Long before fashion turned its gaze toward football, before brands began translating sportswear into the language of the runway, Oscar was already capturing the rhythm of life with a camera slung over his shoulder. He began turning his travels with friends—whether snowboarding, surfing, or simply surrounded by friends who skated—into something aesthetic, a reflection of their shared sense of freedom. Working as a photographer was never a clear goal; nothing was forced. No staged sets, no scripts. Just light, lines, and kinetic energy.

That same instinct is still present in his work today: more refined, but no less romantic. Behind the lens of recent Pompeii campaigns, he brings to each shot a sensibility shaped not only by the vibrant streets and aesthetic of Barcelona, but also by a quiet life in a small town on its outskirts. His photography reads like a visual diary—intimate, immediate, and full of untold stories.

In this current creative wave—somewhere between rising pressure and deeply rooted passion—Oscar spoke to us about style, football, nostalgia, and the silent gravity of personal art.

Because this is more than fashion. It’s the soft collision of sport and soul. It’s the shared philosophy behind one of the most quietly visionary brands orbiting contemporary sports imagery—Pompeii.

The Artistic Side of Sport

“I’m not an athlete—at least not in the traditional sense, although I played football for many years as a kid—but I’ve always believed sport offers something far beyond the physical. It has a visual rhythm, a silent choreography, a kind of art that’s often overlooked. I picked up a camera at fifteen just to document what surrounded me. Back then, my world revolved around surfing, skating, and snowboarding—it was only natural that I began photographing my friends moving through those spaces. These days, I’m more involved in football-related projects, mostly because fashion has turned its attention to the sport. But my creative roots are in that slower, freer surf-skate culture. That’s where I learned to see.

I studied advertising graphic design and a degree in interior design, and then a master’s in art direction with a focus on still life. But honestly, way before all that, I was already on the street, camera in hand, documenting the life I knew. It was all very instinctive—friends, boards, the sea, the streets—capturing those moments with no agenda. That raw aesthetic still defines how I see and create today.

My path into photography was very organic. I started shooting on very tight budgets, sometimes fashion, sometimes even food. Until I joined an interior design studio, where I ended up photographing the spaces the studio designed. From there, I went all in, and everything started picking up. In less than three years, I was joining Pompeii as Art Director to co-lead the rebranding alongside Cosme Bergareche, and shooting for some of the most impactful brands in Barcelona at the time—like Vicio and Nude Project.

Spending my days shooting across such different sectors gave me a wide space to start forming my own visual language—one that lives at the intersection of fashion, history, and memory. Today, I work for Pompeii and collaborate with several creative agencies in Barcelona.

These days, beyond just shooting, most of my time is spent directing, mainly as a creative director, especially in fashion campaigns.”

Creativity, But Make It Visible

“At Pompeii, I hold the position of Art Director, or more accurately, Brand Creative Director. Cosme Bergareche, the Creative Director, is the one who steers the vision and conceptualizes the product, the collections, etc. My role comes afterward, in the interpretation. But sometimes the concept doesn’t directly affect the product, and other times, there’s a need to build a visual world around it—with or without a clear narrative—and that’s where I step in.

The truth is, fashion—unlike advertising in other sectors—has a much higher aesthetic demand. In many cases, beauty and aesthetic take precedence over everything else, and the concept might be something more abstract, more sensory. Not everything needs a fully fleshed-out narrative from the start.

In Spain—and I guess elsewhere too—most fashion brands don’t have huge budgets for their creative departments. You grow up having to be 360° creative. There’s no room for a full team. I remember my first shoots being like this, having to play every role: photographer, lighting tech, art director, post-producer. That’s how I started. They’d call—’Oscar, we need a shoot’—and I’d show up and have to do practically everything.

When I joined Pompeii, this changed. Even though we’re still a small brand, I now get to collaborate—especially in audiovisual productions—with talented DPs, stylists, producers, lighting designers. We’re in a good moment, with a beautiful team. Still, I want to highlight that our recent campaign with Kappa, for example, was done with a very small team and a very low budget—and the response was huge. It went viral. That proved something: you don’t need big budgets, just the right idea.

For me, creativity isn’t a switch I turn on or off—it’s a way of moving through the world. I’m guided a lot by the visuals. My thoughts don’t start with words or strategy; they start with a feeling, a frame, a color palette. I don’t always begin with a ‘concept’ the way big agencies do. I often start with what I want to see—the energy, the silhouettes, the emotion in the image. And that’s okay. We live in a time where people connect visually faster than they do with text. The image has to speak first.

At Pompeii, we’re constantly balancing two forces: consistency and virality. Ideally, we find that middle ground—something authentic but resonant. That’s why I admire the authenticity of photographers like Quentin De Briey or Miguel Triano. They bring that raw honesty to their fashion work. It never feels forced. That’s what I love: when it feels real. When it feels like life, not like advertising. When it feels like something we lived, and simply captured.”

Football, Style, and Barcelona

“Funnily enough, I’ve played football since I was a kid. My dad was president of our local club. I played until I was 21 or 22. But creatively, football never inspired me.

About this current wave where fashion and football cross paths—brands are curating a version of the sport that’s more aesthetic than authentic. It’s rarely about hardcore fans or the visceral energy of stadium culture. What you see now is a stylized reinterpretation. Sure, some footballers have style—Jules Koundé, for example—but not everyone fits that mold. A lot of what’s produced is more guided by narrative than by reality.

I wasn’t born in Barcelona—I grew up in a small village—and spent a lot of time traveling with friends, usually to places where we could snowboard or surf. That’s still how I live. I split my time between my village, Madrid and Barcelona until I could escape to the beach or the mountains. That intersection between snowboard, surf, and urban style shaped my visual language in a way no classroom ever could have. If I had studied photography at a top university without ever touching a board, I’m sure my work would be different.

Still, Barcelona definitely influenced me. For a long time, I only worked there. And Barcelona has a raw, bohemian aesthetic. It’s rough, unfiltered, and full of character. Madrid, on the other hand, is more polished—much more classic. There’s a different social pressure—to look a certain way, to dress ‘properly.’ Honestly, I’d never felt that aesthetic pressure before I stepped into Madrid—not even in Paris. I’ve always been more drawn to Barcelona’s energy—less perfection, more personality. Though Madrid is a perfect city to live in.”

The Pompeii Aesthetic

“It’s wild how deeply people are connected with football today. Ten years ago, it wasn’t exactly ‘cool’ to be into it. Sure, my friends and I would gather on a terrace to watch Barça matches with some beers—but it was a quiet ritual, something intimate. Now? It’s everywhere. It’s mainstream. Socially accepted. Fashionable.

Pompeii has always had one foot in that world. Cosme and Jaime, the founders, are real football fans. As we’ve grown, so has our identity. Now we have a clear sense of what fits our voice—we know what works, what doesn’t, and how far we can stretch the aesthetic without losing the thread.

This cultural shift has opened creative doors. Working with football clubs today allows more space for expression, more connection with what’s happening in fashion and youth culture. Brands like KidSuper or Acne Studios have reimagined football in elevated ways—elegant, a bit eccentric, full of emotion. I relate to that. But at Pompeii, we’re also intentional about not following the herd. The scene is saturated with recycled references, nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake. People want something different—new shapes, new textures, new stories.

That was the energy behind our collaboration with Racing de Santander. It came about naturally—the club had a similar essence to us—and the result was more beautiful than surprising, because it was exactly what their people needed. The video campaign was more provocative, and within 48 hours it had over a million views across platforms. The world of football is huge.

All that came right after a campaign with Ceuta—a multicultural club in one of Spain’s autonomous cities in North Africa. Ceuta is fascinating. Its energy and people blew me away. It’s a curious place, surrounded by borders on all sides. It feels almost dreamlike, and the city holds infinite cultural power. That project caught a lot of attention, and Racing got in touch shortly after.

With Santander, I wanted the visuals to reflect the soul of the city. Part of it we shot at La Magdalena, a stunning palace that, strangely, had never been used in a campaign. It was just sitting there—waiting. The other half was shot at the Nautical Club, a place that defines the city’s lifestyle and connection to the sea. The people of Santander have a discreet elegance. They don’t need to shout to be seen, and that restraint—that quiet confidence—reflects a lot of what we believe in at Pompeii. That campaign became a way to visually connect the club, the community, and the clothing—honoring where we come from, and where we’re going.”

Pressure makes diamonds

“Growth brings pressure—but the kind that drives you. I care deeply about this community we’ve built. Our audience now stretches across millions on different platforms, and still, Pompeii feels intimate, like a newborn. I’m emotionally attached—to the project, the founders, the process. The pressure I feel doesn’t come from outside; it’s internal. It’s the responsibility to keep creating things that are not only beautiful but meaningful.

That said, I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes wonder if I’m giving too much of myself to the work. There are personal projects I’ve had to set aside. And while I’m not unhappy—not at all—I do miss that more artistic side, unfiltered, with no deadlines or briefings. Maybe someday I’ll go back to it. Maybe when I’m 50. Or maybe sooner.

Sometimes I fantasize about taking a real break. Dropping everything, moving to Iceland to live with an old Icelandic man on a horse farm, and spending two years making a documentary—very slow, very quiet. Something to reset everything. Something selfish, in the best way.

But the reality is, the creative industry doesn’t stop. If you step away, even for a bit, the rhythm can leave you behind. You lose connection to the now—the trends, the conversations, the language of the moment. And that scares me a bit.

Still, I’m deeply grateful. There was a moment in my life when I dreamed of escaping the hustle, of a much simpler life. But somehow, I always ended up rebuilding this idea of doing what I do now, where everything moves so fast. And I’m exactly where I wanted to be—enjoying life, too fast maybe, but enjoying it. And honestly, right now, I can’t imagine stepping away from this.”