How did your relationship with painting begin, and what led you to specialize in oil?

I started painting in academies, and I think the tendency there is to eventually end up working with oil paints. But that’s not really the main reason—I was drawn to the possibilities oil painting offers. The drying processes and the composition of its elements are essential for a good pictorial result, and I’d dare to say that, for now, it’s the only medium that gives me the outcomes I seek in my work.

What does the pseudonym A.Corot mean to you?

Even though everyone thinks it’s my last name, it’s not—my real name is Alejandra Marroquín. That said, now about 50% of my friends call me Corot, and I love it.

This pseudonym came from a very deep thought by a young girl—the younger version of me, who at 17 decided to bet on her painting and give voice to her work through a mask. At first, no one knew who was behind the paintings, and I liked it that way. I had the ability to express whatever I wanted through them. Corot was a painter who inspired Van Gogh in the 18th century; he painted landscapes, which I absolutely hated at the time—and I found that really funny. It became a sort of ironic game that amused me a lot. No one knew who I was, and I painted everything that contradicted my pseudonym… Childhood things, I guess. But deep down, my painting is still very much like that: there’s a lot of playfulness in it, many hidden messages, lots of irony... Painting is playing—nothing new.

How do you think growing up in Alicante has influenced your way of creating and your artistic identity?

In every way. I believe being from a small town shapes your identity, just like many other things do. Every time I go back to Alicante, my life feels one way, and in Madrid, it feels like another. It’s something that makes me think a lot during the train rides back and forth. Is everything really as fast as it feels in Madrid? Should I disappear from here? All these questions shape who I am: a sensitive person who finds inspiration in these (often unanswered) thoughts.

Who are your main artistic influences?

In the past, I was mostly influenced by painters—contemporary artists from Paris like Delhomme or Longevial. But in the past few months, I’ve found a strong interest in photography and cinema. The ability they have to convey something and the power that medium holds to immerse you in a theme in just 160 minutes—the average length of a film at the Verdi cinemas—is fascinating.

How did the idea of collaborating with Romualda on this series of hand-painted hats come about?

It ties back to what I said before—I'm very drawn to bringing together the energy of two worlds, to see how painting can coexist with textiles. It’s about merging two cultural spheres that are strongly connected, because at their core, they share the same essence: creativity—especially in Romualda’s case.

I’ve been following Cris, one of Romualda’s founders, for a while now, and I think she’s an incredible artist. Her work is concise, confident, and has a clear vision: quick brushstrokes (at least from my perspective).

What inspired you to choose tableware and flowers as the main motifs in your designs?

Most of my visual archive revolves around still life, and this felt like the perfect opportunity to take that theme into new territory. I simply liked the idea of imagining a plate of food on one of Romualda’s oversized hats.

What was the process like of transferring your painting—usually done on canvas—to a medium like a hat?

It’s truly been a whole experience. Everything seems the same at first glance, but there are some very different nuances. It’s like someone thinking watercolor and oil are similar, only to discover they’re two completely different worlds. What excites me is that these will be unique hats, no two are the same—and the thought of people actually wearing them feels magical and super fun to me. Life is meant to be played.