In the complicit penumbra of the SpeakEasy of Dry Martini we met with Ivan Forcadell (Alcanar, 1993). The setting could not be more appropriate: a space where appearances are deceiving and where the truth is found behind shelves full of bottles of alcohol.
Forcadell is not a conventional artist. He thinks and speaks at a dizzying speed. Although he is very clear about his path, he defines himself as a "survivor". As a "hybrid" artist. Someone who has managed to combine the legacy of the hard work of the irrigated farmer with the sophistication of the contemporary art market. With disarming sincerity and a total absence of shame that, he confesses, helps him to "pay bills", Forcadell has gone from loading his car with paintings bound for Menorca to captivating galleries and collectors.
— What drives you to do what you do?
— The vital state I like the most is working. I really like to work, I really like to create and I really like to play. For me, the great premise is that I have to enjoy the process. I have invested in working better to be able to do the things that interested me. In many I have made mistakes, but that's the beauty of it.
— You are an artist, an entrepreneur… how do you define yourself?
— Survivor. Society in 2026 asks you to be a hybrid, a hybrid out of necessity in a constantly changing world. The only thing you need is not to lose your essence and your foundation. I need my own book to review myself, to know if I'm doing well and to be able to backpedal. Being an entrepreneur is very creative, but… what an obsession we have with defining everything! I am an artist, but the big names in contemporary art are all entrepreneurs. They move through the market; if not, we wouldn't know them. Moving a camera for someone to look at you costs a lot of money. In the end, why do people know Picasso or Dalí? Because they were expensive! 
— Let's talk about discipline. Are you a disciplined person?
— Yes, very much so. And that, in large part, is what makes me an artist. It comes from my home, from all my life. The irrigated farmer is from a very hardworking class, no summer or anything. I come from a house of women, managed by women, where a lot of work has been done and where there were some non-negotiables that were never touched. There are some phrases my mother says: "Gos fart no casa". She also said: "Si hi ha un plat a taula on en són cinc i en ve un del carrer, s'asseu i ja en som sis". For me, life is about that.
"I am an artist, but the big names in contemporary art are all entrepreneurs. They move by the market; otherwise, we wouldn't know them"
— How do you approach this world of art?
— The pharmacist in my town gave me a book by Miró when I was 12 or 13 years old and that's where it all began. I grew up through Miró, it was a passion. I didn't understand it, but it amused me. Then, in a compulsive way, as I am, I started to get interested in it. I wanted to be a veterinarian and I did the scientific baccalaureate, but a few days before the selectivity exam, I decided to apply for the artistic one. I took the institute book, read four pages and got a very good grade in Art History without ever having studied it. 
— And the "Ivan Forcadell" brand, when does it start to be profitable?
—I've been barely making a living for eight or nine years, but I started earning money since the pandemic. The "click" was in Menorca. A branch of a very important gallery opened. I thought I had never seen so many collectors per square meter. I loaded the car with paintings, went there and started talking to people. A woman from the Reina Sofía committee bought a painting from me, the owner of Jack Daniel's… all those people started buying from me.
"My big goal is to be able to create close to home. I can't stand artistic residencies"
— You are a person with very little shame, aren't you?
— Yes, I talk to everyone. Because I am a very curious person and because, in the end, having no shame helps me pay bills. But art has to be well done, not everything goes. You have to be honest with the idea you want to fulfill. That is, earning a lot of money now, selling many paintings when you are 32 years old and are extraordinarily cheap, is to destroy yourself. I now earn money, but I have changed my production: I produce much less and try to place the things I like the most.
— How do you manage this success financially?
—I have a rule that I copied from sailors: every cake that comes to me I divide into five bank accounts. The first is for living, the second for taxes, the third for gasoline (which is communication), the fourth for the "boat" (in case there are breakdowns in the studio) and the last one… I forget about it, it's as if it didn't exist.
"I don't care if one of my pieces is worth millions of euros. Success is about small victories"
— What are your next goals?
—I have conceptual goals. My big goal is to be able to create while being close to my home. I can't stand artistic residencies; going to a small room in Budapest to paint with colors that are not mine is not for me. I want to grow slowly and well, centimeter by centimeter. If you grow without a base, things collapse.
— What is success for you?
— To spend as much time as possible with the people who matter to me. I don't care if one of my pieces is worth millions of euros. Success is those small victories: arriving at eight in the evening, someone being interested in my work, explaining it from an anecdote, and going to sleep peacefully. I don't want to go to bed nervous or in a bad mood. I want to be covered in mud up to my neck during the day, but at dinner time, I want to be calm.
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