Ni De Aqui Carpetas
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(W)hole (2025)

Mixed Media Interactive Photo Installation

Materials list: Laser cut circles on Luster photo paper, metal table, chair, thread, petri dishes, X-acto knife, saliva, earwax on cotton swabs, hair, wood (circular cucoloris), black acrylic paint, transparent paper, and light

Room: 88 x 126 inches

     (W)hole (2025) is a continuation of the work I began last year, using black and white self-portrait photography as a medium to explore identity, confusion, and the emotional process of piecing myself back together. In the earlier iteration, the photographs were submerged in a photo washer, creating the illusion of being trapped beneath glass. My face was pressed against the surface, leaving behind visible smudges—thumbprints acting as subtle, but powerful, signs of resistance and presence.

     In this iteration, I wanted to push the concept further—both visually and conceptually. Instead of using the photo washer, I created fragmented, laser-cut photographs and placed them inside petri dishes. These punctured images evoke the physical act of erasure, dissection, and fragmentation. The dishes also contain personal biological materials—saliva, hair, fingernail clippings, and earwax. The inclusion of saliva references the Ancestry.com DNA test that revealed a painful family truth: that the man I believed to be my father is not "my real dad."

     The circular, cut-up portraits inside the petri dishes give the work a scientific, almost forensic quality. It feels like an identity study—an experiment missing key data. This fragmented presentation mirrors the internal disarray I experienced during that time: chaotic, incomplete, but still searching for resolution.

 

     Some photographs hang suspended by a thread—delicate, barely holding on—symbolizing how I felt in the moment I learned the truth. Everything I thought I was, I was not anymore. I felt unmoored, confused, and in pain. The thread represents the thin line between holding on and falling apart.

     Yet, even in its disarray, (W)hole (2025) is not a hopeless piece. It speaks to rebuilding—slowly, imperfectly. Though the pieces may not all be there yet, there is still movement, effort, and hope. This work captures a moment in the long, nonlinear process of healing and understanding. It’s about trying to make sense of a shattered narrative, searching for answers in places that often only lead to more questions. 

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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