Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Reflejos (2026) is a nine-part installation composed of laser-engraved acrylic mirrors, each carrying a word or phrase drawn from lived experience; language directed at me, my family, and my community. These statements: “Wetback,” “Go back to Mexico,” “You Mexicans are criminals,” “Speak English!”, exist alongside more insidious remarks like “you are being too combative” or “you need to change your facial expressions.” Together, they expose a spectrum of violence, from overt racism to coded, everyday policing of identity.

The mirrors are not passive surfaces, they return the gaze. As viewers approach, they are confronted not only with these words, but with themselves embedded within them. The discomfort is intentional. It asks: have these words been spoken to you, or have you spoken them? Where do you stand in relation to this language?

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Reflejos exists in dialogue with They Tried to Bury Us, But They Did Not Know We Were Seeds, extending its meditation on resilience and survival. If that work speaks to endurance, Reflejos confronts what must be endured, the accumulation of language that attempts to define, diminish, and displace. Unlike spectacle or illumination, the absence of light in this work is deliberate. The words are not elevated, not glorified. They sit in quiet refusal, stripped of authority. They are present, but they are not powerful.

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ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

Delicada

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 past relationship, betrayal, sexism, comparison, questions about my cultural identity, 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. 

 

I approached this installation much like I approach filmmaking. Coming from a cinema background, I think of this body of work as a film. There are characters, textures, color palettes, compositions, objects, symbols, and a soundtrack. 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, architectural forms, and the color pink become characters within this emotional landscape. Pink is deeply connected to the visual landscape of Mexico, its architecture, cars, clothing, and everyday environments, but it has also become a color which I identify myself with in my artwork. I wanted the color to be "too much", because I've been told that I am too much. Instead of letting that hurt me, I do it purposefully in this work. It's a color so obvious that you can't help but see it, its presence. 

Returning to Mexico allowed me the opportunity to reclaim my narrative and to reconnect with materials, soil, thorns, textures, colors that connected to my 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, ugly, but also beautiful. It's a self reflection of not being perfect, but being honest. I have expereinced many ugly things, but I have also experienced many beautiful things. 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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