Photography Educator: Lorena Molina

Photography Educator: Lorena Molina by Elizabeth StoneAugust 14, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Sunflowers, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

Photography Educator is a monthly series on Lenscratch that highlights outstanding photography teachers who inspire students of all ages. Each month, the series celebrates an educator’s insights, strategies, and excellence in fostering creativity and resilience.

Every month on Lenscratch, I look forward to featuring a dedicated photography educator and their students. For August, it gives me great pleasure to shine the light on artist, educator, and curator Lorena Molina. Read Lorena’s thoughtful responses to my questions and explore a small selection of her artwork alongside the voices and statements from her students; you’ll see she truly goes all in for her students. As an interdisciplinary artist, she brings a generous, collaborative approach to teaching, and her practice continually threads together experimentation and community. Her deep commitment to her own artistic practice gives her students a model of rigor and curiosity that extends well beyond the classroom. I long to experience her work in person some day, alongside the outstanding work of her students.

This article includes a selection of Lorena’s work, an interview and work from her students.

My work is shaped by my experience as a Salvadoran immigrant and by the afterlives of forced migration, colonialism, and imperial violence. I draw from my family’s oral histories, ancestral food practices, and the everyday ecologies that hold both histories of survival and oppression. Through installation, photography, performance, sound, microbiology, textiles, and community engagement, I examine displacement, the politics of visibility, and what it means to return when return is not possible.
My practice insists on embodiment.I use sensorial elements as methodology that aim to activate memory through smell, taste, humidity, decay, and proximity as a way to destabilize the emotional distance institutions often impose on traumatic histories and to foreground the body as a site where geopolitics, migration, and care co-exist.
The ecologies in my work carry political, historical, and cultural weight. Corn, beans, and coffee have long been central to resistance, survival, and colonization across Latin America. Coffee, a crop tied to exploitative labor and land dispossession, underscores how agriculture has been weaponized against communities and how these violences remain entangled with U.S. imperialism and forced migration.
In my recent photographic works, I blur the boundaries between body, image, and environment. In Soy El Clima, I merge landscape and the corporeal by incorporating breath, saliva, and other bodily fluids to transform the atmosphere of the image; in these works, I become the weather. I continue this inquiry in The Fermenting Archive, a project that uses fermentation and cultures as both process and metaphor to explore migration, memory, and kinship at the microbial level. I create photographic portraits across El Salvador, Texas, and California, exposing each image to the bacteria and microbes living in those domestic spaces so that the environment itself transforms the image over time.
Community is central to all of my work. I collaborate with diasporic Salvadorans, immigrant communities, and long term partners across El Salvador and the United States. My practice refuses to perform trauma for institutional consumption. I am not interested in spectacle or in translating my community’s pain into digestible narratives. Instead, my work aims to build conditions for accountability, celebrate opacity, and create spaces where care is political and joy is taken seriously. Belonging is cultivated relationally, not through extractive or oversimplified forms of representation. I create work for the people who carry these histories with me and for those willing to sit with their complexity, not as distant observers, but as participants in imagining futures rooted in solidarity and mutual care.

©Lorena Molina, Houston, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Tia Dinora, Biomaterials, microbes and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, El peñón, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, The fermenting Archive samples, Biomaterials, microbes and photography, 2026

ES: For a little background, can you share how you got into teaching? Did you always want to be a teacher in the arts?
LM: The fact that I’m a college professor is still a little bit of a mystery to me. I’m a first-generation college student, the first person in my family to earn a master’s degree, and the only one who has built a career in the arts and academia. I don’t think I always knew that I wanted to be an educator, but the signs were there. When I was a kid, I would hold Sunday classes for my neighborhood friends on my patio, where we would make art, do science experiments, and read together.
Later, during my undergraduate and graduate education, the gaps in art education became very clear to me. I experienced deep aggressions throughout my education and saw a lack of interest from some educators in learning how to support students from different backgrounds. It often felt as though we had to mold and alter ourselves in order to exist in those spaces. I saw this as another hurdle I had to needlessly survive in order to pursue a life in the arts.
Thankfully, during graduate school, I had many opportunities to teach. I felt that I was able to fill some of the gaps I had experienced in photography education, and I absolutely loved it. I was obsessed. I love being able to be part of my student’s creative process and being able to support their interests and dreams.
I see my teaching and art practice as going hand in hand, and I do not see one as more important than the other. Rather, each practice deeply influences, shapes, and strengthens the other.

©Lorena Molina, Tia Dinora en Catalina, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Sauquiot, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Kyle, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Corn Field, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

ES: How would you describe your teaching philosophy and style?
LM: My artistic practice, activism, and location in society deeply influence how I understand my role as a professor, artist, and community member. Academic institutions are not neutral, and their histories of exclusion, silencing, and oppression are still present. Part of my mission as a faculty member is to leave the institution better than I found it- to help make it more equitable and inclusive for everyone.
I believe that being an artist is about more than learning technical skills. It is a way of observing and actively participating in society. Art reflects our values, our loyalties, and how we understand the world. From foundation courses to advanced undergraduate and graduate seminars, I ask students questions that help them identify what they care about and how those commitments shape their work. I want students to understand that these values inform every choice we make, both within our artistic practices and in the ways we move through the world.
For the past twelve years, I have taught in both photography and interdisciplinary art programs. Photography, to me, is exciting, complicated, and one of the most important mediums of our time because it is embedded in almost every facet of our lives. But we also cannot deny the ways photography has been used as a tool of misrepresentation, imperialism, colonization, and racism. Many of my courses use this history as a starting point for collectively imagining and constructing a different future for the medium and for ourselves.
Issues of representation, gender, sexuality, and race are deeply important to me. I make it a priority to teach histories that have been ignored or excluded and to introduce students to artists and writers from a wide range of backgrounds. By the end of the semester, I want students to be curious and active members of society, to make work they genuinely care about, to understand art production within its social context, and to recognize that every artistic choice is political.
I want my students to be endlessly curious. Curiosity is central to my teaching philosophy because I believe it can sustain a long artistic practice. It can take someone’s work in unexpected and exciting directions. I want students to learn how to ask meaningful questions and to see research as an essential part of their practice. I encourage play and experimentation without treating what can traditionally be deemed “unsuccessful outcomes” as failures. I believe that it is okay to be a beginner over and over again. Society tends to reward mastery, but the pressure to master something can also keep people from exploring new ways of making and thinking and I truly believe that making art is a lot more fun this way.
I try to model this curiosity in class discussions, individual meetings, and critiques. When we engage with readings, I tell students that I am more interested in the questions and thoughts the text produces for them rather than hearing a summary of the reading. This practice demonstrates that there are no wrong questions or answers. And it shows students how exciting and difficult it is to come up with our own questions and answers which ultimately builds community through the conversations in the classroom.
I believe in nonhierarchical learning, where we learn from one another and make room for vulnerability. I let students know that I do not possess all the answers, but that I am excited for us to try to figure things out together. We bring this same approach into critiques. Students lead the conversations about their work and ask for the specific feedback they need to move forward. I trust my students as experts on their own work.
As important as learning to ask questions is learning how and where to search for answers. I encourage students to think about research beyond its traditional scholarly forms. Conversations can be research. Making and experimentation can be research. Listening, observing, and spending time with a community can also be research.
My teaching style is direct and honest because I believe clear feedback helps students grow. I show up as authentically myself because I feel this creates the best learning environment that allows them to be themselves as well. I want them to become speaking and acting subjects of their own stories, rather than feeling that they must make the kind of work they think an institution or professor expects from them.
More than anything, I want students to be excited about the work they are making because that excitement is what keeps them in the studio. My responsibility is to challenge them while also supporting their ideas and helping them understand what those ideas need in order to develop.
I also see collaboration as an important skill for artists to learn because in the art world many of us are always collaborating with other artists, curators and other community members for exhibitions, panel discussions, and community engagement. Art cohorts in undergrad and grad school are instrumental because they are not only the people that keep you sane and provide safety and community, but they’re also the people that invite you to exhibitions, and other art opportunities. Students in my classes collaborate with each other in exhibitions, writing, catalogues and other happenings in my courses. I have also been lucky to collaborate with students in past personal projects, such as Third Space Gallery and other projects.
During the last three years, I have also explored different approaches to grading that support non-hierarchical and equitable models of learning. I want students to feel agency in their education and to understand assessment as a form of dialogue. This philosophy has led me to study and implement labor-based and contract grading systems since the Spring of 2022, which encourage transparency and empower students to take ownership of their learning process
Finally, I am my students’ number one fan. I am always rooting for them, and I hope they can feel that through the ways I support them during the semester and long after our class or their time in school has ended.

ES: Did you have an influential photography mentor or teacher? What was their biggest impact on you as both an artist and a teacher?
LM: Academia has been a long journey for me and, at times, a difficult place to exist. I don’t think I would be where I am without excellent mentorship. I had three incredible professors and mentors: Mike Tsai and Roger Camp during my time at Golden West College in Huntington Beach, and Kristine Thompson during my time at Cal State Fullerton.
Mike was my introductory darkroom photography professor. The class was deeply challenging, time-consuming, and expensive, but he was also an intense and dedicated professor who deeply cared about his students. He made photography so challenging and enjoyable that the class completely changed the trajectory of my life in art. He was always direct and honest with his feedback in a way that deeply influenced how I give feedback to this day.
He was the first person I talked to when I decided to switch from social work to art. He didn’t sugarcoat the career or how difficult it would be, but he told me he would always support me. He taught me to trust my own voice and not give in to pressure from faculty who did not always have my best interests in mind. He was also a perfectionist, and I still hear his voice when I don’t want to make another print.
Roger was an amazing and generous mentor. I was extremely broke during my time as an undergraduate, and he would give me and others darkroom paper, rolls of film, and cameras because he knew how much use I would get out of them. He was an excellent printer, and he was patient and always gave me thoughtful feedback on my work. I was so hungry for knowledge, and I spent much of my time asking him questions about photography.
Both Roger and Mike are a large part of the reason I was able to build a career in art, and I will forever be grateful for their guidance and support. This was especially important because I did not have examples of other people in my life living the kind of life I wanted to live. They showed me what was possible with so much kindness, generosity, and patience.
Kristine Thompson was my professor at Cal State Fullerton. She was a kind and supportive professor who gave me some of the best feedback on my work. Kristine was the person who advised me about graduate school, and her teaching style is one I deeply admire. I base a lot of my own teaching on the way she supported and challenged me.

ES: Your work explores video, installation, performance and photography, how do you share your success and your experience as a multidisciplinary artist with your students?
LM: I expose students to a wide range of artists working across different media. As an interdisciplinary artist, I am also deeply familiar with the ways contemporary artists use interdisciplinary and multimedia practices in their work.
Art does not live in a bubble. Sociology, history, biology, anthropology, politics, literature, and other visual art forms are constantly seeping into artistic discourse. There are also fewer artists today who work purely as painters, photographers, or within a single medium. Artists are incorporating interdisciplinary and multimedia practices in exciting ways, and I try to instill that excitement in my students from the beginning.
Because of this, many of my classes encourage multimedia and interdisciplinary practices, even at the foundational level. My introductory courses often include sound art, video, and performance because sometimes it takes an assignment to give a small push to students beyond what they already know. How would they know that they enjoy combining sound with images if they never have the opportunity to try it?
I further support this approach through the artists I introduce in class. Many of the artists I include in presentations and invite for lectures are expanding the possibilities of photography, which helps students understand what else the medium is capable of becoming.
Students are also usually curious about what their professors are working on. They see me developing projects that include bacteria, ecologies, video, performance, photography, and installation. I think it is important for them to see that an artistic practice can keep changing and expanding, and that they do not have to limit themselves to one material, medium, or way of working. If they ask, I share both my successes and the experimentation, uncertainty, and failures that are part of the process, because those are often the moments when the work grows the most. I hope that by seeing my practice continue to change and expand gives them permission to remain curious, and take risks.
From a professional development perspective, every opportunity I pursue in my own artistic career, such as exhibitions, grants, or collaborations, I create and think of ways of expanding these opportunities to directly benefit my students. I invite students to participate in exhibitions and performances, and I connect them with curators, artists, and organizations I am working with whenever possible. I want them to gain real experience, build relationships with other artists and organizations to further connect them to the Bay Area art community.

ES: What do you feel is your most important role as a teacher in the arts in this moment of time?
LM: I think my most important role as a teacher is to trust students so they can trust themselves. I want them to feel that their ideas, experiences, instincts, and questions are valid,important, exciting, even when they are still uncertain about how best to articulate them. While at the same time, I try to support them to go deeper, to be more intentional, and to try to understand why they are making the choices they are making.
Students are also living through incredibly turbulent, violent, and difficult times. Part of being an educator is understanding the context in which they are making their work from. Those conditions do not stay outside of the classroom, and do not affect all of them equally. I believe that continually challenging myself to see the bigger picture allows me to better understand and support each student more individually.
I want students to learn how to question what they have been taught and continue to learn, how images shape what we believe, and how art can either support existing systems or interrupt them. That questioning must include me. Collectively, my students and I work on different grading structures, how they want to be critiqued and what they are the most excited to learn about. I continually try to create a space where students feel comfortable to challenge me and hold me accountable. They constantly change how and what I think, and I learn enormously from them.
Ultimately. I want the classroom to be a space where students know they have the support from their professor and peers to do the work that moves them. I want all of us to walk away from the class as different people from when we first set foot in the room; changed by the conversations and interactions we had in our pursuit to learn about their art practice.

©Lorena Molina, Tios, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Tia linda, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Mara, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Finca, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, Tia Maribel en los chorros, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

©Lorena Molina, The barn, Biomaterials and photography, 2026

ES: What are some of the challenges that you face as a teacher in the arts? And what challenges do your students face?
LM: I could spend this entire article talking about this question. Academic institutions have long histories of exclusion, silencing, intimidation, and alienation, and they continue to hold on to those habits, whether overtly or in more nuanced ways. Institutions often have a false idea of the work they are actually doing, who that work supports, and who continues to be harmed by their structures.
I have been brought into institutions several times because they say they want the anti-colonial and decolonial work I do. But I often quickly realize that what they actually want is for faculty of color to either solve all of their problems or exist within the institution without truly challenging it. They want diversity without having to do the difficult work of taking responsibility and changing their ways.
For DE&I work to be genuinely productive, it cannot be limited purely to matters of representation. Institutions often celebrate the presence of BIPOC faculty while resisting the very critiques, ideas, and structural changes that our presence can make possible. Diversity must also include a range of ideas, perspectives, and ways of working that are allowed to question and challenge how academia has historically operated and continues to operate. Diversity is also too often valued only for what it can do for the institution, rather than beginning with the understanding that we deserve to exist in these spaces and to be supported, considered, and served with the same care as everybody else.
BIPOC faculty are often brought into violent and unstable environments as a rushed response to calls for diversity and inclusion, without putting the structures in place for us to feel fully supported in the work we do. Oftentimes, BIPOC faculty experience extreme burnout and exhaustion as a result of these institutional failures. True decolonization of academia cannot be placed on the shoulders of BIPOC faculty and students. This is not work we can or should be expected to do alone. It has to be collective, intentional, and ongoing. The institution has to already be genuinely committed to doing that work before bringing us into the equation.
Sadly, these problems trickle down to students. I have seen students leave art institutions deeply traumatized, feeling as though their perspectives were never supported or valued. Too often, institutions expect students to mold themselves to fit existing systems, even when it comes at the cost of their authentic voices, life stories, and experiences. BIPOC students are often expected not only to educate their peers, but also to educate faculty about their lived experiences. I believe it should be the other way around. Faculty and institutions should educate themselves and be willing to change and grow so they are better prepared to support the students they currently serve and those they want to serve.
It is our responsibility as faculty to mentor and support all students. I especially want BIPOC students to feel that they belong, that they are listened to, cared for, valued, and seen. My biggest hope is that academic institutions can become places where students do not simply learn how to survive, but where they are actually able to thrive.

ES: What’s next for you as an artist?
LM: I’m currently working on a project currently titled “The fermenting Archive” that thinks about archives, forms of representation, and the ways we pass down knowledge in more alive and opaque ways. I’m using bacteria and biomaterials, such as plants, seeds, and other natural materials tied to El Salvador and the different places I have called home. I’m combining images of my family and chosen kin in places where they feel safe with images of other places that have been significant in my own life. I print or cast these images into bioplastics made from those natural materials, and then use bacteria collected from the sites where the images were made to create cultures, ferments, and archives of place and my loved ones. The bacteria collected from those sites mix with the microbes of the place where I am making the work, as well as the microbes already present in the natural materials themselves, creating a layered microbial archive.
I’m deeply interested in the ways bacteria can pass down knowledge across generations, such as through our gut microbiomes. This feels especially important when colonization, war, and displacement have destroyed traditional archives.
In this work, I’m working toward creating counter-archives that museums cannot collect. These works reject the polished aesthetics of the institutional archive and the spectacle so often demanded of marginalized bodies in art spaces. Instead, the images become living sites of collaboration between my loved ones, the microbes present in the work, and the natural materials I use. In some ways, the process also allows me to release control and let go of traditional ideas of authorship. The bacteria and materials I am working with have minds of their own, and part of the excitement is that they continue to transform the work in ways I cannot fully predict or control. The work really insists on its own timeline.
It has been really fun and challenging to learn about microbiology and chemistry through a process of constant experimentation. A lot of the work begins with me asking, “What would happen if I mixed A, B, and C?” Then I do it and observe what happens. I enjoy that process of learning through making, “failures”, and observation.

Last semester was incredibly busy with exhibitions, so I’m excited to slow down for a while and just focus on making and experimenting, and spending time with my students in the classroom supporting their work.

STUDENT WORK

©Emmaline Carter, Here, the violents always grow, 2023

©Emmaline Carter, Untitled, 2025

©Emmaline Carter, On location and care installation image, Index Gallery, University of Dayton, OH 2024

Lorena was my professor and mentor throughout my undergraduate education, and I had the privilege of working as one of her artist assistants during the summer of 2021. I truly cannot overstate the impact Lorena has had on my life. She approaches teaching with the utmost care and wisdom, challenging her students to think critically about their work and to consider the ethical responsibilities that come with making images. She helped me find the words to articulate my ideas and gave me the confidence to trust them. She advocated for us whenever we needed her and cultivated spaces where we felt safe enough to experiment and be vulnerable. The transformation I experienced in Lorena’s classes continues to shape the way I make work today. I know with certainty that I would not be the artist I am today without her mentorship, and I feel so lucky that she continues to be a part of my life.
Emmaline Carter
BFA University of Cincinnati’s School of Design, Architecture, Art, and Planning in 2022
Website: emmalinecarter.com
IG: @emmalinekncarter

©Jacinto Deleon, Apo, 2026

©Jacinto Deleon, Blindside

Lorena Molina was my professor during my BFA program at the University of Houston and has continued to mentor me beyond academia. Countless words come to mind when I think of Lorena, but if there was a word, I see her as clairvoyant. Through her structure, curiosity, patience, and generosity, she helped me become confident in trusting my own convictions; encouraging me to approach photography not just as a medium of image-making, but as a way of investigating the histories, questions, and experiences that shape how we understand ourselves and the world around us. Lorena is such a remarkable educator not because she brings out the best in people, but because she helps them recognize the parts of themselves they were always capable of becoming. She has an extraordinary gift for revealing what is already there, and even as my practice continues to transform, her teachings remain a blueprint that is gratefully held through my process.
Jacinto Deleon
BFA 2025
Website: jacintodeleon.com
IG: @jaxiclez

01_Pit_2026_plywood, archival pigment prints, ink

03_Surface_2026_plywood, archival pigment print_a (1)

04_Metal_2026_detail a_20x20 inches_copper wire, archival pigment print, plywood (2)

With Lorena’s mentorship, whether writing or producing work, I am answering to every eventuality that comes my way as I step into the studio. Lorena has taught me to ask the important questions in my work: What is my trajectory as an artist and what is fueling that trajectory? She has been an indispensable mentor in helping me find meaning and value in what I practice and who I am as an artist. She has demonstrated what it means to practice sustainably and profoundly, asking what is the best work I can do in the current moment. Working with Lorena, I have come to understand my focus and what I need to do each time I enter the studio, which is an immense gift of clarity.
Leyla Rzayeva,
MFA 2027 San Francisco State University
Website: rzayeva.com
IG: @ leylajamilrzayeva

Filter Space - try, take time – take time, try - install view 2026

i witness, i Observe, i am not, i am - 2024

I was lucky to have been a student at the University of Cincinnati’s college of DAAP when Lorena Molina began her tenure there in the Photography area in the School of Art. I got to work with her from 2018-2020 as a student, and consistently from there since – she is someone I truly look up to as a mentor and possibility model. Lorena laid the groundwork for a multitude of different ways I now approach being an educator, an artist, and just as a person in general. One of the most insightful qualities that I reflect on is her ability to dually show up with a thoroughly considered sense of directness and thoroughness while still holding space for tenderness and care in conversation, lectures and critiques.This incredibly considered balance shaped the framework of my ideals towards the poise of support and effectiveness I now strive for in my own practices and processes. Beyond this she is a person that simultaneously invests in herself and her students to instigate collaboration, curiosity, community, and care that truly pushed and fostered an environment to help me grow into the artist that I am today. I hold a large amount of gratitude and appreciation for all of the times I have gotten to work with her and still reflect on her guidance often.
Jesse Ly
BFA 2020
Website: jessely.com
IG @jessely

Lorena Molina is a Salvadoran multidisciplinary artist, educator, and curator. She is an Assistant Professor of Studio Art Practice at San Francisco State University and the founder and director of Third Space Gallery, a community space and gallery dedicated to supporting and highlighting BIPOC artists. Third Space began in Cincinnati in 2022 and will open its new gallery space in San Francisco in Fall 2026

At the core of her work is an exploration of spatial inequalities and the challenges that oppressed groups face in constructing place and establishing a sense of belonging. The work is driven by a deep sense of displacement experienced after a 12-year-old civil war forced her and her family to migrate to the United States. Most of her work stems from a need to find and build community in a way that it’s both tender, accountable, challenging through difficult conversations that makes everybody involved actively question their position and privileges in society

She is also a founding member of Becoming Sticky, a collective with Central American artists Tesora Garcia and Martin Wannam. The collective examines Equatorial Vision and how Central American artists make, imagine, and circulate images through collaborative research, exhibitions, and public programming.

Molina received her Master of Fine Arts from the University of Minnesota in 2015 and her Bachelor of Fine Arts from California State University, Fullerton in 2012. Molina has been the recipient of numerous awards and fellowships, including being named a finalist for the 2026 SFMOMA SECA Art Award, the Diversity of Views Fellowship, the Christopher Cardozo Fellowship, two Truth and Reconciliation Grants from ArtsWave, Hot Picks by Smack Mellon, the Vacant to Vibrant Grant, the Fotofocus Exhibition Grant, The Idea Fund, the Artpace International Residency, and the Kala Art Institute Fellowship.
Her work has been exhibited and performed nationally and internationally, including at the Contemporary Arts Center (Cincinnati), The Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art, the Southeast Museum of Photography, Art League, Houston, Assembly Projects (Houston), Wave Pool Gallery, The Carnegie (Covington, KY), Vox Populi, FSU Museum of Fine Arts, EXPO Chicago, The Armory Show, The Rubin Center, SF Camerawork, The Berkeley Art Center, Root Division, The Beijing Film Academy, and across the piazzas of Florence, Italy.
Her work has been reviewed and featured in Hyperallergic, Glasstire, Eazel, The Wall Street Journal, The Careful Photograph with Tarrah Krajnak, Burnaway, Artillery, Ocula, Collector Daily, CAA Reviews, UnderMain, Movers and Makers, CityBeat, LENSCRATCH, Square Cylinder, AEQAI, Not Real Art, The Columbus Dispatch, BTW Berkshires, Latino News Network, Rice Thresher, The Daily Tar Heel, Syracuse New Times, The Daily Orange, the Document Journal, and among others.
Her curatorial work includes Photography and Tenderness co-curated with Eliza Gregory at Wavepool Gallery, Flowers for Here at Third Space Gallery, Learning Curve at the Houston Center for Photography, On Belonging at Third Space Gallery, and slow burn at the Fine Arts Gallery at SFSU.

Website: lorenamolina.com
Instagram: @thirdspacegallery.cincy
Exhibitions:
Mud + Corn + Stone + Blue, a traveling exhibition curated by Laura Augusta that has been touring for the past two years, will have its final presentation at the Tarble Arts Center at Eastern Illinois University this August.
My work in the exhibition, For the Return, will also be shown at La Nueva Fábrica in Guatemala beginning October 10.