Isabel Cisneros

Viewing Isabel Cisneros’ sculptures inevitably leads us to a reading with different levels of perception. The reason for this is her constant practice. Her works, imbued with feminine subtlety and poetic emotion, contain elements of abstraction, geometry, analysis, and reasoning. This reasoning is evident in how she chooses her materials, how she uses them, and how she structures them.

Isabel Cisneros considers herself a weaver of the most unusual materials: “I am a textile artist, a weaver, a researcher of textile production systems and crafts. I am interested in intertwining, knotting, tying, and ornamentation made with threads, buttons, and fasteners,” but also with clay and paper.

The meticulousness of her work shines through in her sculptures. For her, all her works have a name and a story that comes about through the long hours invested in the creative process. In this way, memory is shaped as an essential part of her artistic discourse.

Memory, as the essence of Isabel’s work, is recorded in different ways: “The ceramic process is also a process of memory, it has a timeline, its production is slow, you can’t rush clay.” With other materials, Isabel talks about another kind of memory, that of a material, such as a button or a zipper, which already existed, waiting to be turned into a sculptural piece.

“The more you resemble yourself, the more honest, solid, and authentic your work is.” Her pieces are the same inside and out. Isabel does not alter the original color of the materials, and the clay lacks glaze because that is where the concept of integrity is implicit.

The resilience and adaptability of his sculptures to the surface on which they stand, to the touch of those who handle them, and his fascination with working with resources that impose limitations on him are all intentional. Behind this lies a profound political stance, a reaction rooted in what it means to live in a country with characteristics as unusual as those of Venezuela today.

“Shall we talk about the material and what it represents? Clay is total freedom; it has infinite possibilities. Other materials, such as metal, plastics, buttons, tubes, cylinders, even paper, are pre-made. They are the complete opposite of what I have with clay: they impose a limit on me, and I love that limit, as a game. Paper has some charming qualities: it has literary content, it has texts and images printed on it that relate to what I want to say. The spines of the books I have embroidered have a very political connection.”