Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Corazón de Nopal, or Cactus Heart, is a literal and emotional reflection of what I have grown through heartbreak. Constructed with real cactus thorns, the work takes the form of a heart that is hardened on the outside while remaining soft within, mirroring the physical interior of a cactus when it is cut open. The thorns become a form of protection, a boundary created after experiencing betrayal. They speak to the ways heartbreak can change how we approach intimacy, making us more guarded and less willing to expose the parts of ourselves that are vulnerable. The heart may appear impenetrable from the outside, but its softness still exists beneath the surface.

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For me, Corazón de Nopal (2026) is about finding a balance between protection and vulnerability. I know that the hardness I have developed is temporary; it is not the entirety of who I am, but rather something I have grown into as a response to what I have experienced. Deep down, I still want to remain soft, open, and capable of love. At the same time, I have learned that softness does not mean having no boundaries. The cactus becomes a metaphor for this transformation: something that survives by developing thorns while continuing to hold life within itself. The work acknowledges what betrayal can do to a person. The instinct to protect, to harden, and to close off, while recognizing that beneath those defenses, the capacity for tenderness remains.

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CORAZÓN DE NOPAL 

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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