Collaboration, mentorship, and a deep sense of community define San Antonio’s art scene. People build meaningful connections with genuine approaches, not mere networking. Artists, curators, and arts administrators support each other by sharing opportunities, fostering mentorship, and creating spaces for meaningful dialogue.
If we focus on women, there are countless names that hold key positions — both within institutions and in the broader community — driving the art scene forward while also serving as mentors for emerging and growing generations.
The exhibition Bitter/Sweet Longing, which opened at Sala Diaz on February 28th, feels like a continuation of this legacy. Although the show did not intend to portray women’s works, the studio visits conducted by curator Casie Lomeli brought up themes of nostalgia and bittersweet memories.
Magaly Cantu, Cheyenne Amaya, Cecilia Sierra, Cassie Lomeli, Bygoe Zubiate, and Ella Brenzel at the opening reception of the exhibit
Showcasing the work of Cheyenne Amaya, Cecilia Sierra, Bygoe Zubiate, Magaly Cantu, and Ella Brenzel, all of them in their early 20s or in the first stages of their careers, the artists explore textiles and mixed media to weave their own identities, telling stories on girlhood and the effects of navigating between tradition and modernization.
In When a Moth Enters Your Home Dallas-based artist Magaly Cantú, analogizes the body as a home, the moth as a symbol of superstition and the omen of death. She recalls generational warnings like “¡Cierra las piernas!” (“Close your legs!”), a phrase passed down as a command to protect the sacred space of womanhood and innocence.
The image of a girl yearning while holding a moth evokes a sense of intrusion, something entering her sacred refuge without permission. Alternatively, it can be read as a confrontation with the challenges of discovering sexuality and pleasure in conservative societies.
Magaly Cantú, “When a Moth Enters Your Home”
In the piece ‘Don’t tell me to get over it’ by San Antonio-based artist Bygoe Zubiate, we see a blue canvas with that phrase occupying all the space. It speaks out against injustice. For some, “get over it” is a phrase commonly used as the easiest response is to silence others, but true bravery is found in speaking the truth, even with tears in the eyes and a trembling voice.
Bygoe Zubiate, “Don’t tell me to get over it”
Pain cannot simply be erased. Healing is more like a spiral: you revisit the same emotions and memories, but each time, you’re a little further along.
In the corner, a small puppy lies down, exhausted, just as if it is someone tired of constantly explaining why certain wounds are not so easily dismissed. You don’t just “get over it” — you learn to carry it, to live with it.
In a second space of the gallery, the piece Cierra las ventanas (Close the Windows) by Magaly Cantú explores the tension between intimacy and exposure. The phrase itself carries an accusatory tone while simultaneously serving as a plea for privacy. Cantú subverts this command by depicting undressing as an act of defiance, reinforcing the recurring analogy of the home as the body and the windows as a symbol of personal boundaries.
A striking element of the lithograph is a pair of white panties hanging from it, stained with menstrual blood — a familiar experience for many young girls as they navigate the transition into womanhood. In many cultures, the arrival of a first period is met with celebration, with aunts, grandmothers, and mothers marking the occasion as the girl steps into a new stage of life. Yet, while this rite of passage is acknowledged with ceremony, it is also a deeply personal and often confusing moment, as one comes to terms with the physical and symbolic changes that accompany the ability to bring new life into the world.
Magaly Cantú, “Cierra las ventanas” (Close the Windows)
The themes in this exhibit, once considered taboo by some, carry a bittersweet resonance in hindsight, just as the title suggests. They capture the tension between secrecy and self-exposure, yet the exhibition and its pieces beautifully illustrate a journey of healing and deconstruction — one that many girls undergo as they transition into womanhood.
There is a noticeable movement toward understanding and honoring the legacy of matriarchal lineage, a deeply rooted presence in Latinx households. This reconnection manifests through ancestral practices such as weaving, cooking, and exploring the healing power of plants — ways of reclaiming wisdom passed down through generations. Yet, this revival does not reject the present; rather, it embraces the complexity of navigating tradition within a rapidly evolving world, where womanhood is continuously being redefined.
Bitter/Sweet Longing will be on view at Sala Diaz through March 30th.
