Rocío
Rey
Sanmartín

Context

The invitation said "Valentino pink". I couldn't find what I was looking for. I decided to make it. In a single night I designed and sewed a tulle jacket in different shades of pink, working directly on the form — no pattern, no margin for error, with the party the next day. It was the first time I'd built this kind of volume. I learned while doing.

Process

I selected tulles of different densities to build layers with real movement. The goal wasn't a perfect finish — it was the silhouette, the presence, the coherence with the context. Layers, density, movement. The volume became a fantasy.

Context

I don't like going to a wedding feeling like I'm in a costume. I found trousers at Zara — the pattern, the fabric, the drape — they fit me. But the top they sold didn't work for an event. I decided not to buy it.

Process

I bought the trousers in a larger size to have enough fabric and built the top from it. For the sleeves, I used the chiffon from an old dress belonging to my aunts — a fabric with a drape and quality that's hard to find now. When I saw the result, I recognised something I hadn't looked for: the structure of the bodice and the front closure resonated with the traditional Galician xubón pattern. It wasn't a reference — it was a coincidence the eye knows how to read.

Context

My maternal grandfather was from Ordoeste, a parish in A Baña. He made baskets for everyday household use and corozas to protect against the weather. He died long before I was born. I never knew him. Years later, without looking for it, I started learning basketry.

Process

I started at Cesto Clube — one hour every two weeks, technique, structure, materials. But the real learning happened when I left the workshop. I went to the mountain to gather my own fibres, prepared them, and built pieces at home. Alone, without guidance, with what I had. Each piece started from a different question. There's no fixed method. There's systematic curiosity.

Context

It started as a curiosity — one more. I signed up for a course. The platform didn't work. I decided to start alone. Without any prior training, I taught myself porcelain modelling. For firing, I used my father's dental lab oven — designed for prosthetics, not jewellery. The materials are different. It needed adapting. At first he didn't seem convinced. In the end he was impressed.

Process

The first day I spent hours modelling a rose. Taking it to the oven was genuinely nerve-wracking. Every piece that came out taught something for the next. Iterating isn't failing — it's the method. Flowers, leaves, rings, earrings. Different forms, different scales, colour combinations that only exist when pigment and heat decide together.

Context

I joined FADEMGA Plena Inclusión Galicia in 2013. For ten years I coordinated programmes for access to justice, support for prisoners with intellectual disabilities, and support for women with disabilities. It wasn't a technical job. It was making comprehensible what the system had made incomprehensible — without losing rigour, without losing accuracy, without leaving anyone out. Cognitive accessibility, when it truly works, guarantees comprehension of the environment. It improves autonomy.

Process

Through the work in the prisoner support programme, and in coordination with technical teams across Spain within Plena Inclusión, something the system hadn't yet recognised began to take shape. From FADEMGA I proposed and led the project to change this in Galicia — the first agreement between FADEMGA and the Xunta de Galicia to adapt court sentences into easy-read language, an agreement still being renewed today. I was one of only two people with specific training in judicial facilitation in the whole of Galicia.

Result

An institutional agreement still active. A service that didn't exist before. And at some point, in some courtroom, someone who was able to participate in their own process. Who understood what was happening. Who was not convicted of something they didn't do.