Purple Magazine
— The Mexico Issue #36 F/W 2021

bárbara sánchez-kane

interview by OLIVIER ZAHM AND ALEPH MOLINARI
portraits by OLIVIER ZAHM
all artwork courtesy of bárbara sánchez-kane and kurimanzutto, mexico city/new york

one of the most important emerging talents in mexico, the artist is known equally for her highly creative fashion brand and her powerful performances, as well as her painting and poetry, in pursuit of a game- changing total art. her concept of the “sentimental macho” deconstructs masculinity, challenges the notion of gender, and combats political violence and the abuse of power.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you’re the current superstar of the Mexico City fashion scene. How does that feel?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Well, I’m new to this scene, actually. It will be three years in August. Before that, I lived in Mérida, and before that, in LA and Italy. My process of getting involved in fashion and art came later in life. And I’m very happy it turned out that way because I was more mature, and I felt that I gained as much information as I could.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you had experience outside of Mexico before returning here?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. I studied industrial engineering in Mérida for four years. I rejected expectations of how a woman should behave in Mexico and what femininity is. I didn’t want to feel connected to that. So, I pushed myself to study engineering — not because I liked it, but because I wanted to study something more difficult that was not expected of a woman.

ALEPH MOLINARI — And was that a way for you to prove to a patriarchal system that you could do it?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah, I was like, “Fuck it.” I could study engineering and be good at it, but I was miserable and depressed. Then at 23, I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. And I was like: “What the fuck am I doing with my life? I don’t like engineering. I hate living in this city. What am I doing here?” After I had surgery and everything went well with the treatments, I told my parents I would quit engineering and study fashion instead. In a way, cancer was the best thing to happen to me because I was not going to die, but it was a slap in the face. At that time, I didn’t even know that I wanted to study fashion. I just knew that I loved clothes. And, to me, fashion was the closest thing to art — using clothing as a form of expression. I applied to several schools and went to study at Polimoda in Florence. I was there for four years before moving to LA to do an internship with Bernhard Willhelm. And then I started building my own brand.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Did he encourage you to start your own brand?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — No, Bernhard was just very cool because he was doing a “futurespective” show of his work at the MOCA Pacific Design Center. It was art, fashion, and queerness. And about having fun, nothing serious. That’s how it should be: fun. I got involved in different things, doing sketches and proposals for the projects that Bernhard was working on. It was a great experience.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Yes, because in LA, there aren’t many fashion people.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. So, then I went back to Mérida. I actually wanted to come to Mexico City, but nobody responded. I would send e-mails saying, “Hey, I have this brand,” but nobody would reply. I used Instagram, Facebook, everything, to contact people. And nothing, until I won VFiles, which is a contest in New York that takes place during Fashion Week. So, I presented a collection in New York, and after that, Mexican publications were like: “Who is this designer? Oh, she’s Mexican!” But I was in Mérida, far from what was happening in the city, until there came a time when I couldn’t stay there any longer because everything was in Mexico City — models, photo shoots, everything. So, finally I moved to Mexico City. At the same time, I presented three collections at New York Fashion Week.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Pretty intense.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah. And after that, I did a show during Milan Fashion Week, but it was a performance. I didn’t feel connected to what I was seeing in the runway shows. It was just models walking — fast, fast, fast. I find it annoying when people say that fashion isn’t art. It is! I see it as a creative process that can engage people and get ideas across. That was when I knew I wanted to do something more. So, every time I did a fashion presentation, I did a performance. The first performance was with Vice and i-D. It included three Mexican designers: Barragán; Ready to Die, which is already dead actually [laughs]; and me. And when my performance ended, people were crying. Literally bawling. I loved it because people got the message.

OLIVIER ZAHM — What were your fashion references as a young Mexican designer? Was it Margiela, Comme des Garçons…?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Margiela was my main reference, growing up. Every time I discovered something new, I was like: “What the fuck? Margiela already did it, obviously!” I also love Alexander McQueen, but more for his performative aspects. So, it’s mostly European designers. American, not so much. When I was applying for internships, I wanted to stay in Europe, so I applied to Walter Van Beirendonck, whom I found to be so funny. I got accepted at Vivienne Westwood as well, but the visa turned out to be a problem. So, I decided to see who was working in America. And Bernhard was there.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, fashion has been a way for you to express yourself since the beginning?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. It has also been ongoing therapy. I met people whom I went to high school with, and they were like: “Bárbara! You were the least creative person.” But what is creativity? At the time, I was insecure and didn’t even want to express myself because the response was always: “You’re crazy! What are you doing?” So, you start feeling like not saying anything because you don’t want to be different. I was super shy and had a double life. The insecurity was always there, building and building. But the creativity was there, too. I feel that everything I do comes from dreams. Everything. I can see something on the street or in a movie, and then it all mixes in the jar, and I wake up with a great idea, and I write it down. Although sometimes I don’t even write it down because I feel that if an idea is yours, it will come back at a certain point.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Let’s talk about your concept of the “sentimental macho,” which is a beautiful expression. What exactly does it mean to you? Does it combine femininity and masculinity?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — A lot of people in Latin America see femininity as sentimental, weak, closer to feelings. Whereas masculinity is perceived as strong, macho, virile. All these attributes are just stupid. I have masculinity, and I have femininity, though there’s a lot tied to masculinity. I guess the only one that needs to get the fuck out is hegemonic masculinity — that’s the only one that should not exist.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Yes. The toxic kind.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — The toxic kind, the hyper-masculine.

ALEPH MOLINARI — Is the “sentimental macho” a new type of gender identity? Is it a man who is sentimental, or is it a woman who is empowered? Or is it the possibility for a new terrain, for new emotions and strength?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, I guess it’s a mix. What I was doing was taking an object and neutralizing the charge, being in touch with the feminine and the masculine. We need to understand that gender is a construction, and it is constantly changing, fluctuating. It depends on political, social, and economic factors. The “sentimental macho” is the construction of an identity that I wanted to push, to be in touch with the feminine and the masculine. And this is all part of a system that we feed. Violence toward women is not necessarily due to hatred of women, but rather a way for other men to prove that they’re more masculine.

OLIVIER ZAHM — It’s a reproduction of masculinity. You have to prove that you are a man to other men. It’s also like, “I can kill this woman, I’m more masculine than you.”
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — It’s even homoerotic. It’s about a hierarchy of power.

ALEPH MOLINARI — There’s a contradiction inherent in Mexican macho culture, a highly repressed and aggressive culture that is oftentimes latently gay. To me, the “sentimental macho” is a way of mediating this conflict. You can be macho, and you can be sentimental.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — You can be everything. And the world puts us in a mold, and then when you don’t fit this mold, you’re like, “Oh, where do I stand now?” In the end, masculinity is super fragile. Before liberalism, the macho in Latin America was macho because of his strength. It wasn’t about money — it was about who’s the strongest. But the power of money changes everything. After the economic crisis and the devaluation of the peso, as women started to work more, men began to question their place as the head of the household. We’ve seen these fractures in the system. And it raises questions of where we as women fit in, as working women, as women who don’t want to have kids.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you’re clearly not anti-men, and you’re not just anti-patriarchy. You’re looking to explore…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, just trying to understand. In the end, gender is a performance, and we perform to gain certain privileges. You want to get something, so you perform in a certain way to obtain it.

OLIVIER ZAHM — But you also perform to prove your identity and to get something from this performance. When we look at your clothes — the big belt, the jean jacket — and your performance accessories, they empower women, right? BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, even the sizing of my clothes is geared at crossdressing. In the beginning, the brand was only men’s clothing. But it’s a process of discovering yourself. When I see past collections, I ask myself, “Why did I do this?” Sometimes I see a collection, and I realize that I need something new. I don’t necessarily know the process or what I want to do in the future. I move depending on how I feel that day. I do a sculpture, furniture, a performance, painting, whatever I want. Clothes are the main object or the skin of the sculptures.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you can go from fashion to furniture, performance, and sculpture without necessarily changing your inspiration. Is it the same process for you?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — It’s the same process, it’s the same reference, it’s the same mind. Normally, I do two exercises a day. It could be a poem, taking a photograph, doing a scan, building something, anything. Then you begin to realize that it’s part of a collection or part of a sculpture. It’s not necessarily like, “I’m going to investigate.”

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, the starting point can be a picture?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — It could be a collage or cooking. This was a five-minute exercise, which I then turned into a huge sculpture of a cross made out of measuring tape. It was part of a poem I wrote for a woman I was dating. The idea was to deceive time. You’re 8,000 kilometers [4,970 miles] away, so let’s bend time, and we will be closer.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Beautiful.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah. So, that could be an exercise. There are all these little objects that surround me, and sometimes I’m like, “Oh, I want to do a sculpture.”

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, the physicality, the manipulation, the craft are important to you?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, and it could even be sewing. I guess both worlds collide. They mix together well. I realized that you can take a shoe off the catwalk and put it elsewhere, and it can stand alone as a sculpture. Even a bag, or the hair of a model, or a wig done with wire…

OLIVIER ZAHM — They sometimes tell more than the whole look.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. And it lives on.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Is it a form of fetishism? The knives, the shoes…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — [Laughs] I always say that if you go to a tool shop like Home Depot, it’s the best sex shop. Even as kid, I was like, “Oh, drills, and all this machinery.”

OLIVIER ZAHM — But in your art, there’s always a sense of danger, no? That amazing sculptural bodice…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. There’s something I’ve never shared about that piece because I didn’t feel like it, and it’s a process that I’ve already dealt with. The work I made in 2018 was a response to a very bad experience six months earlier. I was sexually abused by a taxi driver in Mexico City. So, the process of that performance at the Palais de Tokyo was therapy.

ALEPH MOLINARI — It was so harsh because people would come up to you and juice their fruits on your body…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. I was crying. It was super difficult, but it was therapy. To let it go, I exposed my body in public and was vulnerable for the last time. I was like, “This is the last time I’m going to cry for that.” I did the performance, and afterward I felt light. Anything bad that happens in your life can be transformed into something good.

ALEPH MOLINARI — Do you feel that all of your works and performances have a therapeutic aspect?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — For sure, completely.

ALEPH MOLINARI — So, I guess it’s fetishistic in the sense that it recreates a trauma as a way to heal it.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — The collection “Las Puertas al Sentimentalismo” was that. I wanted to explain, in the most absurd way, what the macho and the feminine are for me. I had my exgirlfriend singing beautifully while I was breaking a huge block of ice with an ice pick. For me, it was like, “Let’s mix it: music and strength.” The performance brought together cement, skin, feathers, metallic rods, ice, and aluminum, gutting the creative and constructive process of the brand and exposing the foundations under which I work. It was also a way of rethinking hetero-colonial beauty. There was also another performance in form of a peep show called “Compromisos Sentimentales.” At that time, I was breaking up with a girlfriend. We were screaming at each other; it was the most toxic relationship for both of us. So, I got an actress to play me, and she played herself. We dressed up as old ladies, and I directed from the box. I was screaming, I was crying. We broke up one month later. It was our goodbye.

OLIVIER ZAHM — And so, the two women, the protagonists, what did they do? They were speaking to each other, fighting?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — They were speaking and singing and eating and celebrating and dancing and kissing each other.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Wearing your clothes or naked?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — They had three changes of clothes that I designed. When the performance started, they were in black clothes, and the furniture was covered in white sheets. It was like a memory of a certain point, when we made peace with each other as old women coming back to the place where we had met. So, yeah, it’s therapy. Therapeutic as hell.

ALEPH MOLINARI — What will your next therapy session look like? [Laughs]
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — The upcoming Kurimanzutto show.

OLIVIER ZAHM — It’s therapy for you, but it’s also an exit door for us, for everyone. It shows the possibility of a different combination of gender, between two women. Your art is also very symbolic in a way, right?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Well, when you say “symbolic,” it’s because you recognize it. For me, there’s nothing hidden. What you have in your surroundings means a lot. They inhabit your space; you give it energy, and then you get it back, so it’s a mix of using the things that are around you.

ALEPH MOLINARI — When did you begin to intervene in the space around and to create your personal iconography?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — It’s something that was natural. Like the logo I did for “sentimental macho.” I was drunk outside of Contramar, and I saw a Telmex manhole on the street. I took a picture of it with my phone, and the next day I was like, “Oh, that could be a logo of mine.” So, I intervened on the logo by adding a pair of legs onto what is usually an M shape.

OLIVIER ZAHM — It’s a powerful logo because it’s like a Maya or Aztecglyph. It’s graphic and traditional, and you changed it into a sexual position.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah, it looks like a dick or a strap-on.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Yes.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I’m also deconstructing the IMSS logo, which is a beautiful logo from the public medical service in Mexico. It’s an image of a woman breastfeeding her child while a bird protects them. It’s very poetic. I love it.

OLIVIER ZAHM — And what’s it like to be a feminist lesbian artist in Mexico City today? Is it a struggle, or is it something that institutions, galleries, and the public easily embrace?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — There’s a lot of queer art in Mexico now. I moved here three years ago, so I can’t tell you how the scene was before. The only problem I’ve had as a lesbian was with my parents, who are Catholic. It took them three years to process it. After that, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought. I created the brand in 2016, and my first performance at a gallery happened in 2017.

OLIVIER ZAHM — It’s all moved so quickly!
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Five years. When I first started my artistic process, I got invited to do a show, and I was able to do it very quickly because I still operate under fashion deadlines, constantly working at that fast pace. There’s no time to rest. It’s always like, “Next collection, move, move, move.”

OLIVIER ZAHM — Always working on the next show.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Exactly. You have music and hair and shoes and accessories. It’s a big constellation.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, is Mexico City an interesting place for your art and creativity?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I can’t see myself living anywhere else. I’m very happy here. There are a lot of artists and designers. There is an openness in the way you can approach other artists and ask them how they made something or where they source their materials. There’s a lot of feedback and solidarity. It’s stupid when it’s not like that because if somebody grows, you grow, too. We need to push each other. Jealousy doesn’t work for me. It’s when you see something great, and you know it, you’re like: “Fucking hell, this is brilliant. I need to get to work.” It’s exciting to be pushed that way.

ALEPH MOLINARI — It’s kind of anti-macho, no?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, and it’s a good feeling. I love it.

OLIVIER ZAHM — How do you explain this paradox that Mexico is still a macho and patriarchal society, religious even, while at the same time there are a lot of queer artists and the freedom to make the kind of art you make? How do these coexist?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I guess you see more queer art in Mexico City and Guadalajara. But places like Monterrey or Mérida are still behind. It’s an entirely different story being in the city instead of a province. I come from the Yucatán Peninsula, which was very open at one time. The first feminist movement began there in the mid- 1950s. Elvia Carrillo Puerto was the first woman in Mexico to hold political office, but she wasn’t elected by women because women couldn’t vote at the time. I don’t know what happened with the radical push of these ideas because it’s very conservative now.

OLIVIER ZAHM — But now, younger generations in Mexico City have a more feminist perspective?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. I have a young intern who comes in with his nails painted or with two ponytails. I can’t picture my queer friends dressing like him when they were his age. Today, painting your nails doesn’t say anything about being gay. In the future, the younger generations are not even going to come out of the closet. It’s going to stop. Capitalism, Catholicism, marriage — all of these institutions were made with good intentions but, in the end, are also a form of control.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Totally.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — All these systems exist to control us.

OLIVIER ZAHM — You express your sexual identity in your work. Are you trying to provide a possibility for genderless sexuality? Is it more of a gay sexuality?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — There are a lot of naked and gay women in my work because it’s what I like. But I don’t see it being just for gay people — it’s for everybody. If you want to be married and have five kids, go ahead. I’m not anti that. I’m against not doing what you want to do, doing what you were told to do, or following the steps that you were supposed to follow. I guess it’s about realizing that we have possibilities. In the end, you decide whether to take it or not. It’s not always going to be easy, and it takes a lot of work. If you take a different path than the one you’re supposed to take, there might be a lot of hate and sadness on that path.

OLIVIER ZAHM — And you have to protect yourself because this sexuality is not necessarily accepted. This is maybe why you need the boots with the knife. [Laughs]
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — And you can’t even send them by FedEx. [Laughs]

ALEPH MOLINARI — You find new ways of expressing sexuality through your clothes, both in performance and fashion. By cutting up unexpected parts of your clothes, you open up new erogenous zones that can be seen or touched. Is that purposely done in order to create new sexual terrains in the body, or is it just an aesthetic aspect of your work?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, I have an obsession with cutouts and opening new perspectives on the body, where you can see the hip or the loins. By opening new vistas, I’m adding an element of liberation. I also make fun of things sometimes. A lot of the designs came from the movie Mean Girls. Like in the scene when Regina George cuts nipple holes in her rival’s t-shirt. It was brilliant. It can come from a comic or a movie. I’m also obsessed with suits and lapels. How do I drape the lapel on the body in different ways? It’s about going deeper than just the suit as a shield — and to create a suit that has another suit inside.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Do you like to wear suits yourself?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I’m obsessed. My first suit was given to me by my father when I was 11. He went to the World Cup in France in 1998 and came back with a Cacharel two-piece suit and a pair of Converse. This was my first suit. He also gave me silk boxers to sleep in, but I used to wear them as underwear.

OLIVIER ZAHM — And you design the suits yourself?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. I have around 30 three-piece suits, and I’m having four new ones made in different colors. A baby blue one with stripes, a purple one with stripes, and a linen suit for summer.

OLIVIER ZAHM — And you commercialize them, too?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — No, I just do special custom commissions.

OLIVIER ZAHM — You should — they look amazing. It’s difficult to find a great suit, and a suit for a woman is something else. You like 1940s shapes…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah, like the super-wide lapel. Actually, back when I didn’t have any money, I would make wedding suits for grooms. It’s not on my CV, but yeah… [Laughs]

OLIVIER ZAHM — And there’s your signature on it? It’s beautiful. To me, it’s very 1940s. It’s very convincing. But the way you wear it, with a sense of humor and slightly deconstructed, is excellent.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Thank you.

OLIVIER ZAHM — What will you do for your upcoming show at the Kurimanzutto gallery?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I’m doing a video performance that talks about masculinity and how the military perpetuates hegemonic masculinity. But I’m not necessarily saying Mexico is the problem. The name of the exhibition is “Prêt-à- Patria,” as in prêt-à-porter for the patria [homeland].

OLIVIER ZAHM — [Laughs] Or prêt-à-patriarchat. It’s themed around the Mexican army look, right?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, I wanted to show the national identity and how everything is measured with the same stick in the patriarchal system. I had these guys march in a green uniform with lingerie visible only from the back. Four of the guys shaved their asses, and they were touching each other. And I was like, “Oh… ” I loved it because it was so homoerotic.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Hot.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yeah, but they didn’t want to show their faces and be recognized, so I made masks out of bandages at the last second. But I like it because they could be a guy, a girl, or anyone.

ALEPH MOLINARI — And these are actual members of the military?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — They’re civilians. Only the ones in charge are actually in the military. They follow the protocols of how to march and play the instruments. They were in the film Roma. I knew I needed to flirt with some of them to make them feel more macho. They were in their outfits, and I would pat them on the shoulder, saying, “You look so hot.” So, you know you need to perform that way.

OLIVIER ZAHM — In the late 1990s, Vanessa Beecroft did a big performance with military GIs wearing all white. Totally still, no movement. It reminded me of the crosses in military cemeteries. It was a field of white men like that.
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I love her work. She’s amazing.

OLIVIER ZAHM — She was playing and questioning masculinity and the rigid orders that you have to…
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Follow, and the hierarchies. I couldn’t talk directly to them. I had to talk to their supervisor. There was a hierarchy even for that…

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, there will be a video of the performance?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes, a three-minute video. In front of that, there will be a six-meter-tall [20-foot- tall] flagpole with three custom-made plastic mannequins skewered onto it. The flagpole going through the ass and out the mouth. They are dressed in military uniform and are fucked in the ass. And with the headpiece, the shoes, and the lingerie… There’s also a special strap-on with a make-up kit and a mirror at the end.

OLIVIER ZAHM — Okay. With the same uniform?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. There are three mannequins: in a way, they represent my three personalities.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you have multiple personalities?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. There’s Bárbara, the longhaired-sexy-nightlife girl, a strong and feminine woman. Then there’s Carlos, a macho guy. And finally, SOLRAC, who is the perfect mix of both of these worlds. SOLRAC is Carlos — my father’s name backwards. I write and paint under SOLRAC because my dad used to write when he was young, and I remember being obsessed with some of the stories he shared with me. I love writing. I’ve been writing for a long, long time. It’s very personal.

ALEPH MOLINARI — SOLRAC, your father’s name in reverse, kind of plays into the patriarchy theme and the idea that you are a mirror image of your father. How are you integrating poetry into your painting?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — I wrote a poem for a woman I met before lockdown and with whom I had a beautiful affair while she was living in London. I was thinking of her, obviously, and so I inscribed the poem into the painting I made. There are references to Brancusi and Catholic statues. And my three personalities are also there. I painted black calla lilies because I’m obsessed with them, and I sent her a bouquet for her birthday.

OLIVIER ZAHM — So, you took up painting recently?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. Last February, I went back to my parents’ house in Mérida for five months. I closed my studio as there was nothing happening. I was worrying about what would happen to fashion. Then my friends told me to stop thinking and to come paint at their studio. And I did. Two paintings are currently on show at the Museo Tamayo [Arte Contemporáneo].

OLIVIER ZAHM — And this is where you introduced the words, the poem?
BÁRBARA SÁNCHEZ-KANE — Yes. It’s good to put emotions out and then to write them down and actually see them in 3D. Like in one of the paintings at the Tamayo, with this poem that says: “Outside I could see the madness, colors in captivity. When you landed in my dreams. Dark-haired woman, poet as my visions dance with me.”

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