Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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Solo Ventanas (2026) is, for me, a funeral. I constructed these walls from photo matte enhanced paper and gruta, burying the photographs beneath layers of thick white wall paste. What was once thin, fragile, and lightweight becomes heavy and almost suffocating under the weight of the material, before being painted pink. The blackness of the windows evokes the atmosphere of mourning, resembling caskets that appear to offer the possibility of seeing through them, yet reveal nothing. They become symbols of a love that once promised connection, intimacy, and a future, but was ultimately revealed to be a facade. The photographs embedded within the walls hold places and memories I love, including Atotonilco El Alto, Jalisco, where my family comes from. By burying these images, I am confronting not only the loss of photography as I once understood it, but also the emotional weight of a relationship that became entangled with how I saw myself and my own work.

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These walls became a reflection of me. For a period of my life, I felt as though I had become a wall myself, closed off, heavy, and unable to see beyond what was immediately in front of me. The windows suggest looking inward, but their sealed, black surfaces deny access, creating a tension between wanting to see and being unable to. In this sense, the work becomes a physical representation of grief: grieving the person I was in a relationship with, and the belief that what I experienced was ever genuine or real.

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SOLO VENTANAS

ARTWORKS FROM THIS INSTALLATION

LENGUAS

DELICADA

LO QUE UNA VEZ FUE DELICADO SE CONVIERTE EN SÓLIDO

SOLO VENTANAS

CORAZÓN DE NOPAL

CACTI

IZQUIERDA

Delicada

ME QUIERES MUCHO, NO ME QUIERES NADA

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. 

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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. 

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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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