Looking back at the transitions that have happened up until now in your life, could you tell us which of your works or projects you feel was a turning point?The Santa Cruz River project presented at the NGV did feel like a turning point for me. Through this project my work and my practice reached a new level of commitment. As an artist, it is difficult to think that a work cannot affect you in personal or emotional ways, but what happened to me, the new perspective this work gave me is much higher than anything I have ever done. And it has to do with spirituality and really getting on track on what my contribution is as an artist.
Also, my last project of work at the island in the wetlands, was of great importance, as like in Santa Cruz, I had the possibility of staying at the field of study, but this time for many months. Once the COVID-19 pandemic unfolded, my partner Jose Huidobro and I, eventually, became guardians of a piece of island located in the wetlands of the Paraná River, which is born in Southern Brazil and descends onto the estuary of the River Plate to finally reach the Atlantic Ocean. After decades of exploitation, the land I am referring to seemed to have forgotten who she was. Dead streams, clogged arteries, utter devastation.
When we managed to escape the confinement of our urban lodgings, we met a different kind of isolation; this one on an island by a river. An ever-changing Garden of Eden whose voice I soon connected with. This time that voice was full of sorrow as if trying to convey an untold story. Something was certain, those new conditions were a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn to decipher those messages that would allow us to transform unbearable loss into hope.
Isolation made me think of my carpets as spaces where new forms of activism could be enacted. A type of activism that instead of focusing on paranoid conflict was silent, absorptive and, as I believe, more effective. My carpets, thus, became instruments for documenting ‘minor’ aspects of the land which were otherwise overlooked as irrelevant. A focus on its micro-narratives that would open new doors for possible ecological futures.
How you feel about your personal growth and evolution as an artist? Also, if there are new possibilities for you due to the advancement of your skills?I’ve been connected to this passion forever. I really don’t know otherwise. My first memories with these feelings go back to my toddler years. This urge to paint, to draw, the happiness it brings, and as well the difficult parts. It can be intense as well. But I don’t see my work as an evolution, yes I can see different changes.
At the beginning when I started to work more professionally I had this thought, or this fear, of what my work was, since it felt like I wanted to force my work into fitting what is considered as art, or what I thought was considered as art. Now I am more confident with what I truly want to make, and it is not important anymore if what I make can be used, and therefore it might not be called art because of this. Now for me what is important is to make it, and be consequent with what I make. It can be called art or not, it is the same.
Regarding skills, I have to say I believe skills are not a linear thing, I don’t believe that someone knows more with time or practice, or that there is some sort of advancement. Also I don’t believe a technique or a skill or a medium can define one’s work, this is total boredom, and for me it can be a sort of death, since if you know everything then you are creatively dead.
Some people have certain skills and this makes it easier to manipulate certain materials, but this doesn’t mean you should get stuck and be comfortable in what you do best. I try to escape from this idea of mastering a technique.
From when you began your activities as an artist until the present day, is there a specific philosophy that you have consistently followed?Being an artist is challenging. The medium can bring certain things. I work on large scale projects, size and weight are things to consider. But the biggest challenge is being an artist because it means you never stop working, it means you have to face realities that are hard, your body engages and it can hurt.
I imbue my work with an intention, a prayer. We at the studio put love into the work. It is important to have a positive energy around the work. When I reproduce a landscape, my intention can be to reproduce it as a way to eternalize it, but the carpet or the tapestry gets a new meaning; interactive works invite you to sit, to stop, to lie down, you adopt a different perspective that has to do with the land.