Lucrecia Cuevas: Sculptor of Emotions

With serene blue eyes that reflect a sense of fulfillment, Lucrecia Cuevas (Ciudad Victoria, Tamaulipas, 1950) looks back and retraces the twists and turns of a life devoted to art. She studied sculpture at the National School of Painting, Sculpture and Printmaking "La Esmeralda." She has presented 11 solo exhibitions and 43 group shows in both Mexico and the United States. Her talent has found expression not only in sculpture, but also in painting, music, writing, theater, and performance.

Tell me about yourself. Who is Lucrecia Cuevas?

I was born in Ciudad Victoria, Tamaulipas, and for me, it has always been important to return to my roots, to be nourished by the roots of my hometown, my people, my large family. I am a very sensitive person, and now I’ve been able to become a calmer, happier woman. For many years, I didn’t have the chance to be at peace.

What was your childhood like? Were you interested in art from a young age?

I had a father who was a painter, and from a young age he taught me about art. He would sit me down with him and show me his books. He loved the Impressionists, especially Gauguin and Turner… He was very good at watercolor painting and took me to all kinds of exhibitions. When I was about 13, he got me a teacher so I could start working with molds, and he also took me to a sculptor, Salvador Moreno, who had a huge workshop full of cobwebs. He gave me my first easel—which I still have—and a tin-covered box to store clay. My dad always supported me. And my mom—well, she could have been a great sculptor. She modeled cookies and made wonderful embroidery; she was very sensitive too. My great-aunt in Ciudad Victoria was the first to notice I had a talent for sculpture when I was a child. She took me to buy modeling clay and set up a small room for me to work in. Also, another great-aunt who lived across the street and taught cake decoration taught me to work with sugar paste. She made brides for wedding cakes and taught me how to make flowers and bridal gowns. It was a lot of fun—I was about eight or ten years old then. Ciudad Victoria and my family there were a major influence in my life.

What is your relationship with art?

Art has always been a part of me—always. I’ve explored not just sculpture but also painting, drawing, writing, and I was also a singer—I made a living from singing for many years. I’ve also composed music and made two albums. My life has always been immersed in art. I come from a family of artists. Besides my dad, there were people in theater, researchers, writers, poets… a bit of everything. So I didn’t have to choose. There’s a saying that art chooses you, and yes, since I grew up in that environment, it was the most natural thing for me.

What themes do you explore in your work?

Well, there’s something interesting: I work from the inside out. That means I use all kinds of emotions and then express them to the world. When you do that, your work becomes universal, because all human beings experience those same emotions. For example, Diego Rivera worked the other way around—from the outside in. Not that his work wasn’t universal, but it wasn’t infused with that powerful emotion that comes when you work from the inside out.

Which artists have influenced you?

Giacomo Manzù, the Italian sculptor, and Francisco Zúñiga, who was a teacher at the school I attended. Lucía Maya has been very important to me; Ricardo Anguía as well; and of course, Toledo. Also Arturo Rivera, who was a great painter. And inspiration doesn’t come only from visual artists, but also from literature, film, and photography.

What obstacles have you faced as an artist?

On the one hand, the whole sales and promotion aspect is very difficult. You tend to focus more on creating, on being in the studio, making things. But the other part is just as important, and I wasn’t taught that in school. I learned it gradually, through some very tough experiences. For example, the first time I took my sculpture to a prestigious gallery in Polanco, Mexico City, the owner came out, looked me over, and said, “Look, you have a lot of talent, but I only have time for the big names. I don’t have time for you.” And bam, she slammed the door in my face. In another sculpture gallery, I brought my work in cardboard boxes, and one of the wings of a piece was sticking out. The owner glanced at it and said, “I’m not interested,” turned around, and walked away. In Monterrey, a gallery owner told me, “I don’t sell that kind of thing here.” Gallery owners have always been a tough challenge in my life. Also, when I was about seven months pregnant, I started working at a newspaper as an illustrator. The man who received the work was horrible—he would stare at me and invited me for coffee. When I declined, he said, “You draw like a man. When you start drawing like a woman, I’ll accept your work.” All because I wouldn’t have coffee with him. Of course, there have been exceptions, like Estela Shapiro, a wonderful woman who invited me to exhibit at her gallery alongside Rodolfo Morales. A very important course also helped me a lot—“The Art of Making a Living from Art” by Felipe Ehrenberg. I learned many things there that I was never taught before.

Do you believe art can transform reality?

Yes, absolutely. I believe all types of artistic expression affect reality. Not that they change it completely, but they help. I don’t belong to any political party, but my way of fighting and expressing everything I feel in defense of women—I’ve always been very feminist—has been through art. And yes, change happens. Something changes. At the very least, people feel more, live more, when they see the work. I remember an exhibition I had at the Pemex Tower in Mexico City. A woman entered the room, and upon seeing the work, she began crying intensely and shouting, “I don’t want to see this! I don’t want to see it!”

There are other times when people laugh a lot, because there are two sides to my work: the tragic and the playful. I’m always moving from one to the other, and back again. But yes, people are deeply affected, and that changes something inside them, doesn’t it? 

(...)  I work from the inside out. That means I use all kinds of emotions and then express them to the world. When you do that, your work becomes universal, because all human beings experience those same emotions.

What is “Brides, Mermaids, and Other Dreams” about?

It’s a retrospective of 89 pieces, covering from when I first started working through many stages and different ways of seeing art. There’s the joyful, fun side, and also the sad and anguished side. There’s quite a bit of craftsmanship too, because to survive—in addition to singing—I did a lot of craftwork: trophies, commissions. There are also some of my most recent pieces. For years, I wanted to make brides, but they always turned out cheesy. And I loved making mermaids, but I couldn’t figure out how to combine the two—until I did. And that made me very happy because I thought, “Ah, I finally figured this out!” That’s why it’s called Brides and Mermaids. The latest pieces—bride mermaids—came about because I wanted to start working in high-temperature ceramics, but I haven’t had the opportunity. So I started using plates from the kitchen and working with modeling clay. Even though I knew I might not be able to make molds later, I didn’t care. What mattered was that I had a lot of fun, and I was thrilled making all these colorful, joyful pieces.

And you ran out of plates.

And I ran out of plates (laughs).

What has been your greatest challenge?

Staying true to myself. That has always been very important—being true and not straying from my path.

Your most satisfying achievement?

Balancing my life as an artist with being a woman, a mother, and now a grandmother. That balance has been very important.

And your most meaningful lesson?

That you need a lot of discipline and love. Rodin, the French sculptor, said that only 1% is inspiration and 99% is working on the sculpture, on the pieces. He worked from Monday through midday Sunday and only rested Sunday afternoons.

What message would you give to girls, young women, and women who dream of a career in the art world?

First of all, listen to your heart. And if you’re convinced, you have to accept both the wonderful part and the difficult part—because there is a lot of difficulty too. Also, be very informed about what’s going on in the art world. That’s essential to keep growing, to sell, and through those sales to keep working. But most of all, stay true to yourselves.

There’s a quote by Rilke that I love and that has always been my guide:

Ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write? And if the answer rings out in assent, if you meet this solemn question with a strong, simple ‘I must,’ then build your life in accordance with this necessity. Perhaps you are called to be an artist; then take that burden and greatness upon yourself, and bear it without seeking reward from outside. Works of art are of an infinite solitude and nothing can reach them but love. All is gestation and then birthing.

—Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Visit the exhibition "Brides, Mermaids, and Other Dreams: A Retrospective of Lucrecia Cuevas" through Sunday, June 1st at the Centro Cultural Antiguo Colegio Jesuita in Pátzcuaro. Open Tuesday to Saturday from 10:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m., and Sunday from 11:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. Free admission.