Visi Almagro Paints the Anxiety We Hide Behind Our Online Selves

At Arts to Hearts Project, our 100 Emerging Artists of 2026 is a hundred artists and a hundred completely different stories, gathered from all around the world. Some look to nature, some to the past, some deep into their own lives. Each one sees the world in a way no one else quite does. But every now and then, someone paints the world we all share right now, and it stops you. That is what Visi Almagro did.

Visi is a Spanish painter and illustrator, and all of her work circles one very modern feeling: the distance between who we really are and the polished, hyper-connected world we live inside. Her paintings begin in something real and recognisable, then drift into the surreal the moment ordinary life stops being enough to explain it. It is how she paints the things that are so hard to put into words. Loneliness. Anxiety. The strange way we slowly lose track of ourselves online.

Nearly every piece is built around one figure, whom she calls ALKE. ALKE is not a real person but a kind of avatar, a stand-in Visi uses to carry feelings we all recognise. Online, we treat our avatars as masks, the neatest, most flattering version of ourselves. Visi does the exact opposite.

Her avatar is born on a screen but comes to life on the canvas, and rather than hiding what is fragile in us, she lays it bare. The name itself comes from an old Greek word for courage and inner strength, which is precisely what ALKE carries. Her face is calm and steady, and somehow it looks back at you, like a mirror asking quietly where you fit into all of this.

Spend a moment with her paintings and you start noticing a whole language of her own symbols. Cables that curl like snakes, which she calls “snables,” rotten apples, blooming flowers, pins, and old myths retold for our times, each one hinting at both the wonder and the dangers of the digital world. Even her paint joins in, with pearly, metallic finishes that shimmer like a screen.

And the way she works mirrors her subject exactly. She maps everything out digitally first, sketching on a tablet down to the smallest detail, and then, at the canvas, she lets all of that control go. The painting turns loose, physical, imperfect, and human, the very things she believes no screen can ever give us.

For all the noise inside her imagery, her figures stay strikingly calm, and that is no accident. In a world this loud and relentless, Visi sees stillness as a real form of resistance. Her whole practice is a gentle stand against the endless scroll. A screen might be how you first come across her work, but the painting itself is made to draw you back out of it, to make you pause, stand before something you can actually touch, and feel a real, human moment again.

Beneath all the modern symbols, what she keeps returning to is something old and deeply human. The loneliness we all carry, and the courage it takes to stay close to ourselves and to each other. Her work never wants to leave you stuck in that ache. It wants to name it honestly, and then hand you an anchor, a quiet reminder that even in a cold and disconnected age, there is still light and strength to be found inside us.

Now let’s hear from Visi about the figure at the heart of her work, why she plans in pixels but paints in chaos, what it means to stay calm in a world that never stops, and why painting slowly might be the boldest rebellion of all.

Q1. Can you share what first inspired you to pursue art and make it such an important part of your life?

In some ways, I have always known that artistic expression was an integral part of my identity and how I engage with the world. Ever since childhood, I have felt that I have found a safe haven in my drawings. Throughout my life, I have returned to that haven time and time again.

I have worked in various sectors for many years, but I have always come back to pencils, paintbrushes and writing to ease my anxiety, free my thoughts and express reality through my own eyes. As they say in Spain, ‘the goat always returns to the mountain’… I have always returned to the place where I belong.

Q2. Your work blends figurative painting with surreal elements. How do you decide between reality and symbolism?

Indeed, my work plays on a duality: the contrast between human vulnerability and alienation in our hyper-connected world. For me, reality provides the emotional anchor, whilst symbolism acts as the language of our digital age. The human figure — almost always through my avatar, ALKE — needs to remain deeply rooted in reality because it is the physical vessel of our vulnerability, courage and resilience. It is the direct bridge of empathy to the viewer. The shift towards surrealism comes naturally to me when the figurative is no longer sufficient to explain the invisible and harsh environment that surrounds us. When I need to capture the hyperconnectivity, isolation or identity crisis we are currently experiencing, that is when the idea calls for symbolism. These emotions are so complex that I need to draw on my own iconography: the snables (those hybrids of snakes and cables), the geopins, or the use of pearlescent and metallic acrylics that mimic the gleam of the digital world.

We live in an age of ultra-fast visual consumption, where images and the concept of the ‘avatar’ are absorbed in seconds.

By incorporating surreal and polysemic elements, such as snails, pins or reinterpretations of classical myths, I aim to generate tension. My aim is to compel the viewer to pause and observe the painting calmly, asking themselves questions in the process. While the attractive figure serves as a hook, it is the ambiguity of the symbol that captures the mind and challenges digital immediacy. In this process, the viewer realises that the artwork is looking back at them. ALKE challenges this rapid consumption, acting as a mirror and forcing the observer to question not only the painting, but also their own position and complicity in the digital world.

Q3. How much of a painting is planned, and how much unfolds intuitively?

For me, planning and intuition are two distinct processes, with a clear boundary between the digital and the physical. The overall composition, narrative structure, and placement of symbols and details are all planned from the outset. The entire first phase takes place in the digital environment as I work on these sketches in Procreate, calculating every aspect of the visual weight and treatment of the symbols to the millimetre. There is meticulous study and many drafts before the final sketch is created.

You could say that this phase represents the control and perfection of the digital environment. However, when I transfer the work to a physical format, intuition and chaos take over. Since the conceptual foundation has already been established in the digital sketch, I feel free to adopt a more visceral and intuitive approach to the medium.

This is where the magic happens and the canvas takes on a life of its own. The material escapes digital control, becoming a completely organic, tactile and thoroughly human process. Changes occur that I hadn’t planned in the digital sketch because the material’s organic nature and the intuitive element come into play. This phase represents our human vulnerability and our inner magic, what makes us unique.

Q4. The women in your paintings rarely feel like portraits of specific individuals. Who are they to you?

In fact, they are multiple manifestations of a single entity that I call ALKE. ALKE is not a specific person, but rather a visual vessel and avatar designed to channel collective emotions.

In our daily digital lives, we use avatars as protective masks, edited and idealised versions of ourselves.

However, I use ALKE in the opposite sense: she is a digitally born entity who is physically reborn on the canvas, exposing our rawest vulnerability. Her name derives from the ancient Greek personification of courage and inner strength, that is precisely what she represents to me. She is the archetype of identity in the post-internet era.

Through her, I explore how we cope with hyperconnectivity, isolation, and the need for emotional resilience. This explains why her face appears both intimate and universal. She acts as a mirror: when viewers look at her, they are confronted with a reflection of their own condition, a symbol of the courage we all possess to navigate a world that overwhelms and isolates us.

Q5. Your paintings often feel like scenes from an unwritten fairy tale. Do they begin with a story, or does the narrative emerge through painting?

My stories stem from researching classical and ancient myths, such as Genesis, the transformation of Daphne, or the throwing of apples in classical Greece

That atmosphere of an ‘unwritten tale’ emerges when translating these universal narratives into our digital age.

I take the original myth and reinterpret it using my own iconography to speak of our current alienation: the snables (those hybrids of snakes and cables), the rotten apples or the geopins. The viewer recognises the classical archetype but is confronted with a contemporary visual vocabulary. By encoding it in this way, I leave the story open so that the viewer, under the gaze of ALKE, is the one who finishes writing it.

Q6. Nature, animals, and female figures often share the same symbolic world. What conversations do these elements create?

The central theme is the clash between our organic essence and our hyper-connected reality. The female figure (ALKE) represents our vulnerability and resilience. Animals, such as my ‘snables’ (cable-snakes), symbolise the digital trap and threat.

And nature oscillates between the toxicity of rotten apples and the hope offered by flowers of renewal. Taken together, these elements explore the tensions of our times: how to survive, find a sense of belonging and flourish in an artificial world that seeks to disconnect us from ourselves.

Q7. Many of your characters appear calm and introspective despite their surreal surroundings. What draws you to these moments?

I am drawn to those moments of stillness because, in a hyper-connected world saturated with noise, calm is the greatest act of resistance.

That introspective attitude is the very essence of ALKE. Her name derives from courage and inner strength, and that is exactly what she embodies. Her tranquillity in the face of the surreal chaos surrounding her is not passivity, but genuine emotional resilience. Whilst the world around her is filled with alienation and digital traps, she acts as an anchor. It is my way of visualising that, despite the vertigo and anxiety of the post-internet era, our ability to stay centred and protect our inner world remains intact.

Q8. Contemporary portraiture has moved beyond capturing likeness. What does portraiture allow us to explore today?

Contemporary portraiture has a unique capacity that other genres lack: a direct and intimate connection through the face.

Nowadays, the portrait has ceased to be a mere record and has become a psychological map. In my case, it allows me to explore collective identity in the face of hyperconnectivity and contemporary alienation. I use figurative art not to document an individual, but to employ ALKE as a vessel for universal emotions.

Q9. In a culture where people constantly curate how they appear, can painting still reveal emotional truths beneath the surface?

Absolutely. In fact, I believe that painting is the ultimate antidote to constant digital ‘healing’. In our virtual lives, we project edited, flawless versions of ourselves that are designed to hide our insecurities. However, on the canvas, I reverse this process.

I use ALKE to expose our rawest and most genuine vulnerability. It is this rebirth process from the digital realm onto the canvas that enables ALKE to reveal its imperfections and unique essence.

Q10. Looking across your body of work, what themes have remained with you as your style has evolved?

Throughout my career, my visual language has evolved and my experimentation with materials has expanded. However, one core element has remained intact throughout: exploring the loneliness and anxiety experienced by contemporary individuals and how we draw on our inner strength to anchor ourselves in the world.

From my earliest works to my most recent pieces, the central theme has remained consistent: the need to protect ourselves from isolation by forging authentic, deeply human connections. The search for a sense of belonging and the need to demonstrate our inner courage in the face of digital alienation are the common threads running through all my work.

My style, the complexity of my symbols and the textures of my canvases may change over time, but that pulse of emotional resilience remains the heart and soul of my work.

Q11. Social media has changed how people encounter paintings. Has it changed how you think about creating them?

It has changed the way I create, but, above all, it is an act of resistance. I accept that we live in a digital culture and that many people will discover my work through a screen. In fact, my compositions originate digitally. I embrace new technologies and enjoy experimenting with different media. However, when I stand before the canvas, I paint in open rebellion against the tyranny of rapid scrolling and two-dimensional images.

It is precisely this awareness of social media that motivates me to immerse myself in a slow, intuitive, organic and natural pictorial process. It is my personal rebellion against the culture of voracious digital consumption. Social media may be the gateway, but the physical painting is designed to reconnect you with the tangible world. It is an invitation to step away from the screen, pause in front of the artwork and experience a genuine human encounter.

Q12. What responsibility, if any, do artists have when representing the emotional lives of others?

I believe that, when addressing other people’s emotions, an artist’s greatest responsibility is to be honest and respectful. Our role is not to expose vulnerability as a spectacle, but to validate it.

In my work, I aim to create a mirror in which the viewer feels understood rather than judged. When exploring delicate emotions such as anxiety, loneliness and digital alienation, I feel a moral duty to ensure that viewers are not left trapped in that distress.

This is why I approach my work with the ultimate responsibility of offering an anchor and a positive message. Depicting the isolation or vulnerability of others only makes sense if the final piece facilitates a connection with others and inner strength. Despite the cold winters, I try to show that we can always find light and courage within ourselves.

Q13. Your work encourages viewers to interpret rather than observe. Do unanswered questions make art more memorable?

Absolutely. It is ambiguity and mystery that keep a work alive in the viewer’s mind long after they have seen it. If a painting provides all the answers immediately, it is consumed just as quickly as any other image in our daily feed. That’s why I incorporate surrealism and double meanings into my work. This lack of obvious answers creates the friction needed to break the cycle of rapid consumption.

Q14. What advice would you give artists creating personal work while leaving room for their own interpretations?

Well, I don’t think I’m very good at giving advice. If I had to give one piece of advice, though, it would be to use your own vulnerability as a driving force and build a visual bridge for the audience to cross. Any soulful work must spring from an intimate and authentic truth. If the initial emotion isn’t genuine, I think the audience can tell. Ultimately, it’s about trusting the audience. Share your deepest emotional truth, but leave enough silences and blank spaces for them to fill in the gaps.

Talking with Visi left us thinking about all the versions of ourselves we put online, and the real, unedited person quietly waiting underneath them.

So much of life now happens behind a screen, where we show the world a tidy, polished version of ourselves and keep the softer, more fragile parts out of sight. Visi’s work bravely turns that around. It takes the things we usually hide, the loneliness, the anxiety, the longing to belong, and lays them gently in the open, on a real canvas you can stand in front of.

And how she makes the work matters just as much as what it holds. In a time of fast, endless images, she chooses to paint slowly, by hand. It is a quiet act of defiance against the scroll, and an invitation to look up from the screen and feel something real. What stayed with us most is that she never abandons you in the sadness. There is always a light left on.

There is a lot here for other artists to hold onto, too. Let your own vulnerability lead the way, she says, and use it to build a bridge others can walk across. Honest work has to come from somewhere real and personal, because people can always sense when it does not.

But trust the people looking, as well. Give them your deepest truth, then leave a few gaps and silences for them to fill with their own stories. That open space is what keeps a piece alive long after it is seen.

For collectors and art lovers, Visi’s work brings something rare and very of-the-moment into a room. These are beautiful, strange, layered paintings that will not reveal everything at first glance, and instead ask you to slow down and truly look. Her calm figures feel like a steady point in all the noise, and they keep giving back the longer you live with them. To hang one on your wall is to keep a quiet mirror close by, and a gentle daily nudge to step away from the screen and stay near what is real.

Follow Visi Almagro through the links below and see her work for yourself.

We heard you needed more time, so we have extended the deadline. Submissions for our 101 Art Book: Faces Edition are now open until 15 September 2026. We are looking for artists who understand that a face is never just a face. It is a doorway. Into identity, memory, emotion, culture, everything a person carries underneath what the world sees on the surface.

If you paint faces, draw them, photograph them, sculpt them, stitch them, collage them, or build them out of materials nobody else would think to use, and if your work goes deeper than getting the likeness right, we want to see what you are doing. Medium does not matter. Geography does not matter. Career stage does not matter. What matters is that the face in your work is holding something worth looking at twice.

If you missed the first deadline, this is your second chance. Every artist featured in our publications was once someone who took a breath and submitted. This could be your edition.