Wendy Cabrera Rubio

Interview by Fabián Leyva Barragán

This conversation has been translated from Spanish

With a keen eye and a particular interest in history, science, and popular culture, Wendy Cabrera Rubio is a visual artist who questions and challenges widely accepted and long-established nonfictional accounts that are ingrained in the contemporary cultural sphere. It is through her sharp, and oftentimes satirical, vision that she develops and constructs reimagined narratives that take into consideration modern-day political and social matters from educational, racial, and economic standpoints. Historical issues—such as the multiple governmental interventions spearheaded by the United States throughout Latin America, and the Mexican government’s eugenicist views during the early 20th century—are among some of the scenarios that have been critically re-envisioned by Cabrera Rubio as artistic endeavors.

Academically trained in Mexico’s National School of Painting, Sculpture, and Printmaking (La Esmeralda), Cabrera Rubio’s unorthodox approach to her research-oriented practice is often characterized by the intertwining of traditional forms of artistic expression such as embroidery or puppetry and unconventional material sources such as felt, natural fibers, and cartoons. These eclectic elements are intrinsically connected to the personal upbringing and background of the artist, which will serve as the starting point for this interview.

Fabián Leyva-Barragán (FLB): Thank you very much for your time, Wendy, and for granting me the opportunity to interview you. I find it fascinating how you have developed a multidisciplinary artistic career, spanning from theater, ceramics, video, textiles, and felt sculptures, to briefly mention a few. I would like to begin this interview by learning more about how you began this multifaceted journey across these various disciplines.

Wendy Cabrera Rubio (WCR): Well, I would like to start by explaining why I am particularly interested in felt. My mom used to work making crafts with this material, and I think there are significant differences between Mexico and the United States when it comes to the perception of crafts versus craftsmanship. In Mexico, these two narratives are very divided. For example, craftsmanship in Mexico is highly regulated, especially when it comes to folk art. This kind of art has specific rules regarding the materials to be used and the narratives to follow. While this doesn’t apply to everything, it mainly focuses on non-perishable items. Piñatas, piggy banks, and candies often escape these rules. In general, craftsmanship has a very particular notion, especially that which is aimed at luxury trade or tourist crafts.

On the other hand, crafts are heavily influenced by the United States and are linked to economic emancipation, especially for women in domestic spaces. What attracts me to felt is that it’s an extremely cheap material, and it’s also one of the oldest fabrics in human history. It’s a very unique fabric because, unlike other textiles, it’s not woven, but rather composed of a set of interlocking fibers.

Virtually all civilizations have developed some form of similar textile. Originally, felt was made from wool. Due to the fact that it’s an economical material tied to manual, “arts and crafts” activities yet not linked to identity-building narratives, I’ve found it to be a very interesting medium. It’s funny, because when I started working with felt in school and early on in my training, people told me I couldn’t address political issues with that material because it wasn’t relevant. Another reason I’m interested in interdisciplinarity is that I’ve always been fascinated by science. At one point, I wanted to study agriculture in Chapingo, and I was also interested in history.

“What attracts me to felt is that it’s an extremely cheap material, and it’s also one of the oldest fabrics in human history. It’s a very unique fabric because, unlike other textiles, it’s not woven, but rather composed of a set of interlocking fibers.Virtually all civilizations have developed some form of similar textile.”

FLB: Besides these academic subjects, what other areas drew your attention before you professionally dedicated yourself to the visual arts?

WCR: One of my dreams was to be a photographer. But I’m a terrible photographer, so right now I’m focused on other areas. However, something that has always been present in my life is my interest in history. I think that relationship with material history and understanding how ideas are embodied is what has led me to explore so many different disciplines and activities. I find it crucial to link art with other fields because art should never function in isolation; it always has a relationship with context and materiality.

This is something I think about constantly. It’s fascinating to study a new discipline because you not only learn the logic and technique of where it comes from, but you also understand its context. I would like to mention that my brother is an architect, and he taught me a lot when I was little. Also, I’m from the State of Mexico and lived near the Museo del Virreinato, where I took several classes on cloister architecture. Between what I learned from my brother and the classes at the museum, I became deeply interested in how elements that seem purely aesthetic actually have political and control-related reasons behind them. This has become an obsession for me: the idea that there’s always a direct relationship between materiality and the conditions of the production of objects.

La cortina del nopal, 2020

Credit: Kurimanzutto

FLB: You have shared truly fascinating ideas. I would like to briefly return to what you just mentioned and dive deeper into the distinction between craftsmanship and crafts. Both require skill and technical expertise, which vary based on experience and training. Do you think there’s a sort of favoritism toward craftsmanship in art spaces compared to crafts?

WCR: Craftsmanship, at least in the Mexican case, is very closely tied to the narratives of nation-state building. This makes it easily instrumentalized and susceptible to being used for very specific purposes. One case that I find evident is in the work of Fernando Gamboa, one of my favorite curators in history. On the one hand, he incorporated crafts into exhibition spaces, but he also created divisions between them. I want to mention two more people I admire a lot: One of them is Juan Acha, who spoke about how art, craftsmanship, and even design are cultural expressions that deserve to be valued. Someone else who has inspired me to reflect on these topics is my friend Natalia de la Rosa, an art historian and curator. We’ve developed several projects together and we’re also very close friends. We’ve always fostered discussions about what art is, what craftsmanship is, and also about concepts like urban craftsmanship or activities related to crafts. I think it’s essential to understand that there’s no “purity” in what is considered Mexican craftsmanship. There’s a preconceived idea of how things should be and look in craftsmanship, but the reality is that these forms of expression are constantly evolving and hybridizing.

“I think it’s essential to understand that there’s no ‘purity’ in what is considered Mexican craftsmanship. There’s a preconceived idea of how things should be and look in craftsmanship, but the reality is that these forms of expression are constantly evolving and hybridizing.”

FLB: Could you share an example of this dichotomy between “being” and how something should “look”?

WCR: When a craft features visual components, like a figure of Pikachu, for example, two things can happen: either it’s considered to have transformed into art, or it’s rejected even as a craft. This hybridization is completely normal and reflects contemporary dynamics. A case that illustrates this is some artisans in Guadalajara, who traditionally used natural ingredients to make hats. However, due to the scarcity of those materials, they started using plastic tazos (known as “pogs” in english). Although these new combinations aren’t “pure,” they are a creative response to current conditions and add a touch of pop culture.

I’d like to highlight a very admirable artist named Miriam Salado, who also works on these topics. She has researched how traditional items and materials that were used to make noise in dances, like rattles, are disappearing. Instead, people have started using bullets in certain areas. These examples show how social and environmental conditions influence craft practices and emphasize the importance of understanding the political instrumentalization of the notion of craftsmanship. At the same time, it’s crucial to recognize the creator’s emancipation and their right to represent their contemporary context.

FLB: Definitely! The context in which an artwork is created and produced will influence how it will be aesthetically perceived.

WCR: Another example is that I made a torito, a traditional bull-shaped firework armature, in collaboration with a collective called Piro Family. This collective lives in Tultepec, a town near where I grew up. Tultepec is known for its firework celebrations, and, unfortunately, also for the explosions that happen regularly. The figure of the torito is a visual reminder of how perishable crafts, like piñatas, are deeply influenced by contemporary popular culture in Mexico. We have all seen piñatas of characters like Peppa Pig or Paw Patrol, and the same happens with toritos and piggy banks modeled after characters from El Chavo del Ocho, a popular Mexican sitcom from the 1970s. The market for these crafts depends heavily on the interests of the consumer and the creator, rather than the imaginaries imposed by the state. This shows how regulations and expectations change, allowing artisans to explore new possibilities.

Bitacora primera, La espada inumerable del mar, 2022

Installation view: Galeria NASAL, Mexico City

FLB: I would like to dive deeper into this idea of materiality. When you were a student at the beginning of your academic training, one of your professors told you that felt wasn’t a suitable material for creating works of art. Did they give you any justification or explanation as to why that material wasn’t considered “appropriate” for the art world?

WCR: No. Unfortunately, they didn’t give me a clear justification. Sometimes, even more experienced artists who I admired would tell me it wasn’t appropriate but without providing a concrete reason. Additionally, there’s an interesting issue related to how textiles are perceived and their association with femininity. For me, this has always been a serious topic. Textiles are linked to femininity, but it’s important to remember that the Industrial Revolution began with textiles. The spinning and weaving machine is a key invention in the history of modernity. It’s curious that the three things usually associated with femininity—textiles, food, and basic care—also played a fundamental role in the development of modernity and the transition to the 20th century.

“Textiles are linked to femininity, but it’s important to remember that the Industrial Revolution began with textiles. The spinning and weaving machine is a key invention in the history of modernity. It’s curious that the three things usually associated with femininity—textiles, food, and basic care—also played a fundamental role in the development of modernity and the transition to the 20th century.”

FLB: Do you think this perception of textiles as something exclusively feminine limits their recognition in the art world?

WCR: Exactly yes. The problem is that textiles, despite their economic and industrial importance, are often still seen as secondary. Textiles were essential to historical economies and remain a crucial industry today. The notion that embroidering or working with textiles is simply a meditative activity without significant impact on the global economy is incorrect. Textiles were not only a part of modernity’s history, but they also remain a vital component of our current economies.

FLB: Certainly, the importance of textiles in history and the economy is undeniable. It’s a shame that this prejudiced notion has influenced the perception of your work.

WCR: Yes, and what also bothers me is how an imaginary version of history has been constructed—one that is often static and fetishized. I like to make reproductions that are obviously false because I want to highlight that history is a dynamic construction. Our perception of the past changes over time. For example, the way we imagine pre-Columbian cultures today is different from how they were imagined in earlier times, such as during the Revolution or the period of the Creole elite. One specific case is how we still have the mistaken idea that the ancient Romans were white, despite this having been debunked. It’s fascinating how certain myths persist, like the idea that dinosaurs didn’t have feathers, when in reality, this is a relatively recent concept.

“What bothers me is how an imaginary version of history has been constructed—one that is often static and fetishized. I like to make reproductions that are obviously false because I want to highlight that history is a dynamic construction.”

FLB: Absolutely. The fact that these erroneous perceptions persist despite evidence to the contrary shows how difficult it can be to change historical imaginations. It is refreshing to hear your perspective on how humor and hybridity in your work challenge and question these established historical and artistic narratives.

WCR: Yes, hybridity and humor in my work are tools to question and reframe those fixed narratives. I like to play with preconceived ideas and show that history and art are much more complex and fluid than they’re often presented.

FLB: I would now like to talk about the role of the archive and how you approach the idea of art as “archive,” while still connecting it to other disciplines, such as theater and artistic research. For example, the work you did with Charlie Godet Thomas, How to Make a Painting Behave Like a Landscape, comes to mind. You used your research on the travels of the American Walt Disney through Latin America and the use of the fictional character Pancho Pistolas to satirically highlight the emergence of the multiplane camera. Could you please elaborate on the challenges or obstacles you encountered when conceiving this project? What was the most challenging aspect of integrating all these concepts?

Como Hacer que una pintura se comporte como un paisaje, 2020

Installation view: Museo Jumex, Mexico City

Photo courtesy of Museo Jumex

WCR: Well, before getting into the specific challenges of that project, I want to mention a general problem with archives and memory in Mexico. It is a huge challenge to find and organize information. There are many documents and archives that have been destroyed or lost. As for the piece you mentioned, like almost all my works, I didn’t make it alone. This is something I’ve struggled with a lot in art, as the figure of the individual artist is often emphasized, when the reality is that art is the result of collaborations.

In this case, I worked with a brilliant and creative academic colleague named Mauricio Andrade, with whom I collaborated while at Bikini Wax. Although I wasn’t officially part of the collective, I had close ties with them. Mauricio and I worked intensively on this piece, and I also had the collaboration of Manuel Delgado Plazo and puppeteer Yafté Arias. Yafté is an exceptional artist who can bring inanimate objects to life, and Manuel helped shape the theatrical aspect of the piece.

One of the biggest challenges of this project was, without a doubt, the pandemic. We were all in lockdown, which, in a sense, made it easier to immerse ourselves deeply in the work because we were together all the time. Though we were in a difficult situation, this confinement allowed us to focus entirely on the project. Mauricio and I spent hours thinking about Pancho Pistolas, and we shared a deep interest in cartoons and character construction.

FLB: It is fascinating how context and collaborations influence your work. You mentioned your interest in animation and how it’s one of your favorite art forms. How does this relate to your approach to character construction and animation in your projects?

WCR: Animation is truly an art form that I admire deeply. I often struggle to connect with traditional formal art, but animation fascinates me for its technical and emotional complexity. Animation not only requires impressive technical effort but is also the result of extensive collaborative work. In my research on how Disney created his characters and the stories behind them, I realized the importance of collaboration in animation and how individual animators are often made invisible under the name of Disney.

In Mexico, Disney’s history during World War II and his relationship with the country is particularly interesting. Disney was more focused on supporting the United States during the war and had a somewhat dismissive view of Mexico. However, Vice President Nelson Rockefeller’s intervention led him to create advertising for Mexico, which I found to be a very funny and revealing aspect of animation history.

FLB: And now that you mention Rockefeller, your 2020 work Economías del Pacífico comes to mind. For this work, you created felt puppets of Walt Disney and Rockefeller having a discussion on how they could spread their imperialist ideas in the Southern Cone of Latin America. The theme of creating alternative histories really stands out in your practice. While reviewing critiques of Disney and Rockefeller, I thought of other visual artists, like Nelson Leirner, a Brazilian photographer and visual artist who also uses Disney images to highlight American imperialism. I wondered if there are other artists you had in mind or who inspired you during your historical revisionism process.

The Unseen Enemy, 2021

Photo Credit: Anonymous Gallery y Plataform Art

WCR: As for artistic influences on my work, and although it may sound a bit cliché, much of my interest lies in the history of cartoons in Mexico. My work is influenced by artists like Gabriel Orozco and Diego Rivera. In fact, there’s a speech by Rivera that I love, in which he says that Mickey Mouse is the greatest hero of American art. Also, the tradition of political cartooning in Mexico, which includes artists like José Guadalupe Posada and Orozco, has been very influential for me. Orozco, in particular, is a gem when it comes to humor and criticism.

In terms of contemporary artists, I greatly admire Rubén Ortiz Torres, who has developed his career in the United States but has tackled issues related to Mexican culture, such as his series of photographs of the “Bart Simpsons” in Tijuana. I also have great respect for Javier Fresneda, who works extensively with history. Although he’s an academic and sometimes scolds me for my interest in alternative history, his works have greatly influenced me. I also admire Mariana Botey, an academic based in San Diego who explores Indigenous representation in contemporary times. Her focus on how Indigenous mysticism is a modern construction resonates a lot with my work. Finally, Pablo Redondo Vera is another academic friend who has influenced my thinking. In general, I think my academic friends and their contributions have been crucial to my artistic development.

FLB: Something that catches my attention is your use of text and references to literary works. Can you speak more on how you incorporate these elements in your works?

WCR: I always include text. In several instances, the titles for my artworks come directly from the books I work with and study. I see it as a way of honoring the authors and the ideas that emerge from these texts. I like it because, as I mentioned, I’m obsessed with understanding how art is a collective thing. That’s why I use direct quotes in titles, so that when the piece is viewed, the reference to the book also comes through, whether consciously or not. That’s one of the first ways I make a nod. But in other pieces, I make it even more explicit, not only with the title of the work but by literally incorporating the book as material within the exhibition. After I have used it, I allow people to flip through it, along with all the notes and life the book had throughout the process. Many people say it’s like illustrating research, and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. For me, this was something very important about art during modernity—the fact that art was so closely related to scientific and technological discoveries, and how they were expressed through visuality. In fact, I think it’s a current problem that science is becoming less visible and technology is becoming more of a “black box.” For example, something that fascinated me about modernity was the effort to explain how airplanes, cars, and all these inventions functioned. Nowadays, no one cares how their iPhone works. I believe that to have a more equitable relationship with technology and science, we need to understand it. This also applies to many things I’ve studied, like in the case of José Vasconcelos, or other figures from modernity that I’m obsessed with.

escenario para una genomica nacional, 2021

Photo credit: LUIS galeria con el apoyo de la beca Jovenes Creadres

FLB: Now that you’ve mentioned how you’re inspired by book titles for naming your works, and you brought up Vasconcelos, I wanted to talk about your 2021 work Escenario para una genómica nacional (Scenario for a National Genomics). In this piece, the physical figure of DNA is used to refute Vasconcelos’s hypothesis about how science was used to unite the Mexican nation after the revolution. I wanted to ask you in more depth about how this project came about.

WCR: This piece emerged from a personal and somewhat cliché situation. I had just finished the SOMA program and had gone through a breakup with someone very important to me. A lot of what we shared had to do with racial and social realities. I felt a great frustration because, in Mexico, there are very few racialized women in art. The art circuits are filled with white women, and many times they do not understand the differences in race and class and how they influence the experience of living in a racialized body. I was sad and began to seek refuge in books, especially in Carlos López Beltrán, to understand the history of racial construction in Mexico. I came across the National Institute of Genomic Medicine, and I found it grotesque that they spoke about mestizos in scientific terms. In Scenario for a National Genomics, I question how Vasconcelos used contemporary texts to support stories of mestizaje, and how science contradicts that. I was interested in understanding the links between class, race, and the construction of social narratives. The piece reflects on how these ideas are instrumentalized to generate imaginaries and prejudices that, although they had long been overcome, continue to persist in scientific imaginings.

FLB: You previously mentioned social elitism in art and science and how there are individuals who cling to these social privileges. How should the Mexican government address these issues to foster greater representation and diversity?

WCR: In Mexico, the art of the '90s was full of white artists, and even today there is a problem with a lack of racialized representation. The Fondo Nacional para la Cultura y las Artes (National Endowment for Culture and Arts) and the Sistema Nacional de Creadores (National System of Creators) have helped, but the art market is dominated by privileged individuals who leave no space for other artists. Salaries in museums are sadly low, which excludes non-privileged individuals. Moreover, the art market often rewards artists from wealthy families who honor their friends. It is important to diversify voices and value non-privileged narratives in art and science.

FLB: To conclude our conversation with all of this in mind, do you have any words of encouragement for an emerging artist in Mexico?

WCR: It is difficult to give words of encouragement because the art circuit is very challenging and is filled with privileged people who monopolize spaces. It is important to remember that, although the path is tough and full of injustices, it is valuable to listen to and make visible voices that come from non-privileged places. Do not get discouraged and keep moving forward with your work, because it is essential that we continue to diversify the artistic and scientific fields.

Fabián Levya-Barragán

Fabián Leyva-Barragán was born in Tijuana, Mexico, holds a B.A. in History of Art and Practice of Art from UC Berkeley, and is a recipient of the National Association of Latino Arts and Cultures (NALAC) Leadership Institute Award. He has curated numerous exhibitions and has also held curatorial roles at the Museum of Contemporary Art Santa Barbara, the Santa Barbara Museum of Art, the Getty Museum, Walker Art Center, the Dallas Museum of Art, the Blanton Museum of Art, and The San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.