La Procesión Va Por Dentro is the title of this body of work and also a proverbial phrase in the Spanish language that applies to a person in a difficult situation who conceals the ache of their experience, choosing not to symbolise it.

I encountered an iteration of this proverb while reading El Ataque del Dragón Amarillo (The Attack of The Yellow Dragon) an investigative report published in late 2018 by Prodavinci about HLB, a disease targeting citrus farms through a vector transmitted pathogen in various parts of Venezuela.

This series of paintings and textile work dwell on this condition, the greening citrus, and a state of mind also haunted by personal loss, still; in search of a new language to describe the existing social, humanitarian, political and environmental crisis plaguing my home country, Venezuela; and my personal and familial experience in the midst of all this.

Extracting and remixing phrases, poetry, conversations, memories and stories I revisit: 

AQUILES NAZOA’S POEMASPOPULARES (Popular Poems)
My abuelo’s own verses in Golondrina Viajera (Traveling Swallow)and Laguna de Fe y Alegría (Fe y Alegría Lagoon) – not just a poem but also a real life memory of a time before the lagoon had dried up and the micro ecosystem that thrived in its surroundings.

Conversations with my mamá and abuela.
Stories from my tía Briza about my late tío Hernán, “siempre muy bien vestido, con perfume y pañuelo. En eso se parecía a su abuela Nelba (always very well dressed, with perfume and scarf. In that he looked like your grandmother Nelba).”

‍