Can you tell me about a source(s) of inspiration?
My inspiration is centered around the theme of perception—how we see and connect with what we see, influenced by our personal histories and the filters we’ve accumulated over time. I’m drawn to exploring moments and sensations that often go unnoticed but resonate deeply with my own experiences. This exploration manifests in various ways, from observing the light in a place or the quality of the sky to recalling memories of places I’ve lived. These perceptions often surface before I even enter the studio and continue to shape my creative process as I interact with materials—considering their colors, weight, fragility, and impermanence. For me, materials are an essential part of my artistic language, often conveying deeper truths about life than words alone could ever express. My work is also shaped by past physical and mental experiences, as well as by readings in philosophy, politics, or literature. At times, it responds to significant events in my personal history, transforming into biographical reflections with a socio-political dimension.
Marisa Telleria in her studio at Dimensions Variable, Miami.
—
Can you share your creative process?
Whether I’m working on individual 2D or 3D pieces or larger installations, ideas come to me in different ways—sometimes before I enter the studio and other times during the creative process itself. Generally, I begin by observing subtle details in my surroundings: the light, colors, and textures that are easy to overlook. These impressions guide the ideas and forms I develop in the studio. Using a mix of traditional and ephemeral materials, I explore qualities like transparency, weight, and texture, considering how each element adds to a minimalist yet layered expression. Each piece is almost a meditation, where I build and subtract to reveal the essence of each material. At times, I work like a painter, layering elements to create shifts in light and depth, and at others, my approach is more sculptural, focusing on the spatial presence of the work. Each piece emerges from this balance, aiming to capture a quiet resonance that engages the viewer through simplicity of form and richness of subtle details.
Untitled (Celeste), 2023. Fabric, foam, rubber string, 20 x 11 x 1.5 in.
—
What are you working on these days?
These days, I’m working on a new body of work that builds on my interest in perception, abstraction, and our relationship to physical phenomena. I’m exploring the interplay of light, color, and materiality across different scales, from intimate to immersive. Through simple compositions and delicate textures, I’m aiming to evoke a quiet, emotional resonance. I’m using transparent mesh and tulle as primary materials, layering them much like a painter would, to study light and color. These works are meditative and sensory, capturing fleeting moments where opposites blend—merging the tangible with the elusive. I’m particularly focused on how each material interacts with light, embracing subtle shifts in tone and form to create spaces that feel intimate yet expansive, free from specific narratives and inviting a sense of silence and introspection.
Azul Distancia/Blue Distance, 2024. Rubber bands of various sizes, installation size 28 x 19 ft. Installation view at Dimensions Variable, Miami.
—
Can you think of a specific artwork that was a turning point for you?
I recall a large-scale, site-specific piece commissioned by the Bell Gallery at Brown University a few years ago. This piece, titled Blushed, marked the culmination of years working in sculpture from a more traditional perspective, using materials like gesso and fiberglass and hand-carving in a highly physical and extremely elaborate process. Blushed consisted of two built room-sized installations that mirrored each other, filled with large, hand-carved objects that occupied the space to create an immersive synesthetic experience for the viewer. This piece, my most ambitious work at that point, made me question the value of large scale and explore the possibility of achieving the same impact with smaller pieces. It also led me to reduce the gestural aspect of my work, to “remove the hand” from the process and the final result, so that my pieces would rely less on scale or my direct intervention and more on their ability to create a vast psychological space for the viewer. Following this experience, my work changed significantly: I reduced the scale, chose more humble materials, and began striving to say much more with much less. Another experience that profoundly shaped my work was returning to live in my home country after 27 years away, having lived in New York and other U.S. cities, including Miami. Coming back meant diving into a deep self-examination, affecting everything from my personal life to my artistic practice, as I found myself between two worlds that couldn’t have been more different. I was faced with a much starker reality, where most people struggle daily with basic needs, scarcity, poverty, and political instability, and where art is understandably not a priority. This forced me to confront essential questions as both a person and an artist—questions I might never have considered in the privileged art world of the U.S., where my concerns were more philosophical, and I took many fundamental things for granted, like the role of art in society, a type of visual language, and an expected audience. Back in my own country, I had to look at my surroundings with fresh eyes, questioning not only what I was creating, but also why, for whom, and to what end—even doubting the relevance of art itself. In a society with such urgent, different needs, dedicating oneself to art can easily seem like an insensitive or frivolous luxury. This line of questioning was crucial, creating a profound shift in my awareness and in my artistic approach.
Left—Untitled (BlueSilver), 2024. Layered fabric, latex string, 28 x 23 x 1.5 in. Right—After Flavin, 2023. Tulle, scrim, foam, twenty two units, each 2 x 16 in.
—
What are some of the biggest challenges you face as an artist?
One of the main challenges facing Miami artists today is keeping an affordable workspace. This is a constant worry also for me. With the brutal rise in real estate prices, this essential need has become increasingly difficult to secure, often directly impacting the development of ideas and work. Space limitations often slow creative growth, which adds a further challenge to maintaining an artistic practice, particularly in a city where art has yet to take center stage in everyday life. Another challenge is the level of opportunities, support and recognition local artists receive. While other cities are known for their commitment to local talent-with strong engagement from institutions, curators and collectors- Miami’s attention is often focused on other art scenes elsewhere, leaving some local artists underrepresented. Practices that are common and automatically expected in other cities, such as studio visits by curators, collectors or gallerists, In Miami seem to require a bigger effort and are therefore significantly less frequent. The term “community” so often invoked in Miami’s art world, can sometimes feel like it lacks depth and authentic support. As an “art community,” I believe we could do better, particularly in fostering greater camaraderie and mutual support among artists as well as art professionals.
How do you envision the Miami Art Scene unfolding in the near future?
I see Miami on the cusp of becoming a major art capital. It’s a city full of vibrancy, yet it’s still often seen more as a vacation spot than as a respected cultural center. But I believe that’s gradually changing. Miami’s unique mix of cultures, with people from all over Latin America and beyond, brings an incredible richness to the city. This blend is creating a layered and authentic cultural fabric that’s beginning to draw serious interest. We have more artists choosing Miami as their base, adding to this dynamic landscape, and I think it’s only a matter of time before Miami’s art scene gains the recognition it deserves. However, for this growth to be sustainable, local support is essential. Artists need spaces, affordable housing, and resources to stay here and thrive. If Miami can find a balance between its rapid growth and a commitment to art and culture, the city could offer a truly unique creative environment that’s deeply tied to its heritage and multicultural identity. I’m hopeful that Miami’s future holds a stronger infrastructure for artists, fostering an environment where we don’t just live, but where we can also evolve and be fully supported in our work.
Untitled, Modular (dawn), 2023. Canvas, wood, fabric, acrylic paint, seven units, each 6 x 6 in.
—
What is something you would like the community to know about you?
One thing I’d like the community to know is that my path has been one of circles and returns. After leaving Nicaragua with my family as a political exile at a young age, Miami was my first home in the U.S. before I went on to study and develop my career in other cities. I returned to Nicaragua when democracy was restored, but political shifts forced me to leave once again, bringing me back to Miami—my home for the second time. Having been away while Miami’s art scene began to blossom, reconnecting now has been exciting but also challenging. The scene here is vibrant and fastpaced, with events and exhibitions almost weekly, and it’s amazing to see how Miami has transformed. But I’m also “old school” and deeply value studio time, silence, and focus for my work, which can be hard to balance with Miami’s energetic art scene. In today’s art world, where ultra-exposure seems to take precedence—where it often feels more important to show up at every event, post on social media, or highlight who you know than to truly dedicate time to developing your work—it’s a real challenge to keep a balance and stay relevant. But I believe the key is to know who you are and be at peace with it, remembering that, in the long run, what truly matters is what endures—not the persona, but the work itself.