I finished my mystery novel Las Desviadas with a tendinopathy and a non-secreat backache. A few months later I received a breast cancer diagnosis. This is the way I started to follow the question How does a writer not to forget she has a body?
I became a performer because I realized that art for me is closer to the Chinese concept of art: writing is a dance. I strongly believe in transdisciplinary and think that art and life go together like a Moebius trip where you can cross one side to the other without skipping the line.
My current work emphasizes the intersection between desire objects like books or clothes, performances with them and eBook writing about feminine states. I also make youtube videos in order to become closer to the spectators and communicate my favorite paradoxes: not only we read books, we are read by them. Not only we use clothes to dress up, we also can read our closets and extract the hidden messages behind them.
My writing is an octopus, and my tentacles, my tools. I move across margins, frontiers between one and another genre, all the way from the Middle Ages to the future. I see three distinct levels in my constellation: the poet, the environment, and the object.
The poet is my origin, my first connection with writing. In narrative or verse, I write for the pleasure of experimenting with words. I investigate images but, above all, I examine my imagination as a platform to launch myself towards new languages. In combining words, I find music, texture and color.
My stories always stem from the attraction certain places exert on me. I dwell in them, explore them, observe gestures and habits. Nature, silence and noise are not just part of some stage, they contain stories. The environment takes the character and the character is who he is because of the place where he is. At this point, the outside becomes the inside, like a Möbius strip.
I take an interest in intimate states, femininity understood as a constant force and a feminism that does not struggle with being different. I use day-to-day objects to express everything that cannot be said. Eggs play a key role in my third level, because they are potential life and the symbol of serial. The egg is the largest form of cell, and their shell must be broken to get out of them, just as a crab would change its shell. Conversely, the self uses imaginary structures to build its image in the mirror of others. Masks, make-up and clothes which are nothing but portable dermis. I investigate these objects and their possibilities of mutation, camouflage and demeanor.
Finally, my writing is born out of a “You”. The second person is the way the first person lives. On social media, on the Internet and through the publication of e-books, I find instant listeners and viewers. Without them, neither my past nor my future would exist.