Visiting Christine Dimaculangan’s studio feels like being invited into a quiet world she has shaped with her own hands. The space sits inside her home, and the scent of oil paint lingers in the air, mingling with the aroma of wood from the tools and furniture she uses daily. It’s the kind of place where you can tell someone spends long, honest hours working, thinking, stopping, and starting again.
In this studio visit, Christine sits with us and discusses openly how she works, what she surrounds herself with, and why she arranges her space in the way she does. She walks us through the room slowly, pointing out her old studies, the photographs on her walls, the typewriter where she writes poems, and the taboret she designed herself. She explains how she moves between several paintings at once, how she lets ideas settle before returning to them, and how the dark walls and adjustable lights help her shape the mood of each piece.
This interview is less about the finished paintings and more about the world behind them. It reveals the rhythm of her days, the small habits that guide her, and the quiet determination that inhabits the room with her.

Macu is a Filipina oil painter whose work lives at the intersection of realism and raw expression. Specialising in portraiture, she explores the emotional presence of her subjects through both likeness and the expressive language of brushstrokes. Guided by a deep appreciation for classical realism, Macu embraces the integrity of each mark—allowing texture and form to speak with equal weight. This harmony between control and freedom gives her work a layered, living quality.
When you first step into my studio, the first thing you notice are my paintings hanging on the walls—past studies created from life, alongside a collection of photographs that remind me of the vision guiding my upcoming painting collection. These images and works surround me, serving as both inspiration and reference for what’s ahead.

I am surrounded by my painting studies and a vision board filled with photographs that inspire me. In one corner sits my typewriter, always within reach so I can write poems for my paintings whenever inspiration strikes. I work at the center of the studio, with three easels around me and a wheeled taboret that I can move freely, allowing me to paint wherever creativity leads.

My taboret. I designed my taboret myself and had a carpenter bring it to life, making it truly one of a kind. It holds all my painting essentials—oils, brushes, mediums, and tools—and with its wheels, I can easily move it around the studio, allowing me to work efficiently wherever inspiration strikes.

My vision board is a constant presence in my studio, an essential part of my painting process. It holds a collection of images that inspire me—the moods I wish to capture and the techniques that draw my curiosity. Surrounding myself with these visual fragments has helped me uncover my artistic identity and guided me toward the style I hope to be remembered for.

I keep track of my ideas by displaying them on my studio walls, arranging them like chapters in a story—what comes first, and what follows next. As a very visual person, I need to see all my ideas at once, surrounded by them, so they can guide my process.
A typical day in my studio is chaotic, yet in the most inspiring way. I embrace the freedom to experiment, letting the paint flow and the space become delightfully untamed.

In my studio, all the walls are painted a deep black, with multiple lighting options at my disposal. I love controlling the light, shaping how it falls on my subjects and influences the mood of my paintings.
I keep multiple works in progress visible throughout my studio. I love working in layers, moving between paintings—starting new ones while others dry—allowing each piece to evolve over time.

I don’t have a specific spot to step back and view my work, so when I need to refresh my perspective on a painting, I pause. I might start a new piece, write a poem, or read a book. After a day or two, I return to the painting with fresh eyes, making it easier to see details and identify areas that need refinement. I don’t like to rush my paintings—I believe that good things cannot be hurried.

Given the chance, I would set up my studio in New York—I feel as though my work belongs in that city.


As our time in Christine’s studio comes to an end, the room leaves a clear impression. The dark walls, the gentle scent of oil paint, and the quiet presence of her works in progress create a space that feels steady and unhurried.
It is a place where ideas can linger without being pushed, where small shifts in light matter, and where every object has a purpose in her process. Walking out, you feel as though the studio will continue breathing on its own, holding the calm, focused atmosphere she has built. It is a space that supports her, challenges her, and waits patiently for her to return to it.
To learn more about Christine, visit the links below.
🎊 Let’s Welcome 2025 Together 🎊 Flat 25% off!. View plan