“I'm a first generation Canadian, and my parents were born in Chile, so we grew up dancing in the house. Out of all [my family] I’m the most artistic. I grew up with a lot of textiles. My mom was a seamstress. I like carrying that joyful childhood spirit. Now that I’m older, why would I let go of that inner child?

“I do textile art. Right now I’m working on an Indigenous residential piece with survivors. It’s going to be a woman embroidered with flowers, and a baby, and tears. It’s going to be really bold and colourful, but there'll be a lot of references to accountability. And finding the balance in where we are, what we need to do to move on – to let our children proceed. I also think that sewing is a lot like storytelling – and beading – I do beading too. It's a piece of fabric, but you can put so much into it, and people will engage with it. It’s my way of expressing myself as an artist, and people are curious about it.

“I love the lonely road, and it’s hard, but I think it’s a certain sacrifice being an artist. I’ve tried fitting in the square but the universe said “you must express your art.” Things of the past, I’m shedding. What’s hard about being alone? The inner hole – you know that storm is there. You feel uneasy and restless running away from it. This has taught me to just respect my space and boundaries, and to embrace myself. I read books on artists and on people’s lives and journeys. I want to continue that in my country, Chile. You’ve got to learn to love yourself – I’m still trying. It’s a cliche, but it’s true – life is too short. I had so many downs in life. I’ve stood up, and thought to myself, “I’m tired”, but no, I’ve got this. It is lonely but you can choose another way. But still, don’t fight it. Life is like a season. Life, death, morning, night. We have to honour those. I want peace; it’s the best I can do. I can’t change myself. I wish I had my wiener dog with me, Mister Pickles. He’d have something to say.

“When I was 16, 17, high school, just an awkward time. I wanted to express myself but my parents were the type to say “This is what you gotta do in life.” I didn’t get what I wanted. I didn’t forgive myself [and] I was mad at them for the longest time. I tried to kill myself; I was really hard on myself because I constantly wanted to make my parents happy — like a career — but I got so tired, exhausted. I didn’t love myself [or] know how to communicate with myself. Being attached to family, culture too. My parents gave me everything but I wanted to spread my wings. At this point, all this mess, we’re actually on good terms. My parents are supportive.

“I drank. I didn’t know what I was doing. Just going through everything. Messing around, drugs, rock’n’roll, sex. And then I travelled. I ended up in the hospital every three or four years. I’ve been there like 8 times. I couldn’t quite figure it out. But you learn a lot. It’s a place to travel, and explore yourself. It makes you stronger. And then I got a wiener dog. Saved my life.

“I did it by myself...even getting away from my hometown to start again. You go to the hospital, they tell you all these things. In the end, it’s about you. Even if you don't know what’s happening. And I’m just a little mouse — so lost and sensitive sometimes — but that’s why I need to channel my energy into good outlets like dancing. This is all you have. I’ve been really depressed for more than 10, 15 years. I’ve been here for 2 years and this is the first time that I’m thriving.

“Moving here — I’m from the Prairies, Saskatchewan — I’m learning to live by myself, take my own independence. I’ve been seeing a counselor for 2 years now. And I’m still here. This is a really happy moment now. And I journal and I dance to celebrate!

“When I travelled, I’d come back to my hometown and appreciate the small things. You’re not as big as you seem. The world is huge, massive, and it’s complex. I was the artist — I don't fit in the world. I tried to fight society but I don’t wanna try. This is it. My platform, I want to paint it. I’ve learned you need mistakes to graduate to the next.

“When I lived in Montreal, I took some French courses and I met this Mexican fellow, Julio...the love of my life 20 years ago. I had a crush but he never liked me. To this day, it hurts. If you love something, you let it go. I wanna just let it go but I wanna cry...it gets better. He was really good at languages, great smile. Slowly, we’d hang out, have some beers, study French, eat lunch together, and go to the church close to the school. You just kinda get deeper into the person, you give it your all. But then I got a crush and I couldn't help it. We messed around a couple of times. And I wrote him a note, [with] all of my feelings, little hearts and then I folded it and put it under his door. And he never said anything about it. Then he met a girl. I just backed off. I thought I wasn’t good enough. That was another part of my depression, “I need a man,” of course we want to be loved. The other day he sent me a message I didn’t expect. He said “Hey, how are you doing? I’m still living in Montreal. I’m a father, I have a kid.” I was so happy for him but it made me cry and I got so triggered by it. I had to block him. I loved him so much. I knew it would be the same. We would be the same but it fizzled off.

“I think I’ve been with myself for too long. Like, I'm ok being by myself. I don’t want to run away. I don’t wanna live in other places anymore. I wanna be here.”