On View September 6 - October 18, 2025
Born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Alma Leticia Gaxiola grew up in Long Island, and has now returned to the land of enchantment, to study Ceramics at the University of New Mexico. A current BFA student, Alma Leticia has been in several exhibitions including a ceramics exhibition in John Sommer’s Gallery, textiles exhibition at John Sommer’s Gallery, and Suffolk County Community College Art Show for High School Artists where she received an honorable mention.
Alma’s work is ever evolving as she continually draws inspiration from the Southwest, her hometown, memories, and everything in between.
Artist's Statement
It’s a funny feeling really, to mourn those days, that street, those people who now only exist on a digital screen. Or to mourn culture, a culture threatened more and more everyday by current politics, begging meals to taste less, music to quiet down, language to hide until one day it is no more. It’s a funny thing to mourn memories too, of those who’ve long passed on- or maybe, have only yesterday left your side. There comes a time in every person’s life where they are forced to mourn the living. Though grief is universally considered one of life’s many inevitabilities, the grief caused by that which still lives is rarely acknowledged.
But this grief is such a beautiful thing, isn’t it? It’s as vibrant as it is consuming. As nostalgic as it is ever present. In this body of work I’ve explored this mourning, the mourning of the living. From the cacti in all their neon splendor, to the fruit red Sandia Mountains, I drew inspiration from the Southwest. Somehow the stillness of the desert, now frozen forever in acrylic paint, brings me closer to the rumbling waves of Long Island, my family and childhood home.
And though it’s easy to miss, I stitched my grandfather into every stroke of my paintbrush– his flannel shirts and thick black hair, his unyielding faith and trust in God, the sunflowers we planted together in late August, and of course the foods, that as cliche as it sounds, truly are home. I wanted to remember him in joy, and in celebration of the culture we share. Grief might be a shadowed midnight, but in these works I wanted to remember my grandfather in the exploding hues of Mexico, the Southwest and even New York– so that I could mourn the living, with each and every mark. Now I smile knowing that the same sun I’ve encapsulated in paint greets everyone I’ve ever loved enough to miss, on the other side.
