Eng Issue10: Romina Malta

The subtle textures found in printed matter—paper scuffs, uneven ink, and grain—carry with them the traces of time and the warmth of the hand that made them. Such qualities, once inherent to books and newspapers, have become increasingly rare. On the digital screen that has taken their place, the evenly calibrated colors and smoothly controlled lines tend to lack that sense of warmth.

In the works of Romina Malta, an analog sensibility seems to breathe even through the screen. Moving between intuition and structure, between order and chaos, she observes from a gentle distance as thoughts and emotions slowly take form. The layered marks of scanning and the faint presence of noise, in dialogue with the breathing rhythm and openness of the composition, speak quietly to the viewer’s senses.

For her, visual expression is not a language of showing, but of feeling.