Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Árbol Que Nace Torcido, Jamás Su Tronco Endereza

Photography

Árbol Que Nace Torcido Su Tronco Jamás Endereza (2024) features Marisol Ascensio as the subject and powerful embodiment of resistance to generational cycles. This dicho translates to, “A tree that is born crooked will never straighten its trunk,” and conveys the belief that the habits or characteristics acquired in childhood are difficult, if not impossible to change in adulthood. It reflects a culturally accepted idea that people are bound by their upbringing, particularly when that upbringing involves hardship, dysfunction, or trauma. This work directly challenges that notion, offering a visual narrative of transformation, strength, and personal agency.

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In the first image, Marisol is seen leaning into a crooked tree, visually and metaphorically becoming one with it. Her body mimics the bend of the trunk, illustrating how deeply we are shaped by the environments in which we grow. The image evokes the weight of inherited struggle suggesting how, for many, being raised in a difficult home or community can feel inescapable. Yet even in this moment of closeness, there is a quiet resistance in Marisol’s posture: she is not defeated by her roots, but still standing.

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In the second photograph, Marisol begins to lean forward and away from the tree. This shift in movement represents her decision to move beyond the path that was seemingly carved out for her. Her body language speaks of forward momentum, determination, and self liberation. Though she came from an environment marked by struggle, she chose not to be defined by it. Instead, she built a new path, working hard for her goals and breaking away from the expectations or limitations set by her surroundings.

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Through Marisol’s presence and story, this artwork becomes a counter-narrative to the fatalism implied by the dicho. It invites viewers especially young women, to reject the belief that they are destined to repeat the circumstances they were born into. Marisol stands as a living testament that growth, change, and healing are possible. Her journey reminds us that we are not bound by the shape of the tree we grew next to we have the power to bend in new directions and to break generational cycles.

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Árbol Que Nace Torcido, Jamás Su Tronco Endereza 1.jpg
Árbol Que Nace Torcido, Jamás Su Tronco Endereza 2.jpg

ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

LENGUAS

DELICADA

LO QUE UNA VEZ FUE DELICADO SE CONVIERTE EN SÓLIDO

SOLO VENTANAS

CORAZÓN DE NOPAL

CACTI

IZQUIERDA

ME QUIERES MUCHO, NO ME QUIERES NADA

Me Quieres Mucho, No Me Quieres Nada (2026) is an installation I constructed during my month-long residency at Casa Lü in Mexico City. The work is an abstracted self-portrait built from the emotional residue of the last several years, my experiences within a toxic relationship, betrayal, encounters with men and women in positions of authority, questions of cultural identity and belonging, and the complicated feeling of being loved by people who no longer seemed to like, understand, or accept me.

 

I was thinking about what it means to be “liked, but not liked”: to once feel wanted by the people I loved and then experience rejection, comparison, criticism, or dismissal from those same people. The installation became a space where I could finally confront what I had been too busy to grieve while completing my MFA and navigating everything happening around me. Influenced by female rage songs and women speaking openly about their experiences, I approached the installation much like I approach filmmaking. Coming from a cinema background, I think of a body of work as a film: there are characters, color palettes, compositions, objects, symbols, and a soundtrack. Music by artists such as Japanese Breakfast, Te Vi En Un Planetario, Margaritas Podridas, and Faouzia helped shape the emotional atmosphere of the work. The installation is accompanied by a five-minute poem that must be listened to while moving through the space, making the viewer not simply an observer, but part of the narrative and a forced listener to this specific story. 

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Every element carries a piece of the story. The cacti, thorns, tongues, lace, windows, and architectural forms become characters within this emotional landscape, while the pink that consumes the installation operates as both a visual language and an act of defiance. Pink is deeply connected to the visual landscape of Mexico, its architecture, cars, clothing, and everyday environments, but it has also become personal to me. After being told during my MFA that I should NOT make a pink show and, more broadly, that I should tone myself down, be softer, or make myself more palatable, embracing excess became its own form of rebellion. Here, pink is unapologetic. It IS too much because I was told I was too much. The work is filled with small “easter eggs”...the cactus shaped like a raised middle finger, a tongue referencing my former partner, and other details that may reveal themselves differently to each viewer.

 

Returning to Mexico allowed me to reconnect with materials, soil, thorns, architecture, color, and structures that feel deeply connected to my history and identity. Working with these materials became unexpectedly therapeutic. I could experiment, make mistakes, be excessive, be angry, be tender, and, most importantly, make whatever I wanted, which is a very normal part of expressing oneself in a healthy and artistic way. Me Quieres Mucho, No Me Quieres Nada is stubborn, vulnerable, angry, playful, and deeply personal. It is a space where I allow myself to remember what happened, grieve what I lost, and confront what still hurts. I heal through making art; I take what I cannot always say and give it a physical form. Although this installation comes from my own experiences, I hope that its emotional honesty creates a space for others to recognize something of themselves. To feel heard, to feel seen, to confront their own pain, and perhaps to begin healing.

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