What pieces or projects have you been working on lately?
I am currently working along two lines that are part of my research. On one hand, I am developing commissioned pieces related to my previous series, Corporeal oscillations and The body I let go. This keeps me grounded and grateful, as it creates a commitment to entering the studio and keeps my exploration of material active through the act of making.
On the other hand, I am exploring new ways of activating my relationship with clay, building new questions and infusing my experience with philosophy, psychosomatic research, and extensive reading. I seek to discover new positions from which to situate myself. This has kept me deeply curious and constantly learning.
What did you learn (or unlearn) while working on them?
Just as the ceramic process unfolds, I have learned to hold my own process. It is something very elastic: I come and go. Sometimes, as one moves forward, clarity begins to emerge; other times, things only become more confusing. As it shifts and I move through it, I learn to contain it, to discern, to give it perspective and space, even when it feels lost, and to refine the subtle ability to recognize when something is ready to be finished and consolidated.
What words, ideas or emotions were going through your head?
Words and ideas: movement, the concept of place, and the perception of my body in relation to the material. I usually work in search of serenity, sometimes joyful, sometimes nostalgic, sometimes desperate or frustrating. A lot of observation and listening.
Were there any conversations, movies, music, or books that made their way into that work?
Yes, several books: Walkscapes by Francesco Careri, Being a Skull: Site, Contact, Thought, Sculpture by Georges Didi-Huberman, and the poetry book Empathy by Mei-Mei Berssenbrugge.
What's been the most difficult thing you've faced recently in your creative process?
Doubt. Although I understand intellectually that it will always be there and that there is no way to achieve total certainty, when it floods my body I tend to freeze. So it is a constant exercise to turn toward it and say: okay, I see you, I acknowledge you, thank you for making me pause, practicing how to guide it, learning how to inhabit it, and knowing when it’s time to stop it.
What is your favorite restaurant and what do you recommend we order?
Honestly, I love good food and cooking, so my favorites change depending on my mood, the weather, or what’s new. Here in Monterrey, lately I really enjoy Vernacular and Yama-to.
At Vernáculo, the Arab-Neoleonese appetizer: cabrito wrapped in grape leaves and empanadas with a bit of jocoque, sigh. At Yama-to, a nuta: cucumber salad with octopus, salmon, raw tuna, and miso sauce, with bites of wasabi that bring tears to my eyes. In Mexico City, whenever I go, Rosetta, is a mandatory stop. Any dish always leaves me wanting more.
If your life were a movie this month, what would it be called and who would write the soundtrack?
What a great question, I’ll let myself go. Dancing with ten fingers would be the title, and the soundtrack would be a mix of cumbia and accordion, with a song or two by The National.
Recommend one or more artists you follow who inspire you, and tell us what you like most about their work or their way of working.
Mariana Garibay Raeke: her processes and her way of navigating change and transition always inspire me deeply.
Berta Blanca T. Ivanow: her approach to form and the media she chooses for her work.
The research of Valeria Mata and Andrea Reed Leal nourishes and expands my practice, as do Veronica Cordoba ivestigations through her programs at Rare Rocks.
I work with ceramics; I shape it, and it shapes me. It all began with architecture, then anthropology, and now art. I sing, I dance, and I cook, everything from northeastern Mexico.