Beto Fame
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Sep 26
- 3 min read
Beto Fame’s practice is shaped by his background in architecture and his early years painting murals on the streets of Rio de Janeiro. Now based in London, he works with layered compositions that draw from memory, public space, and urban observation. His paintings often begin with long walks, collecting fragments of the city that later surface as textures, colors, or structures on canvas. With a strong sense of rhythm and improvisation, he brings together order and spontaneity in works that reflect the tension between the built environment and lived experience.
Q: You call the city a living organism. How do you catch its pulse when you paint?
A: My process of capturing the elements and emotions of the city begins with aimless walks. These are open-ended wanderings, guided by curiosity, where I engage in attentive observation without rigid structure. In these moments of exploration, details that usually pass unnoticed in daily life begin to surface.
The idea of the city as a "living organism" emerges from this constant awareness of transformation within the urban landscape — changes that occur naturally, shaped by time, weather, and nature, or imposed through human intervention, which often reconfigures the environment abruptly. After these walks, I return to the studio carrying fragments of these experiences: photographs, sketches, writings, found objects, and memories. Together, they form the raw material and references for my painting process, serving as points of departure that are reimagined and transformed on the canvas.
Q: Growing up in Rio and now living in London, what changed most in how you see territory and belonging?
A: The changes have been intense. While I see myself as a Latin American immigrant living in a country deeply rooted in tradition, I also find in London an extraordinary cultural diversity. People from all over the world coexist here, bringing with them their languages, histories, and ways of life. These encounters, at times harmonious and at times marked by contrasts, create a dynamic landscape where cultures constantly intersect and collide.
This ongoing exchange is both vital and enriching. It reminds us not only of the richness found in our differences but also of what we share: our humanity and the universal needs that connect us. It is in public space that this movement becomes most visible. Streets, parks, and systems of circulation turn into stages of coexistence, territories where distinct realities intersect and collective experiences emerge.
Q: Your works grow from layered memories and textures. What tells you a canvas is ready to stop?
A: During the creative process, I establish a constant dialogue with the canvas. As in any relationship, there are days when everything flows naturally, and others when the dialogue seems to stall, making the process slower and more challenging. In these moments of friction, I take a break: I put the canvas aside and start working on another piece.
Over time, we resume our interaction and things work themselves out. It's like musical improvisation: sometimes you have to be silent and listen before continuing. This silence is fundamental to the final harmony of the work. I need to listen to the work, and it will tell me when to stop.
Q: What energy from your muralist years still shapes your studio practice today?
A: I think what stays with me most from my time as a muralist is the ability to improvise. On the street, you have limited control over everything: the weather, the time available to finish the mural, the materials at hand, the comfort of the space, and sometimes even the environment can be hostile. In the studio, although almost everything is under control, it is still necessary to adapt techniques or improvise materials. That period as a muralist was undoubtedly a fundamental school for my artistic practice today.
Q: What role does architecture play when you bring together structure and disorder on canvas?
A: Architecture taught me to justify every choice and to have control over all the elements, like a conductor leading an orchestra. In architecture, order and clarity are essential. But when I think of art, nature, and even the city as a living organism in constant transformation, I realize we must constantly deal with the spontaneous, with the fear of the new, and with the wonderful disorder that is life.
Q: Philosophy runs through your process as open questions. What’s the one question that keeps coming back to you while you work?
A: Where are we going?
In recent years, this question has echoed constantly within me. Sometimes it arises in a deeply personal and intimate way; other times, it emerges in its broadest, most collective form.
