KELLY TAPIA-CHUNING

STATEMENT

Within my practice, the serape is reimagined as a site of decolonization. Dismantling this traditional Mexican textile reveals the histories, erasures, and ancestral knowledge within it. Removing and reconfiguring the weft exposes the vulnerability and resilience of identity—unfurling a history that cannot be erased. The narrative, however, can be re-centered and re-contextualized. 

By utilizing the serape, I aim to acknowledge history while reimagining the future. The serape’s dual Indigenous and colonial origins prompt questions surrounding assimilation and reclaiming lineage. Deconstructing the serape becomes a ritualized act, symbolizing the healing and reconnection of broken cultural threads—creating space for new narratives to emerge. These ritual actions shape my process of becoming, with viewers serving as witnesses to this transformation.

My family’s history and lineage are complex, and I am the culmination of that assimilation and erasure. However, my work results from re-rooting practices in which I participate. In "Light in the Dark/Luz en lo Oscuro: Rewriting Identity, Spirituality, Reality," Chicana Feminist and Cultural Scholar/Theorist Gloria E. Anzaldúa describes the "process of falling apart" as a prerequisite for healing. Within this framework, the serape serves as a source of tension and rebirth. 

My ancestors and living relatives have endured multiple waves of assimilation. First Hispanicized, then Anglicized. As a descendant of this colonial violence, susto is the sickness that follows generationally. In Chicanx/a/o and Latinx/a/o communities, susto (meaning fright) refers to an ailment linked to a traumatic event that results in the soul’s departure from the body. This phenomenon is often tied to the violence and loss of land and culture from colonization. Within my work, dismantling the serape is an act of healing this generational susto. 

The meticulous process of dismantling the serape becomes a metaphor for researching my “lineage”—each thread removed mirrors unraveling lost connections to ancestors. The serape itself serves as a site of visual inquiry into this research, with its layers revealing the fragmented nature of my history. I am continuously piecing together and searching for ancestors, and although definite answers may remain enigmatic, I take heart in the knowledge I have found, gained, and restored. For I carry the blood of my ancestors, both known and once-known; my existence is their resistance.