A conversation with the London–Manila artist on family, Filipino identity, and her U.S. debut at Silverlens New York.

Carina Santos navigates the spaces between gesture, material, and memory, crafting work that bridges painting, design, and writing. Drawing on her Filipino heritage and her upbringing in a creatively rich household, Santos channels introspection, familial connections, and diasporic experience into evocative forms that merge chance with deliberate process. Her U.S. debut solo show, Beyond the Horizon at Silverlens New York, showcases her signature “pour paintings”—abstract terrains and skies born from poured pigment, intuition, and the dialogue between control and surrender. Splitting her life between London and Quezon City, Santos continues to expand the boundaries of medium, culture, and perspective in a practice that is both deeply personal and globally resonant.

"I’ve noticed that my work tends to appeal to parts of people that seek and value reflection and introspection, sparking emotions that tend to bloom in solitude, which in a way, creates some sort of communal event. Everyone is experiencing the same work, on an intimate level, and the particularities of their experiences will alter the work and how they perceive it, but they are essentially all partaking in the same activity."—Carina Santos

CNTRFLD. Debut solo show — congratulations!

Your solo show is such an exciting milestone. Looking back, what was the most meaningful part for you personally? Did it change the way you see your work or yourself as an artist?

CS. Thank you so much! It has been such an exciting time for me. I’m still a bit in disbelief. I was there for Silverlens’ inaugural show back in 2022, and it felt like a pipe dream to be asked to showcase my work in their space. I grew up going to New York every couple of years, and my family always saved a day on those trips to go around Chelsea and visit the galleries. To have my work shown there feels surreal.

Having my work shown in the U.S. is also so strange because my audience is still largely based in the Philippines, where I worked for about six years as an artist before relocating to London. It’s great to have new eyes on it, and it’s great to get amazing feedback from people who don’t know anything about me or my journey as an artist. Truthfully, just being asked was such a big thing because it validated my work externally. I believe in my practice, but it’s always nice to see others believe in it, too.

What’s next.

CNTRFLD. You work across painting, text, and other media. What are you currently exploring that excites you — or maybe even challenges you?

CS. Currently, I am busy working on some new work for some Filipino galleries for February (during which two art fairs are happening: Art Fair Philippines and ALT), as well as my final solo show for the year at my family’s gallery, West Gallery in Quezon City. For that, I’m exploring the boundaries of the definitions of painting, utilising textiles, by which I wish to interrogate the notion of “craft” as separate to “fine art”.

After this busy period, I’d like to go back to the creative coding course I took over a year ago. I’d like to play more in that realm and figure out how to utilise these tools and technologies in a way that speaks to the themes and ideas I like exploring in my work. Not AI, but computer languages and motion detection, etc. I’m also working on a book with my friend Augustine Paredes’ small press, Friendly Fires, which I hope to finish by the end of the year.

Heritage and early life.

CNTRFLD. Growing up Filipino, how did your heritage and childhood shape the way you see the world — and how you make art today?

CS. I grew up in close proximity to my cousins from both sides of the family, and I think the strong familial relations prevalent in Filipino culture really informed my approach to work, particularly in both fostering a sense of community, though maybe not in an obvious way. I’ve noticed that my work tends to appeal to parts of people that seek and value reflection and introspection, sparking emotions that tend to bloom in solitude, which in a way, creates some sort of communal event. Everyone is experiencing the same work, on an intimate level, and the particularities of their experiences will alter the work and how they perceive it, but they are essentially all partaking in the same activity.

Many people have a preconceived notion of what “Filipino art” means. For most, it evokes either imagery of rural life — rice paddies and idyllic landscapes — or of very urban and gritty environments. I’ve always just lived in a big city with a middle-class family, and these images do not reflect or resonate with my childhood at all. My version of events should not be deemed not Filipino, as there are many ways of being a part of that culture and heritage.

Childhood and creativity.

CNTRFLD. What was it like growing up surrounded by creativity? Are there any little moments or habits from your childhood that still show up in your work?

CS. My siblings and I were actually all reluctant to be artists. It felt like that was my parents’ thing and attempting to replicate how they worked really led to many disappointments for me simply because I couldn’t. I felt like I couldn’t paint, so I started making collages and assemblages at first, which felt like a natural extension of my professional work as a designer. I think this process of collaging and layering is still embedded in my work and practice, regardless of the medium I choose to use.

The most valuable thing about growing up in our household was really getting the support that we did in pursuing a creative profession, a creative life. I went to university with a lot of kids whose parents came from professional backgrounds like finance and business. They didn’t really understand creative work and couldn’t imagine how people made a living drawing picture.

The Santos family of creatives.

CNTRFLD. Your whole family is made up of artists. What’s it like growing up in a house like that? Did it come with any pressures — or mainly inspiration?

CS. It’s fun, and it’s especially great because I like the work that my family makes. I think I’m inspired by each of them in different ways. Some of them have a regular practice or a rigorous research process, and others are mainly focussed on the craft aspect and a more personal tether to their work.

There really were no pressures, and as I mentioned before, none of us wanted to be artists when we went to university. It’s kind of funny how we all sort of fell into it, despite deliberately trying to go in different directions. I wouldn’t call this a pressure, but I think moving away helped me sort of find my own voice and set myself apart. Sort of see things in a different light and develop a language for myself.

The 2024 family group show.

CNTRFLD. The family exhibition at Silverlens in 2024 brought everyone together after ten years. What was it like seeing all your work side by side again, and did it shift how you think about your own practice?

CS. It was really nice because when the first exhibition happened, it was very early in my own career and in hindsight, I felt like a kid who was asked to participate just so they could be a part of it. My pieces were mainly collages on decks of playing cards and then some photographs I had taken, printed on watercolour paper, and then distressed. With this last show, I felt excited to present my new work, and it was so amazing to see for myself how it’s progressed from then.

I’m so familiar with my family’s work because I write their exhibition notes, so I’ve spoken to them at length about their ideas and processes. I was so proud of their work and that other people were able to experience them, too.

Living between London and Manila.

CNTRFLD. You split your time between London and Manila. What does each city give you creatively — or in life — that the other can’t?

CS. I definitely had a more comfortable life in Manila, given that my family is there, as well as most of the friends and peers that I grew up with. I also have more social comfort there, as I know more about the art scene and am more familiar with the machinations of the local contemporary art world. I feel also feel more support in many aspects, as living in London can be a bit scary because it’s so precarious and uncertain. It often feels like I can’t spend too much time on my work because I am on survival mode, if that makes sense.

On the other hand, in London, I have my own space and my own life. I think a lot of the turns in my new work was really inspired by a lot of factors in my life, such as having to juggle full-time work with a creative practice, staying on top of keeping my flat in order, trying to establish a structure around which I built my work. There is also, of course, a bigger international scene here. It’s harder to exist as a contemporary artist here, especially compared to how I was able to start my career in the Philippines as someone who grew up around that industry anyway, but I’ve learned that it’s okay to bet on yourself and see where you end up.

Diasporic perspective.

CNTRFLD. As a Filipina living and working in the UK, how does living abroad influence your work? Is it something you think about consciously, or does it sneak in more subtly through your materials and process?

CS. I think there’s always parts of your life that sneak into your work. That’s true for me, anyway. For me, a large part was figuring out how to make work in the limited amount of time I had when I started exploring these pour paintings. I was working a full-time onsite job in Central London and had to really carve out the time to go to my studio in Hackney Wick. Compared to my earlier painting process, this suited my life at the time more, because it was a more immediate process driven by instinct and muscle memory. It didn’t require me to spend as much time in the studio as I used to have to.

Other than that, the perspectives and breadth of work I’m able to consume reflects on my approach to making art. I don’t spend so much time delineating between the work I produced before and after I moved cities, but I do sometimes hear from others that they have seen a shift marked by this transition. So, it’s not an incredibly conscious change, but I suppose I do move with a bit more confidence these days.

Creative communities.

CNTRFLD. You’ve worked in the Philippines, the UK, and elsewhere. How do the artist communities and support networks compare? Where have you felt most encouraged or challenged?

CS. Support in these countries exists but in different ways. The government in the U.K. explicitly offers more in the way of monetary support to artists in general (not that I’ve experienced this myself, but I know it’s there) and I find that I’ve felt more supported by the art community in the Philippines. It’s possibly because of my position there as the daughter of artists, but I’ve found it harder to establish a network here, despite going to a pretty notable art school for my masters. London is such a transient city, so it’s hard to keep connections and relationships alive, as so many people move away so often.

I’ve also really only began focussing on my practice, as I’ve had to work a lot of different day jobs to be able to afford to live here. There are a lot more opportunities for artists here, but there are also a lot more artists vying for the same support and recognition. That pool is further skewed by people who can afford to work on their art full-time and those who have other responsibilities such as having to have a day job or having to be a caretaker. During my schooling, I’ve joined a lot of communities — mostly based on printing and publishing — that were helpful and supportive, but as I mentioned, life does get in the way, and often I’ve felt like I’m living on an island.

Cooking and creativity.

CNTRFLD. You’ve mentioned loving to cook — do you find any connection between making food and making art? Is there a recipe or dish that sparks ideas for your work?

CS. I think both activities quieten my mind. I’ve found both to be very meditative and nourishing practices. I don’t have a specific recipe in mind, but I approach both quite similarly in that I go by instinct and work armed with a familiarity with how each ingredient or material reacts with another. By working with these things long enough, I’ve developed an intimate knowledge of taste or colour, and it often just feels like freeing, creative work.

Knitting as practice.
CNTRFLD. Knitting is one of your hobbies — do you approach it like a meditative practice, or does it inspire your artwork in unexpected ways?

CS. It is a very meditative practice for me and is something I do because my mind is so restless. It helps me focus and calm down. I’ve already actually incorporated a knitting piece in one of my earlier exhibitions, and I’m working on re-introducing it into my practice in a way that makes sense, as I’m often knitting garments or items of utility.
I inherited a toy knitting machine that takes the more laborious part of knitting out of it and am hoping to see how much I can push the boundaries of craft, technology, and material by experimenting with knitting.

Advice for others.

CNTRFLD. For other artists trying to balance multiple disciplines, or navigate being a diasporic artist, what’s the most important advice you’d give about sustaining a creative life?

CS. I have generalised anxiety disorder and severe depression and what really helps me to function at all is establishing some sort of routine to get myself out of bed and simply do something. I’m currently freelancing as a design consultant as a form of stable income, but when I was employed full-time, it helped to intentionally carve out time for these creative activities, whether or not the inspiration is there. I write everything down. I collage random packets in my journal. I take footage of everything. I read, go to exhibitions, consume things, whether they are obviously helpful or just to unwind. When all else fails, my father’s father — also an artist — has always said: clean your space. It helps reset your brain and disposition. And, when the weather is nice, it’s a good idea to take yourself out on a walk.

You don’t always have to be producing work to be creative. Small things and actions towards sustaining a creative life count, too, and these small things add up and inform your work better.

About the artist.
Carina Santos is a multidisciplinary artist, writer, and designer whose practice navigates the intersections of gesture, material, and space. Drawing from her background in Information Design and Art Theory & Philosophy, she creates work that explores translation, decolonisation, and the landscapes—both physical and emotional—we inhabit. Her paintings, including her recent U.S. debut “pour paintings” at Silverlens New York, unfold through a balance of deliberate process and chance, conjuring abstract terrains and skies that evoke memory and movement. Based between London and Quezon City, Carina’s work spans media and form—from painting and sculpture to text, textiles, and digital experiments—reflecting her belief that every facet of life informs her creative practice, and that art is an ongoing dialogue between material, space, and the self.

Carina Santos “Beyond the horizon” debut solo show, Silverlens, NY
15 January - 28 February 2026