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Ángela Leyva (Mexico City, 1987) Lives and works in CDMX, she is a visual artist, who uses painting to create portraits that are sustained by the narratives of different individuals and their particularities. She is a graduate of the ENPEG “La Esmeralda” (2006-2010). She is currently studying the Master of Visual Arts at UNAM.
Ángela’s artistic practice focuses on crafting portraits. She constructs these pieces by delving into the unique stories and characteristics of various individuals, examining their personal objects and archives. She views these fragments as remnants or clues to be reassembled. These sources supply her with the essential materials to create a series of works that transform into poetic representations of the subjects.
Her work contemplates the individual as the fundamental unit of society and an endless source of exploration. Through this lens, she seeks to establish a deeper understanding of the diverse contexts that shape our humanity.
Photography: Alejadro Ulloa
Style and clothing: Sent
Jeweler’s: Cruzada
Hello Ángela! It’s a pleasure to sit down with you! The first question I always ask: What’s a typical day like for you in Mexico City?
A typical day for me in Mexico City starts with a good coffee or tea, depending on my mood. Sometimes I have it standing up already awake, other times I enjoy it in bed. I must clarify that my bed is my sacred space, even more so than my studio, as many of my ideas emerge there. I believe more than half of my artistic work happens in that intimate space—I organize, plan, and paint there. But in Mexico City, well, I don’t venture out much during the day; it’s usually from bed to the studio, haha! Occasionally, I go out to eat with friends, but I socialize more at night since I spend a lot of time in my studio, not necessarily painting. I also write as I’m pursuing a doctorate in painting. I spend considerable time reflecting on my work—some in bed and some with my loved ones.
I’m intrigued. What kind of child were you growing up in Mexico City? What did you enjoy doing and how did you spend your time?
I didn’t actually grow up in the city; I was born here but was taken to Sinaloa, Culiacán, when I was very young. Later, around age five, we moved to the State of Mexico, where I lived until I was 16. I did my high school and beyond in Mexico City. As a child, I was fearless—I’m an Aries, haha, and I don’t want to fall into clichés, but I was always climbing on everything. I also enjoyed organizing games with my brother and cousins, and when I got tired of all that, I’d sit down to draw. I was pretty easygoing, I think.
So, when did you start painting and when did you start taking being an artist seriously?
I started painting at a young age, but it was during adolescence that I began taking art seriously as a form of personal expression. In the bilingual secondary school I attended (which I’ll omit the name of, it was horrible), the only thing I liked was the art class. That’s where real possibilities opened up for me. As I mentioned, I had been drawing since I was a child, but this was a different kind of magic. Initially, I wanted to be a dancer, but that dream was shattered by an accident I had. Taking art seriously was a gradual process, but as I grew older, my passion for painting deepened. I did my high school in an art-focused school, and that’s where everything changed. It was there that I decided to dedicate my life to painting. Then I entered the Visual Arts University in Mexico City, and that’s where I fell completely in love with painting. We’ve had our ups and downs over the years, but currently, I’m fully devoted to it, excited to see what the future holds.
Your work revolves around creating portraits with blurred and distorted faces. When did you start developing this style?
My style of portraits with blurred and distorted faces began to develop when I immersed myself in the exploration of identity and the human condition. I wanted to capture the essence of people beyond their physical appearance, exploring their emotions and internal experiences. This exploration stemmed from encountering a digital archive of my father’s patients—he’s a geneticist, a profession that has always intrigued me deeply. I thought about the fact that he not only works with people but also with their genetic structures, delving beyond their surface. On the other hand, my mother is a psychoanalyst, another way of diving deep into a person. So, with these perspectives at home, the vacant spot seemed to be in painting, in being an artist, and figuring out which river I would swim in compared to others.
Who are these people you portray? What do you hope to convey?
The people I portray are a mix of real individuals, as I mentioned, patients, but I have some rules for working with the images from the archive. However, I’ve grown tired of repeating those rules, so now I think these “real” individuals blend with imaginary figures—patients created in my mind during that waiting time. If I talk about objectives, an important one is to convey the complexity of the human experience, especially in being archived in clinical discourse, in showing indirectly how our being is erased and crossed by foreign discourses. Through this, I aim to make the viewer reflect on their own identity and connection with these beings, encouraging mutual questioning as they gaze at each other—painting and spectator, so to speak, face to face.
With that in mind, your work “reflects on the individual as the minimum unit of society and as an endless source of investigation, which can establish guidelines for understanding our different contexts as humanity.” Can you tell me about that? Why are these themes important to you?
I’ve always believed in looking within, being consciously aware that we impact others and they impact us. So, in my work, I seek to reflect my belief in the power of the individual to influence their environment and society as a whole. I think each person has the potential to impact the world significantly, and my painting aims to highlight those minimal gestures, perhaps in faces, which I consider a truth.
I see. What makes the portrait your preferred subject, as opposed to landscapes or objects, for example?
I prefer the portrait as a primary subject because I find it the most direct way to explore individuality and human connection. Faces are windows, they’re portals, and I’m fascinated by the diversity of expressions and emotions that can be seen through them—even in their blurred aspects that barely show themselves upfront, they become a kind of mystery, a sphinx to be deciphered.
Can you explain your creative process, from beginning to final result?
It’s quite extensive… Once I started working with archive images and following specific instructions to safeguard the identity of the patients—which was crucial because following these conditions prompted the search to make the faces of those who inhabited the archive comprehensible. Technically, I worked through various mixed techniques related to painting. One of them involved an experimental engraving process. This process, conceived poetically (using the printing press to transfer the photographs of the previously portrayed beings—something that, as ancient cultures believed, captures their soul onto canvas or stretcher), became an irresistible technique to employ in the project. This graphic transfer then became the pattern or ghost to be intervened upon, to perform a “manual edition” that involves constructing a new morphology through the use of solvents on the transferred image on the support. Finally, the painting applied with glazes, pigments, varnishes, and waxes endowed “the flesh” of the new beings to sustain them in the world of matter. Thus, a process of pictorial transfiguration is proposed for the emancipation of the digital image of an infant confined in an archive, laying the groundwork for a second existence for these forgotten beings and including them in a new universe.
Interesting. How do you deal with creative blocks?
I sleep a lot, as I mentioned—I’m conscious that creative blocks are part of the process, but I’ve learned to face them with both madness and patience. I also become a wanderer, meaning I delve into the world of leisure, sometimes into parties, essentially having a romance with the external world. Honestly, sometimes I just need to step away from the canvas and take a break to refresh my mind.
Can you describe your studio practice for me? And is there any necessity you must have with you or present in the studio?
Days vary in the studio; I’ve never been one for long routines—I’m somewhat chaotic in that sense, but mind you, not disorganized; I find myself in my chaos. Well, I put on my work overalls, sit down to assess the progress of the work, figure out where I want to start, wander around a bit, and once I manage to connect with the process—if I do, haha—I end up painting quite a bit. Later, I go out to eat something, talk to some of the other artists working in the studio, and then return to my space to work again…
Incredible, Ángela. Your passion for art is palpable, and your worldview is truly unique. Before we wrap up, I’d like to ask you two final questions. First, what is your favorite movie(s) and why?
Ah, movies… They’re like mirrors reflecting infinite facets. For the moment, and just for this moment, I think I’ll choose one, “The Man Who Fell to Earth” by Nicolas Roeg. It’s a masterpiece of science fiction, a profound exploration of loneliness, alienation, and the search for truth. I’d like to say I identify a lot with the main character, an extraterrestrial seeking to understand the complexity of the human world. But well, I was born here in this world, so I have to think about being immersed in this issue, thinking from within is complex. Anyway, this movie awakens in me a desire to want to be out of this world—it’s strange to say it like that, but that’s how I feel.
Fascinating choice. And the last question: what song(s) are you listening to the most right now?
There are several; in fact, I created a playlist titled “Nimoderrimo,” I don’t know how to translate it into English, but I made this playlist in relation to the fact that someone very dear died and that there’s nothing we can do about it because death is one of the most real facts that we face as human beings, as finite beings. Here’s the link to the playlist.