A Splendid Conversation with Diana Guerra

Photo Credit: Daniela Espinosa

Diana Guerra  is a Peruvian-American photographer, art educator, and activist who is currently based in New York. She holds an MFA in Digital and Interdisciplinary Art Practice from the City College of New York and a Bachelor's degree in Sociology from the Pontifical Catholic University of Peru. Guerra’s early training in photography was at Parsons School of Design as part of the MFA Photography and New Media program. Diana started her artistic career in Peru following research methods typical of a sociological field. Now, she focuses on the experiential while giving voice to the Latinx immigrant community in New York City. Diana’s work has been exhibited internationally and nationally in art galleries and art spaces such as Bronx Kreate Hub, Mana Contemporary, The Curated Fridge, Humble Arts Foundation, Journal of New and New Media Photography, PH21 Gallery, Espacio Cavallero, and elsewhere. Her art has been in many publications, including Publication Nueva Luz, En Foco Inc, curated by Marisol Diaz-Gordon, New York, NY, Photo book Primal Sight, Gnomic Book, curated by Efrem Zeloney-Mindell, New York, NY, Photo book On Death, Kris Graves Projects & Humble Arts Foundation, New York, NY, Photo book Imitation of Life, Loosenart, Rome, Italy.   Diana has received numerous awards and fellowships such as Dean’s Merit Scholarship, The New School, New York, NY,  DiParsons Graduate Student Research Fund, The New School, New York, NY, En Foco Photography Fellowship, En Foco Inc, New York, NY. Diana’s most recent curatorial projects have been at the   Chashama Upper East Side gallery, Chashama, New York, NY, Cohen Library Archives Gallery, and The City College of New York, New York, NY. I had the pleasure of asking Diana what drew her to become an artist, why she wanted to become an art educator, and so much more.

UZOMAH: What are some most important reasons to use art as a form of activism?

DIANA: Whenever I think of art as a way of impacting our social settings, what comes to mind first is accessibility. For me, art doesn’t involve an act of understanding per se. There isn’t really something to understand but rather something to be made by the viewer, or by the interaction between the viewer and the artwork. This active role means so much to me as an artist but also as an immigrant and as a person of color in this country: the fact that we have the power and agency to activate what is in front of us instead of accepting something that is given. By activating, I’m referring to the creation of meaning, but also to what comes after that, to how our lives and the lives of others can change after having these moments of revelation. I am not sure if this is a true fact, since I don’t control what comes after the pieces I make, but my intention is to create intimacy in the encounter with a piece of art, for a later intervention in other areas of our lives.

Coworkers At Home In Bushwick, 2022, Anthotype made with beet and red cabbage, 47x35"

U: How does your sociological field background help you give voice to the Latino immigrant community in New York City?

D: My training as a sociologist has helped me a lot to recognize different elements that are intertwined, and that compose my immigrant experience. For example, I am aware of how the color of my skin or my immigration status has affected my experience in this country, in the same way as how my privilege of having a college degree or having a safety net back in my country of origin has shaped my experience. I am conscious of my position on a broad scale as an individual and as an artist. So when I make work, I don’t pretend to be THE voice of the Latinx immigrant community, but I rather make connections, I build bridges, I collaborate. I, foremost, build and leave space for other voices to arise in the making.

Half View, 21 days, 2021, Anthotype made with purple corn, 11x15"

U: What does being experimental mean to you in terms of applying it to your art?

D: A big part of my work focuses on the process, so I’ve spent a lot of energy in my practice to find a place to experiment with substances and procedures. Along the way, I’ve discovered that I have to feel some kind of connection to the materials I’m using when I make a piece of art. For example, at some point I was using nail polish and bleach to manipulate moving film. Now, I’m moving more towards organic materials to make photographs, such as Peruvian purple corn and beets. Something else that I’ve recognized is that I’ve never been a fan of a crisp image; I’m aesthetically more attracted to what cannot be seen clearly or at all. I’m a little too fascinated with the concept of the empty space, of a void. 

U: What drew you to becoming an artist?

D: Funny enough, I felt a void. I was working as a social researcher in Peru, and I felt that there was a part of me that could not connect to what I was doing on a daily basis, something more in the realm of the senses and the imagination. The hard statistics and objective facts were grounding me too much, and I felt that I needed some space to explore, to be fully. I really had no clue if this was going to last, but I bought a camera, and I started taking photographs while still working in research. After a few months, I decided to come to the US as a way to open up this exploration besides having other private reasons. It felt liberating to give myself this opportunity, and I’m aware of the privilege of this choice, but it wasn’t a light experience. I realized that this freedom came attached to hardships that I share with my immigrant community in the US and that I currently explore in the work I make.

U: What made you want to become an art educator?

D: I believe in the process of learning as a liberating experience, which was not quite the reality I experienced when I was growing up. I know some people can relate to this feeling of being passively fed certain information without having a true active role. Most of my years of education before college felt like it, and I try to understand the context of why this was the case, but it certainly impacted the way I feel about learning nowadays. For this reason, I personally sense the duty to be involved in the education of future generations and rather secure a space of exploration and growth. Being an art educator in New York has given me hope since I’ve met wonderful professionals who are so eager to maintain a free learning environment in the same way as I do.

A Couch En Nueva York – I, 2022, Anthotype made with purple corn, 30x22"

U: What keeps you making and creating art?

D: We have to face the fact that we don’t live in a society where being an artist is easy. Even though there are resilient efforts by art advocates in the US to maintain and grow a budget for the arts, there aren’t enough opportunities to make sure that artists have a good quality of life in terms of housing, health care, legal advocacy, etc. Having this said, being an artist sometimes feels like a bad choice. I constantly struggle to find that place of safety where I feel that my existence as an art worker is valued in this country. However, while being aware of this danger, I keep sensing the urgency to make art, to channel whatever emotions, thoughts, opinions, and memories I have and put them out in the world as form. This urgency keeps me going, where making art becomes the only way of finding safety and fulfillment. 

Manhattan Touch On A Summer Visit, 2022, Anthotype made with purple corn, 11x15"

U: Can you describe some poetic elements found in the creative artistic process?

D: I find it enthralling to let the emotions and your subconscious to be the ones that lead the way. We are, most of the time, being consciously interacting with the world – paying attention, speaking to others, scrolling, etc.- and things don’t hit us in the right spots. We become numb, repeating the same words, and reacting in the same ways. When you let this other sensibility in the outside, it can be a shock; it’s usually strange and new; and it can be pleasant. We become curious. I enjoy this intuitive process because it reminds me that I am much more than just a repetitive existence; that there is much more inside and outside of me. Creation becomes a reality, and it couldn’t be more beautiful.

Marriage license over Zoom, 2022, Anthotype made with purple corn and beet, 28x18"

U: What artist, poets, authors, or musicians would like to come to dinner?

D: This is a fun question to answer! The first names that come to mind these days are Cecilia Vicuña, Julissa Arce, Liliana Porter, Natalia Lafourcade, and Dolores Dorantes. If I had magical powers and I could bring people to life, I would invite Chantal Akerman, Jorge Luis Borges, and Jean-Paul Sartre. It would really be a blast! And even though I hate cooking, I would definitely prepare something that night.

This Will Also Fade, 2021-2022, Anthotype made with purple corn, 29x19.3" (x2)

U: As an art educator, what are some things you find can not be taught but only experienced by both the student and educator?

D: I’ve learned that the class is a completely different dimension than the one where the pedagogical training and planning happen. I’ve been through classes where everything has been set – content, materials, roles – but the lesson didn’t flow as expected, or maybe it didn’t flow at all. The curiosity and agency of the students are essential, and sometimes we as art educators forget that. After those experiences, I’ve become much more flexible when it comes to building a lesson. There isn’t actually building without the input of the students, and their learning experience won’t really happen if they don’t activate it with their own interests and energy. We are really just guides, maybe just the fuel that helps the spark burn. But the fire itself is theirs, and there isn’t a more rewarding moment than seeing them while taking charge of their own learning fire.

U: What is your next project? What is over the horizon?

D: I’m excited to be at a point where I’m feeling things shifting. There are changes happening in my private life as well as in my perception of the world and in the artwork I’m making. I’m not quite sure where this will lead me, but I’m starting to see some patterns that connect to an idea that has appeared in this interview continuously: agency. The project that I’ve been working on called “Fleeting Under Light” was the origin of a space of remembrance, grief, and healing. The work that I’m producing nowadays feels more intentionally present. I’m still creating pieces with organic materials, but this time I’m focusing more on my presence in this land along with the agency and power I have at building my own archive. I’m excited to see where this will lead me in terms of the materials, form, and the conceptual framework, and how this connects to my immigrant experience.

For more information about Diana’s artwork, please visit her site. You can find Diana on Instagram and give her a follow.