Meet Vasco Del Rey, a gifted artist based in LA whose paintings are a reflection of identity, resilience, and reverence for the earth.
What started as a childhood sketchbook gifted by his mother has grown into a powerful artistic practice rooted in nature, storytelling, and emotional truth.
Keep reading to step inside his studio and learn more about his creative process, inspiration, and upcoming solo exhibition!
Thanks so much, Vasco, for taking the time to speak with us about your artistic journey!
Can you share where you grew up and how this place influenced you and your art?
I grew up in the jungles of Chiapas, Mexico. Our community was small and intimate. We ate what we grew, and when food was scarce, we’d fish or forage for wild fruit in the mountains. That type of childhood taught me the sacred balance between the body, the earth, and the spirit. It grounded me with a deep understanding of reciprocity—that to receive, you must also give. As an artist, I carry this sense of ecological and spiritual placement into every work I make. I'm always asking: What is my role in this moment, in this space and how do I honor it?
When did you first become interested in painting and did you have any early influences?
I first became interested in art when I was eight years old. My mother gave me a sketchbook and asked me to fill every page. A month later, I immigrated to the United States. It’s been 21 years since I’ve seen her, but I still carry that sketchbook in spirit. I’ve been filling its pages ever since—with the hope that one day she’ll get to see my works in person.
What mediums do you use in your work, and what draws you to those specific materials?
I’ve always gravitated toward acrylics for their speed and adaptability. But discovering natural pigments changed everything. They have a texture that feels alive—mineral, earthen, ancestral even. They connect me back to ritual, to soil, to time. I’m no longer just painting; I’m participating in something much older than me.
What does a typical “day in the life” look like in your studio?
I wake up at 7 a.m., stretch, and walk to the dog park down the street. I’m back by 8 and begin prepping my paints. I usually work on several paintings at once, moving between them depending on the emotional current of the day. Some pieces require quiet reverence; others demand that I confront harder truths. I tend to save the heavier work for late at night, when everything is still. I paint until about 7 p.m., have dinner, take a walk, then return to the studio. I live where I work, so the practice never really ends—it just shifts in tone. I sleep close to my paintings. I find it vital to be able to have access to my works as much as possible. My dog also keeps me company, he is a dalmatian.
How do you approach a new project or piece? Can you walk us through your creative process?
Most of my current work is rooted in memory—both from my childhood in Mexico and my life here in the U.S. I usually begin by recalling a moment or emotion, then playing music that takes me back. I start sketching with vine charcoal, feeling out the spirit of the piece. With the painting of my father, for example, I began by blocking in his figure, then allowed the rest to unfold intuitively.
Living with the work is vital. I need to be in constant dialogue with it. Sometimes I’ll be falling asleep, and an image or symbol will surface—a whisper from the painting itself. I treat my practice like a kind of devotional ritual. The more I show up, the more I receive. It feels very religious at times, like a never ending meditation of the psyche.
Can you describe your artistic evolution over the years? How has your style or medium changed?
My style has grown into its own language. It’s more attuned to the inner world than ever before. But the core has always stayed the same: to explore the unspoken—to reach into the psyche and return with something sacred. I want it to be felt, not dissected.
What has been your biggest challenge as an artist, and how have you overcome it?
My greatest challenge is the same many immigrants face: survival under systems designed to only value us based on our labour. To live, to make art.. these things become rebellious in many ways. I’ve struggled with doubt, with the dehumanizing language of others, with the pressure to assimilate.
But I’ve learned that beauty can exist even inside pressure. To find grace in heartbreak, to find the silver thread of family grief, to continue painting in the face of ICE raids.. that's how I reclaim my power. It’s not just how I survive but remind the world that immigrants carry generations of stories and create new mythologies to share.
What advice do you have for artists who want to start their art careers but are unsure where to begin?
Start with what you have. When I had no resources, I emailed professors and asked to sit in their classes. I studied in libraries. I’d go to office buildings and ask for paper or pens. People helped me. Often, all you have to do is ask.
The path is not easy. There will be moments that break you open. But art is a form of spiritual excavation—it reveals who you are, flaws and all. And that’s the beauty of it. If you feel the pull, follow it. Don’t wait to be ready. Begin now. If I could do it, I truly believe anyone can.
Where can our audience see more of your work and support your causes?
As of June 2025, I’m now a represented artist with Wonzimer Gallery. I’ll be debuting my first solo exhibition on September 19th, 2025 in Los Angeles. If you’re in the city, come celebrate life with us.
If not, you can find me on Instagram and TikTok: @vascodelrey.
Thank you for reading these words.
Wishing you grace on your own journey.
Salud!
