Bird Woman
The inspiration for this collection stems from within, born in a moment where, while searching for elements and materials, I found myself in a complex yet challenging situation.
Since childhood, I experienced circumstances at home that became daily exercises, shaping my personality in ways I couldn’t fully understand at the time.
Symbolically, I would think out loud about leaving home, flying away to chase something that, while unclear back then, felt like a cloud brimming with dreams and desires. Through this abstract thought, I discovered the possibility of shaping ideas over time.
For me, flight is the opportunity to explore and see everything from every angle, to learn and build my plumage, to curl up when I feel vulnerable, to heal, and to reinvent myself.
I have become a bird woman, rebuilt by hope. My heart began to beat again in the face of adversity.
I continue, and will always continue, flying with other bird women.
Clayre Coello
Mujer Pájaro
In a whisper carried by the wind, the song of a bird echoed from the crown of an old tree—a guardian whose bark betrayed its ancient age, a timeless witness to a land tilled endlessly by the gentle hands of weary men.
Between the beak and the hoe, the earth was furrowed, and between dreams and birds, the sky was carved, my grandmother declared, lifting her gaze toward the mantle that cradles life.
In a rural landscape where nature stood tall and majestic, the laborers of the world lay curved and drenched.
I was just a young girl, with aspirations far grander than what grew in the trenches of the earth. Awake, I soared, singing like a bird that chirps with joy.
"Listen closely, my child. You are origin and legacy, freedom and resilience. Your ember reshapes history and turns it feminine," my mother whispered in my ear.
Those words, spoken in a hushed tone, revealed the silence of a patriarchal yoke—the source of an oppressive, ancestral, and malign force assigned at birth and consecrated in the name of womanhood.
I thought to myself that imposition is merely the fear of opposing strength, and in that reflection, the sky became adorned with birds.
The subtle flutter of the creature’s wings overwhelms the powerless, and yet, its smaller frame was no barrier to learning how to fly.
That day, the restraints of composure dissolved, and in a fledgling attempt, I began to run uphill.
The wind carried me in a hypnotic current, while the growing yearning for takeoff intertwined with the dreams of my predecessors.
That day, the desire of an untamed soul soared through the sky of dreams and realized that we had all been born with invisible wings—wings that, through our own will, offer us freedom.
Sara Coello
