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In mefenufudofo, I follow my mother's preparation of menudo, a traditional Mexican dish, for the new year as I use her childhood language to recite a poem. I use my mother's composed language to speak about our mother-daughter connection, our multiple identities and cycles. The language she taught me has no name but only rules: after each syllable add a repeating consonant with the previous vowel. As a young girl, my mother's life at the Mexican border town of Reynosa revolved around this composed language to speak in secrecy with other young girls while adults were in the room. As a border woman, I use this language to escape the constrains of the Spanish and English language and the identity these languages carry. (stills of mefenufudofo, 2021, one channel video, 1:26 and mefenufudofo poem translated in Spanish and English) |
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arroz con leche is part of my community project on gathering specific recipes used by my mother to cut back on food expenses. In this project, I use a postcard to write ingredients and directions needed to make a traditional Mexican dessert with only 4 ingredients; all chosen for their low cost. As I pass this recipe to my community, I give continuity to the resilience and creativity the women of my family have passed on to me when resources were scarce.
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As a way to lessen the sun entering our home, my mother tapes newspapers on windows. In our household, newspapers have functioned as barriers from the hazardous nature of the outside world. As I take shelter at home, I place newspaper letter cutouts on windows to form a dialogue rather than to shut out outwardly. In the phrase "hoy hay más muertos que vivos" [today, there are more dead than alive], I dialogue with my Mexican American border community to shed light on the experience of living with a daily death count. |
hoy hay mas muertos que vivos [today, there are more dead than alive], 2020
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connection to material and land
To have a connection to material and land is to hear the stories materials carry. I do not take but gather materials ethically sourcing each from a specific time and place.
pigmented drawings, mesquite charcoal ink, 2021
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retazos, fabric remnants, 2020
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With pigmented drawings, I write out a conversation of movement with the residual matter of mesquite tree limbs lost during the 2020 hurricane season. I grind the charcoal to change its physicality into a new form that allows for remains to become suggestive of currents. Forming circular motions, I speak about continuation, possibilities and the act of reconstructing after destruction.
For two generations, the border women of my family have used retazos, fabric remnants, as a creative and resourceful material. Retazos, rendered useless, defective and damaged by the industry, have possibilities for the women of my family. Out of gathering what others considered imperfect, I learned from my mother to reassign value. Out of pieces, I learned to make whole again. I gather retazos to continue reimagining the possibilities of rejected material. I create beauty with the unwanted. I create harmony with the residue. Seamlessly, I place retazos in relation with each other and the space they occupy as I perceive we relate to each other and space— a borderless multitude of one.
For two generations, the border women of my family have used retazos, fabric remnants, as a creative and resourceful material. Retazos, rendered useless, defective and damaged by the industry, have possibilities for the women of my family. Out of gathering what others considered imperfect, I learned from my mother to reassign value. Out of pieces, I learned to make whole again. I gather retazos to continue reimagining the possibilities of rejected material. I create beauty with the unwanted. I create harmony with the residue. Seamlessly, I place retazos in relation with each other and the space they occupy as I perceive we relate to each other and space— a borderless multitude of one.
presente (sal del rey), mesquite branches, sage and cotton thread, 2020
I carry words formed out of branches and leaves into spaces I fear as a woman of color. These spaces of wilderness hold histories of persecution and my writings on land allow for statements to be spoken. presente– in spite of all the history the land carries, I am present.
As I enter Sal del Rey, the pathway to reach the salt lake is surrounded by monte. El monte, a wilderness, is unknown to me. Entering is as much a promise of paradise as of threat. For years, the space of el monte has been used for violence and magic. I find it difficult to enter the space of Sal del Rey as a Wildlife Refuge and forget the atrocities border communities endured and continue to endure in this land. I enter the space with letters I formed out of mesquite branches and fresh sage. As I step to the shore line, my body sinks. I place the word "presente", a cry of protest I have learned to say to validate the precarious life of politicized identities. Presente. Presente, on top of salt, red water and mud as a way to declare and harmonize.
As I enter Sal del Rey, the pathway to reach the salt lake is surrounded by monte. El monte, a wilderness, is unknown to me. Entering is as much a promise of paradise as of threat. For years, the space of el monte has been used for violence and magic. I find it difficult to enter the space of Sal del Rey as a Wildlife Refuge and forget the atrocities border communities endured and continue to endure in this land. I enter the space with letters I formed out of mesquite branches and fresh sage. As I step to the shore line, my body sinks. I place the word "presente", a cry of protest I have learned to say to validate the precarious life of politicized identities. Presente. Presente, on top of salt, red water and mud as a way to declare and harmonize.
reimagining and rewriting
I use collage to gather histories and stories of material to construct new realities. Often, I relate materials with each other to dissolve images containing pain into fragments as an act of release.
reimagining, newspaper clipping, sage, broken mirror on wood, 2020
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Looking through newspapers as a little girl, I imagined myself among the countless injured bodies photographed. I saw myself laying, up against and breathless. Within my neighborhood, the violent images and its stories would travel in word of mouth. Instead of engaging in witnessing their suffering, we often further criminalized and victimized the dead. The recurrent images of bodies in pain and the dead weigh on me. This predisposed presence in this printed manner tears me apart.
In reimagining, I go out searching for pieces of material to make myself whole again. I turn to sage, broken mirrors and circles to reorganize harmoniously the presence of photographs in newspapers that carry injury to my immigrant community.
I sense the energy of each material as I disperse them in a circular motion: the brokenness of mirrors and the possibility of seeds. I mirror those that gaze onto the work to ask for their engagement and to form part of the picture.
Within layers, I unite fragments without hiding traces of agony. I enclose all pieces with a circle that unravels at its ends and on top of a muted structure. I move them around this circle to create possibilities like the possibility of fragments being set free.
In reimagining, I go out searching for pieces of material to make myself whole again. I turn to sage, broken mirrors and circles to reorganize harmoniously the presence of photographs in newspapers that carry injury to my immigrant community.
I sense the energy of each material as I disperse them in a circular motion: the brokenness of mirrors and the possibility of seeds. I mirror those that gaze onto the work to ask for their engagement and to form part of the picture.
Within layers, I unite fragments without hiding traces of agony. I enclose all pieces with a circle that unravels at its ends and on top of a muted structure. I move them around this circle to create possibilities like the possibility of fragments being set free.
In deshacer lineas [dissolve lines], I use collage and video to reimagine the long waitings lines my border community have been forced to endure throughout the years. I use photographs of immigrants and refugees waiting to receive resources like food, health exams and vaccinations or waiting to be processed into systems like the bracero program, incarceration and immigration apparatus. (stills of deshacer lineas, 2021, one channel video, video on loop)
