool things we have from Japan. Books, illustrations, clothes, games, toys…Japanders rock. I listed the names of the brands and the people from Japan we admire. And then I googled them to check if there was any news. I immediately found this useful site.  It is a person finder. It is quick and you can give information if you have got it, or look for the ones you love

We all hope Japan nightmare to end soon.

And as Forges (brilliant Spanish cartoonist) says everyday: “but don´t forget Haiti”.

To donate:

(from Spain)

To read some thoughts on donating only on emergencies this is an interesting post with interesting comments

The Oyster Monster in 53m2

Last Sunday I turned into an Oyster Monster. I wish I was a better writer to add tension to this story, but the plain facts are I am fish allergic, which I sometimes need to ignore, so I got intoxicated, spending some days in bed. Those days I could do nothing but imagine stuff. Like what would happen if I was brave enough to stand up and try to go downstairs. I had already fainted at night, so I imagined I went to the stairs on my own and fainted in the try, falling down and stupidly dying as an agonizing Oyster Monster. The most pathetic of it all was that my later thoughts were about all the profiles I opened in every existing social network in the Internet, and I was truly worried about who would make them die accordingly, with all the honours I deserve. Then I sadly realized why Tim Burton is Tim Burton and I am not. He does much better in Oysters issues. And I thought of drawing The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy for this post, but I want to leave it for the post about twin books (we have 2 copies of several books). So I decided to draw the wooden and iron stairs that lead to the bedroom, dresser and loo at 53m2. In the end these stairs are one of the things I am now living with, that I have quite mixed up feelings about. You know why.

Every brush you take

After a busy month I am back again to the things inside Casa 53. They make a big difference to me. Like the air we breathe in  here, feels so safe. Like the air compressor machine in there, feels so fun. We can inspire, get an idea, then exhale and airbrush a drawing with our breathes. And feel happy with the little things.

I also did a little thing that made me happy recently. An exhibition in some public  toilets. You can have a look here:

Fancy my  illustrations? Write me! If interested in my original works, digital prints or just for feedback. Let´s talk!

Hello back

To all, and specially to Soo. The object I chose is a japanese paper lantern I brought from Seoul to Madrid, for my litlte lamps collection.  This is soft light for you, Soo, to illuminate your way back throughout the World.

Paracelamol con 500

Is there a doctor in the blog? I want to ask: why when you are younger you drink more white wine, but when you are older you drink more paracetamol?. Can it be used as a less corny metaphor than the metaphor of the summer and winter of your life? Like, in the summer you drink wine and in the winter you drink paracetamol, therefore youth is wine and old is…And why after drinking wine you get more chances to use a condom but after drinking paracetamol you only get chances to use more paracetamol? And why condoms and paracetamol come packed in the same shape? And why when you get older you find yourself keeping paracetamol into your wallet instead of  keeping a condom? Or is it just the winter time? Am I snowballing with this? Sure, I am snowballing, that must be winter time. Ok. Stop. Just another finding I did: in Spanish, if you change a “t” for an “l” you get “Paracelamol 500”, which sounds like  “To make love with 500” said all together with an slang accent. Weird.

Cupid´s drills

If Cupid tried his bow on you using arrows with love words, intellectual kinship and wanton passion but still it all ended up in oblivion, maybe you should ask him to use a drill. Mingling with handymen/women may lead you to turn them up  into the true object of your devotion.

Happy New Pastanaga

Happy New Year to the 3 of you who still visit this blog, and a Nobel prize to the guy who invented holidays, best winter treat if you can´t hibernate (sleeping 14 hours on Saturday doesn´t count). My first 2011 drawing illustrates the most original card I got. “La pastanaga 2011” (Catalan for carrot), from  Xavi Clavijo, a super good designer, art director and friend. The carrot symbolizes resolutions: you write yours inside and hang it in a visible place to keep you going. My resolution is drawing one hour a day. Check the original card design in his blog: xclavijo

Getting cool things like that is the result of blind dating advertising art directors to team up. London headhunters coupled you to make sure you worked well with your team, before interviewing with ad shops. It was funny but fun. You found yourself inexplicably coming up with ideas with people you just met, working on scam ads, etc… And if the other one run off with a new copywriter you would never feel cheated. Xavi and I met like that in 2002. Being both Spanish, we were supposedly having more chances to team up well. But as good Spaniards, we spent more time having beers, while fighting on whatever, like on the rightness of nationalism. I know Xavi would prefer me to say he is Catalan. Sorry amic, you will have to stomach this, but I won´t. Ja!