Artist Gabriela Ruiz on Fantasy, Time Travel, and the Audacity to Imagine

Curate LA
11 min readSep 30, 2021

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Interview by Donasia Tillery

Artist Gabriela Ruiz. Photo by Eduardo Acierno

Artist and fashion designer Gabriela Ruiz is best known for immersive scenes of neon hues, sensory heights, and unrepentant fantasy. Synthesizing diverse media ranging from painting and video to performance and sculpture, Ruiz’s artwork is as multifaceted as its creator, inviting viewers to honor their interiority in a world obsessed with external perceptions.

A native of Los Angeles’s San Fernando Valley, Ruiz is the child of Mexican immigrants whose rich artistic traditions animate her fearless and vibrant aesthetic. Ruiz remains intentional in honoring that legacy, attributing her genius not to institutions or elitist frameworks, but to the communities that nurture her. The secret to outstanding art, it seems, lies in the alchemical labor of self-acceptance. Time and time again, Gabriela Ruiz gives us gold.

I sat down to speak with the art world’s burgeoning star to discuss how she’s transformed trauma into beauty, led by her inner child who always knew that art would chart her path home.

Donasia Tillery: I first just want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I’ve really been so moved by your work and appreciate your time. So to get started, could you share a little about yourself and the role that your art practice plays in your life?

Gabriela Ruiz. Photo by Eric Javier Mejia.

Gabriela Ruiz: At the moment, I’m actually doing art full time! I never thought in a million years that I would be an artist. I think I wanted to do fashion before and the more I started to express myself with different media, I realized that art is something that I could pursue. I was painting since I was younger. Decorating my room, experimenting with painting on clothing. Painting in all senses. It came so naturally to me. Now it’s become a career and I can proudly say “I’m an artist.”

DT: I love that answer because I think a lot of times, the way that we think of a “true artist” has a lot to do with very elitist paradigms. But I think that for a lot of people, it does happen that way, right? Where you realize, in hindsight, I was always doing this. And it’s kind of a natural transition to make art a professional endeavor. I’m so glad for you!

GR: Thank you!

DT: One thing I really appreciate about your work is how present you are within it. And I mean that in a physical sense — whether that be in a performative capacity or representationally as sculpture. I would really love to hear you speak some about how embodiment plays into your work.

‘Full of Tears’ (installation view) (2019). Photo by Monica Orozco.

GR: I’ve always been a bigger person my entire life. I’ve never been the skinny girl or anything. And it’s just something that I’ve had to deal with growing up and figuring out ways to navigate the world around that. I made amends with how my body is. It’s just not the thing that I think about. I’m just like, I’m gonna do what everybody else is doing. And I’m going to express myself.

When I mold my body, I’m molding the body that I have. I’m not molding the body that I want it to be, or an ideal. It’s just who I am and what I’m coming with. And I think of everything in that sense. Even with fashion. When I look for clothes and things don’t fit me, I will manage to make things in another way. So it’s just kind of always working around the body, and not highlighting it. I can’t change who I am. So that’s how I look at life in every aspect. Working with what I have.

DT: I really appreciate that perspective. That it’s not necessarily some grand effort in representation but, rather, finding freedom in self-acceptance.

GR: Yes, exactly.

DT: The theme of self-acceptance feels very present in your recent solo exhibition, “Grounding, Prevent from Flying” at LaPau Gallery. I would love to hear about your process for that exhibition and what you were hoping to achieve with this heightened multisensory experience.

GR: Yeah so for this installation, I first thought of the color blue. It represented this past year and a half. Being in quarantine, you really got to sit down with yourself and reflect on a lot of things. With me going to therapy, one thing that we’ve talked about a lot was grounding myself to control my anxiety.

‘Grounding, Prevent from Flying’ (Installation View) (2021). Photo by Penelope Luna.

The sound of the installation had to do with how I can replicate these sounds in my head. I feel like everyone has these voices in our heads that no one can hear. And I’m always trying to see how I can achieve showing people what’s inside of my head.

From Above” detail (2021). Photo by Salvador Lara.

The sandbox represents being connected with my inner child. And how that inner child from your past will remain with you until you die, I feel. I’m just speaking with myself. Sometimes I glance into my everyday activities, and I feel like my little self is talking to me like “wow, we’re adults now!” I don’t know if you’ve had that. You sit there and you’re like “oh my god, you’re an adult!” You’re doing adult activities. And you know, I think people that had a lot of trauma growing up, that child stays with them forever. There’s a point in your life where the little you didn’t grow up. They didn’t leave that thing behind.

“El Camino Solo” (2021). Photo by Penelope Luna.

DT: Wow, absolutely. So much of the exhibition is very dynamic — from the sounds and neon lights to the shifting sand — while the two pieces on the walls are the only stationary elements. They seem to mirror one another, and serve as a profound backdrop. What do they signify?

GR: With those pieces, I wanted to simulate my past self and my future self. The piece with the in-depth walkway was supposed to represent the past. It has alternate dimensions. Those alternate dimensions are broken and they represent those hard times you’ve dealt with as you walk your path.

The other piece was supposed to represent the future self. And that’s why I casted my body into it. It’s supposed to represent me in the sky — kind of guiding myself for the future. The piece is called “From Above.” The little plexi piece is supposed to represent wings on my body, sort of like an angel guiding me. I’m in the sky with thunder and the birds. I use technology a lot and it’s also about surveillance, how I can’t even imagine how surveillance is going to be in the future.

“From Above” (2021). Photo by Penelope Luna.

DT: I’m so glad that you brought up the surveillance aspect of “From Above,” which records visitors. You do a lot of interesting things playing with the interior space vs. the exterior space. On one hand, so much of the exhibition is about an inner exploration of who you’ve been and who you’ll become. And at the same time, there is the surveillance element with the cameras constantly recording. How does that figure in for you?

GR: Well my family has a handy crew business and my dad works with a lot of surveillance cameras. So I grew up with lots of cameras around. In the hallways, kitchen, the living room, outside. We have cameras everywhere. So I feel like I’m constantly being watched, you know? Being around so many cameras, I’ve been so used to them. So when I see surveillance footage from outside of buildings, and you can see your little self, the reality is like wow… you kind of ignore what they’re really meant to do.

When I put them in my work, people interact well with them. Like “oh let’s take photos.” But in reality they don’t understand what the whole thing is. I’m literally watching everything you’re doing. I think that’s even what’s happening with our phones. You know how they say that apparently, they stalk our phones, and that agents can see us? I don’t think they even need to do that. I think we give away so much information that there’s not really any privacy, you know?

DT: Yeah, it definitely is something you become desensitized to and it’s alarming when you become conscious of it, which your work asks viewers to do. In that way, your work seems to really be asking us to question the nature of the reality we live in. I do notice a lot of fantasy elements in your work which I experience not as escapism but as actually stepping into something. I’m interested to know a bit more about the role of fantasy in your work. Is it something that you would even consider fantasy?

Gabriela Ruiz’s performance for the closing of rafa esparza’s ‘de la Calle’ at the Institute of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles (courtesy the artist and Oxy Arts

GR: Yes! You know how they talk about time travel? And they’ve been trying to figure out ways to time travel? Well I think, with our brains it’s very easy to time travel. Well, for me it is. For me, it’s very easy to go back to a certain time. And I can remember the sights, the smell. I can feel the weather. I can go back into that time to fulfill that inner child and what they didn’t get. And I feel like there’s always been fantasy in everything that I did growing up. Because I experienced trauma at a young age, I got really good at disassociating and imagining these things in my head. I just imagined these fantasies.

DT: I really appreciate you sharing that with me. It just speaks to the way that we inherently have the capacity to save ourselves in very challenging situations. I think there’s a hidden gift in the capacity to decide the world that you live in.

I find it interesting that we arrived at this moment of talking about your upbringing and home. It’s something I think a lot about when I look at your work. I’m thinking specifically of Haus, and of the CDMX exhibition where you have these items that we often associate with the domestic space and you put them in public space. Could you speak some about how you use these domestic items — whether they be mirrors or furniture? What is the motivating force behind blurring those lines between the home and the public domain?

‘Haus’ (Installation View) (2017). Photo by David Vassalli.

GR: The older I get, I think my end goal in life is just to have something that I can call my own. I think all I’ve ever wanted was just a home, a space where I can create just for myself and be at peace.

Growing up, during my most memorable years, we lived in this tiny apartment with two rooms. The tiny kitchen, the dining room, everything was so close together. We had to share rooms so I’ve always had to share my space with others. Before living there, I remember I was in the third grade and my brother came to pick me up. And he told me, “don’t be scared but the house burned down.” When I arrived at the apartment, the whole apartment was burned down. And then I realized, wow everything I thought I had just went away. All the toys that I had just bought were burned. Everything.

When you see these furniture pieces that I use, I’m creating this fantasy space that I didn’t have. That piece that I made for CDMX, I wanted to create a room. A really abstract and whimsical room in the space. So I think that home has always been something that I’ve always wanted.

CDMX Public Installation, Mexico City (2018). Photo by Eduardo Acierno.

DT: I think so many people have that experience of asking where, exactly, is home? I think the beautiful thing about what you’re doing with your art is that you’re showing people that the creative space can be a form of liberation in that sense.

You’ve talked a lot about your family and about your background. I’m interested to know how your heritage figures into what you produce as an artist.

Ruiz photographed with “Reflexion” (2019). Photo by Bibs Moreno.

GR: I 100% think it does. I relate a lot with first generation struggles, how people are sort of stuck outside of what your parents want you to be — the nurse, the doctor, the lawyer. I’ve had friends from everywhere, as first generations, they tell me that being artists is so scary for their family to even grasp that their child wants to be that. So I can relate with that a lot. How I was raised, and everything around me, at the end of the day, it’s still me. I inherited all of that. I can’t relate to anyone else’s experience, you know?

DT: For sure. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy but I’m happy that you’ve created the space to live in your authenticity.

The last thing that I want to ask you is: If there is a particular theme or lesson that you hope people take away from your art, what would that be?

GR: Just be yourself. Be 100% yourself. That will look so different for everyone. I hope so.

Gabriela Ruiz. Photo by Eric Javier Mejia.

DT: Yes, just witnessing someone be exactly who they are does give others permission to do the same. And I think that you are achieving that. Thank you for everything that you give us.

GR: You’re so kind. Thanks so much.

Follow Gabriela Ruiz on Instagram at @gabrielaxruiz and visit Ruiz’s website to view more work. All images courtesy of the artist.

Donasia Tillery is a writer, artist, and reiki practitioner based in Los Angeles, CA. She earned her MA in Africana Studies from New York University. Her work explores art as a mode of self-actualization, communal healing, and cultural evolution. Find her on Instagram @donasiatillery and on her website.

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