This year, Mother’s Day in the United States is braided with the Mexican celebration that always takes place on May 10. I wake up with cards from my children, and breakfast in the balcony, and the promise of my six-year-old son to build a magic wand to bring my grandparents and my dog back to life. Few things I value more in life than this. The path to reach this moment and this peace has been turbulent. As a child this was the most difficult day of the year for me.
In the white canvas of life there’s only one thing we know for sure: our time in this world is limited.
I must confess, I’ve never celebrated Cinco de Mayo. I actually used to judge people who do, because it’s an absolute fallacy. In our country we seldom speak about it. It’s really not special. The two main events in history that are truly celebrated everywhere are our Independence Day and our Revolution. And yet, the United States is not aware of those dates. They always stick to Cinco de Mayo.
This year, Mother’s Day in the United States is braided with the Mexican celebration that always takes place on May 10. I wake up with cards from my children, and breakfast in the balcony, and the promise of my six-year-old son to build a magic wand to bring my grandparents and my dog back to life. Few things I value more in life than this. The path to reach this moment and this peace has been turbulent. As a child this was the most difficult day of the year for me.
Yesterday I went to the post-office. I hadn’t been ‘out’ in a while. Everyone was wearing face-masks. I made eye contact and smiled at several people like I always do, but obviously they couldn’t tell I was smiling and gave me cold stares in return. It reminded me of the isolation I felt when I lived in Stockholm where only kids would smile back at me. Took me a while to get used to smiles here in Miami, where people have a latin touch and love smiling making you feel part of the city in a beautiful way. The reality is that even through the faintest of gestures we fill important places in each other’s life.
Yesterday I went to the post-office. I hadn’t been ‘out’ in a while. Everyone was wearing face-masks. I made eye contact and smiled at several people like I always do, but obviously they couldn’t tell I was smiling and gave me cold stares in return.
Miami Swim Week 2019 (or how I discovered I’ve turned into a Conversationalist). Inclusion, sustainability, and beautiful productions were some of the components of this year’s Swim Week. It truly is a special week for Miami. I’m usually traveling during this time of year, but this time I chose to stay here.
Gold Canvas is a visual reminder of the importance of living a spiritual life, finding purpose and surrendering to the experience of life with the understanding of the existence of something bigger guiding us.
Once upon a time, there was a man who loved beauty and details more than anything in this world, and built the most beautiful mansion, overlooking Miami’s Biscayne Bay, at a time when there wasn’t much around here. It was built inside out. Every piece has meaning: the attention to detail is spectacular.
2020 began before I even got enough time to finish 2019. Too much happened in too little time. I found myself a bit paralyzed, not sure what the best way to start the year was.
Carton, paper, glitter and metallic hues. Cathartical works of art that allow us, since early childhood, to work towards a common objective.
Black Canvas is all about acknowledging and making friends with our shadows and darkness, because it’s only it that we can distinguish the light within ourselves.
A challenge to go back to rituals and transform the planet through seeds.
‘Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived in a house called Memory.’ That’s all I can remember from the most beautiful story I’ve ever heard, which was read to me as I was, literally, put to bed by the Mad-hatter as part of the immersive theater experience of ‘Then She Fell’.
With strangers as she braided their hair and explained how visual cues.
It’s easy to say that it’s the journey that counts, not the destination, and it’s true, but how often do we forget the other crucial element: the place where the journey begins: the contrast between being born in one place versus another, in one skin, one culture, one language, one color and the impact that it will have in the way your journey unfolds.
When did we decide that living apart was better than being together? It must have happened when we decided that work and achievements were our priorities.
Not being busy seems to be so awful these days. And yet, it is well regarded to fragment ourselves. But are fragments created because of the distance, or are they life itself?
I am obsessed by mirrors. For a long time I felt as if I didn’t exist. Only mirrors made me feel real. So I started collecting them, hoping one of them would reflect me back who I thought I was.
Sabes? Yo pensaba que con seguir la receta biológica para una vida feliz, era suficiente, pero ya que terminé de hacer todo lo que estaba en mi lista, seguí sintiendo un vacío muy grande.
Creo mucho en el poder de las historias y en el poder de las trenzas. Ésta serie lleva mucho tiempo planeada, pero entre una cosa y otra, me he tardado en darle vida.
Oh piñatas,
Lovely and colorful objects of desire that make children and adults so very happy.
Carton, paper, glitter and metallic hues. Cathartical works of art that allow us, since early childhood, to work towards a common objective.
It has been five years of braiding intentions almost on a daily basis and now in the spirit of another birthday that just flew away I want to share with you something very personal, that I know we all struggle with, because I know that the more specific the story is, the more universal it becomes.
Not enough has been said about intuition: we are taught to not pay attention to it when we are little and our parents tell us to smile, or even love someone even when something inside us says we shouldn’t: ‘You need to be polite. She’s nice’, they say carelessly, and of course what else can they say, and what else can you do.
I once met a woman with all the right wrinkles: they told a story. Her eyes were filled with wisdom. I will never forget her face. In time, I’ve always wanted to be that woman.
When I was 5 years old my mother would always shout at me whenever I did facial expressions; ‘You are going to get wrinkled,’ she would say.
Toda historia interesante empieza en lugares obscuros. Aquí un fragmento de mi historia y el mensaje que hay atrás de la evolución que di a la trenza Tehuana que siempre he admirado. Estoy muy agradecida a Yahoo Mexico y a Bossy Productions por la realización de éste proyecto.
Your past is what happened to you, but the future is how you interpret it and use it to create the narrative of your life. I could say my mother left me when I was 7 years old, but in time I’ve come to realize that by not being with me, she gave me an opportunity to let me be who I was, instead of her shadow. It’s in her story, that I have found all the answers to the questions that hunt me. It’s in how broken I was as a child where I’ve found empathy to the world around me, and towards the woman I became. It’s in the quest to understanding how I felt that I gained insight into emotions, and words.
I have a very strange relationship with social media. Sometimes I love it, and often, I just don’t get it. We have more power in our phones than the man that went to the moon, and yet we use it to produce a ridiculous amount of pictures of ourselves and talk about shoes, or simply stare at the life of others wasting our days in the never-ending digital vortex.
