Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Lenguas (2026) explores the power of my voice and the ways women are often criticized or punished for speaking with honesty and conviction. The work emerges from experiences with men who have challenged or silenced me, both within intimate relationships and through authority. The installation presents two tongues: one soft and thornless, referencing the tongue through a masculine, sexual gaze, and the other covered in cactus thorns, representing my own voice. The thorns embody the words I have been called “too rough,” “too difficult,” or “too much” transforming what was once perceived as undesirable into a source of protection and strength.

 

The cactus thorns, sourced from México, connect the work to my cultural identity, carrying the landscape and history of my roots while also representing my decision to break generational patterns of silence as the first woman in my family to openly speak up and claim my voice. Lenguas holds the tension between softness and resistance, intimacy and defiance, femininity and strength. I have been told that I became rough, but I ask: who taught me to grow thorns? The work is not an apology for the woman I have become. It is an acknowledgment that my voice, anger, boundaries, and ability to defend myself are part of my strength.

 

I no longer see them as things I need to soften for anyone.

ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

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. 

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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