The Representing the Unseen exhibition captures the many integral themes and histories of Latin American art. The several bodies of land that make up what we consider Latin America today were built on perspectives and traditions from different parts of the world. From Indigenous and African ideas to women of marginalized communities, Representing the Unseen dissects who and why certain groups are historically omitted from artistic narratives. By shining light on the exact art pieces and voices that are perpetually shunned, audiences are exposed to certain ideologies that, although seemingly new and innovative, are the very foundations of Latin America. Curated to mirror the Andean Indigenous cyclical understanding of space, time, and life; each piece and theme in Representing the Unseen is in conversation with one another. There is no linearity or precision within the art and belongings because the principles of influence do not manifest themselves in that way. Representation of the unseen immerses you in Latin American art history: the real one. 

The 18th century was full of exciting new changes and “discoveries” for the Spanish, and to ensure that these “newfound” ideas and societal changes were being documented, it was imperative that they be captured. According to the preservation of certain artifacts, it is clear that the Spanish prioritized the class system of their people. They wanted the structure of their society—a society that took centuries of murder and enslavement to achieve—to go down in history as one of the most formulaic and ideal ways of living. The way they documented this structure was through the power of art. Pinturas de castas, otherwise translated as caste paintings, are works of art whose purpose was to showcase how people of different ethnicities, or in the case of visual art, blocks of color, were perceived in the quotidian. As appealing as these paintings are, their foundations lie deeply in the gruesome and eternally racist history and perspective of the 18th-century Spanish colonizers. (10 min read)

Amidst the provocation-driven and anecdotal claims, there is some truth behind Trump’s words: American film is dying. In a short span of time, Hollywood has suffered a dire loss in creativity, profit, and passion. In 2024, U.S. box office earnings totaled approximately $8.7 billion, marking a 3% decrease from 2023 and remaining over 30% below pre-pandemic levels, which consistently exceeded $11 billion annually (Sidiqi). Evidently, due to the compounding factors that, in some cases, cannot be controlled, the American film industry and its reputation have significantly declined in the span of half a decade. However, claims that feed into the bigoted narrative that subjects all nations outside of the United States as malicious only lead to nationwide ignorance. In order to form a proper and critical perspective on proposed policies, it is important to explore them and what they could mean if realized on a global scale. (10 min read)

your finger transcends my melodic soma / among the unconscious hearts do we lay / your palm melts into my last rib (1 min read)

Upon entering a place of worship, I feel. My stomach loops and my lungs expand over my heart. As I try to locate the ceiling, I am entrapped by a force. A force that makes me question whether my position on this earth is true or compelled. What is this feeling? Is there a God? Why Him? (9 min read)

Stanley Kubrick’s transformative ability to illustrate emotion, depth, and dramatics in his 1975 film Barry Lyndon is what challenges Aristotle’s extensive criteria for a tragedy. Kubrick not only creates a film that incorporates each of Aristotle's six tragic elements: plot, characters, diction, thought, spectacle, and melody but explores other realms of storytelling through acute artistic expression and philosophical narratives. Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon pioneers a new standard for tragedy, deeming him the Aristotle of the 20th century. (11 min read)

- Christ, you have my head - may we meet again - in the garden of thorns - behind the red curtains - amidst the blue rays - goodbye for tonight - (2 min read)

A beautiful thing happens when two people lose focus on each other and discover it on a screen. I don’t need someone in order to watch a movie, but without them, something is amiss. We communicate through thought and signal. On occasion, during the act, of course, we acknowledge a profound, intellectually stimulating detail verbally. And yet, we still prefer to let the space between us do the talking. (5 min read)

The endless fields of white calla lilies tainted with the blood of his  (1 min read)

I wonder if you realize that it is my intention to sound obscure and arguably illiterate. It’s an art form. An art form that derives from the one of David Lynch. I hope you don’t think that I am incapable of following the conventional standards of the English language. I am. I choose not to. And that’s the definition of art. My choices are art. My words are art. Even if they don’t make sense, know they were placed with intention. Every single thing I write, I write with intention. And you know that. Because that’s all I talk about. (6 min read)

There is nothing about this scene that is impressive. Not one thing about it references its place of creation. That’s why you keep thinking this is a European painting. A European painting painted by a European painter. (4 min read)

I am not trying to confuse you. I am not trying to write like Gogol. It just so happens that I write like Gogol and Gogol wrote like me. (3 day read)