Vorja Sánchez is known for creating intricate, dreamlike artworks inspired by nature from his studio in Barcelona. His creative practice blends fantasy with scientific observation, drawing on organic forms and natural history. His work has been exhibited around the world, including Spain, Australia, Taiwan, and the United States, and has been featured in publications such as Hi-Fructose Magazine, Colossal, and The New York Times. Vault Editions sat down with Vorja to learn more about his creative process, where he finds. inspiration, and the intention behind his work - let’s go!
Organic Findings (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
Hi Vorja! Thanks for speaking to us today. To begin, could you introduce yourself and tell us a little about your work?
Hi Michelle, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been following your Instagram account for some time now, and I think it’s wonderful. It’s always refreshing to come across classical engravings in the feed, from a time when works didn’t seem to be in any rush to be finished. I even purchased one of your insect engraving collections, so congratulations on the project.
My name is Vorja Sánchez. I live and work in the province of Barcelona, Spain. I’m a full-time artist, mainly focused on drawing and painting. I usually work on paper, combining multiple techniques into intricate compositions where imagined creatures and organic forms enter into dialogue, always in search of a certain sense of harmony. I have a particular fondness for detail.
Over the past few years, I’ve been primarily dedicated to developing my own body of work, slowly shaping what I like to think of as a small, hidden organic world. With each new piece, that world becomes more defined, and I gain a clearer understanding of its internal dynamics.
From time to time, I exhibit in galleries. This past year, I had two solo shows, one in Melbourne, Australia, and another in Taipei, Taiwan, and I also participated in a group exhibition in Seattle, USA. However, I usually handle the sale of original works and editions directly through my website.
This year, I decided not to take part in any exhibitions in order to give myself more space to explore new ideas and traditional techniques, and to gradually work towards a book I plan to publish next year.
The Rooster by Vorja Sánchez
Your drawings are populated by intricate creatures and interconnected ecosystems. How would you describe the wider world these elements belong to?
I really love the way you frame this question, thank you. In fact, I see it in much the same way. I understand each piece as a small interconnected ecosystem that, in turn, enters into dialogue with the rest of the works. I’m fascinated by the idea of seeking what I often think of as organic harmony in my work.
As you mention, my pieces are usually populated by many creatures, but they emerge gradually as the process unfolds. I never make compositional sketches, and I never know how a piece will end when I begin it. However, I do make many sketches in my sketchbooks and fill their pages. I always keep them close while I work, revisiting them constantly in order to choose the detail that best enters into dialogue with the scene at any given moment.
The fact that even I don’t know how the drawing or painting will develop places me in a position where I know I need to be. I experience the process more as someone who helps the scene to materialise than as someone who dictates how it should be. It can be an uncomfortable position at times, as it’s easier to hold onto control, but I always try to make sure my expectations do not suffocate the process. That constant tension, although sometimes exhausting, allows the work to remain alive, vibrant, and free.
I try to stay open to being surprised and to be technically prepared enough to respond to whatever the drawing asks for, almost as if it were an organic puzzle revealing itself, piece by piece.
I really love the way you frame this question, thank you. In fact, I see it in much the same way. I understand each piece as a small interconnected ecosystem that, in turn, enters into dialogue with the rest of the works. I’m fascinated by the idea of seeking what I often think of as organic harmony in my work.
As you mention, my pieces are usually populated by many creatures, but they emerge gradually as the process unfolds. I never make compositional sketches, and I never know how a piece will end when I begin it. However, I do make many sketches in my sketchbooks and fill their pages. I always keep them close while I work, revisiting them constantly in order to choose the detail that best enters into dialogue with the scene at any given moment.
The fact that even I don’t know how the drawing or painting will develop places me in a position where I know I need to be. I experience the process more as someone who helps the scene to materialise than as someone who dictates how it should be. It can be an uncomfortable position at times, as it’s easier to hold onto control, but I always try to make sure my expectations do not suffocate the process. That constant tension, although sometimes exhausting, allows the work to remain alive, vibrant, and free.
I try to stay open to being surprised and to be technically prepared enough to respond to whatever the drawing asks for, almost as if it were an organic puzzle revealing itself, piece by piece.
The Caterpillar by Vorja Sánchez
Your work is often inspired by natural history and 19th-century scientific studies. What was it about those ways of observing and recording nature that first resonated with you?
My work is rooted directly in nature, although I’m also deeply influenced by the aesthetic sensibility of nineteenth-century biologists and naturalists. I’m fascinated by their way of looking at the world: their patience, their capacity for observation, and their sense of harmony and beauty. Some of them, in my view, were true artists, Ernst Haeckel being a clear example. Any of his studies carries a profound beauty that moves the viewer, while remaining perfectly aligned with scientific observation. It’s something truly extraordinary.
In my case, I’m very far from the talent of that generation, but I believe my enthusiasm is similar. I’ve always admired and studied flora and fauna, through reading and travelling to encounter new species. I’m deeply passionate about ethology. I love observing and understanding the individuality of animals, the way each one behaves and relates to the world beyond the general patterns of its species.
Where I live, I care for many animals and observe them closely on a daily basis. Because the house is isolated in the forest and has no enclosed perimeter, visits from wild animals are constant. Deer, wild boars, foxes, mustelids, birds of prey, hares…the list is long and beautiful. Many of them recognise the house as a safe place and, in practice, live around it. This allows me to understand who each one is, how different one fox is from another, or how a hare plays freely, fully aware that my cat will never be able to catch it.
To give you an example of how fascinating it is to observe animals once you begin to recognise them as individuals: several groups of wild boars regularly come to the house. One of these groups used to move in a rather chaotic way. Each animal followed its own path, digging into the ground to find acorns that jays and mice had carefully hidden as winter reserves. They moved noisily, spreading widely across the terrain and often fighting among themselves, creating real commotion.
Everything changed after a hunting incident in the forest, when one of the two protective males was killed, and one of the piglets was left blind. Her eyes even lost their colour, turning completely white. What followed was astonishing. Within just a few days, the group completely altered its dynamics to protect the young one. From then on, they began moving in complete silence, in a strict single file. The line is guarded at both ends by the adult female and one of the males, while the other female keeps watch from a short distance. The blind piglet is always in contact, front and back, with her sisters, so she never becomes disoriented. She is fully guided.
When I witnessed this, I was utterly amazed, and that beautiful linear composition of creatures found its way into one of my pieces. This is a clear example of how important what I experience out there is to what I do in the studio. Sometimes it translates into small physical details; other times, it’s more of an emotional imprint that remains.
Hazy Memories of Nocturnal Visitors by Vorja Sánchez
Hazy Memories of Nocturnal Visitors (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
We’d love to know more about your latest print release, The Harvesters’ Meet. What inspired you to create this scene, and how did the work evolve as you were developing it?
The spark that ignited the idea for this piece came from a visit I made to a small Romanesque chapel. Inside, there was a rather deteriorated altarpiece and a series of somewhat peculiar ornamental details. I don’t know the history behind it, but it felt like a commission given to someone who perhaps wasn’t especially skilled from a technical standpoint. The figures were noticeably disproportionate for their time.
However, there was something else there that felt incredibly compelling. In a way, you could sense that whoever made it had genuinely enjoyed decorating the columns and the perimeter of the capital. That sense of freedom, of play, was very present. That bizarre and liberated quality really resonated with me, and I immediately thought about creating a piece with a similar spirit. That’s why, in this work, the creatures have a more humanised appearance than in most of my other pieces.
As the scene slowly developed, it began to feel like a kind of collective celebration, where individual identities blur as rhythm, gesture, and intention converge. Almost like a festivity in which these “harvesters” celebrate their crops and honour the effort behind them. And, at a deeper level, for me it is also a song of praise to otherness.
However, there was something else there that felt incredibly compelling. In a way, you could sense that whoever made it had genuinely enjoyed decorating the columns and the perimeter of the capital. That sense of freedom, of play, was very present. That bizarre and liberated quality really resonated with me, and I immediately thought about creating a piece with a similar spirit. That’s why, in this work, the creatures have a more humanised appearance than in most of my other pieces.
As the scene slowly developed, it began to feel like a kind of collective celebration, where individual identities blur as rhythm, gesture, and intention converge. Almost like a festivity in which these “harvesters” celebrate their crops and honour the effort behind them. And, at a deeper level, for me it is also a song of praise to otherness.
The Harvesters’ Meet (print) by Vorja Sánchez
Documenting and sharing your process offers insight into how your work takes shape, from sketches and studies to including your entire sketchbook, The Harvesters’ Sketchbook, in your new special edition release. What made you want to open up that part of the process, and what do those earlier stages reveal that the finished piece doesn’t?
Thank you very much, I’m really glad that comes across. I truly love seeing the processes behind projects I admire, whether they belong to painters, sculptors, musicians, or filmmakers. I think there’s something very generous and beautiful about sharing that side of the work for those who might be interested, so it felt natural to open up my own process as well.
In this special edition, as you mention, I decided to include the sketchbook. It was an idea that came up while I was preparing the edition, and it’s something I’m genuinely excited to share. The impulse behind it was actually very simple. As I mentioned before, when I’m working on a piece, I usually keep the sketchbook close at hand, constantly looking through it and translating certain sketches into the final drawing.
There’s something fascinating about seeing how a creature moves through different stages before reaching its final form, which many times is not the most powerful or vibrant one. So the idea became to allow the person who acquires the print to experience something similar. That’s why I designed a printed reproduction of part of the sketchbook I used while developing the piece, including colour tests, technical experiments, and various notes.
Among its pages are the very first creatures I drew while visiting the chapel I mentioned earlier, as well as others that were ultimately left out of the final work. More broadly, it documents the search for that bizarre, slightly absurd, yet tender and harmonious essence, and above all, the sense of freedom I felt when encountering that ornamentation.
In this special edition, as you mention, I decided to include the sketchbook. It was an idea that came up while I was preparing the edition, and it’s something I’m genuinely excited to share. The impulse behind it was actually very simple. As I mentioned before, when I’m working on a piece, I usually keep the sketchbook close at hand, constantly looking through it and translating certain sketches into the final drawing.
There’s something fascinating about seeing how a creature moves through different stages before reaching its final form, which many times is not the most powerful or vibrant one. So the idea became to allow the person who acquires the print to experience something similar. That’s why I designed a printed reproduction of part of the sketchbook I used while developing the piece, including colour tests, technical experiments, and various notes.
Among its pages are the very first creatures I drew while visiting the chapel I mentioned earlier, as well as others that were ultimately left out of the final work. More broadly, it documents the search for that bizarre, slightly absurd, yet tender and harmonious essence, and above all, the sense of freedom I felt when encountering that ornamentation.
The Harvesters’ Meet (sketchbook) by Vorja Sánchez
You create stunning special edition projects like The Botanical Box, which brings together a catalogue, fine-art prints, a hand-signed card, and other printed ephemera. When you’re putting something like this together, how do you decide what to include, and how do you want the recipient to feel as they open it?
Thank you very much! I’m fortunate to be able to design my editions with complete freedom, and to be honest, I really enjoy the process. It’s true that it can become quite laborious, especially when the edition is large, and I end up spending weeks surrounded by boxes, tubes, and parcels, but the creative freedom is absolute.
There are no fixed rules when it comes to these editions, and over time, I keep exploring new ideas in order to make the experience for the person receiving them genuinely meaningful and beautiful. With The Botanical Box, for example, I wanted to focus specifically on my botanical work. The idea was to design a box like a small treasure, something that unfolds slowly, where you open each element one by one and discover little surprises along the way.
Organic Findings (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
When I come across posts of people opening it with that sense of excitement, it truly feels like a gift to me. As for deciding what to include, I usually start by trying not to impose limits on myself, knowing that production costs will naturally take care of grounding the more ambitious ideas. This approach allows me to design and include things like a floral catalogue or, as with the most recent edition we mentioned earlier, a small sketchbook.
I personally take care of designing every detail and finding the best possible presentation, so that opening the package feels like a considered and intimate experience. Thankfully, people respond incredibly well to these editions, and that support allows me to keep working, exploring, and improving every day.
Organic Findings (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
You’ve said: “There’s a harmony in what might seem like randomness, and above all, nature doesn’t care about scale or importance—everything exists on the same level and is balanced.” How does that idea shape the way you compose and construct a drawing?
When you spend time analysing and drawing organic forms of all kinds, you begin to notice the repetition of certain patterns, and you realise that nature truly doesn’t care about our hierarchies of value. For nature, everything exists on the same level. I find this a powerful metaphor for life, and it helps me put things into perspective.
Nature seems to be more concerned with the why behind its forms than with their transcendence. And I try to follow that same approach. I don’t think in terms of how important a detail is within a composition; I try to give everything the same value. I focus instead on choosing the right kind of form for each moment, on gesture, on fluidity, and on allowing the drawing to reach a sense of natural coherence.
Even though the creatures belong to an imagined world, this foundation gives them a consistency that makes it easier to connect with them. Take the sphere, for example. In nature, it often serves as the most efficient form for storage and transport, capable of containing the greatest volume within the smallest surface. That’s why we find it in a planet, a fruit, or a cell. Scale doesn’t matter; the pattern remains the same.
The same happens with the spiral, which appears in a galaxy, a snail’s shell, the arrangement of flower petals, or the distribution of seeds in a sunflower. In every case, we find perfect spirals. Or consider the wave, present wherever flow is required, as it facilitates the circulation of vital fluids like water or blood. This is why it appears in the shape of a river, the branches of a tree, the veins of our bodies, or the veins of a leaf.
And the same applies to countless other natural patterns. Understanding them helps me choose the one that best serves what I want to express in each creature or organic detail.
Insect Dialogue by Vorja Sánchez
Insect Dialogue (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
Can you tell us about your Interventions series and what prompted you to explore this type of work?
Once again, the idea for this series emerged without any grand intentions, in a very natural way. It connects to a kind of game most of us have played at some point, especially when we’re younger, when the mind feels more permeable and open to being surprised. Who hasn’t imagined shapes in the clouds?
For me, this series is a kind of playful exercise, a response that relates directly to that instinct. The process itself is very gentle, because it invites me to wait, to slow down, and to remain open to surprise. The images usually begin as photographs I take around my home or while walking in the mountains. When I sense that the sky might offer interesting forms (low fog, in particular, really draws me in), I take my camera and head out.
I then look for a place where the fog can create an unusual interaction with the landscape, an animal, or some element of the forest, and I wait. Most of the time, nothing happens, but I’ve still spent some quiet time outside, simply enjoying the moment. Occasionally, though, an interaction appears.
At that point, I intervene in the image using very fine digital linework, usually with just one or two colours. I like to intervene as little as possible, allowing the real magic—the natural scene itself—to carry the weight of the image. Over the years, this series has grown considerably, and for me, it has also become a record of all those moments.
Curiosity by Vorja Sánchez
When you think about where your work might head next, are there directions or possibilities that feel particularly exciting for you right now?
This year, I’ve felt quite drained by exhibitions, and handling such a large volume of work was leading me toward a mode of high production with very little room for research. For me, that’s a dangerous place to be, because it can lead to comfort and repetition, and away from exploration and learning. That’s why this year, as I mentioned earlier, I want to give myself more breathing room to go deeper.
On a technical level, that means continuing to improve where I can, but also allowing myself to enter more slowly, and with less urgency, into that hidden organic world, which I still feel holds a great deal left to be discovered.
At the same time, I’m deeply passionate about cinema, and it feels as though that door is beginning to open. For several years now, I’ve been studying everything I can on my own, both live-action cinema and traditional animation, in order to better understand the language and find ways of expressing myself within it. Looking ahead, this is certainly one of the paths that feels most exciting to me.
For now, what I do know very clearly is that I still feel that creative intensity, a real hunger for making images, and a strong desire to tell small stories.
On a technical level, that means continuing to improve where I can, but also allowing myself to enter more slowly, and with less urgency, into that hidden organic world, which I still feel holds a great deal left to be discovered.
At the same time, I’m deeply passionate about cinema, and it feels as though that door is beginning to open. For several years now, I’ve been studying everything I can on my own, both live-action cinema and traditional animation, in order to better understand the language and find ways of expressing myself within it. Looking ahead, this is certainly one of the paths that feels most exciting to me.
For now, what I do know very clearly is that I still feel that creative intensity, a real hunger for making images, and a strong desire to tell small stories.
The Sound of Cotton by Vorja Sánchez
The Sound of Cotton (detail) by Vorja Sánchez
Is there a book, art-related or otherwise, that’s had a lasting impact on you or your creative process?
There are many books that have had an impact on me, each for different reasons and at very specific moments in my life. But I’d like to share one that I feel connects directly with your project, especially since I’ve often seen you feature this artist’s work.
It’s a book I never actually owned and only had the chance to look at for an hour or two. When I was a student, I remember going to a friend’s house for lunch. He showed me his books, and suddenly this enormous volume filled with engravings by Gustave Doré appeared. At that time, I didn’t know his work at all.
I was completely struck by the power of those images, the quality of the line, and the complexity of many of the compositions. I didn’t analyse the work in any deep or intellectual way. It was more the immediate realisation that it was possible to create things that were truly complex and patient, works that required time, attention, and dedication.
It left a strong impression on me, and although I haven’t been a devoted follower of Doré’s work in the years since, I’m certain that moment acted as a powerful stimulus and stayed with me in a quiet but lasting way.
Thank you for talking with us today Vorja! It’s been fascinating to learn more about your work and we are excited to see what you create next!
Whispering Cloud by Vorja Sánchez
Whispering Cloud by Vorja Sánchez
