Cynthia Veneno (born in Seville, 1993) is more than just an illustrator. She’s a poet, muralist, and unapologetic voice for the voiceless. Her work boldly merges activism with creativity, making her one of the most exciting new talents in Andalusian art and beyond. With a sharp focus on LGBTQ+ visibility, non-normative bodies, and identities outside of mainstream narratives, Cynthia’s art is deeply rooted in her Andalusian heritage while carrying a universal message of resistance and inclusion.
Art as a Political Statement
For Cynthia, art isn’t just decoration—it’s a medium to challenge norms and provoke thought. As she puts it, “every act is political,” and her creations are no exception. From her striking murals to her delicate illustrations, her art aims to spotlight stories and realities often ignored, offering an alternative narrative that demands attention.
Her series Girls Just Wanna Have Fun exemplifies this ethos. In it, she reimagines eroticism, moving beyond conventional ideas of desire and presenting non-normative bodies without fetishizing them. This series challenges the viewer to rethink sexuality, showing it as a space of inclusivity and empowerment.
Cynthia’s Andalusian identity is a cornerstone of her work. Whether it’s depicting local culture in her illustrations for El Topo Tabernario or collaborating with feminist magazines like Pikara Magazine, her art carries a strong regional imprint. One standout example is her illustration on climate change for El Topo Tabernario, featuring Andalusian women wearing gas masks—a poignant critique of environmental degradation with a distinctly local flavor.
She also tackles issues like gentrification through her work, as seen in her depiction of traditional Andalusian houses transformed into Airbnb rentals. For Cynthia, you can’t separate an olive tree from its soil, just like you can’t remove Andalusia from her art without losing its essence.
Cynthia’s artistic journey started early, inspired by family and childhood friends who taught her how to draw. Over time, her influences evolved to include iconic figures like Julio Romero de Torres, Tamara de Lempicka, and Remedios Varo. These artists, known for their powerful depictions of women, deeply shaped her approach to portraying feminine strength and vulnerability.
Cynthia’s art extends beyond paper and canvas to public spaces. Her murals, vibrant and thought-provoking, are a testament to her commitment to social change. One of her most notable works was a mural in Huelva honoring Andalusian women agricultural workers. Tragically, this piece was vandalized within days, with hateful symbols scrawled across it. Yet, this act of destruction only amplified her message. The community rallied, raising funds to restore the mural and support vulnerable groups, turning a hateful act into a moment of collective strength.
Being a woman and an illustrator in today’s world isn’t easy, and Cynthia is candid about the challenges. From precarious working conditions to the pressure of constant online visibility, she’s experienced the highs and lows of being a creative in the digital age. Despite this, she views platforms like Instagram as valuable tools for connecting with her audience and sharing stories that resonate.
“There’s a new wave of illustrators tackling topics like precariousness, gentrification, and sexuality,” she says. “It’s enriching to see how each of us expresses these shared struggles.”
Cynthia’s talent isn’t confined to visual art. Her poetry is equally powerful, often exploring themes of freedom, resistance, and remembrance. One of her most striking poems, I Want to Dance, encapsulates her fiery spirit:
I Want to Dance
I want to dance.
I want to dance.
Yes I do.
I want to dance.
I want to dance on the grave of all the rapists.
Carve the tombstones of all thosewho shouted at us in the street,
who touched us in the street,
who blackmailed us in the street,
who raped us in our bed.
I want to dance on the grave of all the privileged,t
hose who sing in their privilege,
those who occupy with their privilege,
those who enjoy their privilege,a
nd complain if we don’t let them through,
because they can’t bear to give up the spotlight.
I want to invoke all the women
who left with the moon,to tell them they’re still here,t
hat we dance in their honor.
That we dance and spit on the gravesof those who ripped the blood from themfor feeling entitled to their freedom.
I want to dance on the grave of hateand feel how the worms feedon the fear that always haunted a free woman.
Quiero bailar.
Quiero bailar.
Sí.
Quiero bailar.
Quiero bailar en la tumba de todos los violadores.
Esculpir las lápidas de todos aquellos
que nos gritaron por la calle
que nos tocaron en la calle
que nos chantajearon en la calle
que nos violaron en nuestra cama.
Quiero bailar en la tumba de todos los privilegiados
los que cantan en su privilegio
los que ocupan con su privilegio
los que disfrutan su privilegio
y se quejan si no les dejamos pasar
porque no soportan ceder su protagonismo.
Quiero invocar a todas las mujeres
que partieron con la luna
para decirles que siguen aquí,
que bailamos en su honor.
Que bailamos y escupimos en las tumbas
de quienes les arrancaron la sangre
por sentirse dueños de su libertad.
Quiero bailar en la tumba del odio
y sentir cómo los gusanos se nutren
del miedo que siempre tuvieron a una mujer libre.
Cynthia Veneno’s work is a call to action, an invitation to see the world through a lens of empathy and rebellion. Her art and poetry remind us of the power of visibility, the importance of honoring our roots, and the need to challenge oppressive systems.
Follow Cynthia on Instagram to explore her world of vibrant illustrations, thought-provoking murals, and words that cut straight to the heart. With her, art isn’t just a medium—it’s a revolution.