As a child, the last pages of my school notebooks were an outlet for my inner thoughts. While sermons I did not understand filled the air, I scribbled words and drawings, trying to block the voices that spoke of sin and hell. Today, those scribbles are no longer confined to hidden notebooks but are transformed into canvases that share my story with the world. My art is my diary, and each piece is a deep excavation of memory and trauma. These thoughts surface in Spanish, my first language, and in English, reflecting a life lived between cultures, haunted by echoes from both.
Living with post-traumatic stress disorder, this practice feels innate. I am brought back to those painful memories and voices quickly. Like I did when I was a child, I write my thoughts on paper, arrange objects such as magnets or dry-erase boards, and paint them from life. They are not just props; I have owned and hold personal meaning. Born and raised in El Salvador, these items were a luxury. By depicting them as life-sized, I aim to preserve a raw and organic representation that feels immediate and intimate, creating the feeling of “looking at the actual thing.”
I do not alter the still lives until the painting is finished to preserve the lighting and shadows. Oil painting is my chosen medium because it demands patience, precision, and discipline. Its slow drying time requires me to commit to each layer, preserving every detail. The black background mimics the void and darkness in which I'm at the center. While oil can be messy and challenging, I embrace these challenges as part of the work.
