An Englishman, robust and dressed in a khaki kilt and black beret, confidently stands on the edge of an ancient well adorned with Spanish tiles. Despite the high winds and rain lashing the group of visitors, this engaging performer boldly announces his nearly two-century residence on this desolate island. He invites us on a tour.
“This has been my home for 174 years,” he declares, introducing himself as Captain Horatio Hollingwood. “I arrived commanding a renowned British merchant ship, tasked with transporting various goods. However, along with grain, wool, and oil, we carried some unwelcome guests—serious diseases. We halted here for a sanitary inspection. And from here, I never left.”
Our group, braving the temperamental spring weather of the Balearic Islands, shivers between towering stone walls as the vibrant actor guides us through the Lazaretto of Mahón. This 18th-century fortress and infirmary once held merchants, shipping crews, and travelers heading into Spain. His spirited introduction sets the tone for the week ahead. Alongside nearly 80 participants from various countries, we gather on this uninhabited island for Quarantine, a program devised by artist Carles Gomila. The program encourages artists to break free from creative blocks, allowing them to explore, fail, and discover new facets of themselves.
Participants adhere to a demanding schedule for seven days, arriving on the island by 8:30 a.m. and leaving no earlier than 9:30 p.m. Their days are filled with talks, workshops, and mentoring sessions, with the schedule kept secret. No phones, laptops, or internet-connected devices are allowed, and there’s no option for a leisurely afternoon away from the island. This intense and deliberately enigmatic itinerary challenges artists to embrace discomfort, confront their insecurities, and let go of expectations. The theme for this edition is Tears in Rain, inspired by the famous monologue from Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner.
Continuing his introduction, the actor shares, “Unlike those who were quarantined here in the past, your stay is voluntary. You are here to experience something meaningful in your lives and creative processes. This is a time for transformation. Some moved from life to death here; your journey is from blockage to freedom. Follow me.”
Reaching the island is a journey in itself. From Chicago, it took us two days, involving three flights, a car ride, a walk, and a boat. No public access is available to the lazaretto, so interested artists must apply with a leap of faith, trusting the program’s bold promises. Testimonials speak of a “legion for the revolution” and participants feeling profoundly changed. Some even tattoo the program’s logo, returning multiple times.
Concerns about the program resembling a cult are common. When invited to observe the April 2026 edition, we were skeptical, as were our friends and colleagues. Many participants shared this skepticism, as we learned upon meeting an artist from Los Angeles at baggage claim. He discovered the program through mentor Yuko Shimizu, whom he admired. The chance to disconnect from daily life and engage with fellow artists drew him in, hoping to rejuvenate his practice. Whether it’s a cult remains uncertain.
From the 18th to 20th century, the Spanish government mandated a 40-day quarantine on the island for all travelers, longer if they fell ill. Groups were isolated based on presumed illnesses, with about five percent dying from diseases like the Bubonic Plague and Yellow Fever. Today, the sanatorium is undergoing restoration as local authorities repair eroded limestone halls and walkways. A few peacocks, grounds crew, and sporadic tour groups are the island’s regular inhabitants.
Quarantine is one of two regular events held on the lazaretto, occurring each April and October with support from the local government and tourism organization, Fundació Foment del Turisme de Menorca. Everything needed for the program is transported by boat, including meals for 80 people and large musical instruments like the bilas for live performances.
Quarantine functions as a mystical bootcamp for artists, blending community and introspection. Gomila designs workshops, known as the “Art Lab,” to provoke diverse emotional responses, often leading to clarity. Music is frequently included, and life drawing is central to the sessions, with models fully embracing the project’s spirit. Models are also invited to engage creatively, finding personal reconnection.
All participants, regardless of their artistic background, echo the sentiment of personal rediscovery. A young father grapples with increasing AI reliance in game design, while a fine art educator critiques the corporatization of her university role. People from various fields come to the Mediterranean seeking focus and inspiration.
The mentors enhance the experience. April’s session featured Shimizu, Martin Wittfooth, Mu Pan, Phil Hale, Yulia Bas, Sean Layh, and Adam Miller, with previous sessions hosting figures like Miles Johnston and Jeremy Mann. Mentors conduct morning masterclasses on topics from art as a “spirit artifact” to career shifts. Participants also have one-on-one sessions with mentors, discussing personal and artistic challenges.
Quarantine’s philosophy centers on equality. After exercises, all works are displayed for sharing without critique. The focus is on process and spontaneity, encouraging experimentation and overcoming creative obstacles. The range of experience is broad, with some artists seasoned professionals and others new to oil painting.
“What happens here is so psychological,” remarks an Argentine participant who followed Layh to Quarantine. “I feared it might be cheesy, but I’ve cried three times this week.”
On the final day, after numerous hours of painting and creative exercises, participants reflect on the camaraderie and belonging they’ve gained. The initial anxieties have transformed into a collective understanding, embracing mistakes and fostering connections. Plans for future meetings are made, with past participants maintaining contact through group chats and some planning to return.
On the last evening, under a clear sky, a fire pit is set up near the well. The group of 80 gathers as mentor Bas begins the ritual. She tosses an old letter and a work on paper into the flames, inviting everyone to do likewise.
As the pit overflows with burning artworks, the release is tangible. Artists embrace, shed tears, and watch their work turn to ash. These “spirit artifacts,” as Wittfooth describes them, symbolize both the permanence and insignificance of the creations. Quarantine focuses on understanding the root of creative challenges, building a shared resilience rather than just treating symptoms.
