Fragments of Eternity, new work by Lupita Carrasco
About the Exhibit:
There is a world within, an existence of perpetually changing color, shapes, light, and shadow pulsating, swirling. I close my eyes to see it. The show begins, dark with flecks of light shooting across my field of vision, red, glowing hot, and morphing into a negative image in brilliant cerulean hues with sparks of flashing turquoise. Sometimes violet floods through trenches of darkness or glowing yolk-colored yellows and oranges battle with particles of grey
and green. The shapes vary, revealing lighting bolts, dancing cells, rainbow lines, curves, waves, doorways, and triangles, shapes that suggest the birth of writing.
Near the end of an exhausting four-month cycle of caring for my mother through what seemed to be the longest psychotic episode ever, I encountered a bee while watering my garden. It landed on my forehead and licked me as it walked across my face, coming to rest on my eyelid. I shut my eyes and the bee continued exploring my eyelashes moving back and forth from one eye to the other, continuously licking. The hose hung in my hand spilling water on emerging perennials as I stood still, waiting for the inspection to end. I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin and watched the spreading red glow of sunlight through my closed eyes. After this experience I found myself laying on my bed one afternoon, exhausted from so many sleepless nights and domestic chores. Just five minutes, I just needed a moment to catch my breath and keep going.
I closed my eyes observing movement I have always seen but with a new kind of attention considered what it might look like to try and replicate it on paper. I started with watercolor and pen, catching more and more moments of time with my eyes closed. I documented on sticky notes, drawing shapes and writing down color descriptions. The practice of observation drew me in, sometimes I painted multiple images in a day, but every day I painted something. I have a new appreciation for moments of rest, moments when I can close my eyes and turn inward to eternity. Revealed is a glimpse at messages, fragments of cosmic memory. Each day they vary in clarity, all days they are fragments, gifts of time.
About the artist:
Lupita Carrasco is an artist, wife, and mother of seven children. Since 2002, she has also been the sole caregiver to her mother, who suffers from schizoaffective disorder. Born and raised in San Diego, California, her tumultuous childhood and vibrant Mexican culture lend their voice to her artistic language. Existential connectivity, intimate wonder, and belonging are familiar themes found in her paintings.
Lupita’s work revolves around survival. Allowing herself to break open in the most vulnerable of places, she explores how trauma affects self-worth, self-care, and the ability to love and nurture others. Family, friends, and the environment she is intimately acquainted with are at the heart of her work. She pairs images from hikes, interactions between her children, mothering
activities, and places she longs to be, showing a perceived interpretation of the self, familial relationships, and the monotony of domestic obligations. A mother perpetually caught between raising her own children and mothering a parent. Art is an avenue for processing her measure of the human condition.