Alone and Sublime
I am thinking about life, death, grief, and love. I am informed by my trauma; my Latin American, Catholic culture; my abusers; my advocates. I am gay. I am transgender- female to male. I am genderfluid. As my body and soul transitioned, my inner child froze in time. As much as I am a grown man outwardly, I am internally a little girl who never understood why she went unloved. My trauma is female, and she informs my art.
I am thinking about transience and ephemerality. I would consider my story akin to a vanitas painting. My transition is the foundation of my comprehension of impermanence. My art will outlive my body. The Earth will outlive my artwork and reclaim it alongside my remains someday. My intention is universal impact through narrative. A wordless story all will understand. My pleas for help went unheard when I was young and helpless, so now I command my art to scream loud enough to be heard around the world.
Coming from a family of doctors and nurses, I consider myself a practitioner of healing as well. My practice centers on utilizing organic forms and carefully concocted colors to design complex chronicles. I am an identity artist. My artwork is my body; my flesh is a tool to create said artwork. Even if my corporal flesh fails me physically, I will still find a way to create.
My anecdotes are informed by hundreds of years from hundreds of contributors. Like crawling up a thorn-riddled stem to find a hearty rose, my art is the conclusion to my generational trauma. My art is the absolute. It heals me. It resonates with you. And most importantly of all, it forbids the violence I've experienced from hurting another soul.