My First Exhibition: Ojo de Coatlicue
Certain moments in life feel like turning points. For me, one of those moments was being accepted into my very first gallery exhibition: Mexican Mythology Past and Present at the Consulate of Mexico in Las Vegas. It was the kind of night I’ll never forget, messy, beautiful, a little rushed, and full of pride.
The artwork I submitted was Ojo de Coatlicue, a reflection on womanhood and resilience through the lens of Coatlicue, the Aztec goddess of life and death. In this piece, the sacred heart holds a protective evil eye, and the rooted vessels symbolize the unseen struggle women carry from birth. The snake represents renewal, while the entire composition explores the balance of strength, vulnerability, and the cycle of life.
This particular framed piece now belongs to the Consulate of Mexico, as I chose to donate it after the exhibition. While that piece isn’t available, prints of Ojo de Coatlicue are still part of my shop, allowing me to continue sharing its story with others.
Like many moms, my day started with kids, Panda Express takeout, and dropping them off at my mom’s house. I had planned to be at the museum early, but instead, I found myself starting my makeup at the very time I should’ve been walking out the door. My husband jumped in, and we decided to head there together. By the time we arrived, I was already 15 minutes late.
But as I walked into the gallery, any worry about being late melted away. The space was buzzing—so many artists, so many stories, and most importantly, so much culture.
One moment that stuck with me was hearing another artist say, “I’ve never been to an exhibit with so much culture, where people spoke my language.” It hit me deeply. She explained that most galleries she’d been part of felt “proper,” while this one felt like home—a space filled with Spanish culture, shared values, and mutual understanding.
That night, I felt the same. For the first time, I wasn’t just showing art. I stood alongside others who carried stories like mine, celebrating culture and resilience.
As I drove home, I realized that this first exhibition set the bar high—not because it was fancy or perfect, but because it was real. It was filled with people who looked like me, spoke like me, and carried similar histories. It reminded me why I create art in the first place: to honor our culture, our struggles, and our healing.
Ojo de Coatlicue will always be a milestone for me. It was the piece that introduced my work to the world in a gallery setting, and the night that confirmed I was exactly where I needed to be.
If you’d like to bring a piece of this story into your home, prints of Ojo de Coatlicue are available in my shop. And if you’ve ever been part of a community event that made you feel truly seen, I’d love to hear your story in the comments.
