In Reflection: Lizbeth Contreras and Diana Lerma in Bricolaje

‘Yo soy Mexicana y soy Americana. Pero soy, ninguno de los dos,’ Diana Lerma speaks

these words in her video featured in Bricolaje at La Esquina. There is a famous fictional

comedic character in Mexican cinema named La India Maria, one of her movies is titled ‘Ni

de aqui ni de allá’ (‘Neither from here nor from there’). Lerma’s quote from the video made

me think of this phrase. Growing up, I didn’t fully belong to either the Mexican community or

the American community. As I grew older, I felt the separation from both communities more

and more. Lerma’s practice draws inspiration from a similar upbringing, growing up in a

bilingual household in Houston, Texas.

The two textile pieces near the video hang on the wall with a red cushion on the floor holding

an in-progress knitted piece, the same setup seen in the video. The textiles read as follows:

Yo Soy

bilingüe

Yo hablo

inglés

soy

texa na y

Soy parte

de la

comun idad

americana

Me siento

atrapada

dentro un

lenguaje

que no

es mio

I am

biling ual

I speak

spanish

I am

mexi can and

part of the

hispanic

community

I have

lost part

of my

language

and my

identity

Ni de aqui ni de allá’ (‘Neither from here nor from there’) by Diana Lerma. Photo by Silvia Beatriz Abisaab.

Ni de aqui ni de allá’ (‘Neither from here nor from there’) by Diana Lerma. Photo by Silvia Beatriz Abisaab.

When I read these words, I felt a rush of recognition; I saw myself being described in the

words written by someone else. Lerma captured the feeling of so many of us, children of

immigrants, stuck in an in-between. Whether brought at a young age or a natural born

citizen, we live in a country to which we do not fully belong. Oftentimes, the dichotomy

between the culture we are being raised in at home is in stark contrast to the one we are

immersed in our daily lives. This has created a divide within ourselves. Standing before this

piece, I realized, not for the first time, how many of my peers grew up with such a similar

experience despite our seemingly diverse environments.

In the video, you hear Lerma’s voice whisper the words from her textile pieces. She is seated

between them knitting; so much of what she says is relatable. At one point, she says ‘Estoy

perdiendo mi español’ (‘I am losing my Spanish’). She talks about how she’s afraid of losing

herself, of feeling lost in English and moving farther away from who she was at a younger

age. This has always been a subconscious fear of mine, losing my first language, and being

unable to communicate with my family. Within my family’s circle of friends, there are many

whose kids don’t speak Spanish well and some who don’t speak it at all. My parents have

always been proud that my sisters and I speak Spanish fluently and correctly.

How disappointed would they be if I were to forget their language?

In another instance, Lerma speaks about the existing barrier between her and her family,

specifically in terms of her art practice. This is something that I feel happens to me; although

I have the full support of my parents, I’m not sure I have ever been able to truly share with

them what my work is about and how big a part of it they are. Although I speak Spanish

fluently and can communicate with my parents without a language barrier, art language, as

an obscure and specialized form of English, prevents me from being able to tell them about

my work in a way they might understand. I don’t have the International Art Spanish to

communicate this with them. Additionally, I am afraid they might feel bad, especially if they

don’t fully understand, that despite all their sacrifices and efforts to give my sisters and me

everything they could, there were also many struggles that I had but never shared with them.

Last October, Lerma was part of a show at Front/Space, Tienes Hambre? in which she

selected dictionary entries taken from Vox Compact Spanish and English Dictionary. She

stenciled inky texts onto the north and west-facing windows of the gallery, covering the glass

completely. Some of it smudged by Lerma herself during her opening night performance, she

selectively chose which entries to erase, as commentary on the selective obliteration of her

past, assimilating into the general societal norm of whiteness. This performance was in

conversation with the work in Bricolaje. The storefront setting, to me, seemed to add on a

new significance of being watched and observed while working through such a personal

journey. When I was younger, between elementary and middle school, I felt the urge to

assimilate, I wanted a sense of inclusion in a predominantly white school. In addition to this

separation from most of my classmates, there was also a difference in socioeconomic status

that I was always very aware of. The layers of difference separating me from my classmates

caused me to create a barrier that never truly allowed me to be my authentic self.

Between these two works alone, Lerma manages to not only capture and visually represent

the collective history of her peers in similar situations, but simultaneously provides an outside

viewer an informative glimpse into a topic they may be unfamiliar with from a first-hand

perspective.

In a similar way, Lizbeth Contreras gives a vague point of view in her piece Behind the

Border, however, the obstructed view of the landscape gives a literal and symbolic

representation of what it feels like for families who are unable to see their loved ones.

Behind the Border by Lizbeth Contreras. Photo by Silvia Beatriz Abisaab.

Behind the Border by Lizbeth Contreras. Photo by Silvia Beatriz Abisaab.

Contreras’ works range from quilts to weavings to soft sculptures. Through her use of natural

dye color as her palette, specific imagery and patterns, she creates work that has a certain

feeling of familiarity that brings a sense of longing, reminiscent of something missed out on.

Even though the work invites every viewer in, these specific recognitions give it an extra

layer to those of us who understand what Contreras is alluding to. Although many of her

topics seem to be described by a lighthearted and playful use of tone, shape, and

abstraction, she also suggests more serious topics. Seeing how personal her work is, her

own presence within each piece is essential in order to portray its narrative in its entirety.

Additionally, her use of natural dyes pays tribute to a long history of this practice from

Mexico, perhaps marking her desire to draw a stronger connection between her work and the

cultural history behind natural dyeing.

Contreras’s piece in Bricolaje is titled Behind the Border. For anyone paying attention to the

news, the political climate surrounding immigration has been a prominent subject. DACA

recipients have been living in a state of uncertainty and the community at large has been

troubled with the fear of separation. The black vertical stripes breaking up the blues and

yellows of the textile create a scene of one looking through bars. As a daughter of

immigrants, the significance of this visual resonates with me. Aside from the literal reference,

this scene also takes on a symbolic meaning. For those who live in this country

undocumented, seeing any family living in a different country is difficult and often impossible.

Living in this type of situation can feel as though you are looking through the bars of the

border, trapped inside your own freedom. I’ve never asked my parents about it, but that’s

how I thought I would feel if I were in their position. Although they chose to come here, I don’t

believe that it was an easy choice to make, knowing full well that you may never see some of

your loved ones again.

Contreras and Lerma both bring a unique yet relatable perspective to these contemporary

subjects in the Latinx cultural experience. They use a level of intimacy that exhibits their

vulnerability in sharing personal experiences with a large public. Where Lerma creates a

straightforward narrative that leaves no question she is telling her own story, Contreras

decides to let the viewer choose which perspective to take. The intricacies of individual lives

are so many, yet these artists’ narratives are rooted in a shared history. This connection to

one another is what allows these works to have the impact they do.

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Estamos Sin Fronteras: Mary Kuvet in Bricolaje