Statement
In this project, I explored the nomad concept from three perspectives:
- Personal. My own experiences and my ancestors.
- Social. The potential for anyone of us to become one day or another an immigrant due to political instability, climate change, and economic issues.
- Cultural. Being uprooted when we migrate far from our culture and the potential we have to enroot anywhere.
Works:
1. Fiber Book – “The Journey.” I created a 9″ x13″ fiber book with a collage of appropriate photographs, sewing, and embroidery on raw canvas. I presented my journey as a modern nomad for thirty-three years. Living and experiencing different cultures such as France, Spain, Belgium, Kazakhstan, Cuba, United States, besides my own, Dominican Republic.
2. Sculpture – “Traces.” I created a sculpture depicting two feet 36in X 42in. Made of Chicken wire, plaster, and repurposed fabric—hand dyed with two South Florida native plants—as a metaphor for our skin, carrying personal and ancestors experiences. Tree branches come out from the hollow sculpture.
I will explore the symbolism of feet as our roots from two perspectives: Individual roots: ancestry, and family tree. Socio-cultural roots: being “uprooted” when we migrate far from our culture and the potential we have to enroot anywhere.
3- Intuitive Writings – “Home,” “Immortal Nomads.” I presented two intuitive writings. In “Home” writing, I translated with Google Translate and didn’t do additional editing. I am only documenting it here. It is not part of the final installation.
In “Immortal Nomads,” I narrated it in English, Spanish, and French—to emphasize the multicultural point of view based on my experiences as a modern nomad. Three different voices (my two children and myself), three languages edited in Audacity.
Fiber Book
I created a 9”x13” fiber book with a collage of appropriate photographs, sewing, and embroidery on raw canvas. I presented my journey as a modern nomad for thirty-three years. Living and experiencing different cultures—France, Spain, Belgium, Kazakhstan, Cuba, United States—besides my own, Dominican Republic.
VIDEO- DOCUMENTATION
“Traces” – Sculpture
I created a sculpture depicting two feet 36in X 42in. Made of Chicken wire, plaster, and repurposed fabric, hand-dyed from two South Florida native plants. The dyeing process is part of a collaboration project I’ve been working on for one year, along with a fellow artist Deborah Rosental. We are investigating the dyeing process with South Florida Native Plants to publish a book in the future.
The dyed, repurposed fabric symbolizes our skin, carrying personal experiences. Tree branches come out from the hollow sculpture.
I explored the symbolism of feet as our roots from different perspectives:
– Individual roots. Ancestry, family tree.
– Socio-cultural roots. Being uprooted when we migrate far from our culture and the potential we have to enroot anywhere.
On the other hand, I documented a series of 15 images interacting with the sculpture, telling a story about ancestors, immigrants, and the relationship we find in many spiritual practices that symbolize the left side as the mother and the right as the father lineages, respectively.
Intuitive Writings
I incorporated two intuitive writings created in Spanish, my mother tongue, “Home” and “Immortal Nomads.” The writing “Home” is only translated by Google Translate without further editing. I included it here as audio. I chose “Immortal Nomads” to translate, edit and narrate it in English, Spanish, and French to emphasize the multicultural point of view based on my experiences as a modern nomad. This is a collaboration project with my children, Laura and Alvaro
Fuentes-Tejada. Three different voices, three languages. I edited the audio in Audacity.
“Home” – Spanish version
Mi hogar, es cualquier rincón del planeta donde las ideas tienen aún la oportunidad de dispersar sus semillas, con la confianza de que caerán en tierra fértil.
Mi hogar, es un espacio indefinido, en el cual las emociones descalzas toman el tiempo que se les antoje para expresarse e ir desatando a su vez los nudos que las mantenían mudas.
Mi hogar, es un lugar sin nombre, donde los sueños imposibles se mezclan con las realidades cotidianas, y se entretejen, mostrando sin miedo los hilos que los unen, dejando atrás la nostalgia, que despacio se va deshilachando sin dejar huellas.
Mi hogar, es un sitio sin barreras, donde el corazón se nutre, se expande y se une espontáneamente al viento y al color del amanecer. Así, los tres de la mano, logran entender las ansias del alma inquieta.
Mi hogar, es un lugar de caminos desdibujados, donde cada pensamiento no solo manifiesta lo que desea ser sino, ojalá, también esté presente su mirada.
Mi hogar, es un espacio no palpable, donde ríos de libertad, en su fluir intenso, conviven con las piedras erguidas y tenaces que les aportan a sus aguas intranquilas la musicalidad que en su interior deseaban.
Mi hogar, es un momento del atardecer, donde su luz cae sobre un mar de acuerdos tranquilos, donde cada gota está teñida de multiples realidades vividas, memorias sin dolor, deseos con voz.
Mi hogar, es un espacio-tiempo imaginario donde todo lo antes dicho, pensado, soñado, provoca una explosión repleta de sensaciones, vibraciones y tonalidades ajenas a la razón, alejados de la limitada paleta de colores aprendidos en nuestra pequeña visión humana .
Aida Tejada- 2023
“Home” – English version
My home is any corner of Earth where ideas still can spread their seeds, with the trust that they will fall on fertile soil.
My home is an indefinite space where barefoot emotions take as long as they want to express themselves and untie the knots that kept them mute.
My home is a place without a name, where impossible dreams mix with everyday realities and intertwine, fearlessly showing the threads that unite them, leaving behind nostalgia, which slowly frays without a trace.
My home is a place without barriers, where the heart is nourished, expanded, and spontaneously joins the wind and the color of dawn. Thus, the three, hand in hand, manage to grasp the desires of the restless soul.
My home is a place without drawn paths, where each thought not only manifests what it wants to be but, hopefully, its gaze is also ever-present.
My home is a non-tangible space where rivers of freedom coexist in intense flow with the standing and tenacious stones that give their restless waters their inner musicality.
My home is a moment of sunset, where its light falls on a sea of calm alliances, where each drop is tinted with multiple lived realities, painless memories, and voiced desires.
My home is an imaginary space-time where everything previously said, thought, and dreamed causes an explosion of sensations, vibrations, and tonalities beyond reason, far from the palette of colors in our limited human vision.
Aida Tejada- 2023
“Inmortal Nomads” _Audio
“Immortal Nomads”_ Writings
“Nómadas Inmortales” – Spanish version
Van llegando, poco a poco, a veces por montones. Dejando atrás un lugar apenas conocido para dejar sus entrañas en otro rincón aún más ajeno a ellos.
Pero Les da igual.
Se van mezclando, uniendo, fundiendo, van dispersando sus semillas, a veces despacio, otras veces con desenfreno.
Entre jugos con sabor a tierra fértil, negra, muy negra, y caña fresca, morada por fuera, por dentro blanda y blanca. Se conjugan, se entrelazan, se juran y conjuran los deseos mas esperados.
Entre leyendas teñidas de azul nostalgia, mezcladas con verdes de montanas nunca antes escaladas, se tejen los recuerdos. Los vividos y los inventados.
Nadie sabrá nunca con certeza lo que fue real.
A nadie le importa.
Van descalzos por el mundo, soñando con probar momentos dulces, escondiendo verdades amargas, alzando la mirada inquieta con la esperanza de cruzar el laberinto aunque cueste dejar la piel en el intento. esperando llenar los vacíos con un hoja fresca del árbol que crece discretamente en el fondo de un jardín olvidado.
Pero qué más da?
Si son inmortales. Los llevo a todos, a cientos de ellos, andando sin cesar por mi sangre.
“Immortal Nomads” – English version
They are approaching, bit by bit, or in droves. Leaving behind a known place to proffer their entrails in another uncharted corner.
But they don’t care.
Mixing, joining, melting, and dispersing their seeds. Sometimes slowly, other times with abandon.
Emulsifying juices with a flavor of fertile stygian soil and fresh sugar cane. They conjugate, intertwine, pledge, and conjure the most anticipated wishes.
Between legends tinted with blue nostalgia, memories are woven, mixed with the greens of mountains never climbed before. Multiple stories emerge—experienced and imagined. All at once.
But nobody cares.
They go barefoot through the world, dreaming of sweet-tasting moments, hiding bitter truths. Pursuing restlessly, hoping to cross the labyrinth, even if it means working to the bone during the journey. Hoping to fill the breaches with a fresh leaf from the tree that grows quietly in a forgotten backyard.
But who cares?
They are eternal. I carry all of them, walking endlessly through my veins.
“Nomades Immortels”- French version
Ils arrivent, peu à peu, parfois en horde, abandonnant derrière eux un endroit familier, pour aller nourrir de leurs entrailles un recoin du monde.
Ceci leur est égal.
Il se mélangent, s’unissent, se fondent, semant leurs graines lentement et avec abandon.
Avec leur Essence à la saveur de terre fertile, noire même très noire, mélangés de canne à sucre fraîche, ils s’entrelacent, s’entremêlent, en évoquant leurs désirs les plus profonds.
Entre les légendes teintées de bleue nostalgie, mêlées aux différentes nuances de vert des montagnes, impossible à escalader, ils brodent leurs souvenirs.
Personne ne saura jamais ce qui était réel ou imaginaire.
Personne ne s’en préoccupe.
Ils parcourent le monde pieds nus en rêvant de goûter à des moments doux, cachant les vérités amères et tout en regardant vers l’avenir avec inquiétude, cependant, toujours avec l’espoir de traverser le labyrinthe, au coût de leur vie dans cette tentative.
Désirant combler les vides avec une feuille fraichement poussée de l’arbre, dans la discrétion d’un jardin oublie.
Mais peu importe.
Ils sont immortels. Je les portent tous, par centaines, circulant à jamais dans mes veines.
