Regeneration: a connection to material and land
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Regeneration is a multi-media installation composed of video and “ground” sculpture reclaiming dual identity, rebirth, and movement which are informed by my experiences as a Mexican-American immigrant. I grow in scale regenerative mesoamerican symbolism of a seashell encompassing duality within its demarcating lines. I use powdered mesquite charcoal and pine to form two lines, one dotted and one continuous, into a cyclical movement. These lines remind me of my Mexican-American immigrant identity within colonial settler histories. On one side, I encounter violent histories of displacement where indigenous people are semi-visible, and on the other side, I hear from my elders stories of resistance to make our people and culture present. In this duality of being visible and invisible, I gesture a regeneration that holds two truths in one. Two elements, fire and rain clouds, are projected on the wall to hold duality together next to each other rather than apart. The pattern of two is repeated throughout the installation and at its center a ceramic piece is placed. |
The raku piece uses fire and smoke to achieve its color and is formed into two joined strands. This action of joining together two entities with natural elements encompases a repetition needed were generational trauma has been endured.
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In tornasol con mis ancestros [iridescent with my ancestors], I use indigenous symbolism to speak about duality within my Mexican-American identity. For each piece, I molded two different heads on opposing sides of a snake symbol. In my practice, snake symbols embody my immigrant experience of having two identities to acculturate to the U.S. culture and the Mexican culture I enter as a brown-skin woman. I used the raku method to transform each piece into an amalgamation of different metallic colors called "tornasol" in spanish. I connect with this color for its shifting of appearance on its surface as a way to speak about the changes of perception immigrants undergo in society. I embedded my hair onto each piece to accept this multiplicity of identity as my own. |
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Using various objects I called ceremony, I transform and rewrite histories of violence using indigenous curanderismo practices. With photographs of the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity Library Archive, I gathered images from Texas and Alberta, Canada portraying extraction of oil and extractive agriculture and transportation practices. I overlap, soak, stain and adhere these photographs with materials native from both countries and bind them using techniques of paper mache my mother taught me growing up. With each movement, these moments in history are rewritten into another possibility.
In rewriting histories, I gather photographs from Alberta, Canada and Texas, United States to take power over histories of violence. With an agency to disrupt notions of the past, I use photographs depicting extraction of oil, extractive agricultural and transportation practices, and policing of resources to create change through curanderismo, a healerism knowledge. With each movement, placement, soaking, staining and adhesion, I rewrite these images into another possibility of being.
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With rewriting my body with bronze, I speak about transforming the body with ancestral symbolism of movement. As an immigrant, westernized customs and culture often make my brown body stagnant and unable to move freely as a reaction to
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histories and current events of violence done onto my community. I mold out of lost wax technique a bronze snake with embossed symbols on its body. One symbol is of movement with two interlaced lines curling in opposing directions. I press the ancestral symbol onto my hand and write a poem: "a story has been told about us/ it lives inside of us until we decide to rewrite it/ your ancestors are speaking to you, hear them/ rewrite your body, move with the wind".
In reframing, I speak about the extractive histories of North America, specifically Alberta, Canada and Texas, within agriculture. Using clay from Alberta, Canada and my own hair, I burn hair into the clay body as a new frame to hold three entities: myself, the clay soil and photographs of industrial agriculture harming the landscape. The presence of harm is shifted, still present, yet minimized. Here, I encounter histories of violence as a way to change its relation to the land and my own body.
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In espera espera, fuerza regreza [hope hope, strength return], I address the lack of healthcare in my immigrant community. I draw the esperanza flower, known to withstand drought, in full bloom to speak about hope in dire times. Around the esperanza flower, I place a mesquite bean pod, a nutritious ancestral seed, to symbolize good health. I carbonize mesquite bark to create charcoal to use as a drawing media for my work. Following the creativity of ancient scribes, I symbolize color by drawing the sun in a circular blended broad line bordering the esperanza flower.
flor y canto [flower and song] reclaims beauty and poetry to resist the politicization and policing of my immigrant community. I draw a curved-billed thrasher, a native desert bird from Northern Mexico and South Texas, with a huizache flower on top. Both birds and flowers hold the highest cultural value for my ancestors as they brought joy and truth. As they appear in the early mornings singing and releasing their aromas, they are a reminder of our survival and truth telling from our ancestors: no acabaran mis flores/ no cesaran mis cantos [my flowers will not end/ my song will not cease]. Following the creativity of ancient scribes, I symbolize color by drawing the sun in a circular blended broad line bordering the huizache flower.
flor y canto [flower and song] reclaims beauty and poetry to resist the politicization and policing of my immigrant community. I draw a curved-billed thrasher, a native desert bird from Northern Mexico and South Texas, with a huizache flower on top. Both birds and flowers hold the highest cultural value for my ancestors as they brought joy and truth. As they appear in the early mornings singing and releasing their aromas, they are a reminder of our survival and truth telling from our ancestors: no acabaran mis flores/ no cesaran mis cantos [my flowers will not end/ my song will not cease]. Following the creativity of ancient scribes, I symbolize color by drawing the sun in a circular blended broad line bordering the huizache flower.
nueva vida [new life] uses curanderismo, healerism, practices and soil testing to conjure a fruitful growing season and return health to the soil that has been exploited for generations. Inside the glass container, soil from South Texas has slowly been arranged by water and soap to leave behind a soil type sample. Drawn at the center, golden marks form rows in a field ready to be planted. Inside organic matter is visible, a sign of good things to come. Around the container, a braid made with corn leaves embraces a hope of new life.
