Artist Statement: always boring, but it helps if you want to drop $1M on art

Language of Love

An artist statement is immaterial. However, the reply is: I’m pissed at Canadian society, and pissed that I have been quiet about it. For immigrants, the garden of Eden is not Canada. In actuality, that special place is in our mothers home country, where they ate their favourite fruits and veggies, and life was just fine speaking Spanish all day. Unfortunately, the administrations of central and south America have made life in these countries chaotic or life-threatening.

Pregnant mamita dancing, waiting for cheese empanadas to fry

Chaos politics and disaster culture is not helping the water shortage in Chile caused by the worlds thirst for avocados. Water rationing in Chile has been a part of life since the 1950’s. However, the water mismanagement by the Chilean government is appalling.

I am a late-in-life artist because of the culmination of my rage, my silence, secrets I have kept, trusts I have been given, and dreams to share. This is also an artist statement.

I invite viewers to embark on a journey of introspection. My hope is that my art serves as a riddle for meaningful dialogue and connection, fostering appreciation for water, food, and human rights in this playground garden that surrounds us all.

Latina artists like myself are divergent and colourful. Latin artists have always re-possesed and exorcised the European art canon. I share art that ripples briefly through the anglo-franco map called Canada, and the lands with so many names of the indigenous countries that surround us.

I draw inspiration from life, pop culture, hallucination, fantasy stories, and dreams. Colours are vital to a sensory experience. Stories are told with each line and the colours inside. My lines are energetic, described as “wonky”, but it’s as a compliment that means: willful, playful. Subjects are lost without colour, but I see colours before I lay them so I move with confidence. Again, artist statement.

I feel that I live 2 separate lives. I dream in Technicolour when I sleep. Then, in the day I am taking steps to live as much as possible. In my dreams feelings have incomprehensible momentum.

Inspiration comes from the enigma of Giorgio de Chirico, the magic of Remedios Varo, a charging sexuality, and the neon greenery of outdoor Canada.

Beauty, weirdness, sex, magic and surrealism are my imaginary friends.

This is the lifetime of friends and family, fresh air, reflection, ecstasy, and universal cycling. But society has jumped off, hit the pavement and made a huge mess, killed pedestrians, and onlookers are gathering.

I am not nice.

Gilda painted as F Kahlo
Oil/Digital photo/Acrylic