I understand identity to be fluid and contextual. Depending on who is asking and why, I might say I am a Chicano artist, a Latinx artist, a Mexican-American artist, a Mexican artist, a Texas artist, or an American artist. All of these are true within certain social and cultural frames.

 

What remains constant is the person I am beneath those labels—the inner self that answers only to justice, poetry, and love. That self resists naming. The labels are for the world; in solitude, my identity has no name.

 

I am an observant person, especially of patterns, motifs, repetition; such as those that may be found in studying nature, for example. These structures invite imagination and guide my creative process.

 

I am equally inspired by lived experience: personal history, daily encounters, conversations with others, and moments of solitude. The people I surround myself with—artists, poets, thinkers—also shape my work. Community and dialogue matter, just as much as isolation and inward listening.

 

Even the fact of my death is inspirational. Mortality pushes me to make meaning, to create a tangible legacy of my best self. Creation is in fact, an act of attention and care in the face of impermanence.

 

Adapted from an interview published by Centro Cultural Aztlan, September 13, 2024.