Ni De Aqui Carpetas
top of page

Mi Familia (2025)

Photographic Collages

Top: 19.5 x 15.5 inches ; With frame: 23.75 x 19.75 inches

Middle: 23.5 x 17.5 inches; With frame: 29 x 23.375 inches

Bottom: 19.5 x 15.5 inches; With frame: 23.75 x 19.75 inches

Materials: Colored envelopes on photographs​

Letters: 8.5 x 11 purple and blue paper 

Mi Familia (2025) explores the emotional and familial ruptures that arose after I discovered that the person who raised me was not my biological father. This revelation led to a profound separation within my family, particularly with my two sisters, who have distanced themselves from me and the rest of the family. To represent this disconnect, I cut out their images from family portraits, symbolizing their absence in my life. The removal of my sisters from these once whole images represents how they have effectively erased themselves from my reality, leaving a void where their presence once was. This void, however, is filled with color to indicate that they are still alive, just no longer part of my world.

The use of color in this piece is symbolic and deeply personal. My oldest sister is represented by the color purple, which reflects the deep connection we once shared. Purple, a color I have a personal affinity for and that aligns with the pink in my work, signifies the bond we had in the past, a bond that has since been severed. My middle sister is represented by blue, a color that embodies the cold and distant relationship we now have. Blue reflects the emotional separation between us, capturing the distance and emotional chill that has come to define our connection. Through these colors, I evoke the emotional weight of their absence, the loss of warmth, and the stark emotional separation that I now face.

The process of creating Mi Familia (2025) involved scanning the original family portraits, printing them, cutting them out twice, and then framing the pieces. These portraits were once hung in my parents' house, in the very frames that now hold the images without my sisters. The frames, which once held a complete family, now house only the remains of what once was a powerful metaphor for the erasure of my sisters from my life. Though they are physically absent, the color serves as a reminder that they are still alive, just not present in the familial bond I once shared with them.

In a final act of closure, I wrote two letters for my sisters, a form of goodbye that mirrors the ritual in my family when someone passes away. In our culture, we write letters to the deceased to be placed in the coffin as a final communication. In this work, the coffin is represented by the frame, and the letters are written in the colors corresponding to each sister purple for my oldest and blue for my middle sister. This is my final farewell to them, the closure I never received. Mi Familia (2025) is not just a visual representation of loss, but a deeply emotional and ritualistic act of saying goodbye, even if it was never acknowledged by them.

ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

​​​​​​

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.

​​

 

.

bottom of page