How This Artist Changes Stillness with Colours I Elena Baron

Elena Baron art emerges from a place where the visible dissolves into the symbolic, where nature, memory, and the body intertwine as carriers of meaning. Her practice spans painting, sculpture, objects, and photography, yet at its heart lies an exploration of inner movements, emotions, tensions, and the fragile connections that bind us to one another and to the world around us. Through recurring motifs like seeds, spirals, and fragmented forms, Elena creates narratives that are both deeply personal and universally resonant.

Her work is not about grand gestures but about subtle revelations; the quiet strength of vulnerability, the way a small form can hold an entire story, or how absence can be just as evocative as presence. Rooted in a sensitivity to both the natural and emotional landscapes, her art balances fragility with resilience, inviting viewers to slow down and encounter a deeper sense of self and other. Each piece becomes a space of reflection, where patterns of life, growth, and decay mirror the human condition. In this way, Elena’s art does more than depict; it transforms. This interview is a call to look closer, to attune ourselves to silences and gestures that often go unnoticed, and to embrace the radical act of presence that her work so gently but powerfully demands.

Hi Elena, your works are deeply emotional. Can you tell us if there was a moment when you knew this was the kind of visual storytelling you wanted to pursue?

Yes, there was a moment when I understood that my creative language wasn’t meant to represent the visible world, but to explore inner movements—emotions, tensions, connections. Through sculptural forms, imagery, or painted matter, I realized my path was to build visual narratives that invite stillness and feeling, rather than rational interpretation.

What themes are you most drawn to in your work?

My work is rooted in a deep connection with nature—not just as a physical environment, but as a symbolic and emotional force. I see ecology as a form of awareness: how we inhabit, relate to, and affect the world around us. I explore themes such as the body, emotional memory, and the invisible ties between living beings, as well as fragility, transformation, and the tension between containment and overflow.

How do you choose colours for your works? Do you have them pre-decided or you go with the flow? 

I usually start with a pre-selected color palette, chosen based on the emotional or symbolic tone I want to convey. However, I let the work evolve freely, and the process often leads me to adjust that initial palette. Color is not just visual to me—it’s skin, breath, contained emotion. I listen to it at every stage, as if it were another body within the work.

If your brush were a movie character, who would it be and why? 

If my brush were a movie character, it would be Ofelia from Pan’s Labyrinth: brave in her sensitivity, capable of creating parallel worlds where the invisible takes form. Like her, my work lives between the real and the symbolic, the organic and the dreamlike.

Do archetypes or symbols play any role in your creative process?

Yes, archetypes and symbols are deeply present, even if not always consciously. I work with forms that evoke the ancestral, the feminine, the bodily, and the cyclical. Images like the spiral, the seed, or the fragmented body often emerge—they speak of transformation, of origin, of what is still in the process of becoming.

Do you find yourself returning to certain characters, moods, or symbols across different works? What do you feel about them now?

Yes, certain elements return in different works: incomplete bodies, organic forms, seeds, nests, spirals. I don’t repeat them, but they return transformed, as if still speaking to me from another emotional place. They’re tied to feelings like vulnerability and the longing for connection—but also freedom, courage, and rebellion. They started as intuitions; now I see them as part of an emotional language that stays with me throughout each process.

Can you walk us through your creative process from creation to finishing?

My process begins with the contemplation of nature and of life itself—a way of observing both the visible and the invisible, what moves within and around me. From there, an image or a sensation emerges to guide the work. I use painting, objects, photography, or sculpture, and let the materials interact. I listen to the body, the space, and the matter. I alternate between action and stillness, and I know a piece is finished when it no longer asks for anything and I can look at it in silence.

What does a typical day in your studio look like? 

Every day in the studio is different, but it usually begins in silence—by observing how I feel and what the work is asking for. I like to work with natural light, move between pieces, touch the materials, and sometimes write. Some days are more physical, others more contemplative. I don’t follow a strict schedule; I let time flow according to what each piece needs.

Has there been a particular exhibition or response that deeply moved you?

More than any specific exhibition, what moves me most is when someone chooses to bring one of my works into their home. Some people have written to me later expressing their fascination with the piece and thanking me for creating it. They share how it inspires them in their everyday life—how it stays with them or connects them to something essential. That kind of intimate and lasting relationship gives my work a deep and human meaning.

If you could go back to your younger self as an artist, what advice would you give?

I would say: trust your intuition more—don’t create to please. Don’t rush, and don’t compare yourself. Your strength lies in your sensitivity, even in what makes you hesitate. Your gaze is unique: protect it, nurture it, and keep creating from a place of freedom, even if you don’t always know where it’s leading

Elena’s journey as an artist is a reminder that creation is not about rushing toward resolution, but about trusting the process, about listening to intuition, to materials, and to the silences in between. Her art lingers like a quiet conversation, returning in fragments, symbols, and emotions that continue to transform over time. By honoring fragility as much as resilience, Elena’s practice offers us a space of recognition: of the invisible threads that hold us, the cycles we live within, and the freedom found in sensitivity itself.

To learn more about Elena, please click on the links below