I’m an interdisciplinary artist originally from Hagerstown, Maryland, and based in Virginia for the past decade. I’m a first-generation college graduate of William & Mary. I’ve been a public artist since long before I had a driver’s license—yarn bombing my own streets at sixteen as a way to claim space and be seen. That early instinct toward visibility, disruption, and care still drives my practice today, whether I’m working alone in the studio or alongside others in shared public spaces.

My work is built through labor-intensive, improvisational processes that move freely across materials and methods. I often start with techniques tied to handwork—repetition, accumulation, building from the ground up—but I don’t stay loyal to any single medium. Materials that are usually dismissed or overlooked are treated with the same seriousness as more traditional ones, allowed to push back, sag, resist, or hold their own. Form emerges through that negotiation, asserting presence without asking permission or relying on hierarchy to be taken seriously.

Contradiction sits at the center of the work. I’m interested in what happens when things feel both held together and on the edge of collapse, when structure gives way to mess, or when softness carries weight. Some forms lean into geometry or pattern, others grow dense and bodily through prolonged engagement with material. I let pieces stay unresolved—looping, pressing outward, refusing to settle—because that tension mirrors lived experience inside systems that are uneven, unstable, and often hostile.

My practice is shaped by my experience as a Mexican-American woman navigating structures that routinely erase certain bodies, labor, and materials. Earlier work dealt more directly with self-representation; more recent work shifts attention toward the histories embedded in the materials themselves. Transformation runs through everything I make—not only as a metaphor, but as a physical process. Sustained labor, attention, and care have the power to change what gets noticed, what gets valued, and what gets thrown away.

These ideas extend beyond the studio through public and collaborative projects. Participatory installations and yarn bombs treat making as a shared act, blurring the line between artist and audience and letting site, people, and material shape the work together. In these spaces, sculpture becomes less about an object and more about presence, connection, and collective authorship. Making becomes a way to translate—between materials and histories, bodies and systems, and the forces that decide who and what gets to take up space.