Helena La Rota López
Colombian multidisciplinary artist Helena La Rota López speaks about her practice and its relationship to the current state of the world, specifically immigration policy and the pandemic. She takes us through her process of working on multiple projects at once, describes an artistic dream project, and reflects on the mirror between ourselves and others, internal and external spaces, and the boundaries we construct.
The Labyrinth Performance Still No. 3, 2019, digital photograph Image: Maegan Sundlie, Courtesy of the artist
PP: How does the current state of the world influence your work?
HLRL: Two major current world events have impacted my work: immigration policy and the pandemic.
Migration has been woven throughout the tapestry of human history, but I personally felt the hateful shift of the last presidential administration and how it affected my life as an immigrant. The concept of otherness has always fascinated me, particularly coming from a country torn apart by a polygonal armed conflict in which dehumanization is used as an instrument to carve a path for violence and abuse of power. Discrimination is a central axis of human conflicts, from those that affect us on a personal, local, or national sphere, up to those swarming the global news. What interests me is the definition of the other, which is intrinsically tied to the definition of ourselves –where do we end and another begins?
The materialization of otherness into monsters is the foundation for my Bestiary; a series of performative installations born from my personal rituals to take ownership of a space, and an exploration of what it means to celebrate what is usually shunned by society and even ourselves. The act of being and of occupying space is the purest and most necessary action we perform, yet it becomes stigmatized, almost impossible when the role of the other is forced upon us. This mask has infinite faces but I believe we all have known at some point what it feels like to wear it.
The pandemic was a brutal revelation of systemic fractures and inequity, from the global sphere to the intimacy of our homes –even within ourselves. At all levels there were structures in place that crumbled under the stress: business models, protocols and laws, social interactions, family circles, individual lives. There was a painful overlap of pandemic-related hardship within the larger context of immigration, and my housing insecurity and studio loss, combined with locked borders, only served to underscore the psychological importance of occupying a space, and of that space being safe. I had already learned to carry my roots within me, but this taught me how to build this safe space, this nest, and extend those roots wherever I was living despite external circumstances. There was little space to work, but lots of time to think.
The lockdowns which forced close contact with some and prolonged separation from others required the development of boundaries while spurring creativity for communion and intimacy. These musings resulted in a series of drawings exploring our relationship to others in physical, digital, and other spaces, and gave new meanings to the act of letting others into one’s space.
I find it hard to be optimistic about the state of the world, but these two events have proven that within vulnerabilities and losses there is the opportunity for adaptation and renewal, a chance for individual or communal acts of love to ease suffering. That hope gives direction and inspiration to my work.
Present–Self, multi-plate etching and aquatint, 2022 (plates etched in 2019 and 2017), 27.5 x 19.5 inches, AP
PP: What does your studio practice look like?
HLRL: At first glance, I imagine it looks like a magpie nest: a random collection of trinkets. Upon closer inspection though, you start seeing the links between different disciplines, materials, and subject matters until they form a whole network and when stepping back, it looks more like a constellation chart. This blueprint extends beyond the studio and feeds from my dance and music practices.
I work simultaneously on several projects, which inform each other as they progress; a solution for one problem might work for others, or discarded options for one piece might become the centerpiece for another. Right now, for example, I’m working on a series of embroidered drawings titled Fragmentos:Reflecciones (Fragments:Reflections). It focuses on the body as a physical autobiography, its reflection as our only companion in solitude. These self portraits are experiments fusing painting and drawing with embroidery, a symbol of feminine oppression and expression. The idea of using thread came from my first Bestiary installation, The Labyrinth, which had a canopy of woven twine and eggshells. Now the symbolism of mirrors has become an inspiration for the costume design and movement for a future monster, who will wear a mirror-mask and mimic the viewer’s gestures, and on the other hand I wonder how embroidery can be performed on eggshells. All these ideas work in tandem but revolve around the core subject of my studio practice: the body –as architectural construction in anatomy; as symbol in folklore and mythology when gods or dreams are corporeal; as the bearer of our ancestors’ history and as vessel when storytelling; but mostly as a sensorial portal linking our minds to the world and to those around us, as an empathetic device.
Bisected Heart, oil-based clay, 2019, 12 x 5 x 3 inches, sculpted from life from a cadaver at the Drexel University anatomy lab
PP: What do you aim to say through your work?
HLRL: I aim for my work to function as a mirror. Work operates both as action and object, in the same way as reflection does. To me, work and reflection are synonymous. My art originates and develops as a reflection of myself as I work, from thoughts and emotions, technical and instinctive choices, and personal iconography, to my physical self being depicted or even performing. However, the whole point is for this object or experience to acquire a life of its own, and with it the ability to become a mirror, allowing viewers to find themselves within it and resonate with it in unique ways. In that sense what I wish to transmit is curiosity instead of certainty, questions instead of statements, which brings us back to my initial question: where do we end and another begins?
Is it our bodies, our boundaries, our beliefs, our cultural or geographical borders? What are the markers that we use to separate us from them and how do we justify those to ourselves? Can we feel another’s pain or pleasure? Can we view truths about ourselves through the eyes of another? Can we see another’s inner monsters, do they speak to us, remind us of our own? Do we like what we see in the mirror?
All those questions are the driving force of my work.
Ojo, charcoal on stretched paper, 2022, 4.5 x 5 inches
PP: What would a dream project look like for you as an artist?
HLRL: I dream of the Bestiary. I would love to take over an entire building or house and create an immersive performative installation, a world inside that defies and reverses the reality outside. Even better, to do this with a succession of spaces around the world. It would be amazing to collaborate with dancers and actors, with sound and light designers, and to write or co-write the music with some of my friends. The ideal would be to create a massive labyrinth with several creatures in it performing their choreographed rituals, and with shadows to guide the guests that are free to roam within it. I want to create a voyage through an elaborate sensorial construction. It would be a dream to plan and handcraft the painterly and sculptural layers and elements, devise the mechanisms, and compose the space as if it were music. The monsters’ designs would be crafted over time through a series of public performances gathering attendees' thoughts and feelings on certain topics.
I dream of the Bestiary capturing the senses and haunting the memories of those who experience it, even years after they find their way out.
To reach Helena or learn more about her work, see her instagram.