Growing up in Lima, I was surrounded by color—posters announcing concerts, festivals, and theatre filled the streets in a constant celebration of life. That intensity shaped my visual language long before I understood it as “influence.” It wasn’t until I left Peru that I realized how different other worlds could feel—how silence and restraint could replace the visual and emotional abundance I had always known. I was often described as “too much,” and I began to question whether that “too much” might actually be something worth preserving, even amplifying: a kind of fire that expands outward rather than shrinking itself to fit.

My practice becomes a space where that fire takes form. Through hybrid printmaking techniques—combining screenprint and gelli plate layering—and ceramic works built through material accumulation, I construct images and objects that hold density: of color, memory, and emotion. My neon palette is not decorative but instinctive, a way of insisting on visibility. It becomes a language for what refuses to fade.

In my Retablos series, I gather the places I carry within me and hold them in a state of luminous memory—fragile yet persistent. These works function as emotional archives, shaped by migration and by the irreversible transformation of my own identity. For those of us who move across geographies, home is no longer fixed; it becomes something reconstructed, partial, and continuously rewritten.

My ceramic practice is deeply rooted in Peruvian ancestral knowledge. I draw inspiration from the quipucamayoc of the Inca civilization, who used quipus—intricate systems of knots and cords—to record and transmit information. In my work, each knot becomes a face, a presence within a larger collective narrative. These forms speak to a world where the visible and invisible coexist, where identity is not singular but layered, relational, and constantly in motion.

This sense of interconnected worlds extends into the Andean understanding of the Apus, guardian spirits of mountains, rivers, and sacred landscapes. In this cosmology, land is not passive; it is alive, protective, and responsive. These are not metaphors to me but inherited truths—ways of understanding existence that continue to shape how I see, make, and relate to the world.

Across printmaking and ceramics, I explore what it means to live in-between: not here, not there, but in a hybrid space where memory, myth, and lived experience overlap. My work becomes an act of carrying—of holding onto what was, transforming what is, and opening space for what is still becoming.