About - Barcelona Map Room - Drawings

In Brief:

In 1992 in Barcelona, I made drawings inspired by navigating the city’s streets, capturing their rhythms and hidden corners rather than depicting them literally. A mugging that left me without money, documents, or a cherished photograph brought the city’s unpredictability into sharp focus. Using discarded cardboard and paper, I carved and layered surfaces, letting their texture and fragility guide gestures and forms, creating maps of experience shaped by both necessity and intention. 

Context:

In Barcelona I made a series of drawings around the  idea of mapping, referencing the patterns of streets in the city without functioning as maps themselves. They grew less from the city as a subject and more from navigating it daily, learning its rhythms and discovering its corners through experience rather than representation.

One evening, walking back to the studio after visiting gallery openings, I collected discarded cardboard from the street, thinking it might be useful later. I had been with friends, but when they stopped to talk, I walked on ahead to unload the cardboard. In a narrow street I heard running behind me and assumed friends were catching up. Instead, I was attacked from behind by two muggers trying to pull my shoulder bag away. I dropped the cardboard and fought them, but they escaped with the bag. I chased them briefly into a seedy area, joined by a brave young woman who, though we did not speak each other’s language, immediately realised what was happening and begged me to stop, find a phone, and call the police. Mobile phones were not yet in common use, so finding one meant relying on a public payphone. The episode revealed a side of Barcelona I had not encountered before, an underbelly that contrasted sharply with the galleries and streets I usually navigated. At the time, Barcelona was renowned for muggings, and this encounter made that reputation unmistakably tangible.

In 1992, cash was still the primary means of payment, replacing lost funds or documents while abroad was slow and uncertain. The bag contained a significant amount of money, my rent, which was due, along with my passport and a photograph of my late sister that could not be replaced. What followed was a difficult period of practical and administrative consequences, and for a time I had limited access to art supplies.

Working with discarded materials in Barcelona was partly a response to these practical realities, but it also drew on a longer habit of discovery and experimentation with everyday surfaces. The abundance of cardboard, brown wrapping paper, and other materials left on the street felt liberating. I worked directly on the cardboard, carving lines that responded to the touch of my blade and the gestures I wanted to explore. I also layered found sheets of paper to build surfaces, creating additional areas to draw and incise, each material contributing its own texture and character. Using these materials allowed me to work lightly and responsively, exploring gestures and forms without constraint. Each incision became a gesture of navigation, a way of mapping not just the city’s streets, but the way I experienced them — its rhythms, corners, and hidden pockets. The roughness of the cardboard, the slight sheen of wrapping paper, and the folds and imperfections of the papers became part of the map’s story, marking intersections of chance and intention. Working with these materials demanded attention; a slip of the blade could tear, a fold could alter the path. In their pliability, I found a medium that mirrored the city itself, layered, textured, and full of small discoveries at every turn.

The drawings made during this time reflect that shift. They engage with the patterns of streets in a metaphorical sense, recording constraint and adaptation within a city that was at once generous and unforgiving, a city I adored and loved being in. These works sit somewhere between document and improvisation, shaped as much by necessity as by intention.

Linda Sgoluppi Art