Interview with Abraham Gascón

Abraham Gascón isn't your typical traditional studio artist. This Madrid-born artist, originally from Getafe, has his heart divided between Spain and his beloved Santa Cruz de la Sierra in Bolivia—a country he considers his second home and where he has dedicated much of his social and personal commitment. What has truly catapulted him to fame is something as ordinary and surprising as his medium: toasted bread. For Abraham, breakfast becomes a powerful platform for irony, social commentary, and an aesthetic that is as fragile as it is captivating.

His career, forged through self-teaching, exploded during the pandemic. In those difficult times, his viral videos denouncing the social situation while transforming his toast resonated with thousands of people, even directly engaging political figures. Today, Gascón shows us that you don't need a large canvas to tell profound truths; you only need a precise technique of temperature control, natural pigments, and something important to say.

Abraham, it's impossible not to ask you about your signature medium. What does art mean to you, and why did you choose bread as your medium?

For me, art is simply about bringing out the beauty in life, even in the most mundane things. When I paint on a slice of bread, I'm playing with the fragility of the material and the symbolism of what we consume daily. I don't try to please anyone; I do what I believe in and how I believe in it, without letting myself be swayed by established norms. In such a saturated market, being different is what allows you to stand out, and my "toasted canvas" is my signature. This medium isn't accidental; it represents the ephemeral nature of our existence. When I put a piece of my life onto such a humble material, people feel it and connect with it in a way that a traditional painting sometimes fails to do. It's my way of saying that, although everything is temporary, the message can be eternal.

You've been through some very difficult personal times, such as the loss of your father at a young age and a long stay in the ICU. How have these experiences shaped your creative process?

They were brutal shocks to reality. Spending months in the ICU and losing my father so young completely changes your perspective: you learn to value the people you love in a powerful, special, and very urgent way. You realize that time is a luxury. COVID was, in the end, the push I needed to live in the moment and be much more selective about where I am and what I do. My work now reflects that urgency; I don't waste time on the superfluous. The fragility of bread reminds me that we are only here temporarily, but that we must live with passion. I'm not afraid of challenges; I go after things with the intensity of someone who knows that every day counts. I try to capture my experiences, scars, and joys; that raw honesty is the only real way to connect with others.

Many people are surprised to see that you maintain firm prices working with such an accessible material. How do you defend the value of your work?

The value isn't in the bread itself, but in the skill, the story, and the honesty I infuse into each piece. I don't lower my prices because I know the worth of my work; it's an act of respect for myself and for the discipline I've perfected. Giving in to commercial pressures would be betraying my own voice. Furthermore, I have a non-negotiable commitment: 20% of everything I sell goes directly to charity. It's my way of giving back a little of what life has given me, especially after receiving help when I needed it most. For me, quality and ethics go hand in hand; if you don't value what you do, no one else will. My work is a professional, human, and, above all, genuine commitment.

What advice would you give to aspiring artists who feel like they're hitting a wall of frustration?

To those just starting out, I'd say: don't get frustrated! Art is a marathon, not a sprint. Have a clear roadmap, but don't be afraid to stray from it and think differently; originality is your best weapon. And another key point: stick together. Seek out friends, build a community, exchange artwork, share knowledge. That network is what sustains you when the market gets tough. Fear is a bad companion, so focus your energy and pursue your goals. An artistic career is a marathon where persistence and surrounding yourself with authentic people are just as valuable as talent. If your vision is honest, the obstacles will fall away. Go for it!

Finally, what drives you every day, and what would have to happen for you to stop painting?

My driving force is the profound satisfaction of creating something unique and seeing how it connects with people. Each piece is a technical challenge, a puzzle of temperature and pigment that makes me feel alive. I don't seek easy applause; I seek coherence: that what comes from my hands be a pure reflection of what I hold within. What would make me stop? I would stop painting the day I stopped enjoying it. My relationship with art is an absolute romance. If tomorrow creation becomes a mechanical obligation, a meaningless burden, I will lose interest. Art demands total dedication; if that flame of enjoyment were to be extinguished, the work would lose its soul. As long as I continue to find pleasure in the struggle with the canvas, you will find me here. As long as there is passion, there will be art.

It has been a true privilege to speak with Abraham Gascón, an artist who teaches us that genius doesn't need grand artifice, but rather a courageous vision capable of transforming the everyday into something sublime. His commitment to beauty and social causes reminds us that art, even when painted on a simple piece of toast, should serve to move us and improve our world. Thank you, Abraham, for opening the doors to your vision and for that inspiring roadmap for those seeking their own path. We will continue to eagerly await your next creations, where fragility and strength are sure to surprise us once again. Thank you for reminding us that life deserves to be lived with authenticity and purpose!