𓆩♡𓆪

m u l t i m e d i a

Dulce Compania - collage, writing, sound, 2023
Dulce Compania is a photo of my mom standing on the sand in Managua when she was 4 along with writing that says: "we will always subvert you and we will win, because our earth will live on without us if she has to. We will be embedded in her memory, we are her memory. Where there's one of us that survives there are already entire generations. Generations that will never forget what you did with the power you had over the land and our bodies - we will have no mercy, no absolution - Angel de mi guardia, dulce compania, no me desampares ni de noche ni de dia..." and continues with a prayer my mom used to recite. It is not taking a stance on religion at all, rather it documents Catholicism in my lineage and my now personal perspectives of Land Back. It is also touching on ecological grief that I feel over not being able to visit Nicaragua and my mothers' and my connection to the ocean as a place of healing.

Malo Ojo 
Photography, Sewing, Risograph, Poetry 2019
Malo Ojo is a piece on how we remain despite prejudice, how our will endures and even witnesses the self endure a world that is cruel to fat women and how our bodies are projected onto constantly by whiteness, thinness, and how we're told we're unnatural when our bodies mimic landscapes. The poetry reads: Nos echan la sal, es el malo ojo, no les digo nada, I fly around, tie the red thread around every precious fold of my skin, I roll the beads with the pads of my finers, right then, a bead becomes a sapphire rolling pin on a red thread, this is my learned defense against the evils of -obias and -isms. Blamed for my wings being too big, blamed for being a monarch but still, intuition is a current I ride. Es la pura envidia sobre nuestras alas, pero que es la mierda conmigo? I understand the ways I am judged, and I do my best to not internalize it even I have internalized it, But I take flight, still tie red around my wrist, pluck out my ivory eyes that care too much, replace them with sapphire sockets, my mother told me to wear red to ward them away, place a mirror on your door. So I became a mirror, my wings refracting, and when the sun shines on me, all their hatefulness is reflected, back to them, they are the ones who will ultimately have to observe themselves, confront the weight of the sacks of salt they carry and why they cannot fly. Aren't they tired? Do they not know? Salt will crumble, And Sapphire lasts.