Humor, most artists will tell you, is one of the hardest qualities to express in a work of art. It takes a finesse and slippery restraint to conjure up a smile or chuckle with a painting before it teeters into satire or crude caricature. Chilean-born Francisco Sierra manages to walk that tightrope with aplomb, creating memorable paintings that meld wit and humor with surrealist and conceptual influences.

Early this year, the artist was awarded the Unlimited People’s Pick public prize for “Guppy,” an installation of 48 teeny-tiny paintings of exotic rainbow fish at Art Basel’s Unlimited. Sierra, who was born in Santiago in 1977, is a self-taught painter represented by Von Bartha. His 2023 Copenhagen show with the gallery “A Bird in the Studio” fused photorealism and surrealism into a unique visual idiom. The gallery says Sierra’s works explore the “pitfalls of contemporary photographic reproduction and the transformative potential of painting.”

This summer, we caught up with Sierra at his light-filled studio in Cotterd, Switzerland, where he lives and works. The artist shared what he’s working on now and his special affinity for birds. 

Studio of Francisco Sierra with a view of Lake Morat, 2024. Photo: Sebastien Verdon

Tell us about your studio. Where is it, and what kind of space is it? 

The blackboard on the wall and the furniture reveal that my studio is in a former classroom of an elementary school with a magnificent view of Lake Morat. It is idyllic and calm here in the bilingual region of Pays des trois lacs. One could say that it is a bit “off the grid,” but there is a lot of artistic exchange happening when friends, musicians, writers, and other artists come together. We live just a stone’s throw away from the studio, which makes sense because painting is such an essential part of my daily life, that I wouldn’t want to have it separated.

Studio of Francisco Sierra, 2024. Photo: Sebastien Verdon

What are you working on right now?

I am constantly working on several ideas for paintings, drawings, three-dimensional works, or installations. But even though I always have many things on my mind, I never work on different canvases at the same time. It’s one after the other. Currently, I am about to start a very large painting, which I hope to finish by the end of this year.

Installation view of “Francisco Sierra: Guppy” 2024, at Art Basel’s Unlimited. Photo: von Bartha.

You paint various sizes from large to very small formats—some would say tiny! Your installation at Art Basel, “Guppy,” won the Unlimited People’s Pick, and featured paintings of rainbow fish. How did you decide to paint so small? Can you tell me more about this installation?

I am quite obsessed with work and not very good at resting, so I actually began working on the “Guppy” series during a family vacation just to keep myself busy. I soon realized the potential of the motif, and that could address many meaningful things through these little seductive fish. For example, there is forced diversity on the species for decorative purposes. The miniatures are also an ode to painting, and the convex wall plinths question display strategies used to underline the value of artworks. At the same time, the paintings meet the spectators halfway, as the structure grows out of the wall, and suddenly the viewers realize they are being watched by the fish as well.

Francisco Sierra, installation view, “A bird in a studio” von Bartha, Copenhagen, 2023, view on, Oyl (2023). Photo: Malle Madsen / von Bartha.

Your artworks often feature creatures—such as spiders, birds, fish, or whales. Why are you inspired to paint them? What do they mean to you? I read that a bird had flown into your studio at some point.

We divide animals into categories that are rooted in our perception of the world, mostly based on appearance and looks. We only eat pigs, because we don’t give them credit for their extremely developed brain capacities. For me, such thoughts mirror our human condition. My relationship with birds is special. As a child, I used to write letters to birds and put them in the trees in our garden, telling them not to be scared by the scarecrows the gardeners had put up on the fresh lawn. When I was working on my first exhibition in Copenhagen, a bird flew into my studio, so it felt right to name the show “A Bird in a Studio” as a metaphor for the ideas that often come flying up when least expected.

Francisco Sierra, Untitled (Humificador) (2020). Photo: Conradin Frei

Your practice encompasses painting and sculpture. How do you move between these mediums? How do they inform one another? 

I could paint almost anything, but sometimes, that is not enough to express what I want, so the form or medium always follows the idea. In addition, my paintings often involve props that I mostly make myself. They are not very well made, but I embrace their imperfection. The transformation that they undergo through the painting process is something that I really enjoy.

In the studio of Francisco Sierra, 2024, view on a prop for several moon paintings. Photo: Sebastien Verdon

What kind of atmosphere do you prefer when you work? Is there anything you like to listen to, watch, read, or look at while in the studio for inspiration or as ambient culture?

While working, I like to talk to people on the phone, listen to music, or, in some cases, even watch trashy TV series. I am not the type of artist who needs silence to work. The perfect state, which may sound like a contradiction, is being slightly distracted; that is how I get into a real flow.

In the studio of Francisco Sierra, views of Lake Morat from his window (left) and his new work La Vague (2024) (right). Photos: Sebastien Verdon

When you feel stuck while preparing for a show, what do you do to get unstuck?
Luckily, that hasn’t happened yet. The challenge is to narrow it down, consolidate, and curate all my ideas. Conversations with people I trust and who really know my work are very precious and helpful in this regard. And a swim in the lake can do wonders.

In Francisco Sierra’s studio, 2024, view of a sketch and props for Red Vase (2022). Photo: Sebastien Verdon