My Artwork

Conversations with Virgin Mary Everything I plan refuses to end as planned. I have been sending applications to every open call where I believe my work belongs, and the results have been the same: rejection. I have grown so accustomed to rejection letters that they no longer surprise me. I don’t ask why anymore. I simply file them away, one by one, in the drawer of unsuccessful calls. The most…

Conversations with Virgin Mary “You should wait until I arrive. This task is hard for one person,” I tell Jorge as I watch him halfway up a ladder, a drill in his right hand, balancing. “I waited for you,” he says without turning. “You said five. It’s almost six-thirty.” “I sent you a message. Didn’t you get it?” “A message?” He looks at me now, blank, almost offended. “If you say five, I…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Fourteen days after sending the bill proposal, the reply arrived. Not from the Member of Parliament himself, but from the system surrounding him. Good day, Thank you for reaching out to MP Jacob Mantle with your concerns. This message confirms that our office has received your correspondence. Due to the high volume of inquiries we are currently managing, we…

Conversations with Virgin Mary “I received a response from the David Suzuki Foundation,” I said. “And they’re not good news.” I pulled the message from my phone and read it aloud. “Hi,Thank you for taking the time to share your proposal and the supporting research. We appreciate you reaching out to the Foundation with such a well-considered submission. At this time, our team is at capacity…

Conversations with Virgin Mary I showed up at Jorge’s on a Saturday morning. The sun was out and the snow was starting to melt. Virgo was on the porch again, stretched in a warm spot like she had been waiting for the weather to change. Seeing her there felt like a small sign that winter was finally giving up. She noticed me and started to purr. Then she meowed in that direct way cats have when…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Jorge didn’t begin with theology.He began with a child’s toy. “Let me ask you something simple,” he said.“A kid buys a ball and a baseball glove for $1.10. The glove costs one dollar more than the ball. How much does the ball cost?” “Ten cents,” I said immediately. Jorge smiled. Not triumphantly. Not mockingly.Just knowingly. “Do the math.” I grabbed a piece…

Conversations with Virgin Mary “Come, come—look at this.” Jorge opened the door already smiling, already halfway into his excitement. In his hands was a small copper object that looked like a cross between an espresso cup and a laboratory instrument—an elongated handle, a narrow neck, perched over a flame like something borrowed from a chemistry lab. “What is that?” I asked. “Are you running…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Tuesday, February 17 This letter will be different from my previous lessons. This isn’t about messengers or tasks. I need you to understand the process to become, to be transformed, to see why you’re here. Life is full of ingredients. Every event, every moment, is like an ingredient in a meal. Each one has its role in the final product. Let me make this…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Thursday, January 31st Sometimes you will find yourself with this paradox, how can I learn to do something that need all my attention? how can I read a manual and perform the task at the same time? Bicycles don’t come with instruction manuals.Neither does life. The instructions for riding a bike are simple: Grab the handlebar. Look at the road ahead. Decide…

Conversations with Virgin Mary That morning, as usual, I was scrolling through Instagram in search of art calls—my version of checking the classifieds—when a peculiar reel appeared in my feed. It showed a chess match between Bill Gates and Magnus Carlsen. Fast chess. Seventy-nine seconds. Carlsen dismantled Gates with surgical efficiency. Gates lost. Carlsen didn’t. Not a single piece. No…

Conversations with Virgin Mary The snowstorm had passed, and me and my wife started shoveling the snow from the driveway. It took us about an hour to clear the pathway. All the neighbors were doing the same. Some used snowblowers—loud, efficient, impossible to ignore. Most of us, though, relied on the same plastic shovels you can buy at the supermarket for a few dollars. Once we were done, we…

Conversations with Virgin Mary I returned from Guadalajara and went to see Jorge to wish him a Happy New Year. The contrast was brutal. Back from Mexico, where light and dust linger in the air, to snow everywhere. The sidewalks were barely walkable, the neighborhood reduced to a narrow path between piles of ice. I knocked on the door. With this cold, it was understandable that Virgo wasn’t…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Thursday, July 31 A roller coaster never begins the way you expect. At first, it moves slowly—almost politely. A gentle glide, like a reconnaissance round through open fields. You take it all in. You notice the sky. You feel safe. Then the cart starts to climb. Higher. Higher still. The rails narrow. The ground disappears. Suddenly, everything stops—or at least…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Monday, October 5 Imagine this. You check into a luxury hotel. You are tired. You decide to take a shower.The bathroom is immaculate—neat, spacious, state-of-the-art. You turn the knob. Instead of a soft, predictable stream, water shoots out in all directions. Thin, noisy jets ricochet unpredictably. There is water everywhere except where it should be. You…

Conversations with Virgin Mary I arrived in Guadalajara and went straight to my mother’s house. As soon as the taxi dropped me off, a tuxedo cat appeared and meowed at me as if welcoming me. “Virgo?” I said half-joking. She meowed again and vanished. Coincidence, probably. I started to unpack, and inside my laptop backpack I found a folder I hadn’t noticed before. It was from Jorge. Inside,…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Before taking my flight to Mexico, I stopped by Jorge’s house with a bottle of maple syrup. Nothing more Canadian than maple syrup. No alcohol for the holidays—I know Jorge doesn’t like to drink. I used to give wine or spirits to friends at Christmas, and this amber bottle looked similar enough, at least from a distance. I wanted to knock, but there was an…

Conversations with Virgin Mary Saturday May 29 “Oh no. Tilt.”The word flashes in red, and the ball goes limp—flippers locked, momentum gone. A moment earlier you thought you had the angle, the timing, the control. But the machine decided otherwise; one nudge too far, and everything you’d built—points, progress, the fragile sense of mastery—vanished with the ball slipping into the drain. When…