Rebeca Khamlichi (Madrid, 1987) isn't a painter, she's a form of painting. In her universe graphic design and 17th century religious iconography live cheek by jowl with cartoons, Michael Haneke, bubble gum pink, Goya's Black Paintings, Superflat and ballads: as if Doña Concha Piquer had come out with haikus. She has two greyhounds: one with the name of a song and the other, like her cat, called after a fruit. She paints in Madrid, on a terrace overlooking Lavapiés. And she does it, she says, because for the moment you can get acrylics without a prescription.