“The city has a very human scale, which makes it easy to get everywhere on foot or by bike.
And for me, that rhythm is always offline.”
– Pablo Serret de Ena
Pablo Serret de Ena lives in Copenhagen, but his work moves across disciplines, cities, and states of mind. Artist, creative strategist, and Head of Innovation, his practice doesn’t sit still. It drifts between film and writing, workshops and art projects, always guided by a deeply human way of observing the world.
Son of a social worker and a mathematician, Pablo grew up at the intersection of care and structure. That duality still defines his work today. He has collaborated with brands and institutions such as IKEA, CAP, Museo del Prado, Warner, and Basque Culinary Center, while developing a personal body of work that resists labels and embraces curiosity as a method.
At Sotiyo, we’re drawn to people who move with intention. Not louder. Not faster. Just more aware. Pablo embodies that quiet momentum. His relationship with movement has little to do with distance, and everything to do with rhythm. With presence. With staying connected to what’s around him and what’s within.
An editorial note on flow
Movement is often framed as progress. As speed. As arrival. But there is another way to understand it. As rhythm. As a sequence of gestures that shape how we think, feel, and relate to the world.
This conversation explores that space. The in-between moments. The offline rituals. The objects we keep close. The cities that shape us over time. A reflection on Human Flow, not as a concept, but as lived experience.
Living inside a rhythm
There’s something magical about snowy mornings. Especially when the sky turns blue in Copenhagen. Today is Monday, and like most early Mondays, after dropping his son off at school, he heads to a café. Not to escape the day, but to ease into it. To think through what’s ahead, without rushing toward it.
He has lived in the city with his family for almost a decade now. Long enough for the rhythm to settle into his body. Long enough for movement to become familiar, almost invisible. And yet, never automatic in a dull way.
Working mostly from home, his daily movement is shaped by family life. School runs. Karate classes. Grocery trips. Errands woven into the fabric of the city. Copenhagen’s human scale makes it possible to move slowly. On foot. By bike. Without friction.
That rhythm, for him, is offline.
The moments that linger
Some movements stay with us longer than others. Not because they are extraordinary, but because they carry a certain quality of attention.
Walking hand in hand with his son to school is one of those moments. The world shifts when seen through shared conversation and improvised games. Reality bends slightly. The street becomes a place of imagination.
Cycling brings him back to childhood summers near Madrid. Endless days in the mountains. A group of seven-year-olds roaming freely, long before freedom had rules attached to it. A memory of movement without destination.
Running and swimming belong to a different category altogether. A more internal one. Less about getting somewhere, more about letting the body and mind drift apart for a while.
These are not grand journeys. They are fragments. But they shape how a day feels. How a life unfolds.
Cities as silent collaborators
It’s hard to separate who we are from where we’ve lived. Pablo resists ranking cities by influence, yet acknowledges that each move came with a deeper transition underneath.
Madrid, where he was born and raised, shaped the first half of his life. Copenhagen, his latest home away from home, shapes the present. Both are anchors. Both continue to inform how he thinks and works.
Cities don’t just provide context. They suggest pace. They define what feels possible. They teach us how to move through space, and through time. Over years, those lessons become internal.
For someone whose work spans disciplines, environments matter. Not as inspiration in a romantic sense, but as systems of rhythm. As frameworks that allow certain ways of thinking to emerge.
Objects he keep close
Movement is rarely empty-handed. We carry more than we realize.
For practical reasons, Pablo keeps the basic trinity close. Keys. Phone. Wallet. Sometimes headphones. But there are other objects too. More symbolic. More emotional.
Something made by his kids. A necklace. A LEGO piece. A reflective patch stitched into a jacket. Years ago, a meteorite lived in his pocket. When he travels, a sketchbook and a few markers always come along.
These objects aren’t about utility alone. They anchor memory. They connect different parts of life. They remind us who we are while we move through the day.
Feeling design, not thinking it
Coming from a design background, Pablo no longer analyzes objects the way he once did. Design, for him, is no longer something to dissect intellectually. It’s something to feel.
Interest begins with an emotional connection. The story behind an object. How it’s made. What it leaves behind. The experience it creates over time.
At home, music is as essential as the object that produces it. The value lies not only in form or function, but in how it shapes atmosphere. How it supports daily life without demanding attention.
Well-designed objects don’t ask to be noticed. They quietly make space for living.
Comfort as disconnection
When asked what comfort means while on the move, his answer is immediate. Being offline.
Not absent. Not disconnected from reality. But free from constant input. From overstimulation. From the pressure to respond.
Comfort, in this sense, is not softness. It’s clarity. It’s the ability to be present in your body and surroundings without distraction.
The moment he steps outside, his senses sharpen. Sound, light, movement, texture. Everything becomes more vivid. It’s not one sense in particular, but an overall embodied awareness.
Movement wakes the senses. Disconnection lets them breathe.
Autopilot as rest
Curiosity drives him naturally. It always has. So autopilot doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels like a pause.
A way for the senses to rest.
While swimming, he sometimes enters a dissociative state. Body and mind separating briefly. Not as escape, but as relief. A different form of movement. One that doesn’t require intention.
In a world that glorifies constant awareness, there is value in these moments. In letting go. In allowing movement to happen without analysis.
Flow, after all, is not always conscious.
Looking ahead, staying curious
When thinking about what comes next, Pablo doesn’t point to a specific destination. He speaks about direction instead.
Lately, his exploration leans toward fiction. Writing. Filmmaking. Perhaps as a way to process reality from a safer distance. He’s also researching future food. Another form of speculation. Another way to stay curious.
Geographically, South America calls. And maybe, this year, a volcano climb. Not as a checklist item, but as a continuation of curiosity.
Different paths. Same impulse.
A moving reflection
Listening to Pablo, it becomes clear that movement is not about how far you go. It’s about how you inhabit the space between moments.
Human Flow lives there. In school walks. In bike rides. In cafés after drop-off. In the objects you choose to carry. In the choice to stay offline. In allowing autopilot to be gentle, not numbing.
At Sotiyo, we believe comfort is what allows curiosity to survive in motion. When movement feels effortless, attention can soften. And when attention softens, we notice more.
This conversation reminds us that staying human in motion is less about optimization, and more about presence. Less about arrival, and more about rhythm.
*All images by Pablo Serret de Ena.
We invite you to discover more of Pablo’s work here:
Web: pabloserretdeena.com
Head of innovation: CAP
Keep discovering
If this conversation with Pablo resonated with you, you may enjoy reading other conversations like this Conversation with Emily Chang. We’ll be publishing with people who move through life with intention, curiosity, and calm, so you can also subscribe to our newsletter to receive future conversations and essays directly in your inbox.
