It’s okay to stop and stare, mouth open, gaping in wonder; it’s not very often you come across painterly feats so thrilling and risky, intemperately precarious and audacious, dancing so close to failure without any discernible safety net. You may wonder how Cristina de Miguel does it, and she won’t mind telling you because she is deeply invested in process, but even knowing won’t dispel the frisson of mystery and magic, nor even the simple appreciation of something visceral and virtuosic at work.