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woven memory

Photographs have always felt part of my essence. Sorting through my uncle's and father's family archives, developing in the dark room, viewing the nostalgic landscapes by Ansel Adams with Kathy Fischer, or walking around the distant but familiar land of Mexico. Weaving is, in me, a foreign entity that my ancestors forgot over time due to historical erasure when the colonizers occupied our space in Central Mexico. Now we meet again, like the tree that grounds the earth and the loom that is attached to the tree. We connect with body, movement, and intuition to create with our hands as the cosmos watch over us, giving birth to this practice again.


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