ADD FUEL is the work of Portuguese artist Diogo Machado.

What is the origin of the name Add Fuel, and what does it mean?

The name Add Fuel initially came from Add Fuel to the Fire, an English expression often used negatively - in the sense of exacerbating a problematic situation - but one I have always interpreted positively. To me, it symbolises the idea of intensifying something and giving it strength, acting as a creative catalyst. When I decided to leave my career in design to focus on being an artist, I chose to use an artistic moniker instead of my own name, both to create a distinct identity and to facilitate the international reach of my work.
I opted for an English name because it has greater global appeal, making it more easily recognisable and understood by audiences from different cultures and languages. Additionally, the name carries a sense of subversion, which has always been central to my artistic vision and continues to be reflected in my current work, particularly with azulejos. Just as I transform and subvert this traditional Portuguese element to create something new and unexpected, the name Add Fuel to the Fire embodied my desire to challenge and renew ideas within art.
However, the name proved too long and impractical, which led me to shorten it to Add Fuel. This change not only preserved the essence of the original concept but also expanded its meaning, allowing the name to adapt to different creative contexts while remaining versatile.

What can you tell us about your background?

From a young age, I've always been fascinated by drawing. I remember spending entire afternoons drawing, creating worlds and characters that seemed to inhabit their own universe. This creative impulse was present throughout my upbringing and was also influenced by my cousin, who shared graffiti photocopies and magazines with me - things that were not readily available in Portugal at the time. These influences opened my eyes to new artistic possibilities and inspired me to explore different approaches. It was a formative period that solidified my desire to follow a creative path.
A pivotal moment came when I was 12 years old and won a drawing competition promoted by a cereal brand, for which I created an illustration of Super Mario. The prize was a gaming console - a special moment that, looking back, I now see as a sign to continue pursuing an artistic journey. Over time, I developed the idea of creating a distinctive style, a cohesive visual world where my characters could exist - a vision that continues to guide my work to this day.
I chose to study Graphic Design at IADE from 2000 to 2004, where my intuitive approach to design often stood out and was frequently praised by my professors. Even without strictly following conventional rules, my work was recognised for its originality. This intuitive method continues to influence my current practice, where drawing emerges spontaneously and freely.
After working as a graphic designer in Portugal and Germany - where I lived until returning in 2007 - I decided to fully dedicate myself to art as a freelancer. During this period, I collaborated with brands such as Nike, Red Bull, and MTV on design and illustration projects that incorporated characters and forms which later influenced my work with azulejos. It was also an important time during which I connected with other artists, and those friendships expanded my creative horizons and helped to lay the foundations of my artistic identity - one that combines intuition, subversion, and the transformation of traditional elements into a fresh visual context.

How have your formal studies contributed towards your work as an artist?

My formal studies were absolutely fundamental to my artistic journey. Studying graphic design provided me with a solid technical foundation and taught me how to work with digital tools such as Photoshop, Illustrator, and other image manipulation software. These skills became indispensable for preparing mock-ups for clients, editing photos, and even creating content for social media. This technical proficiency allowed me to manage these areas of my work without the need for additional training or external assistance.
Beyond technical tools, my education was crucial in developing my aesthetic sensibility. It was through these studies that I honed my understanding of composition, colour theory, typography, and formal balance - all aspects that are essential to my creative process today. This education refined my critical eye and helped me cultivate an intuition that enables me to recognise when a project "works". For example, when working on a project, I can identify what might feel unbalanced and adjust elements to achieve harmony, a skill that stems directly from my design training.
While my creative process is often intuitive, the principles of design are always present. In practice, I frequently work within grids, particularly square formats, reinventing and reinterpreting repetitive patterns, as seen in my work with azulejos. This interplay between structure and creativity, nurtured during my studies, is a central aspect of my current work.
Ultimately, my formal education not only provided me with the technical and aesthetic tools to create but also shaped the way I approach my work. It gave me the confidence and skills to navigate different artistic directions while maintaining visual and conceptual consistency.

Did your experience with graffiti also influence your work?

Yes, absolutely. Although it was a relatively short phase in my life - around two or three years -, graffiti had a significant impact on my artistic journey. While I wasn't particularly skilled in the practice itself, that period was marked by a strong dedication to drawing and intense exploration, even if it didn't extend much beyond my local area. It was an experience that helped me develop an essential confidence: the ability to approach a wall without hesitation.
From a technical perspective, graffiti was an important school. Working with spray cans and later stencils taught me techniques that became indispensable during the early years of my professional artistic work. At the time, many of the projects I undertook had limited budgets, and the use of stencils allowed me to create impactful pieces within those constraints. Later, as I began to gain recognition in the contemporary art world, projects grew in scale and complexity, enabling the exploration of more sophisticated techniques.
Graffiti also provided me with a unique perspective on scale and composition. The need to adapt designs to large surfaces became an essential skill in my work with tiles. This interplay between spray techniques and graphic design knowledge resulted in a distinctive approach, allowing me to transfer my drawings onto tiles in a fluid and authentic manner. Beyond the technical aspect, my experience with graffiti also influenced my conceptual artistic development. Although it wasn't an extensive experience, it gave me the confidence to explore typography, shapes, and the integration of text as a visual element. This experimental side added a new dimension to my work, enabling me to combine graphic and textual elements in a harmonious way.

How did your work with tiles begin?

My work with tiles began around 2008, roughly a year after I started this artistic journey. It was a gradual process, not something that emerged suddenly or became the immediate focus of my work. Initially, I explored different artistic approaches, but projects related to the redesign and reinterpretation of Portuguese azulejos began to receive very positive feedback. That encouragement proved crucial.
One of the first opportunities came through a local programme in Cascais, called Cascais Jovem. The programme invited eight local artists to cover buildings, something that was quite innovative at the time. Reflecting on what to create for this project, I wanted the piece to represent my roots in Cascais. This idea quickly evolved into a broader goal: to create something that represented Portuguese culture. It was at that moment that the connection between my work and the Portuguese tradition of azulejos, which adorn so many façades, began to take shape.
From that point on, I started exploring how I could combine my artistic style with the aesthetic of traditional tiles. In the beginning, the patterns I created were simpler and more straightforward, lacking the level of complexity and study that I have developed over time. However, upon seeing the first results, I realised how well the idea worked both visually and artistically. This motivated me to deepen my research and experiment further - from the drawing process to the techniques, and the application of these designs on surfaces.
Over time, this work transformed into a true passion. Although I don't create solely in response to feedback, it was incredibly rewarding to see the public's positive response, which further motivated me to continue exploring and innovating. This is how the connection between my artistic practice and the universe of tiles was established and evolved into what it is today.

Would you include your work under the designation “street art”?

No, I wouldn't. There is a common idea often applied to various contemporary artists, myself included: the automatic association of painting in public spaces with “street art”. For me, painting in the street is just one form of artistic expression and shouldn't be restricted by that label. An artist is an artist, regardless of the medium or context in which they work - whether working with lace, painting murals, or developing ceramic pieces. Art should not be rigidly defined by classifications.
Furthermore, my work goes far beyond what is typically understood as “street art”. For instance, when creating pieces like ceramic cladding for hotel lobbies, my work intersects with the fields of design, interior decoration, and even art installations. In these cases, while my style and vision remain present, it is not “street art” in the traditional sense.
That said, I recognise that painting murals in public spaces has a unique role. It is a powerful form of artistic exposure, almost like a giant business card that communicates directly with the public. Companies spend fortunes on advertising to occupy the same walls I paint, and that is an invaluable advantage for any artist. Even so, while people may associate these interventions with “street art” or “graffiti”, I see it as a simplification, often outdated.
Today, in my studio, we prioritise ceramic projects - such as panels or cladding - because they are more durable and less ephemeral than murals painted directly in public spaces. However, mural painting remains an important part of my work, both as a tribute to my origins and as a way to connect with public spaces and the community. This connection between past and present is essential to me.
I don't like to be confined by labels such as “street art” or “graffiti”, as I believe my work is broader than that. While these terms are still used to describe what I do, particularly by those unfamiliar with the nuances of my artistic journey, I strive to transcend these categories and explore new artistic horizons.

What do you feel are the similarities and/or differences between creating work indoors and outdoors?

The primary difference between creating indoors, in the studio, and outdoors, on the street, lies in the type of materials used and the very nature of the creative process. In the studio, the work is largely focused on permanent pieces, such as tile panels, screen prints, or works on other durable mediums. For example, a tile piece may be created for an exhibition or installed in a home, while other projects might include different materials like metal and marble for unique pieces. In the studio, the focus is on the “real” - the tangible and permanent, such as a glazed tile designed to last for generations.
On the street, the focus is different. Techniques like stencils or mural painting are often employed, giving the work an ephemeral character. Urban art, by definition, is subject to modification, erasure, or even vandalism. This transient aspect is part of the essence of urban art and something I embrace as part of the creative process. The street is dynamic and alive, and art interventions become part of the public space, engaging in dialogue with the environment and its people.
However, there is an intersection between the two contexts, especially when I bring the format of tile panels to the street. Inspired by Portuguese tradition, I believe that tiles in public spaces offer a more enduring form of public art. Even if vandalised, they can be restored, as the glazed material is resilient and designed to withstand time. This fusion of tradition and innovation allows me to explore both the permanence and the ephemeral nature of art, depending on the context.
In contrast, manual painting in the studio has become increasingly rare. Currently, the focus is on tiles, with occasional projects involving hand-painted multiples, known as HPMs, marking one of the few recent exceptions. On the other hand, the street remains a space of freer, more experimental exploration, where mural painting and other quicker techniques still dominate.
Studio work focuses on detail, permanence, and materiality, whereas work on the street incorporates direct interaction with the public and an acceptance of ephemerality.

Where does your inspiration come from?

My inspiration comes from a rich and diverse mix of influences that have accompanied me throughout my life. I've always considered myself a highly intuitive person, and this is reflected in my creative process. Often, I feel that something isn't quite right in a piece, and even without immediately identifying why, I trust this intuition to make adjustments until I achieve the desired balance. My drawing is a direct reflection of this intuitive approach.
In terms of visual references, they are extremely varied and stem from different phases of my life. From the world of skateboarding, which shaped my teenage years with its vibrant colours and bold designs of the 1990s, to punk rock, which has always carried a distinctive visual aesthetic, full of attitude and rebellion. The graffiti I practised for a few years also significantly shaped my artistic vision.
Cartoons are another major source of inspiration and remain part of my life to this day. I still love watching them and am influenced by their creative and imaginative styles. Gaming, though more prominent in earlier stages of my life, also played an important role. It was a daily routine - coming home and playing for an hour or two was almost a ritual that transported me to another universe.
Additionally, there are broader cultural influences, such as Disney and its associated franchises - from Star Wars to series like Family Guy. These pop visual narratives feed my imagination, leaving their mark on my drawings, which often begin intuitively, whether with a pen on an iPad or another digital medium.
Ultimately, it is a vast amalgamation of visual references and personal experiences that combine to form my imaginary world. It is from this space, between the conscious and the intuitive, that my art takes shape.

Have you been influenced or inspired by other artists?

I admire many artists and feel privileged to consider several of them friends. However, I try not to draw direct inspiration from anyone's work. I prefer to keep my creative process as autonomous as possible, avoiding influences that might compromise the originality of my art.
If I were to highlight one strong reference, it would be Jim Phillips, a Californian artist and illustrator. He created some of the most iconic images in skate culture, such as the famous blue hand of Santa Cruz, clutching an open mouth. I have immense respect for his work, not only for its visual impact but also for how it shaped skate culture and demonstrated that it is possible to make a living through art. Seeing his work gave me confidence - it showed me that it's possible to draw, create graphic compositions and characters with their own identity, and make a career out of it. That realisation was transformative for me.
Although my work doesn't share many aesthetic similarities with his, the approach and impact of what he achieved left a profound mark on me. Beyond Jim Phillips, however, I don't have any other specific references that I consider directly influential. I do admire many artists, whether contemporary or from other periods, friends or not, but I prefer not to list names. For me, inspiration is something that arises more internally and autonomously, nourished by my own experiences and personal interests.

How would you describe your aesthetic?

My work has a highly distinctive visual language, built on a balance between tradition and reinvention. I often use overlapping patterns in shades of white and blue, combined with cut-outs and forms that coexist on the same surface. This interplay of elements creates a strong and recognisable visual identity, especially through the dialogue it establishes with the tradition of azulejos.
I draw inspiration from elements I discover through research, whether local patterns, architectural motifs, or fabric textures. These elements serve as starting points, but my creative process goes far beyond mere reproduction. Before starting a project, I seek out patterns that carry the history of the place or context in which I'm working. I take these inspirations and reinterpret them to integrate them into my visual approach, creating something with its own unique harmony.
Although my influences are varied, it is the layering of patterns and the creation of rich compositions that set my work apart. Each piece contains layers of meaning and detail, emerging from the way these elements interact with one another. This aesthetic, heavily defined by the use of patterns and cut-outs, has developed naturally over time and continues to evolve with each new project.
It is this process - combining research, reinterpretation, and composition - that defines my aesthetic. While engaging in dialogue with the past, I strive to create something that goes beyond, always with an approach that blends tradition and innovation.

How much of your work looks into contemporary social and political issues, and how important is it for you to share that with your viewers?

While it emerges from an intuitive and aesthetic process, my work also addresses social and cultural issues in an indirect yet intentional way. The idea of cut-outs and "torn" surfaces, for example, was born as a metaphor to question what lies beneath our walls - both literally and figuratively. It is a reflection on the traditions we have inherited, what defines us as a culture, and what is being lost in the frenzy of urban growth, with cities becoming increasingly homogeneous with façades that no longer reflect our identity.
This approach raises broader questions: what lies beneath us as a society? Where is the collective memory of our traditions, such as the tiled panels and façades that were once so prevalent but are now often overlooked or discarded? My work seeks to bring these forgotten layers to the surface, inviting the audience to view them in a new way. When I work outside of Portugal, I follow the same logic, looking for local patterns, traditions, or elements that can be reinterpreted to create a dialogue between past and present.
While these questions are not always explicit, I believe it is important for my work to make people think - albeit subtly - about what we value as a society and what we might be losing. I make it a point to incorporate local elements into each project, often seeking guidance from communities or researching local references that can give meaning to the work. I enjoy creating pieces that, in some way, challenge the audience and ask: Have you noticed what you have, or what you had? Why do you no longer care about it?
At the same time, I acknowledge that the visual and aesthetic aspect is equally important. The cut-outs and tears I use in my work are dynamic and visually striking, but their strength lies in the duality between aesthetic impact and the reflection they provoke. This balance is essential to me as an artist, as I believe art should both capture attention and inspire deeper thought.

What can you tell us about your creative process?

My creative process varies depending on the type of work, particularly whether it's a mural created for an event or festival with a specific theme, or an independent project where I define my own subject matter. In both cases, I make a point of imbuing my creations with a deeper meaning, ensuring that the work goes beyond being simply aesthetically pleasing. While I appreciate working with "beauty", I want my pieces to carry significance, always inviting the audience to explore the subtler layers of my work.
If the project requires a specific theme, I begin with an intensive research phase, where I look for patterns or local elements that are representative of the place. These might include motifs from traditional tiles, fabrics, or even unique architectural features of the region. Following this research, I redesign and adapt the elements to my style, often transforming them into square-based compositions to align with the aesthetic of azulejos. Colours also play an important role: I typically use my palette of blue and white, but in specific contexts, I like to add touches of other colours, such as yellow, pink, or red, to enrich the piece.
The technical aspect is equally essential to my process. After finalising the design, I create detailed stencils, considering the number of layers and colours required. The design is initially developed digitally, often on an iPad, where I can simulate how the patterns will interact visually. Every detail is carefully planned, from proportions to scale, based on the actual dimensions provided by the client or project organiser. This precision is crucial, especially since stencils cannot be easily adjusted on-site.
In murals, I enjoy incorporating variations, such as painting hand-drawn details on a large scale, creating an interesting dynamic between the complete pattern and the enlarged elements. This contrast functions as a visual game, capturing the viewer's attention and encouraging them to look at the piece multiple times. It's a play between the classical and the unexpected: at first glance, it might appear to be a traditional pattern, but upon closer inspection, the audience discovers surprising elements and details that create a unique narrative.
In summary, my creative process combines research, reinterpretation, technique, and aesthetics, always with the aim of creating something that goes beyond visual appeal, inviting the observer to delve into deeper layers of meaning.