“The mountain brought forth a mouse, but the bee will create a miracle of beauty and order. Asked to enlighten us on their creative process, both would be embarrassed, and probably uninterested. The artist who discusses the so-called meaning of his work is usually describing a literary side-issue. The core of his original impulse is to be found, if at all, in the work itself.” Destruction of the father / Reconstruction of the father, Louise Bourgeois
My first contact with art was in my grandmothers’ houses. One of them was a seamstress, so when I’d go to grandma Antonia’s house I would sew buttons. My grandmother from my father’s side was a teacher that would paint porcelain pieces on the side, she taught me how to draw little flowers and other nature motifs. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been an artist if it were not for these defining moments with my grandmothers in my childhood. These instances were the roots of my passion for drawing and textiles, the two disciplines that are still to this day the main focus of my artistic practice.
If I had to briefly describe what I do, I would say I take what I see and bring it into a world made up of my own rules. It all starts from the action of seeing, then comes the appropriating elements of the outside world and filling them with me.
My multidisciplinary practice reflects upon, more than anything else, itself, myself and the course of art, through the disciplines of textiles, drawing, painting, installation, performance and video. Itself because each artwork can stand on its feet as an isolated case of study, presenting a pictorial narrative that tells the tale of its own production as a collection of gestures, actions, materials and memories, myself because it unravels the evolution and constant movement of my relationship to what is inwards and outwards of myself - from my first drawing to my last sculpture, it draws a clear chronological map of my inner being navigating through life -, and the course of art throughout history because it is in direct dialogue with the art that has preceded it.
These main themes are catapulted by limiting the focus to an outside subject, elected carefully by virtue of a constant reflection, deep curiosity and will to understand the world. This conscious choice is freeing rather than restricting, for it allows the exploration of the main subjects to flourish organically. In other words, it is in the pressure created by adversity and limitations that creativity operates.
At this moment, the subjects that seem to have caught my eye and that have required relentless study and examination are the line and the web and, consequently, the relationship between singularity and plurality. For that reason, textiles and drawing are the disciplines I tend to orbit towards the most: both start from the same premise, the line and the web, which is very much tied to repetitive motions, that in themselves carry the weight of the dialogue between intent and accident. It is precisely in the dynamic between antagonistic concepts, it being collision or balance, that I focus on in my work. I would even go as far as to say that making art is my response to dealing with life as an unpredictable force.
Not so long ago I found myself in a constant state of anxiety and restlessness in which all I longed for was some stability and control over my surroundings and emotional being. The transition into womanhood was very hard and emotionally draining for me. My sudden turn to geometric abstraction came about as I was desperately looking for some kind of structural order in my life. For that reason, my artistic practice represents, more than what I am going through, what I am aiming for. It comes from the never ending pursuit of growth (that is, of discovering oneself) through hope, patience and vulnerability.
In the unconcerned, intuitive, mechanical and repetitive representation of geometry I have found a way of being active without dictating the nuances and the flow of the ending result, thus focusing on the action of art making and evoking the interaction between the controllable and the uncontrollable, balancing intuition with intellect, randomness with intent. This approach allows me not only to shed light on the nature of the “error”, its liveness and importance when embedded in an ordered structure but also to take advantage of the sensory deprivation effect: revealing an image with so little happening that the eye can’t help but to be attracted to even the smallest imperfections. I am interested in the uninteresting. Let me rephrase: I am interested in finding the intriguing and the captivating in “quietness” and “stillness”. In a world where everything is happening all the time, where most things are exaggerated to the point that they become caricatures of themselves, I try to find agitation and disruption in the small nuances of interactions between form and form, colour and colour, colour and form, form and material, material and space, etc.
Having said this, I must admit I have a hard time making decisions and sticking to them. Unsurprisingly, the study of the endless stimuli, instigated by the digital era, is also incredibly interesting to me and a subject that I am currently exploring in my work. This past year I have grown more interested in branching into technological mediums such as projection and digital manipulation of video and photography upon recognising some links between the ever evolving digital aesthetics and my work’s subject matter, as I “rediscovered” the line and web in the pixels of screens and the repetition and sensory deprivation effect in the glitch and in the moiré. This desire for quietness paired with the lust to live in the “everything everywhere all the time” becomes complex, inconsistent and at its worse absurd, and I believe it reflect once again upon the desire of finding a balance between extremes and conflicting impulses.