Pedro Gramaxo’s work navigates the tension between artificial construction and natural landscapes, examining how human presence reshapes perception. His "Landscape" series introduces temporary geometric forms into remote environments, momentarily disrupting untouched terrain with bold, man-made structures. These interventions exist only briefly before being dismantled, their presence documented through photography—traces of an intrusion that is both fleeting and deliberate. By embedding artificial elements within vast, organic settings, Gramaxo creates a dialogue between the rigid and the fluid, the constructed and the untamed.
His work highlights the fragility of both human intervention and the landscapes it momentarily inhabits, questioning the permanence of what we build.
While "Landscape" offers a public confrontation with spatial disruption, "HOME" unfolds as an intimate, self-contained dialogue between artificiality and nature. One series asserts itself within the landscape; the other dissolves into personal memory. The interplay of exposure and concealment, permanence and disappearance, shapes Gramaxo’s practice, challenging how we engage with what is seen, what is lost, and what lingers in the mind after the physical form is gone. His work reminds us that space is never just a backdrop—it is something we shape, inscribe, and ultimately carry with us, even after it vanishes. By balancing these two approaches, he reveals the ways in which we construct, inhabit, and remember the spaces around us.
Q: Your work navigates the tension between artificial structures and natural landscapes. What initially drew you to this intersection?
A: This dialogue of tension is something I have been exploring in parallel with critical perception since the early 2000s.
My first thoughts on how man-made constructions and artificial surroundings were developed and designed came to me while I was at one of my first Psytrance raves in Portugal. The mesmerizing “off-grid” atmosphere of those raves, combining a carefully chosen remote location with built, fractal-like nuances, induced me into a parallel universe filled with entirely new shapes, colors, and sounds.
This was the beginning of my constructive research—how do we relate to nature? What are the principles of our artificial presence?
Q: The "Landscape" project introduces temporary geometric installations into natural environments. What inspired this approach, and how do you choose the locations?
A: The approach emerged from the dialogue of tension and my curiosity about exploring remote, untouched landscapes. I like to think of them as a contemporary "Landscape" painting academic exercise, but with the idea of a possible visual concealment.
I frequently scout for natural contexts and search for the ultimate contemplative composition. These landscapes must have absolutely no human presence, various depths of field, a variety of flora specimens, a strong geomorphic identity, and multidimensional perceptions. Every location is the starting point for any installation.
Q: Many of your installations are site-specific and ephemeral. How do you see impermanence shaping the meaning of your work?
A: Impermanence is a crucial concept since these artworks exist as moments in space and time that can never be recreated.
The installations emphasize that nothing is truly permanent and serve as a critique of excessive urban development and growth. This constant flux invites viewers to experience the chosen location as a living entity, always in motion—reminding them that both the space it occupies and they themselves are in a continuous state of change. My work is an invitation to reflect on the impermanence of existence itself.
Q: Your installations exist both as physical structures and as photographic records. How does documentation influence the way you conceptualize your work?
A: Physical, bodily presence can never be devalued or replaced when discussing art contemplation.
Since these are site- or land-based works, they incorporate numerous specific elements that define the final artwork—such as the movement of the sun, weather conditions, and the season. Every piece can change within seconds, minutes, or hours. So which moment is the ultimate moment of contemplation?
The photographic output is a two-dimensional frame in time and becomes the only “artifact” of that creation—a pictorial mystique of a past event, something that no longer exists. Eidos, eikon, eidolon.
Q: The "HOME" series contrasts with "Landscape" by being inaccessible to viewers. What role do secrecy and solitude play in your artistic process?
A: I don’t consider it secret since I am exhibiting these artworks.
For me, they are self-enriching—a growth process that augments my intellectual and spiritual resources. An artistic ritual—my own “rave.”
It highlights the deeply personal and unique connection between the creator/viewer and the artwork. Especially when transient or evolving, the work takes on a different meaning for each individual, depending on their perspective and experience at that moment. Being the sole person to engage with it live means you have the privilege of interacting with something purely individual—of your own making.
This rare moment makes the experience inherently special, underscoring the idea that art is not just something to be observed but something to be perceived as fully as possible, under any state of awareness. I see it as a personal higher state of existence.
Q: Your practice often explores altered states of perception. How do you incorporate sensory manipulation and meditative observation into your creative process?
A: The revelatory raving experience that began in the early 2000s has stayed with me to this day. I take it very seriously as part of my creative process, and I never miss my ritual to reconnect with nature and myself.
The raving scene introduced me to new landscapes and undiscovered horizons, and within those horizons, I have been able to perceive different aspects of sensory cognition and enhanced phenomenology.
Q: You have an architecture MA—how does that inform your approach to space, scale, and materiality in your artistic practice?
A: Architecture is deeply present in my work, both conceptually and technically. My master’s degree focused on the study and historical research of the relationship between art and architecture in exhibition spaces—examining how their constructive processes influence one another.
This is where my interest in site-specific and land-based approaches first developed and where I began exploring new, unconventional art contexts. Since the early 1900s, art has progressively evolved to become spatial, three-dimensional, and phenomenological—engaging light, color, scale, scent, and matter in ways that parallel architectural modus operandi.
At this point, my conceptual reasoning for project design works in the same way for both artistic and architectural expressions. They are interconnected, both in their conceptual underpinnings and their social importance.
The main reason I chose to study architecture at the time was the naive thought that I would be more technically prepared to develop large-scale sculptures and installations—which turned out to be surprisingly true! I am very grateful for the exposure to different media, cutting-edge materials, and constructive processes. Now, I can independently develop all of my projects without technical limitations.
Q: What’s next for you? Are there new landscapes or conceptual directions you’re excited to explore?
A: I’m excited to explore the intersection of impermanence and interspecies concepts—developing an even more intricate contrast between the natural and the artificial.
Who knows what technologies or biogenetic materials we will have in the near future?
Obrigado!