Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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DICHOS


2023 – Present

Dichos is an ongoing black and white photography series that centers Latina women from California’s Central Valley and Mexico. Women who have personally experienced the emotional, cultural, or psychological weight of a specific dicho, or traditional saying. These short, memorable phrases are often passed down through generations to teach lessons or reinforce cultural values. Yet many of them, especially those rooted in machismo, carry harmful messages that have disproportionately affected women and children.

This project reclaims and reinterprets those sayings through collaborative visual storytelling. Each photograph challenges the original intent of the dicho, offering a reimagined perspective grounded in empowerment, resistance, and healing. While honoring the cultural significance of these expressions, Dichos calls for a critical examination of the messages we inherit, encouraging the next generation of women to question, reshape, and transform the narratives that have defined them.

The inspiration for this series came from my mother, who always had a dicho for every situation, just like her mother before her. As I reflected on these phrases, I began to notice how many carried underlying messages that perpetuated machista thinking, even when spoken by women. Breaking cycles of generational trauma means not only identifying these harmful patterns but actively rewriting them. These photographs are part of that process, meant to teach, reflect, and offer a new way forward. My hope is that future generations of Latina women can embrace their culture while feeling more seen, supported, and empowered.

These sayings were a constant presence in my upbringing. But as I grew older, I began to see the limitations and harm embedded within them. I never wanted to reject my culture instead, I wanted to engage with it critically and lovingly. My intention was to transform these expressions from tools of oppression into tools of self-determination. What began as a personal reflection has evolved into a collective effort rooted in collaboration and sisterhood. As someone who has experienced complex relationships with other women, both in family and community, I have longed for authentic connections and solidarity. I’ve been fortunate to find that through the women who have participated in this project: amigas, hermanas, and compañeras who believe in the power of this work.

I’m deeply grateful to every woman who has joined me in this journey. Their vulnerability, insight, and creativity are vital to the process. Each collaboration begins with conversation, we discuss the dicho, what it means to them, and how to reimagine it visually. We work together on the concept, styling, and imagery to ensure the final photograph is authentic to their story. This is not just my work, it belongs to all of us, and to the women who came before us. Our mothers. Our grandmothers. Our ancestors who may never have had the chance to speak up.

The decision to use black and white photography was inspired by Mujer Ángel (1979) by Graciela Iturbide, a photograph of an Indigenous woman walking through the Sonoran desert with a radio in hand. I was struck by how it appeared timeless: a blend of the past and the present in a single frame. That aesthetic informed the visual language of Dichos. The black and white images echo the old family portraits I grew up seeing images of my ancestors, silent and strong. Sometimes I wonder if they live through us, maybe even as reincarnations. Although many of them could not speak out, my generation is beginning to do so, not just for ourselves, but for those who came before and for those still to come.

This project is a tribute to the past (our ancestors and the culture that shaped us), to the present (the women captured in these photographs), and to the future (the next generation of empowered Latina girls/ women).

I intend to continue this series until I have reinterpreted a bountiful amount of dichos, and hope to expand the project to include a range of more diverse Latina women who share a connection to these sayings and believe in the vision. Ultimately, I plan to create a photography book that not only features the images but also includes the stories and collaborative experiences of each woman involved. This is more than a photography project; it is a movement of reclamation, healing, and community.

Dichos Part I: (2023-2024)

Exhibtion

Promotion Video

Women's Her-story Month Exhibition, Warrior Cross Cultural Center, CSU Stanislaus

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Dichos Part II: (2024 - To be continued after May 2026 )

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ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

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No Te Olvides De Tu Cultura is an immersive installation that constists of seven artworks created from family photo archives, inherited objects, and sculptures modeled after my childhood home, a space built to hold memory, to be seen, and to be recognized as a site of healing and safety. Created during a period of deep isolation in San Francisco, this work became a way to return home when I could not physically be there, grounding me in the only thing that sustained me: my family, my culture, and the act of making. The installation parallels my mother’s life and my own, her journey from being born and raised in Mexico to coming to the United States as a wife, a mother, a farmworker, and a cannery worker, and the disorientation she feels when returning to a Mexico that has changed, mirroring my own sense of displacement moving between the Central Valley, Mexico, and San Francisco. We exist in a constant in-between, where belonging is never fixed, and this work lives in that tension. At its core is the quiet, persistent act of creation as survival: my mother’s intricate doilies and my photographs, sculptures, and installations become parallel languages of endurance, care, and expression. By bringing hay and dirt from the Central Valley into the space, filling it with the scent of home and the sounds of Mexican music, I invite the body to remember what the mind tries to hold onto. This work bridges past and present, honoring the labor, sacrifice, and resilience embedded in my family’s history while confronting the generational trauma shaped by discrimination, racism, and sexism. It is an offering, a reclamation, and a declaration that our stories, our labor, and our culture are not only worthy of being preserved, but of taking up space fully, unapologetically, and with love.

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