Featured on Diario Ibiza / A Cake Artist’s View Behind an Immersive Art Opening in Ibiza

Tammy Lin
Dec 1, 2025
5 min read

From setup to flow to audience reactions, a first-person look at how edible art shaped the opening experience

This article continues from my previous piece: How I Translated an Artist’s Visual Language into an Edible Installation, where I wrote about translating Pedro’s visual language into edible form.Today, I want to share what happened when all those ideas finally stepped into the real world — the day of the opening itself.

Behind the Scenes: What It Takes to Serve Cake at an Art Opening

People often imagine a cake artist arriving with a few pretty cakes, placing them on a table, and heading home. But anyone who has ever worked on an event — especially in Ibiza in mid-August — knows the truth is far from that.

For the PICNIC opening, the volume was significant: a full 3-meter dessert table. Many elements could be prepared ahead, but most of the cakes, had to be finished in the final 2 days.

These cakes weren’t “standard cakes.” Transporting a large number of cakes in the hottest week of the year, and at the hottest hour of the day, requires absolute precision. Buttercream behaves differently in summer heat, even mine — which is more heat-resistant than most — still cannot be exposed to direct sunlight.

Timing the drive, keeping everything boxed and chilled, and bringing the cakes into the venue all had to be meticulously planned.

Before any large event, I always confirm:

How long the cakes will sit at room temperature
What the venue’s temperature and humidity are
How quickly guests will begin eating
Where service staff will stand, where trash will go, which plates will be used

Fundación La Nave Salinas made this part easy.The gallery’s temperature is controlled, the staff was coordinated, and the timeline was clear. By the time I arrived for pre-opening photography, we could move straight into setup without rushing logistics — a rare gift for any vendor.

Inside the Exhibition: How La Nave Salinas Built an Immersive Event

The team was creativity and planning were evident in every detail of the opening. Their concept transformed what could have been a conventional opening into something alive, humorous, and interactive.

One of the most brilliant idea involved the lower level — a sunken space beneath the main gallery floor that guests can see from above but cannot enter. Instead of leaving it empty, the team staged an entire picnic tableau:sun umbrellas, beach chairs, scattered fruit, colorful textiles — a playful echo of the exhibition’s title. During the opening, the artist himself, Pedro, and a collaborator staged a subtle performance down there: lounging under the umbrella, eating fruit, taking selfies, moving slowly as if they had stepped out of one of the canvases.

And it tied every element of the event together — the paintings on the walls, the picnic below, and the dessert table above.

The gallery layout was also cleverly arranged for flow:

Guests entered through the outdoor bar area
Moved naturally into the main room
Passed the dessert table
And then discovered the performance beneath their feet

This structure allowed the cake table to function not as an add-on, but as a continuation of the exhibition — an edible extension of the visual world.

The team — from Isaac Malca and Héctor González in Ibiza to Zara Hoffman, who flew in from New York — shaped the opening with a level of planning and coordination that made everything feel effortless. Working with them meant my cakes didn’t just sit in the room; they became part of the experience.

What Happened When the Guests Arrived?

Before the opening, we wondered if people would be hesitant.The cakes looked so similar to Pedro’s painted desserts that we worried guests might think they were part of the artwork — untouchable, off-limits.

So we pre-cut some slices to signal, “Yes, these are real.”

It turned out we worried for nothing.

Guests entered the room, bent over the table in disbelief, whispered to each other — then asked the same question again and again:“Are they real cakes?”

Once they learned everything was edible, the atmosphere changed instantly.Word spread across the gallery, and soon a line formed — adults, teenagers, children. The colors and shapes that felt so surreal in the paintings became something they could literally taste.My team and I were slicing as fast as we could, feeding what felt like an endless tide of happy visitors.

Children were especially enthusiastic. Their excitement — pointing at a cake in the painting, then pointing at the “real one” on the table — created the kind of joy you cannot stage. It’s the dream scenario for any artist or curator: people interacting with art with genuine, unguarded curiosity.

By the end of the evening, almost nothing was left.But the most meaningful part wasn’t the empty table — it was the laughter, the conversations, and the way strangers bonded over something as simple as cake.

It was, in every sense, a celebration.

Why the Exhibition Felt Alive: A Note on Pedro’s Energy

Something that stayed with me was how naturally the entire event aligned with Pedro’s artistic spirit.

Even though his works are technically still lifes, they never feel still.Objects lean, crowd, and overlap; colors vibrate; forms stretch and twist with a sense of cheerful mischief. His paintings are not “quiet” — in the best possible way — as if each object has its own personality and might start talking if you stare long enough.

And when you meet Pedro, everything clicks.His presence has the same lightness and humor as his paintings: warm, generous, and quietly joyful. Watching him perform in the downstairs picnic — sunglasses on, fruit in hand — felt less like “a performance” and more like stepping into the world that already exists inside his canvases.

https://vimeo.com/1118489315

Filmed by José Fernandez, whose intuitive rhythm and cinematic touch are something I deeply appreciate every time.

This is why the opening worked so well.

It wasn’t just an exhibition; it was an entire ecosystem built around his artistic language — a world where color, movement, humor, and food all speak the same dialect.

For families, tourists, locals, children, and art-lovers alike, it was an invitation to experience art not with distance but with delight.