Antimundo

‘Solaris’ is Oscar Santillán’s latest solo exhibition at Copperfield, London, opening on 27 May 2026.

The exhibition departs from a work of the same title that enables “the desert to look at itself”.

Using sand from the Atacama Desert, the artist created a photographic lens through which the desert was then photographed. The resulting images propose a form of geological self-awareness, also manifested in different ways across the other artworks in the exhibition.

‘Solaris’ follows the opening of the Ecuador Pavilion at the 61st Venice Biennale.

🕒 Opening hours
Wed to Sat, 12–6 pm (and by appointment)
On view until 1 Aug 2026

📍6 Copperfield Street
London SE1 0EP

If in Venice, we’ll be more than glad to have you stopping by the Ecuador Pavilion, an exhibition that embraces the practices of the admired and myself; and, curated by the curious mind of 🐉

The location of the Pavilion can be easily found on the way to Giardini:

📍Castello 1636/A, Venice, Italy
(you can also access the Pavilion through Via Garibaldi)

📅 Official opening:
Today, Wednesday May 6th - 4pm

✨ RSVP (DM me and I’ll add to you the list)

*the Pavilion is accesible all day today except at the official opening at 4pm by invitation

Thanks to the comissioner of the Ecuador Pavilion, to and for supporting my presentation.

For centuries, modern science has attempted to rationally classify the planet's immeasurable complexity. In 1735, the Swedish botanist Carl Linnaeus proposed that the world was composed of three kingdoms: animal, vegetable, and mineral, each subdivided into multiple categories.

Although intellectually elegant, this system could neither contain everything in existence nor point at the relationships between the parts.

To "resolve" this impossibility, Linnaeus added a fourth category: Paradoxa.

"Paradoxa" listed those beings that escaped his classifications or whose existence he doubted, such as dragons, frog-fish, and unicorns. This became the point of departure for the work shared in this post.

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Paradoxa, 2025
Oil paint on canvas, stainless steel, laser-cut plexiglass, ABS resin and automotive paint.
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Credits

A project by Oscar Santillán
Produced by Studio Antimundo

3D design for metal and plexiglass, Matheo Pérez
3D digital visualizations, Pedro Castillo
Painted components, Ema Jariso, Michael Vera, and Oscar Santillán.
Making of metal components, Víctor Yépez
Production coordination, Andrea Galarza

I see a deranged method turned into classroom common sense: artistic processes begin with students being expected to think first so that, at a later point, they can (supposedly) learn the skills needed to execute their vision or, better yet, have a technician make it for them.

Said otherwise, under the reigning paradigm, the artist speaks and the material just obeys. I consider this a total pedagogical disservice to students.

This meanstream pedagogical approach can be called "un-skilling".

It relies on intellectual reflectivity as its point of departure, and it treats artistic media as interchangeable tools chosen according to the needs of each project. For un-skilling, thinking is primal while craft is just instrumental. One can confidently say that, for a long while, un-skilling has been the pedagogical ideology ruling most art schools: think first and, once sure, proceed to execute.

By contrast, "pro-skilling" is its opposite. It begins from practical competence. It refuses to see art-making as something that happens first in the mind and only later trickles down to the hand (or the body). Instead, pro-skilling trusts the messy guidance of the material: the accidents that only appear once you start working, and the emergent qualities that surface through contact and even repetition.

So, my question here is: what if art education takes on a pro-skilling turn?

Here are some thoughts on a topic that is deeply dear to me.
As is the case for so many artists, at some point I began collaborating with scientists. There was no map back then, perhaps only scattered recollections from pioneers who opened this library of endless curiosities to the rest of us.
I’m still searching for other methodologies and to hear about the experiences of other artists who have dived into these waters.
—
Illustrations by the incredible early 20th century neurologist, Santiago Ramón y Cajal.