The Nazca Lines are big drawings in the ground in Peru, created a long time ago by the Nazca people. These drawings show animals, plants, and shapes. People aren't sure why they were made, but some think they might have had special meanings for the Nazca culture. The drawings are so big that you can see them best from the sky, and they're famous for being a bit of a mystery!

As I worked on this piece, I decided not to stress about getting a perfect shape. I just had fun with it, even if it looked a bit messy. This taught me that the creative process can be a bit chaotic at times, and it's okay. I learned to let my thoughts flow without worrying too much about how it would turn out.

The Pechakucha presentation aimed not only to showcase our work but also to polish our professional and eloquent presentation skills. It was a challenge for me.

The format itself, with its concise 20 slides, 20 seconds each, demanded a focused and efficient delivery. It was both a test and a training ground for us to communicate our ideas clearly within a strict timeframe. As we watched our peers' presentations, the room buzzed with constructive feedback. It was a supportive environment, encouraging us to both give and receive valuable insights to enhance our work.

However, due to time constraints, we couldn't catch every presentation, and unfortunately, mine fell into that category. This missed opportunity left me yearning for the chance to break out of my shyness, allowing me to practice and refine my oratory skills. Seeing others navigate through their nervousness and witnessing their growth was inspiring, and I couldn't help but feel that exposure to a variety of presentations would have immensely benefited my own journey toward becoming a more confident and articulate speaker.

Reflecting on this experience, I've recognized the importance of embracing opportunities to step outside my comfort zone, as it's through these challenges that we truly grow. While I may not have seen every presentation, the collective experience served as a catalyst for personal improvement, encouraging me to conquer my nerves and refine my presentation prowess in future endeavors.

Even though sometimes I feel like keeping things to myself, I'm determined to break down those barriers and share my story in a more real way. I want to be open myself through my work.

This journal discusses how artists and intellectuals in Peru, particularly in the indigenista and neoindianista movements from the 1920s to the 1950s, contributed to the study of colonial Andean art. Before formal art history departments, these groups engaged in documenting and discussing art through essays, photographs, and artworks, challenging traditional ideas about art history. Despite their important contributions, their work was often overlooked in mainstream art history books. The article emphasizes the role of artists like José Sabogal and Camilo Blas, who not only created art but also researched and documented Peru's colonial and contemporary artistic traditions. It suggests that their efforts helped create a unified art history that resisted European influences.

Nature, with its beauty and complexity, serves as a profound wellspring of inspiration for both Donna and me. In essence, the connection I share with my clients through my work finds its roots in the nostalgia of my childhood, the vibrancy of my Peruvian identity, and the ever-inspiring wonders of nature.

I checked out an artist I like to see where she gets her inspiration from. Maybe it can help me too.

Interview with Judit Just:

Where do you find inspiration for your work?

When I’m working is where I find my most important inspirations, and especially I have found that the more tired I am, the more ideas I get.

As I’m weaving, I usually go crazy jumping on many diverse ideas at the same time like a distracted butterfly. I try to make fast sketches and secure some of the color combinations that suddenly pop on my mind, as fast as possible. Sometimes while I’m on a walk I get some forms, shapes and thoughts. Sometimes I imagine and interpret a song, or a smell or a landscape in a more synesthesic way. Sometimes I dream about certain textures. I’ve always been a little drawn by the concept of synesthesia, a mix of impressions that gets you carried away bringing you to an involuntary secondary sensory pathway. Wassily Kandinsky, the father of abstraction, was a synesthete, always trying to evoke sound through color and shapes and he’s always been a huge inspiration for me.

With my weavings I try to seek the pleasure between the relationship of a tactile versus a visual synesthesia, touching colors, listening to textures, tasting shapes.... perceiving colors represented by certain shapes, and vice versa. But specially, my purpose is to share this experience with everyone else and give them some colorful goosebumps.

Traditionally the headpieces dancers wear represent either good or bad figures, like angels and devils. I redesigned the character to blend this two.