C. Nansen
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Sep 26
- 4 min read
C. Nansen is a Spanish artist based in Norway, with a background in oceanography and geology. Her practice developed alongside her scientific work and later shifted toward abstraction, shaped by intuition, sensory experience, and the influence of music and books. She works primarily with acrylics, building layered compositions that reflect changing moods, internal rhythms, and the quiet presence of time. Painting is part of her daily life and a way to stay connected to the present, often guided by curiosity and a sense of openness.


Q: You trained first in Oceanography and Geology. How is that scientific background still shaping the way you approach painting?
A: Much like in scientific research, when painting I begin with fragmented data: visual impressions, readings, fleeting sensations, internal dialogues. These elements are recontextualized in the shape of layers that gradually form the foundation of a concept—one that ultimately finds its voice on the canvas.
What science offered me early on was familiarity with uncertainty. It continues teaching me to be comfortable with the unknown to be unfolded, to remain curious, and to approach the complexity of nature with a sense of openness. In many ways, that sensibility mirrors the abstract process: it resists clear resolution yet demands a rigorous form of attention.
I enjoy my paintings when emerging from that intersection—where empirical inquiry meets intuitive exploration.
Q: Your paintings often shift with the light, never quite still. What draws you to that sense of change?
A: What draws me to this fluidity is the opinion that nothing is truly static—whether in thought, in life, or in the passage of time. The light reflects in the painting, coaxing the observer to engage, to look more closely. It’s as if the work is calling out, saying, “See me differently now, in this moment. I have changed. I am part of this continuum.” The same image can evoke entirely different responses, depending on where and when it is observed, which I find extremely interesting.
In my opinion, this shifting quality echoes the subtle changes that often go unnoticed in our busy lives. Life is a constant flow, a sequence of changes that are easy to overlook. A painting that responds to light in dynamic ways reminds us to pause and pay attention to the small shifts, the quiet moments. For me it’s a reminder that change is always happening, and if we are attentive, we can see its beauty and mystery.
Q: You have described your process as a way to return to the present. What keeps that focus on the now important for you?
A: For me, focusing on the present moment is finding inner connection. When you are connected, you are able to fully embrace each moment, whether joyful or sorrowful, fleeting or profound.
In inner connection, time slows down, judgment fades away, and expectations dissolve. What remains is simply me, raw and authentic, standing in front of the canvas. In this state of inner connection is where I integrate life, understand who I am, and explore who I’m becoming.
As such, painting becomes a way of being with myself, of embracing the experience as it unfolds. It’s about tuning into my feelings and intuition, free from the relentless noise of a mind that constantly churns with predictions and projections about what’s next.

Q: Music and books are part of your studio practice. Do they guide the work or set the mood?
A: Books and music are my "datasets"—they feed my process, challenge my thinking, and shape my becoming. In the studio, there are always underlined pages and music playing. They don’t just accompany the work; they actively shape it. A certain passage, a particular chord, or a line from a poem can shift my perspective entirely in that moment.
They guide the work intellectually and emotionally, setting the mood and framing the internal landscape from which I create. They are not just inspirational; they are transformational. They allow me to access different states of awareness—moods in which I can feel my body, shift my mindset, and move through the work with intention.
Q: You once worked in naturalistic watercolour, now in layered acrylic abstraction. What pushed that shift of direction?
A: After some experimentation and my art courses in Barcelona, I realized that abstraction can serve as a powerful tool to articulate the intangible—emotions, sensations, and deeply subjective themes. What fascinates me most about abstract art is how each observer interacts with an abstract art piece. When an observer describes what is perceived, the interpretation often reveals more about the observer's own inner world than about the original intention of the artist.
This exchange—the way the observer completes the artwork—feels profoundly beautiful to me. It creates a dynamic dialogue between artist and observer, where the artwork becomes a shared space for self-reflection and projection.
My shift was driven by a desire to explore inner landscapes—feelings and experiences that I don’t always understand. Abstraction allows me to navigate that internal terrain with openness and discovery, inviting both myself and others to engage in the mystery.
Q: You speak about embracing uncertainty. What does uncertainty give you that certainty cannot do?
A: In my opinion, uncertainty offers complete freedom for those that can embrace it. Through both science and life experiences, I’ve come to understand that what we "know" is only a tiny fraction of how things actually work. We create models and assumptions to predict outcomes, which gives us a comforting sense of control. But these are always based on limited observations and past experience, which can only approximate a tiny part of the future to come. There are moments—especially during difficult times—when this illusion of control shatters, it does not meet expectations. In my opinion, the realization is shocking, but also profoundly liberating. It revealed a world full of magic, mystery, and infinite possibilities.
The key, I believe, is learning to embrace whatever comes our way. Just as in science, where unexpected or “bad” results are often the most important for growth and discovery, uncertainty pushes us into becoming—becoming not who we think we should be, but who we truly are. It opens the mind, invites curiosity, and fosters a playful, childlike spirit.