Hugo Espírito Santo
- Anna Lilli Garai
- Apr 26
- 4 min read
Hugo Espírito Santo works with movement. He lets paint flow across the surface, following gravity more than intention. The process is quick, almost automatic, leaving little room for second-guessing. Coffee sometimes enters the mix, darkening the tone, adding weight. What comes out feels suspended — part accident, part reflection. His canvases carry tension without needing to explain it. They hold space for what doesn’t settle easily.
Q: Your process starts with surrender. What’s the first decision you still have to make?
A: Surrendering control is a big part of my painting process. I like to believe it's no coincidence that I eventually adopted this technique — I find parallels between this painting practice and other aspects of my life. That being said, obviously there are still a few small conscious decisions that go into making one of these paintings, from the choice of colors to adding layers in some cases.
It would be hypocritical to say that I don't care about the final result, or that I'm not aiming for certain types of visuals. But I always try to trust my instincts as much as I can and let things flow — quite literally. To an extent, if I can convincingly justify why I chose a light red instead of a purple, for example, it's already a lost battle.
Q: You pour paint and let it move on its own. What draws you to that kind of hands-off control?
A: Both the process itself and the final result are what draw me to this technique. I was always very attracted to the idea of fluidity, non-linear shapes, psychedelic imagery, and things of that sort.
It wouldn't be interesting for me to try to recreate these shapes by sketching them or drawing them very precisely. But more important than that is the fact that I wouldn't even be able to think of these exact shapes.
On a deeper level, I try to look at this practice as a channel through which my feelings and emotions can flow freely.
That is why I try not to control things too much — to paint very quickly in order to avoid conscious decision-making.
Q: Some of your works use black coffee in the mix. What does that material add for you?
A: It all started as a fun thing to do that would distract me from the whole process. Thanks to the specific pouring technique I use, the end result of my paintings is already somewhat unpredictable at times.
Adding coffee to the mix — which I do only on some of the paintings — adds to this uncertainty. Due to its strong color, replacing water or the typical pouring medium with coffee also helps darken some of the tones I use and achieve a more somber look, which I’m always looking for.
Q: You’ve said the canvas becomes the scene — not just the surface. What shifts when you think of it that way?
A: Being someone who is hugely inspired by the Abstract Expressionism movement, this concept of the canvas as the "arena in which to act" is at the core of my practice. I don't think I could do it any other way.
When you think about it from that point of view, it becomes easier to free yourself from any (self-imposed) constraints and to use it as a vehicle for everything that's on your mind to just manifest itself. You start looking at it as a way through which you can channel your emotions and your current state of mind.
Q: Your pieces feel fluid, but they also hold tension. Where do you think that push and pull comes from?
A: I agree that the friction between the very dark and somber backgrounds with the more fluid and lighter tones might create a striking contrast or tension.
I was always attracted to dark or off-black colors, and most of my references come from abstract art.
Yet, I wouldn't be able to say why exactly I started approaching my paintings this way, resulting in this tension, but since the beginning, it always made sense to me.
I would like to think that it is a reflection of my personality, and possibly that of other people — of those who relate to these visuals. A reflection of a constant subdued state that is in a perpetual struggle, perhaps in conflict with all sorts of internal and external stimuli.
Q: What do you hope viewers bring to the work — especially when the image won’t tell them what to see?
A: Every time I show my paintings to someone for the first time, I look forward to asking them what they see, what they feel. Having honest feedback is crucial to me — it helps me interpret my own paintings.
Realizing that everyone sees something different in these works — including myself — feels like a confirmation that I'm on the path I want to be on. I strive to achieve that kind of subjectivity, in the way the painting communicates with the viewer.
