Daniela Díez Cardona
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Sep 26
- 3 min read
Daniela Díez, also known as Chenta, is an illustrator and designer from Spain, working between Madrid and Ibiza. Her practice mixes editorial projects, exhibition work, posters, and illustration for spaces, often balancing commissioned work with personal research. Her images tend to be quiet and atmospheric, drawing from Japanese minimalism and elements of vaporwave. Through clear compositions, dreamlike skies, and reimagined objects, she reflects on everyday surroundings in subtle, poetic ways. Her recent solo show, “REST,” explored the need for pause and awareness in fast-paced environments. Lately, she has been exploring comics as a narrative space.
Q: Your solo show “REST” was staged in both Ibiza and Madrid. How did showing it in two such different places change your view of the work?
A: The “REST” exhibition sought to appeal to that escape we all need from time to time from routine and the everyday. Beyond that, it aims to evoke a small internal “awakening,” an oasis of peace and awareness, a way of avoiding autopilot.
Of course, by presenting it in Madrid, the message could be more “accessible” or evident for the audience, since life in cities is, by nature, noisier and more frenetic. Precisely for that reason, it was even more interesting to see how—even in an environment surrounded by nature and where the pace might seem different—everyone felt equally connected with the message. After all, that sense of frenzy lives within us: you can live in a city in a conscious and calm way if you choose to, or you can commute every day to work in Ibiza, walking past the sea without ever really looking at it.
Q: Your illustrations often feel calm and contemplative. Where do you look for that atmosphere in everyday life?
A: Since I was born, I’ve practically lived in parallel between Ibiza and Madrid. I’ve always loved that contrast, and I really enjoy admiring the beauty of both places. But that bucolic and contemplative gaze is probably a mark of Ibiza that I can’t help but carry with me into other settings. It comes out naturally—even when I draw an urban landscape or a building—to give a place to the sun, the clouds, or the subtle detail of the light.
Q: You draw from Japanese minimalism and vaporwave aesthetics. What connects those two worlds for you?
A: Sometimes I find it difficult to define my own references, since there are movements you absorb from almost unconsciously, and others from which you simply pick up certain traits. The drawing style of contemporary Japanese illustrators is something I deeply identify with and truly enjoy when it comes to consuming images.
On the other hand, even though I don’t feel particularly aligned with vaporwave, I can still see isolated traces of that style in my work—saturated colors, the presence of skies and suns, and so on.
Q: Dreamlike skies and reimagined objects appear often in your work. What draws you to those recurring elements?
A: I really enjoy conceptual illustration, and just as I love drawing a landscape or a setting simply for its beauty or for what it can evoke, I also delight in the process of reflecting on an object—rethinking what it means, and reinventing its connotation or message.
Q: You move between editorial projects, posters, and exhibitions. How do you keep your voice consistent across formats?
A: What I really value in my work is precisely the ability to adapt my voice or style to what each project requires. It’s a beautiful challenge to listen and understand what is needed, regardless of whether it’s what I would personally choose to do or not. I couldn’t spend all my time doing exhibitions—I would feel it as an excess of my own voice running free, almost like an excess of ego. I enjoy adapting, being able to take part in and learn from such different projects, while still leaving my own mark on them.
Q: You’ve recently started working in comics. What possibilities do you see opening up in that medium?
A: Getting into the world of comics as a narrative medium has been a real discovery for me. It’s a big challenge, since I’m used to conveying a message or concept in a single static image, and stretching time and space through panels and sequences feels like opening the door to an immense universe—one in which I still have so much to learn.