Hello! I am so excited to present my new oil painting, I have been working with a Lele doll this time and I am very happy with the result.
LELE AND THE TULIPS
For a long time, Mexican art has been strongly associated with the image of death: catrinas, altars, skeletons... beautiful and profound symbols, but also very recurrent.I have decided to focus my art on another equally powerful, but less explored symbol: the Mexican Lele dolls.
For me, they represent what is alive: childhood, joy, the indigenous roots that continue to breathe, create, and resist. Each Lele is a song of colors, a flower that never withers, an expression of tenderness and strength that lives on in the hands of our artisans.
Painting them is a way of saying: "Here we are, we are still alive, we continue to create beauty from the everyday."
I choose to portray these dolls not only as cultural symbols, but as a reminder that our Mexican identity is also woven with love, play, hope, and community.
Lele: A Living Symbol of Light and Roots
In this work, I decided to depict the Lele doll, a figure deeply rooted in Otomi culture and recognized as an emblem of Mexican folk art. Originally from Amealco, Querétaro, the Lele doll—whose name means "baby" in Otomi—is much more than a toy: it is a living heritage, handmade by Indigenous women who transmit with each stitch the memory of their ancestors, their worldview, and their connection to the land.
While many artists are inspired by catrinas—which are also part of our cultural richness—I felt the call to go in another direction: to portray what lives on.
For me, Lele represents sweetness, feminine strength, innocence, indigenous identity, and the pure joy that reminds us who we are.
She is a symbol of life, color, and hope. Instead of focusing on the symbols of death, I decided to celebrate what flourishes, what grows, what heals.
Painting her is a way to elevate energy, to connect with the sacred in everyday life, and to honor our roots from a softer, brighter, and more spiritual place. I want this painting to be a reminder that the beauty of Mexico lies not only in its legends of the afterlife, but also in its hands that create, in its colors that heal, and in its dolls that tell stories of love, resilience, and joy.
Between life and death: I choose to paint what flourishes
In Mexican art, death has always been a powerful and beautiful presence. Catrinas, calaveras, altars... they teach us to honor what was, to remember with love, and to laugh at death.
But on my artistic journey, I felt the call to go in another direction: the life that still breathes.
I choose to paint Lele, the Otomi doll, not only as a cultural figure, but as a symbol of what lives on in our roots. Lele represents childhood, community, feminine wisdom, and the vibrant soul of our Indigenous peoples.
While the catrina honors those who are no longer with us, Lele reminds us of those who still struggle, create, laugh, and embroider their history with vivid colors.
While the art of death has an undeniable symbolic and poetic depth, Otomi art offers a more luminous vibration, focused on what flourishes, what endures, what continues to beat.
By choosing to paint Lele dolls and other manifestations of this culture, I honor life here and now, the living heritage of our people, and the spiritual strength manifested in simplicity, color, and love.
While the catrina honors those who are no longer with us, Lele reminds us of those who still fight, create, laugh, and embroider their history with vivid colors.
Both are part of Mexico. But today, I choose to focus my brush on tenderness, hope, and colors that heal and uplift.
To paint a Lele is to pay homage not to death, but to the life that persists. To the hands that create it. To the culture that endures.
It is an act of love, a prayer of light, a vibration that invites us to see the everyday as something sacred.
I chose to paint tulips even though they're not typical Mexican flowers because they're a part of my life in Missouri. Every spring I see them bloom in my garden, right in front of the window, and for me they've become a symbol of rebirth and connection to my present. By placing them next to the Lele doll, I wanted to unite my Mexican roots with the beauty of what surrounds me.
I have started to make house portraits as I find this very creative. How many of us can remind the house of our childhood or our fist home? Well, now I am happy to recreate in paper that special place and you can request yours. HERE
This month so far has been amazing, I have celebrated myself for another year and I made the most delicious lemon cake ever! I promise I will share the recipe next time with proper photos, so far here some favorite pictures.
TO SEE: You can't miss the video about LELE and the tulips, where you can see all about it. It's in spanish but you can turn the subtitles on.
Today I want to share that I have finally finished my painting "Running with the wolves"
In 2024, I became completely captivated by Aurora's song Running with the Wolves. It haunted me day and night—it played in my mind when I walked, when I painted, even when I woke up in the stillness of the night. At times, the obsession was almost maddening, but as an artist, madness can be a blessing when we know how to address it, so I had to paint and looking back, I understand why, let me show you…
There was something in the voice, the rhythm, the lyrics of the song that spoke directly to a part of me. It arrived in my life during a moment that fitted perfectly, I was living a struggle and trying to understand it.
Then I saw a picture of a women with a wolf in the desert and I loved her pose, so I did my own design adding the wolves and all the elements that I saw on my imagination.
Like my painting, the song is about embracing the unknown, awakening to who we are at our core, even when the world around us feels like it's collapsing. But we need to listen to the call to trust our instincts, to risk everything.
That's how I feel about the song, and that's how I feel about my painting.
I’ve always felt a connection with wolves—not as symbols of the pack, but as sacred guides who appear in solitude. They remind me that being alone doesn't mean being lost. It means listening closely, they came to remind me of the wonders of solitude. There are two wolves in the painting because the song speaks in the plural. But in truth, I've always been the lone wolf. This artwork marks the metamorphosis of that spirit—my feminine essence merging with theirs. The woman in the painting isn't just running with them. She is one of them now, just like me.
She is at the center, looking serene feeling the sun on her face with her eyes closed and a single tear on her cheek faces left, I added the tears at the end as I thought this could be my own reflection, about how the tears have been transmuted by the loneliness and how that pain also brings wisdom, so the tears go straight to the wolves, and they as experts of loneliness know exactly how to use them to grow the flowers.
The wolves are symbols of intuition, guardianship, resilience and wild energy. Their fur blends into the surrounding flora, painted with expressive, flowing brushstrokes.
Now, Behind her, the blazing sun isn't just a backdrop. It’s an aura—fierce, incandescent. It mirrors the desert sun of my homeland in Ciudad Juarez, where beauty and harshness coexist. The roses beside her, melting and ephemeral, echo that contradiction.
We don't have roses like these in the desert, but we do have what we call desert roses—they are stones born from sand and time, shaped by the wind into crystalline petals. I painted both kinds into this piece: the ones that bloom and perish, and the ones that endure.
You might wonder—why the mountains? The mountains hold special meaning for me. They represent Pikes Peak in Colorado, the first place I had to call home after leaving my country, my job, my family, and my friends. The mountains are red to reflect the meaning of the word Colorado, which refers to the color red and I have included a small moon that makes company to the wolves.
Running with the wolves isn't about rebellion in the literal sense. It's about embodying the spirit of the wolf—embracing our independence, our resilience, and the power of solitude when we are no longer part of the pack.
The branches sprouting from her head may seem unusual, but they're intentional as a last minute idea when I was painting her head. They represent the return to inner stillness, the sacred pause of spiritual drought. Even in arid seasons, we are not swept away. We carry the sun inside us—our solar plexus, our inner flame or Christ, where we don't need water to flourish because our inner light, our sun here in the plexus is our own spring. And from that light, we bloom and shine.
Traditionally, roots would be represented growing from the feet, keeping us grounded like the trees, our connection to this earth, but mine are in my head like a common ideaThey're not tied to any land, because I don't feel rooted anywhere, not physically. My home is in my heart and my imagination and my spirit has wings to fly free.
This 36 by 48” acrylic painting is a vibrant, powerful composition blending portraits, symbolism, and nature in a surreal, emotionally scene. This piece is available HERE
Last week I sold a print of Ariel for the first time. This is an image of a painting I did in oil that I sold in 2016 and now I have prints available.
Ariel the Sylph, character from The Tempest, by William Shakespeare. 🧚♂️ 💫 ✍🏻
🎨 This image belongs to my original work with oils on oil paper. This mythological character from a world of Fairies belongs to the play The Tempest by Shakespeare, I have portrayed the actor Colin Morgan who was the actor who gave life to this character in a play in London.
Ariel is a wind spirit with peacock wings and an ethereal look fading away between the clouds surrounded by doves.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER:
Sylph (also called sylphid) is a mythological air spirit. The term originates in the 16th-century works of Paracelsus, who describes sylphs as (invisible beings) of the air, his elementals of air.
Ariel is a spirit who appears in William Shakespeare's play The Tempest. Ariel is bound to serve the magician Prospero, who rescued him from the tree in which he was imprinted by Sycorax, the witch who previously inhabited the island. Prospero greets disobedience with a reminder that he saved Ariel from Sycorax's spell, and with promises to grant Ariel his freedom. Ariel is Prospero's eyes and ears throughout the play, using his magical abilities to cause the tempest in Act One which gives the play its name, and to foil other characters' plots to bring down his master.
Ariel's name means Lion of God. Ariel may also be a simple play on the word "aerial".
After months of work finally I had some distraction, this time I went to Chicago, here some favorite images from my gallery.
I saw the mural Eye Candy over the "Mag Mile" by the artist Jeff Zimmermann and looks so colorful and just like those candy rings.
I did the boat tour and totally worth it, taking an architectural boat tour along the Chicago River is one of the most immersive ways to appreciate the city's iconic skyline. As you glide past the water, you'll encounter architectural marvels that tell Chicago's vivid story of innovation.
Guided commentary brings to life the history, design, and personalities behind over 40–50 key buildings and bridges lining the river. Seeing Chicago’s skyline from the river offers an ever-shifting perspective highlighting reflection, facade details, and how the structures relate to one another on the riverfront.
Looks beautiful how the blue-green glass of many riverside skyscrapers seems to mirror the water below—creating a harmonious visual dialogue between the city and the river.
Tours often weave in Chicago's rise after the Great Fire of 1871, the birth of the modern skyscraper, and the city's evolution in architectural styles—from Art Deco to modernist and postmodern designs.
Chicago's skyline just gained a bold new symbol for the planet. In celebration of World Environment Day 2025, a 245-foot mural titled “Stand Tall” it pictures a girl with a deer surrounded with swirl shapes created by acclaimed Dutch artist Mr. Super A.
Here’s a gorgeous image of the “Wings of Mexico” sculpture, a stunning bronze installation by Mexican artist Jorge Marín that graced Chicago’s downtown in 2022.
The bronze wings that invite passersby to stand between them and become part of the artwork, a powerful symbol of freedom, hope, and the immigrant experience.
TO WATCH: Here you will find all about my painting and behind the scenes.