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Luis🇵🇷📸

@pink.zip

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Getting to capture this collaboration between @muralmatics @readmuskegon and @lionsandrabbits, I walked away with 2 big takeaways for artists. 🎨🖌️

1) Are the community members collaborators or recipients?

By inviting community into collaboration, they become a part of the work instead of recipients of the work. Those collaborations build ownership, and that ownership creates a community that will champion and protect your work long after the project is done.

For this reason, I was not surprised to see that many of the folks who helped paint these segmented canvases also came back to support during the launch event.

2) Consider how your work will interact with the space.

Bringing a big mural into a narrow hallway can be a nightmare scenario, both for the artist and the photographer. Dustin (the artist) looked at the building blueprint, noticed the windows lining the hallway, and turned those windows into frames, intentionally building an interactive element into the work itself.

Outside of a narrow hallway, how can your work make use of angles, distance, light, technology, the sun, or even temperature to change the way a viewer interacts with the work, or the way the work interacts with the space? Now you’re not just creating “aww” moments through beautiful art. You’re also building in an opportunity for play, creating those “ahhh-haaa” moments where someone says, “I need to show this to someone.” taken in Read Muskegon by @pink.zip

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Aura Gonzalez taken in Innovaciones Danzares - Escuela de Baile by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Nicole Santana (Serpent Eyes Only)

Nicole Santana builds in public. A multidisciplinary artist from Trujillo Alto, Puerto Rico, she works across painting, printmaking, jewelry, and body art.

Her portrait was taken in the streets of Viejo San Juan beside a wall of grabado portraits of Puerto Rican greats, a quiet way of saying she belongs to the next wave.

Her journey began during the pandemic, starting with colored pencils. Casual sketching turned into a process of self discovery. “Me di cuenta que empezaba a sacar cositas de mi mente,” she says, “y ahí fue cuando me di cuenta que sí, como que me iba enamorando poco a poco del arte” (I realized I was beginning to express in new ways, and that is when I noticed It was a process I was starting to love).

Nicole’s practice grew from painting into printmaking and mixed materials. She brings found objects into canvases, paints secondhand clothing, and learned to shape wire into earrings and bracelets. At a community pop up she tried body paint for the first time. “Ese día empecé a hacerle el body paint, y desde ahí creo que me di cuenta que body paint es algo que a mí me encantaba” (That day I began doing body paint, and from that moment I realized it was something I loved doing).

Markets and pop ups ground her work. People stop, talk, and often leave with a print. “El hecho de que alguien quiera tener un print mío en su casa, eso para mí es bien especial” (The fact that someone wants to have a print of mine in their home, that is very special to me). She wants her first big opportunities in Puerto Rico and hopes to stage a gallery night that brings painting, printmaking, photography, and body art together.

Community is the first gallery for Nicole.

She makes work people can live with and on their bodies, so that everyday spaces become places of care, and community.

@serpent.eyes.only by @pink.zip

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a year ago

LA VOZ DE MI GENTE (The Voice of My People) was an opportunity to come back home and reconnect with MI GENTE (my people). It began as a journey to document the stories of Puerto Rican artists—dancers swaying to bomba, musicians strumming the cuatro, and artists who turn our struggles against oppressors into a bold declaration: “No somos pendejos” (“We are not fools”). Yet above all, it became a search for an answer to a question central to my identity: What does it mean to be Puerto Rican? This search, born from years of feeling the island fade yet never fully letting go, found its voice through the artists I documented, their resilience mirroring my own journey back to my roots.

These portraits capture our resilience, creativity, and pride—qualities defining the Puerto Rican spirit. PARA MI GENTE (for my people), they form a bridge, connecting us to the island’s heartbeat wherever we may be. Yet, this exhibition reaches beyond our borders. To those who don’t share my heritage, I offer an invitation: step into these stories and find your own. What does your culture mean to you? How do your roots sing? LA VOZ DE MI GENTE celebrates Puerto Rican identity, but its heart—resilience, belonging, legacy—speaks to everyone, moving us to honor the cultures that shape who we are. taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Shadiel “Shadi” O. Reyes Mojica

Shadiel “Shadi” O. Reyes Mojica is a dancer and choreographer from Puerto Rico. “Cada vez que yo enseño, yo aprendo dos, tres veces más” (every time I teach, I learn two or three times more).

The portrait was taken at the Rainbow Pier in San Juan, a waterfront place that is a local symbol of LGBTQ+ pride and resilience.

He started with drawing, then joined music and theater at school. By high school he was leading talent shows and choreographing, and a mentor, Javier David Ramos Mercado, opened a path to formal study through a youth arts project in Cataño.

Puerto Rico’s ballroom scene grounds his practice, with vogue as its movement style. Ballroom is a Black and Latinx queer culture with public events called balls, where people walk categories in dance, fashion, and performance. Vogue is the movement that influences their lines, poses, footwork, and face. In class he build the foundation for vogue.

Perfectionism is the obstacle he names. He aims for a middle ground he calls “orgánico y genuino, real” (organic and genuine, real), where the work feels true to him.

As a queer artist he sees visibility as presence and resistance. “Ser queer en Puerto Rico no es utópico. Es real… seguimos aquí, simplemente somos” (being queer in Puerto Rico is not utopian. It is real, we are still here, we simply exist). He points to ballroom as a place to learn, to organize, and to heal, including through projects like LaBoriVogue and the Kiki House of LaBori.

He says staying is a choice. “Siempre la gente está buscando al norte… pero se olvida que existen los lados” (people always look north, and forget there are other directions). “Si estoy aquí es porque se puede” (if I am here, it is because it is possible).

Seguimos aquí (We are still here).

He makes work that teaches movement as language and shelter, so that students and queer communities feel seen, strong, and at home in Puerto Rico.

@shadielo.reyes taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Sabrina Velez

“El arte tiene muchas facetas, muchos materiales, muchas técnicas… estaría cool que uno se pueda desarrollar en todo.” (Art has many facets, many materials, many techniques. It would be cool to develop oneself in all of them.)

Her portrait was taken at La Escuela de Artes Plásticas y Diseño in Viejo San Juan, where she studies image and movement with a minor in sculpture, a place that connects her craft to a lineage of Puerto Rican artists.

She started with sketchbooks, then kept widening the frame, painting in watercolor, acrylic, and gouache, drawing and printmaking, sculpture in cardboard and wire, ceramics that reward the long process, and animation from storyboards to digital tools. She likes the discipline of ceramics because it asks for patience, heat, and care, and ends with a finished piece in her hands.

Sabrina learns in public. She sells at small kiosks, collaborates, and sits in on classes outside her schedule to keep expanding her toolkit. Seeing a drawing she once doubted selected for exhibition reminded her that growth becomes visible over time, that the work shows you what you have learned.

Her work is a language for what is hard to say out loud, grounded in love for Puerto Rico and a desire to give back. “Somos ricos en cultura.” (We are rich in culture.)
  El que quiera hacer algo lo va a hacer. (If you want to do something, you will do it.)

She is building work that sparks reflection, so that Puerto Rico’s everyday memory keeps living in the hands and eyes of her community. She wants to keep making pieces you can hold and images you can live with, from studio ceramics to animated stories made with and for her people.

sapo.pr88 taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Adrián Gallardo Toledo (Adrick)

He wants people to see a piece and know it is his. His portrait was taken outside Liga de Arte in Viejo San Juan, a community space for making and learning, a setting that reflects his belief that art is shared and alive.

He filled school notebooks with drawings, then during the pandemic he left strict realism and began shaping a style of his own. “Me dio una fiebre brutal de dibujar cosas que tengan un estilo propio, que la gente las vea y sepa que eso es mío” (I felt an intense drive to draw things with a style of my own, so people could see them and know it’s me).

Today he works in pointillism and ballpoint, inks and selective color, often building mostly in black and white and letting one color carry the rest. He studies what moves him, and he tells younger artists to do the same. “Haz un análisis profundo de lo que te gusta en el mundo del arte, así vas a encontrar tu visión” (Do a deep analysis of what you like in the world of art, that is how you will start to find your vision).

Frustration is part of the growth. “Te pueden copiar el estilo de arte, pero no van a copiar tu personalidad” (people can copy your style of art, but not your personality). Look closely and you can see the method, faces built from thousands of dots and stacked lines, black and white shaping the form while one color pulls the eye.

“Nuestro deber es enseñar a otros lo que otros no pueden ver” (our duty is to show others what others cannot see).

Ser uno mismo es la obra (To be oneself is the work).

He makes work that makes the unsaid feel visible, so that viewers can recognize their own truth and feel permission to be it.

@adrickpr taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Nicole Santana (Serpent Eyes Only)

Nicole Santana builds in public. A multidisciplinary artist from Trujillo Alto, Puerto Rico, she works across painting, printmaking, jewelry, and body art.

Her portrait was taken in the streets of Viejo San Juan beside a wall of grabado portraits of Puerto Rican greats, a quiet way of saying she belongs to the next wave.

Her journey began during the pandemic, starting with colored pencils. Casual sketching turned into a process of self discovery. “Me di cuenta que empezaba a sacar cositas de mi mente,” she says, “y ahí fue cuando me di cuenta que sí, como que me iba enamorando poco a poco del arte” (I realized I was beginning to express in new ways, and that is when I noticed It was a process I was starting to love).

Nicole’s practice grew from painting into printmaking and mixed materials. She brings found objects into canvases, paints secondhand clothing, and learned to shape wire into earrings and bracelets. At a community pop up she tried body paint for the first time. “Ese día empecé a hacerle el body paint, y desde ahí creo que me di cuenta que body paint es algo que a mí me encantaba” (That day I began doing body paint, and from that moment I realized it was something I loved doing).

Markets and pop ups ground her work. People stop, talk, and often leave with a print. “El hecho de que alguien quiera tener un print mío en su casa, eso para mí es bien especial” (The fact that someone wants to have a print of mine in their home, that is very special to me). She wants her first big opportunities in Puerto Rico and hopes to stage a gallery night that brings painting, printmaking, photography, and body art together.

Community is the first gallery for Nicole.

She makes work people can live with and on their bodies, so that everyday spaces become places of care, and community.

@serpent.eyes.only taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Edan Méndez

Edan Méndez refuses to be boxed in. A multimedia artist from Mayagüez, Puerto Rico, they work by instinct across painting, sculpture, engraving, tattooing, and animation.

Their portrait was taken in Paseo de Diego, Río Piedras, a street alive with murals, resistance, and everyday life, a place where art lives with people in community.

Edan started with lápiz y papel, encouraged by a cousin who kept them drawing. Art became an outlet, a way to speak when words felt heavy. “Me siento como si hubiera encontrado una voz que me corresponde, y la utilizo para expresarme” (I feel like I have found a voice that belongs to me, and I use it to express myself).

For a time, not having one style felt like a flaw. Now that range is the point. “¿Por qué no puedo ser todo eso al mismo tiempo?” (Why can’t I be all of that at the same time?) They follow what the work asks for, letting mood and message lead. Art taught Edan to loosen their grip and carry the same freedom into identity. The studio is where they feel fully themself.

Proud of their roots, Edan does not separate art from politics. “Puerto Rico está cabrón. Tenemos que hacer arte sobre eso. Es la única forma de comunicar, la única forma de sacar el mensaje” (Puerto Rico is intense. We have to make art about it. It is the only way to communicate, the only way to get the message out).
Puerto Rico es un mensaje que hay que decir (Puerto Rico is a message that must be said).

They make work that stops people long enough to feel, so that communities see themselves and are not ignored.

@lvr.edan taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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a year ago

Danny Rosa

“Estás trabajando con un canvas que está vivo, que reacciona, que le duele, que tiene su historia” (you are working on a canvas that’s alive, that reacts, that feels pain, that carries its own story).

His portrait was taken in his San Juan studio, mid session with a photo of his grandmother, Doña Toñita, behind him, a steady presence who shaped his creativity, discipline, and sense of purpose. He carries her legacy beyond the studio; owning La Arañita in Cayey, named for the crispy green plantain arañitas she invented, a restaurant that keeps her memory alive in food and family.

Danny’s path began with graffiti, an outlet and a community, a grounding in bold color and form. Over time he moved into tattooing, drawn to its focus and to the trust it requires between artist and client.

Wherever he goes, he brings Puerto Rico with him. “En cada esquina que voy, donde llevo mi arte, ahí está mi bandera también, porque soy orgulloso de donde vengo” (everywhere I go, where I bring my art, my flag goes too, because I am proud of where I come from). That pride shows up in symbolism, in quiet details, and in how he carries himself in the studio.

For Danny, art is responsibility. “El arte lleva todo, y perdura… es un mensaje que continúa. Por eso la responsabilidad como artista es saber qué vas a plasmar y qué va a perdurar” (art carries everything, and it endures, it is a message that continues. That is the responsibility of being an artist, to know what you will put into the work, and what will last).

La piel es un lienzo vivo (The skin is a living canvas).

He makes work that people carry with them every day.

@dannyrosa_art taken in GRAM: Grand Rapids Art Museum by @pink.zip

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