Origin Stories: A series introduction
In the afternoon light of our South Florida garden, over a shared yerba mate, my partner Gonzalo and I began discussing the thread that connects all compelling works – their origin stories. His long fascination with vintage comics, particularly the evolution of both characters and their creators, sparked something. Through these conversations, we began "Origin Stories," a series sharing the moments and places that shape each piece.
What began as casual dialogue has evolved into something more intentional: documented conversations that uncover the raw elements behind each work. From Mediterranean waters to Death Valley minerals, these discussions map a constellation of inspiration – the first ray of light that sparked an idea, the texture of stone or salt that informed a palette, the precise location that demanded translation onto canvas.
For collectors and designers who live with these pieces, this series offers another dimension of connection – not just documentation, but a window into the exact moments and elements that shape each work in their collected spaces.
This is where we begin.
G: Looking at the Local Knowledge Collection, what first drew you to working with materials from this specific coastline?
M: After traveling to all these beautiful places, I realized something about the difference between visiting and knowing. When we're somewhere like Santorini or the Mojave, we're catching moments - beautiful ones, but still just moments. Here, we know every mood of the ocean, every shift in weather, exactly when the light will catch the water a certain way. I wanted to create work that honors this deeper knowledge of place, this intimate understanding that only comes from staying still long enough to notice.
“The Truth”
G: Walk me through your material gathering process - what are you looking for when you collect materials?
M: I'm looking for elements that can be transformed - things that will powder or create natural dyes. While I gather all sorts of materials for inspiration, this collection focused on what could actually translate onto canvas - charcoal from coconut shells, rainwater, specific sand compositions, native plant dyes. Each material has to carry both physical properties for artwork and something of the place's essence.
G: How did you discover which local elements would work as artistic materials?
It's been a process of experimentation guided by research into historical dye practices. Some materials need natural fixatives or specific chemical reactions to reveal their color potential. I prefer working with elements that maintain their integrity without much intervention, though sometimes I'll blend raw materials with natural dye tinctures. It's an evolving practice - each material teaches me something new.
G: I've watched you document coordinates for each material. Why is that location specificity important?
M: It's like reverse geocaching - instead of finding treasure at specific coordinates, you're seeing the artwork and can trace back to its origin points. Each location holds its own character, its own material story. The coordinates connect the finished piece back to its source, creating this invisible thread between gallery wall and gathering place.
G: What's been the most challenging aspect of working with these raw materials?
M: They have their own will. Especially on fabric, they don't always behave as expected. Even when I'm creating what should be a replica, no two pieces emerge exactly alike. But that variance feels true to nature - like how no two shells are identical even from the same shore.
G: How do these pieces change in different spaces and lights?
M: They breathe with the day. Pieces with crushed shell or clay elements have this subtle luminescence that shifts with natural light. The colors and patterns certainly change throughout the day.
G: What's been surprising about collectors' responses to these location-specific works?
M: Art often serves as this bridge between interior spaces and the natural world - a way to bring outside in. These pieces seem to resonate on a deeper level because they don't just represent a place, they contain actual fragments of it. They become these daily touchstones to moments of feeling alive, calm, connected.
G: Has this deep dive into local materials changed how you see other locations we visit?
M: It's reinforced the value of time in really knowing a place. You can't rush understanding a landscape's palette or its material possibilities. It takes seasons of observation, years of noticing how light falls or how certain plants might yield color. This practice has taught me to look more slowly, more deeply, wherever we are.
