Why you should love the Work of Art is Trash
There’s something liberating—almost rebellious—about falling in love with art that comes from the gutter. That’s exactly where Francisco de Pájaro, better known as Art Is Trash, begins. Born in Zafra, Spain, and now based in Barcelona, de Pájaro takes what most of society throws away—cardboard, broken furniture, plastic waste—and transforms it into grotesque, hilarious, thought-provoking characters that speak louder than most gallery pieces ever could.
But why should you love his work?
Because Art Is Trash reminds us that nothing is too broken to become beautiful. In a world obsessed with polished perfection, de Pájaro turns trash into gold—not for the sake of glamor, but to reflect back to us our own contradictions. His creatures, often assembled in the dead of night with paint and whatever he finds on the street, are raw, ephemeral, and brutally honest. They exist just long enough to make a point, then disappear—either by weather, time, or municipal cleanup crews.
De Pájaro's work is more than street art. It’s social critique in action. With humor and intensity, he mocks consumerism, greed, power, politics, and even the art world itself. The phrase “Art Is Trash” isn’t just a signature—it’s a manifesto. It’s a reminder that real art doesn’t need a frame, a spotlight, or a market value. It can be made from dirt, it can sit in an alley, and it can still move you.
Loving his work means embracing a world that’s imperfect, impermanent, and playful. It means recognizing beauty in decay, meaning in chaos, and power in simplicity. It’s about art for the people—not locked in museums, but walking alongside you on the streets of Barcelona, London, or Berlin. It’s art that breathes with the city and vanishes just as easily.
If you're someone who values freedom, rebellion, and creativity without compromise, then there’s no question:
Art Is Trash is your kind of artist.
And perhaps the greatest reason to love his work? It reminds us that we too can create, no matter how little we have, how broken we feel, or how invisible we seem. Even trash has a voice—and through Francisco de Pájaro, it speaks with wit, rage, and undeniable humanity.
