While browsing Wallapop searching for new pieces—where others only see a piece of junk to sell quickly—Reddit notifications were chiming in the background, breaking our aura of concentration. It was those sounds, short and sharp, that made us connect what we saw on the screen with what we were about to read next.

On the other side of the glass, an Art Deco furniture piece painted in a single tone. After training our eyes under the vibrant chromatics of multiple full-bodied pigments, all we could see was a heavy plastic layer covering a story relegated to 100 euros. The work was beautiful, but upon entering the owner's profile, there were hardly any sales after months of listing; some, even a year.

That piece had ended up like so many others in our favorites section: ads with an invisible dust of oblivion that made us recall what we already knew: industrial paint involves a lot of work, but it has become so saturated that it creates copies, relegating months of care to prices that don't cover fifty percent of the materials and the time invested. There were too many.

In that instant, a comment from an American user on Reddit confirmed that reality: they explained that, both in their workshop and across the USA, they are “plagued” with furniture with commercial finishes that have ended up “tiring” their owners, forcing them to strip them down to recover the wood. That response to a thread of ours pushed us to reaffirm our vision: mass-market paint democratized art, but it completely diluted its real identity and the use of historical matter that made pieces last for centuries in museums.

At home, we have seen it for ourselves: the furniture we painted years ago with these brands has been peeling or acquiring unpleasant tones due to a completely clogged pore. The only option is the stripper or, sadly, the dumpster. In our area, we have seen entire piles of them.

Tired of that standardization that withers the wood, we decided to look back to move forward. Thus, our Spanish historical tempera (distemper) was born. We immersed ourselves in 18th-century treatises rescued from historical archives to understand how the great masters worked. By adapting those materials to the 21st century, the miracle happened: the paint no longer covered the wood; it petrified it. A deep museum-like glow emerged; resistant layers and strata that do not peel and allow the grain to maintain its living presence.

We weren't looking to create paint. We were looking to give the furniture back its right to endure. We are losing the last heritage of Spanish post-war historicist furniture; those artisanal workshops that fused European styles no longer exist. These pieces are unique—the history of our parents and grandparents. If they disappear, they will be gone forever. Are we going to allow those anonymous cabinetmakers to fall into oblivion?

It is time for conscious art and real matter to reclaim their place, to preserve the history that remains in every piece.