Rosa Uribe
SERIES
The Spike of the Opuntia
But hey, I’m tryingFraternize
Beyond Blame
Untangle
Out of _
SMIRK
The hands that build me
FILMS
Mature
for her ageI am sorry
Suicide and song
About grief
I know I am close to home when I start seeing opuntias. They belong to the south, to dry land, to the landscape my family comes from. I have always seen them as familiar, almost protective, yet they are a reminder that even what feels safe can wound you.
The Spike of the Opuntia returns to the small town in the south of Spain where I spent my summers growing up. It was the place where I felt most myself, until that sense of safety broke when I was sexually assaulted by someone I called my friend. The project is not centered on the violence itself, but on trauma: on how fear can attach itself to streets, rooms, names, and to being seen only through what happened.
For years, I stayed away. This work, inspired by fragments of my diary, does not end in triumph, but in presence. I returned with a camera and walked through the same streets, choosing where to stand, what to frame, and how close I allowed myself to get.
Back home, I pierced the images by hand. It is a violent gesture, but I do it with care. The gesture gives me control, not over what happened, but over what I do with it now. The book asks the viewer for the same care: parts of the story remain hidden inside the binding, and to reach them, one has to break something, slowly, before putting it back together.