Why I Paint the Way I Do

My relationship with memory has always been a bit of a rollercoaster. I know, you’re probably thinking, “What does memory have to do with painting?” Trust me, it’ll all make sense… if I don’t forget the point of this post by the end.

Here’s the deal: it all boils down to my attention deficit. And speaking of which, I could really use a coffee right now to perk me up… but I digress. My mom always used to say, “You remember what you want to.” And boy, was she right. Ask me to remember a test date? Total disaster. But quiz me on movie characters or video game cheats? That stuff’s etched in my brain like a tattoo.

I used to hate it when people said my memory wasn’t bad, just “selective.” Let’s cut the BS! If I’ve only got two megabytes of RAM up there, of course I’ve got to be picky – it’s mental survival of the fittest. The difference between someone with a good memory and someone like me? They get to choose what to remember. I’m forced to be selective out of sheer necessity. Luckily, my brain’s pretty good at prioritizing the essentials (or whatever seems cool at the moment).

Huge vertical painting by Diego Tirigall titled 'Street Art Odyssey 2

Memento Minus the Ink

This is where my obsession with note-taking comes in. My memory’s so spotty that if I don’t write down my thoughts ASAP, they vanish into the ether. It’s like my brain’s a whiteboard that’s constantly being erased. So, like a less extreme version of the guy from Memento, I’ve developed this habit of jotting down everything that catches my eye. No tattoos required – just my trusty planner for everyday stuff, phone notes for urgent things, and the holy grail: the notebook. That bad boy is sacred, reserved for the creative sparks that fuel my art. Those scribbles? They’re the seeds that bloom into my paintings.

Two works by Tirigall in a Scandinavian-style interior.

August 29, 2024: When the Machines Take Over

Over time, this compulsive note-taking has become the backbone of my artistic process. Ideas hit me like lightning, and if I don’t capture them instantly, they’re gone forever. Case in point: the other day, I caught an interview that mentioned August 29, 2024. Ring any bells? It’s Judgment Day – when Skynet takes over in Terminator.

In today’s world, that sci-fi scenario is feeling less and less far-fetched. With AI advancing at breakneck speed, that date sent chills down my spine. It’s not just movie nostalgia; it’s a symbol of the tightrope we’re walking with technology. It promises to make our lives better, but at what cost? Are we losing our humanity in the process? That August 29, 2024 isn’t just a Terminator reference anymore – it’s a wake-up call for a generation caught between wanting to control everything and fearing we’ll lose it all to the machines.

You can bet that date’s going to show up in one of my future paintings. Viewers might scratch their heads and think, “What the hell does that mean?” Or maybe they’ll get it right away. Or, let’s be real, I might have forgotten the significance myself by then.

Reflective political messages in Diego Tirigall’s art featured in a stylish interior space.

Click Mafia and the Echo Chamber

My pocket-sized notebook is a goldmine of cryptic notes that probably look like gibberish to anyone else. But to me, they’re the seeds of bigger ideas. Flipping through it today, I came across “click mafia”. I’ve actually got a painting by that name, with those two words front and center. Get what I’m driving at? The “click mafia” is my take on how the digital world has us all chasing likes and follows like addicts. Each painting is a reflection of these internal and external battles we’re all fighting in the 21st century.

Another gem I stumbled upon: “the echo chamber”. This goes beyond just repeating ideas; it’s about how we get stuck in these digital bubbles, only hearing voices that agree with us and shutting out anything that challenges our worldview. It’s one of those invisible traps of modern life – we feel safe in our little echo chambers, but we’re slowly going deaf to any other perspective.

My art isn’t about spoon-feeding you answers; it’s about starting a conversation. I’m throwing questions out there on canvas, waiting for you, the viewer, to pause, reflect, and ask yourself if maybe you’re living in your own echo chamber too.

Wide 'Carnaval Kawaii' by Tirigall in an elegant collector's space

It’s Not Just a Painting, It’s a Mirror

I’m not in the business of creating wall decorations. My paintings are conversation starters, invitations to think deeper. You might spot details like “10% offering”, “kabala”, or “taikum” hidden among the colors and shapes. It’s up to you to figure out what they mean. I’m not here to give you all the answers; I want you to go on your own interpretive journey. Each piece is a snapshot of my thoughts, a reflection of the world as I see it in that moment.

For collectors and gallery owners, what I’m offering is more than just a painting – it’s an experience, a story waiting to be uncovered. Each piece is one-of-a-kind, not just because it reflects who I am, but because it captures the zeitgeist of our time.

And if you ever find yourself staring at one of my paintings, wondering why there’s a random word or date smack in the middle that doesn’t make sense… don’t sweat it. Chances are, I don’t remember either. But that’s the beauty of it: what I forget, I reinvent, and what you forget, you fill in with your own meaning. After all, isn’t that what art is all about? An endless dialogue between what we remember and what we choose to forget.