Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Reflejos 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

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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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