Marisol Fila

A collage that pictures a wood illuminated by sunlight on the left with a yellow, orange, pink, red, blue, purple, green, and brown flower pasted over the trees. On the top right of the collage, we see a picture of a corner of a house with a group of plants and three Buddha figures, and on the bottom left, there is a picture of a tattooed pomegranate with red flowers and a pink bun. The two images are placed on top of a photograph of stardust.

Rituals to me are a collection of superimposed actions, connections, feelings, and embodiments that traverse spaces, time, and geographies. Rituals are the tattoos that I get when I travel to my hometown in Buenos Aires, the uneven plants that I have been gathering throughout these years in Ann Arbor, the Buddha figures that represent one of the most important rituals of my life that is my yoga practice, and the beauty, imperfection, balance, and entropy that nature means. Rituals are not always sacred and fixed, rituals are change and openness, discovery and experimentation. Like this collage, this juxtaposition of hand-colored objects, photographs, tape, and cardboard. Rituals are imagination, rhizomatic ideas, air, energy, but also soil. And groundedness.