ReD LiNeSs
acrylic & oil paint on canvas.
24”x30”

i’m waking up

Self-portrait, I’m braiding my hair, one braid is pinned to the wall, a mask, photo of yellow house, and a dead dove pinned from it’s chest. The wall is sky. I am nude, face decorated with white lines.

La Trenza.
Oil paint on canvas, 2024.

Self-portrait, deconstructed and adapted inside a cold house. Bright parts still shine: face, breast, nails, minimal color.

At Home She Feels Like a Tourist.
Watercolor on paper.
2025

Self-portrait, cold inside, my shadow reflects a desire for freedom. An elephant drawing is pinned on the top right of the wall. The constant desire for the intangible change to occur. to wake up and see the shadow from last night, the one I tried to mock, tried to manifest to become reality. Attempts for liberty, for the understanding, for the comforting blinding light, to question the veil on my eyes, brightness, confusing reality, realized shinny eyes are lied.

The elephant. Acrylic on canvas board.
2024.

Phibsborough's old Pin Mill by the Royal Canal's 6th Lock catching some rare February sunshine the other evening.

La Decoración
April 6th 2025

#artoftheday
#surrealselfportrait
#aoc #amireal
#surrealistart

i looked into the mirror, smudged it with my thumb. #IMPAINT !!

La Decoración.
24 x 30”
Lace, acrylic paint on canvas

#wip of the day
#AbstractExpressionism

#amorsucré

Adeline Virginia Woolf
Londres, 25 de enero de 1882-Lewes, Sussex, 28 de marzo de 1941
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virgini...

#wips

tree pic i took two nights ago

untitled, 2 ft by 4 ft, oil paint on glass panels. 2025.

In a reflection of who I am and what the political circumstances have turned me to be, I know what I lived is part of the type of life this country has decided for me, in the legacy of American Imperialism. The realization that the unstable housing is not because of who I am, what my family decided, but my life has been decided for me, as an immigrant, through the eyes of the United States, my grieving and my fight is part of the level they want my people to stay at, to struggle. The octopus, whose tentacles have been destroying Central America, forcing displacements, forcing poverty, forcing people to rely on the American dream, I am here. In a country that feeds greed from war across seas. In the suffering state, impotence, to know I can’t do much but to be an addition of income of its greed. I cannot leave this country because the violence Mexico has its finger on the trigger from the metal the U.S gracefully keeps on giving. I am trapped between these red lines. The octopus, whose tentacles have been destroying Central America, forcing displacements, forcing poverty, forcing people to rely on the American dream, I am here. In a country that feeds greed from war across seas. In the suffering state, impotence, to know I can’t do much but to be an addition of income of its greed. All my actions as an American citizen contradict what I stand for, what I grew up believing in. My protest is against a country that I cannot live in because of the same destiny the U.S has manipulated for me, and for millions of immigrants. Leaving this country would mean the possible end of my life, the threats from gang wars, and the drug-producing war that this country gets high from. I cannot leave this country because the violence Mexico has its finger on the trigger from the metal the U.S gracefully keeps on giving. I am trapped between these red lines. My memory will be forever trap in this rigid life.

Red Lines, acrylic paint on canvas, 30” x 24”, 2025.

as I moved to the United States, I left my family behind, not knowing what that would have meant for me. The lost of self. I was on strangers houses, strangers who felt entitled to do of me, what they needed. I would have transform into a piggy bank. Into a pleaser. Into the daughter they never had. They thought I depended on them, sometimes they would realize that I could have be their scapegoat for their desires. And I guess I understand that, when in your life would you be given a girl whose life is lost, and you can give her what she needs? a house. the house, did not have walls, it was crystal clear. As they wanted me to be. Open mouth, to show what they wanted to see. My insides. My thoughts did not matter. my name. They had power over who I was. I had to open up, I had to leave them inside, although I did not want that, I had to prevent tonotbekickedtotheoutside.Inside.Outside.Inside.Outside.Inside.Outside.Exposed.Alone, with people around me waiting for me to say the rehearsed response. eyes all around. for me in it, destroyed noise.iwas crystal clear, because they wanted me to be.I only wanted a house. But they wanted to feel on control at least once in their life.iwas an adopted niece.iwas the refugee, and the poor one.iwas the twin flame. and the exception from the rest.iwas the submisive one.But I did not need their fake pity. I never wish for their love.After I left, I though I would never recovered from how to act afterwards. I have forgotten my own personality, how do I react? who would tell me now?I was trained to laugh at their jokes, and I was the only one.Fake smile, fake laugh. Fake love. Fake house. In a fake and artificial country.Everyone is covered up, I am in the center, their hands touched my hair.Their hands grab my face.Touching my teeth. They desired to have them the same way.I was able to morph into whatever people wanted me to be, since I did not own my skin.I was only teeth. An open mouth for them to examine.

vulner ability, acrylic paint on glass panels, 2 ft by 3 ft. 2025.

scrolling through my memories, and I remember warm, toasty mornings, sunny and burning dust on my face, as I am at the side of my dad, going for errands, and the local fruit store, fruiteria. Such casual activities sound boring in a country with high ceilings and bright white blinding lights. Skin is sucked in plastic wrap, the eyes of the fish are covered in tags, their bodies lie on cold styrofoam, suffocating the life out of the bodies, disrespectfully ignoring the fact that we are all food, to be consumed, but we treat everything so disposable. In here, it's not like there, where I choose fruit people have never eaten before. The house of my dad, subsequentially heritage of my grandparents (rest in peace), is beautifully decorated with gardens, where my childhood and best friends, my pets, Lola and Cookie are burried, (rest in peace), on top of them my dad planted an apple tree, lemon tea plant, and pink roses, which are the foreground to a sculpture of La Virgen Guadalupe. Next to it are various plants like succulents, aloe vera, and other trees. I decided to place the fruit he bought for us to eat, a perfect still life and memory I want to preserve, to paint. Now it is hung in my dad's kitchen in Mexico. For him and me to look at and think of the moments we enjoyed together, before I would have to come back. Serrano peppers, tomatoes, avocados, and garlic are on the left; they rest on almonds. Kiwis, guanabanas, and lemons, some cut in half, letting us see their texture and different colors from their insides, underneath some nuts lay on top of the cold brown table top textile. Above, a pineapple and a smaller, circular watermelon, a pink rose peeks on the top right. On the right, a knife and an azucarero, sugar bowl, beautifully decorated with blue glaze petals on top of its plain pearl-like white. The background can be seen through the spaces the leaves of the plants left a warm palebrick wall, a tree trunk, and the aloe vera frames the fruits.

Mandado. Oil on canvas, 30 inches by 20 inches. Mexico.