october last year melissa godoy nieto had her solo exhibition ‘waters change, colors fade‘ at LILAC -a ship turned into a preservation project – for a week long of talks and music performances. we discovered her work through atmos, a platform we follow closely and love, and got immediately struck by her vibrant colours and original use of space and mixed media. we set out to get to know her and found about our common love for music, tea and the underwater universe, in a conversation that turned into an interview that we are sharing with you now.
melissa is a mexican artists living in new york, exploring topics of the subconscious, the experience of being a foreigner and now going down a new path on climate art practices.
Hi Melissa!
Would you like to tell us a little anecdote about you and where you are right now? What are you listening to?
I’m in my apartment in Brooklyn, and it’s sunny outside. I live on the 4th floor of a building by the water and luckily we get a lot of light, so it feels good.
I’m listening to the radio, as I do every morning, they are playing a bunch of Bach organ pieces, this one is Prelude and Fugue in C.
You recently had your solo exhibition “Waters change, Colors fade” at LILAC, a steam-powered ship turned into a museum, as part of the Climate Week in New York. Is there a particular memory of this show you would like to share with us?
It feels like it just happened yesterday, so I have a lot of fresh memories about it. It’s hard to choose just one…
One evening composer and trombonist Peter Zummo with his friends played live music on the boat. I did analog projections during their performance, it was fun and challenging at the same time. The boat would move, so things were not staying still on the overhead projectors, my ink and liquids were dripping all over, also there was some wind and all my paper materials were flying off. The work in my exhibition is already inspired and influenced by nature, about how things are changing in coral reefs and my process of dealing with these feelings through art making. But in that funny moment when I was doing the projections I thought “I guess my artwork right now is literally in collaboration with the elements” and I had to let go of trying to have full control.
How did you get into this work, what pulled you into it?
It was when I saw bleached coral in Cozumel.
Do you recall the first time you saw a bleached coral reef, your thoughts and feelings?
Yes. It was a few years ago, I was snorkeling in Cozumel, just very close to shore. The coral reef is amazing there, and you can see a lot of big fish without going too deep. But I immediately saw these white glowing rocks that I had only seen in the news and in documentaries. I think I was very shocked by it, and my way to digest these feelings was to start drawing it in my sketchbook. Slowly that became a series of large drawings that expanded into work on fabric, and so on.
Can you give us a very short crash-course intro to the coral bleaching and what is happening at the bottom of the sea?
Yes, I have a very good and short explanation that my curator Melinda Wang and I wrote for my show:
Corals have a symbiotic relationship with microscopic algae that live within the corals’ tissue, causing explosions of color. Stressed by changes in ocean temperature, pollution and overfishing, corals expel the algae – losing their primary food source and turning white. The longer these stressors last, the more difficult it is for corals to recover; they remain weak, grow more slowly and catch diseases. Mass coral bleaching and rapid degradation creates fragility and imbalance in the ecosystem. Since 2018, the Great Mayan Reef has been facing the “Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease” outbreak, a new disease with an unprecedented mortality rate affecting 25 species of corals. The landscape is no longer comprised of colors and shapes, but abundant fleshy algae. Without their essential nutrients, coral death is inevitable, directly impacting various ocean species, local economies and future livelihoods.
Hi Melissa!
Would you like to tell us a little anecdote about you and where you are right now? What are you listening to?
I’m in my apartment in Brooklyn, and it’s sunny outside. I live on the 4th floor of a building by the water and luckily we get a lot of light, so it feels good.
I’m listening to the radio, as I do every morning, they are playing a bunch of Bach organ pieces, this one is Prelude and Fugue in C.
You recently had your solo exhibition “Waters change, Colors fade” at LILAC, a steam-powered ship turned into a museum, as part of the Climate Week in New York. Is there a particular memory of this show you would like to share with us?
It feels like it just happened yesterday, so I have a lot of fresh memories about it. It’s hard to choose just one…
One evening composer and trombonist Peter Zummo with his friends played live music on the boat. I did analog projections during their performance, it was fun and challenging at the same time. The boat would move, so things were not staying still on the overhead projectors, my ink and liquids were dripping all over, also there was some wind and all my paper materials were flying off. The work in my exhibition is already inspired and influenced by nature, about how things are changing in coral reefs and my process of dealing with these feelings through art making. But in that funny moment when I was doing the projections I thought “I guess my artwork right now is literally in collaboration with the elements” and I had to let go of trying to have full control.
How did you get into this work, what pulled you into it?
It was when I saw bleached coral in Cozumel.
Do you recall the first time you saw a bleached coral reef, your thoughts and feelings?
Yes. It was a few years ago, I was snorkeling in Cozumel, just very close to shore. The coral reef is amazing there, and you can see a lot of big fish without going too deep. But I immediately saw these white glowing rocks that I had only seen in the news and in documentaries. I think I was very shocked by it, and my way to digest these feelings was to start drawing it in my sketchbook. Slowly that became a series of large drawings that expanded into work on fabric, and so on.
Can you give us a very short crash-course intro to the coral bleaching and what is happening at the bottom of the sea?
Yes, I have a very good and short explanation that my curator Melinda Wang and I wrote for my show:
Corals have a symbiotic relationship with microscopic algae that live within the corals’ tissue, causing explosions of color. Stressed by changes in ocean temperature, pollution and overfishing, corals expel the algae – losing their primary food source and turning white. The longer these stressors last, the more difficult it is for corals to recover; they remain weak, grow more slowly and catch diseases. Mass coral bleaching and rapid degradation creates fragility and imbalance in the ecosystem. Since 2018, the Great Mayan Reef has been facing the “Stony Coral Tissue Loss Disease” outbreak, a new disease with an unprecedented mortality rate affecting 25 species of corals. The landscape is no longer comprised of colors and shapes, but abundant fleshy algae. Without their essential nutrients, coral death is inevitable, directly impacting various ocean species, local economies and future livelihoods.
What are the greatest threats to coral health and the main actions we can take to diminish our impact, in your view?
The greatest threats are pretty much all bad practices, and anything in excess: overtourism, overfishing, overheated and polluted waters, etc.
I’ve found it hard to know what actions can make a real difference considering all the damage. Besides trying to make our own personal efforts, I think that we should all talk about it, in our surroundings, with our friends, in our work, with people that can spread the word even more or to bigger audiences, to express it to representatives to make changes in policies. I think bigger changes happen when more people are talking and thinking about it.
Can you share with us a magical moment you’ve experienced underwater?
Actually, I just had a dream last night that a dolphin and I fell in love with each other. He was taking me for a swim deep underwater, it felt so good. It was very cute and magical. (I always have crazy dreams so this is quite normal for me)
And a real-life moment, pretty much every time I go scuba diving, it’s always dreamy and surreal. A bit addictive too, as soon as I go back to land I want to go into that world again.
Do you envision other works in the realm of climate art ? How do you see this fraction within the art world?
Definitely, I have been sketching and writing ideas in this direction. I feel that my coral reef project was a door to other projects related to the natural environment, and I’m inspired even to use other mediums. I’ve been interested in making a short documentary about a fishing community in Mexico that I have in mind. I’ve also been looking for artist residencies that focus on climate or the sea, or where artists can collaborate with marine biologists.
I hope more artists and creatives focus on issues related to the natural world. In my experience, it got me even closer to the issues, and it opened my eyes in many ways. You immerse yourself more with the research, talking and interviewing people, and you can keep digging more and more. So I think it’s healthy for everyone to get even more connected to what’s happening on our planet.
You often use left overs of fabric on your artworks and I feel that the choice of materials and approaches in your work are very varied and playful. What does that tell about you?
You are right, many times when I’m making art I feel like I’m playing. I like to keep a variety of materials in my studio so I can always experiment with tactile ideas and processes. I really like learning new things and feeling like a beginner, it allows me to go in different directions. I often feel like I probably will never master a technique, but somehow I often choose learning and having fun over mastering.
Also, since I was in art school I’ve been interested in using leftovers or found materials.
On the sidewalks of NYC, I’ve found everything from pencils to new unpacked large stretched canvas.
You also combine sound performances with your installations and work closely with musicians. How does music influence your work?
Well, music is present in my life in general, naturally it influences my work. I listen to music probably 80% of the time when I’m at home, definitely when I’m in my studio. I feel that it keeps me in a rhythm when I work. So, I think it has become natural to have music along when I show my work outside of my studio. My partner, Amedeo Pace, is a musician, so now we collaborate and he often makes the music for my installations.
Do you play an instrument, collect records, make playlists… what is your own relationship with music making?
I collect records, but very selectively since I don’t have much space. I keep some at home and some in my studio. I have a few playlists where I’m constantly adding new songs. Sadly, I’ve never fully learned an instrument, I’ve tried a few, but I get impatient. When I moved to NYC, I played keyboards for my sister and her partner’s band The Fearsome Sparrow, and I definitely cheated. I created my own way to write and read the music I had to play. I found it easier to draw my own symbols than learn music from scratch.
I just started learning drums again, I have a great teacher so I’m very into it so far. I’m also making an ambient soundtrack (a completely new thing for me) for my new drawing-performance piece I’m working on. I’ve been fooling around with instruments Amedeo has at home, and I’ve been adding his voice and my voice to it. It’s really fun, I see it as making one of my collages.
Albums or musicians that you can not imagine living without? And those that set you on the right mood to create?
Oh so many. I have a playlist called “En español + nostalgia” I definitely need to play a few times a month. Generally, I listen to more music in English, or Italian and Brazilian from the 70s. And I have two long playlists specifically for dancing. To create, I choose depending on the moment and the kind of work I’m making.
Some of what I’ve been playing in my studio and at home these days are Alice Coltrane, Ennio Morricone, Beach house, Clea Vincent, Ali Farka Toure, Yo La Tengo, Brian Eno, Nina Simone, Francesco de Gregori, France Gall, Juan Gabriel, Djavan, Música Veracruzana, and Chopin.
As we are writing to you from Berlin, there’s a work that caught my attention looking at your portfolio, “Muros, Maueren, Walls”, where you draw a paragon between the Berlin wall and Tijuana, where you were born, and the fence that divides Mexico and the USA to control migration, being the busiest land border-crossing in the world. How is it for you to be a Mexican residing in the USA, the other side of “the wall” from where you were born? What are your feelings on this topic?
I feel that the answer to this question is a lifelong investigation. Personally, when I’m in the U.S. I feel more Mexican, when I’m in Mexico I feel more from New York. And I definitely feel complicated and upset with how governments have dealt with immigration and human rights around borders.
I grew up between Culiacan and Tijuana, both very complex places in Mexico. And Tijuana has its own Mexico-U.S. border culture, so I think it has always been part of me to feel like a mix of cultures or an immigrant. I grew up seeing the U.S. as a place to reach, like many people in Mexico see it. My parents worked so hard for so many years on getting me and my siblings U.S. papers, and when we finally got them it felt it was my destiny to come here, and that I couldn’t waste the opportunity that many people wished to have. As soon as I moved to NYC I started having a shower of nostalgia for Mexico, feeling confused about my identity, I felt very insecure, and I had a strong desire to connect more to my home country.
Fourteen years later I feel like I’m still constantly working for that balance, looking for ways to keep Mexico close to me while living mostly in the U.S. and feeling “American” in many ways. Sometimes I do it through my art, sometimes through speaking more Spanish, sometimes through working as a translator, through having deep conversations with my Latin American friends, or lately trying to spend more time in Mexico, and definitely through listening to music.
For wrapping up, what are the things that inspire you and keep you warm in your studio during these winter days?
Tea (black, green and herbal) throughout the day, Palo santo, a scarf I made in Senegal, my vitamins B and D, and the book I’m reading “Where the Heart Beats – John Cage, Zen Buddhism, and the Inner Life of Artists” by Kay Larson. And definitely knowing that I’m flying to the coast of Mexico very soon 🙂
Thank you so much Melissa! We look forward to see more of your art works and projects coming to life!
What are the greatest threats to coral health and the main actions we can take to diminish our impact, in your view?
The greatest threats are pretty much all bad practices, and anything in excess: overtourism, overfishing, overheated and polluted waters, etc.
I’ve found it hard to know what actions can make a real difference considering all the damage. Besides trying to make our own personal efforts, I think that we should all talk about it, in our surroundings, with our friends, in our work, with people that can spread the word even more or to bigger audiences, to express it to representatives to make changes in policies. I think bigger changes happen when more people are talking and thinking about it.
Can you share with us a magical moment you’ve experienced underwater?
Actually, I just had a dream last night that a dolphin and I fell in love with each other. He was taking me for a swim deep underwater, it felt so good. It was very cute and magical. (I always have crazy dreams so this is quite normal for me)
And a real-life moment, pretty much every time I go scuba diving, it’s always dreamy and surreal. A bit addictive too, as soon as I go back to land I want to go into that world again.
Do you envision other works in the realm of climate art ? How do you see this fraction within the art world?
Definitely, I have been sketching and writing ideas in this direction. I feel that my coral reef project was a door to other projects related to the natural environment, and I’m inspired even to use other mediums. I’ve been interested in making a short documentary about a fishing community in Mexico that I have in mind. I’ve also been looking for artist residencies that focus on climate or the sea, or where artists can collaborate with marine biologists.
I hope more artists and creatives focus on issues related to the natural world. In my experience, it got me even closer to the issues, and it opened my eyes in many ways. You immerse yourself more with the research, talking and interviewing people, and you can keep digging more and more. So I think it’s healthy for everyone to get even more connected to what’s happening on our planet.
You often use left overs of fabric on your artworks and I feel that the choice of materials and approaches in your work are very varied and playful. What does that tell about you?
You are right, many times when I’m making art I feel like I’m playing. I like to keep a variety of materials in my studio so I can always experiment with tactile ideas and processes. I really like learning new things and feeling like a beginner, it allows me to go in different directions. I often feel like I probably will never master a technique, but somehow I often choose learning and having fun over mastering.
Also, since I was in art school I’ve been interested in using leftovers or found materials.
On the sidewalks of NYC, I’ve found everything from pencils to new unpacked large stretched canvas.
You also combine sound performances with your installations and work closely with musicians. How does music influence your work?
Well, music is present in my life in general, naturally it influences my work. I listen to music probably 80% of the time when I’m at home, definitely when I’m in my studio. I feel that it keeps me in a rhythm when I work. So, I think it has become natural to have music along when I show my work outside of my studio. My partner, Amedeo Pace, is a musician, so now we collaborate and he often makes the music for my installations.
Do you play an instrument, collect records, make playlists… what is your own relationship with music making?
I collect records, but very selectively since I don’t have much space. I keep some at home and some in my studio. I have a few playlists where I’m constantly adding new songs. Sadly, I’ve never fully learned an instrument, I’ve tried a few, but I get impatient. When I moved to NYC, I played keyboards for my sister and her partner’s band The Fearsome Sparrow, and I definitely cheated. I created my own way to write and read the music I had to play. I found it easier to draw my own symbols than learn music from scratch.
I just started learning drums again, I have a great teacher so I’m very into it so far. I’m also making an ambient soundtrack (a completely new thing for me) for my new drawing-performance piece I’m working on. I’ve been fooling around with instruments Amedeo has at home, and I’ve been adding his voice and my voice to it. It’s really fun, I see it as making one of my collages.
Albums or musicians that you can not imagine living without? And those that set you on the right mood to create?
Oh so many. I have a playlist called “En español + nostalgia” I definitely need to play a few times a month. Generally, I listen to more music in English, or Italian and Brazilian from the 70s. And I have two long playlists specifically for dancing. To create, I choose depending on the moment and the kind of work I’m making.
Some of what I’ve been playing in my studio and at home these days are Alice Coltrane, Ennio Morricone, Beach house, Clea Vincent, Ali Farka Toure, Yo La Tengo, Brian Eno, Nina Simone, Francesco de Gregori, France Gall, Juan Gabriel, Djavan, Música Veracruzana, and Chopin.
As we are writing to you from Berlin, there’s a work that caught my attention looking at your portfolio, “Muros, Maueren, Walls”, where you draw a paragon between the Berlin wall and Tijuana, where you were born, and the fence that divides Mexico and the USA to control migration, being the busiest land border-crossing in the world. How is it for you to be a Mexican residing in the USA, the other side of “the wall” from where you were born? What are your feelings on this topic?
I feel that the answer to this question is a lifelong investigation. Personally, when I’m in the U.S. I feel more Mexican, when I’m in Mexico I feel more from New York. And I definitely feel complicated and upset with how governments have dealt with immigration and human rights around borders.
I grew up between Culiacan and Tijuana, both very complex places in Mexico. And Tijuana has its own Mexico-U.S. border culture, so I think it has always been part of me to feel like a mix of cultures or an immigrant. I grew up seeing the U.S. as a place to reach, like many people in Mexico see it. My parents worked so hard for so many years on getting me and my siblings U.S. papers, and when we finally got them it felt it was my destiny to come here, and that I couldn’t waste the opportunity that many people wished to have. As soon as I moved to NYC I started having a shower of nostalgia for Mexico, feeling confused about my identity, I felt very insecure, and I had a strong desire to connect more to my home country.
Fourteen years later I feel like I’m still constantly working for that balance, looking for ways to keep Mexico close to me while living mostly in the U.S. and feeling “American” in many ways. Sometimes I do it through my art, sometimes through speaking more Spanish, sometimes through working as a translator, through having deep conversations with my Latin American friends, or lately trying to spend more time in Mexico, and definitely through listening to music.
For wrapping up, what are the things that inspire you and keep you warm in your studio during these winter days?
Tea (black, green and herbal) throughout the day, Palo santo, a scarf I made in Senegal, my vitamins B and D, and the book I’m reading “Where the Heart Beats – John Cage, Zen Buddhism, and the Inner Life of Artists” by Kay Larson. And definitely knowing that I’m flying to the coast of Mexico very soon 🙂
Thank you so much Melissa! We look forward to see more of your art works and projects coming to life!
this interview is part of a series of conversations with artists from across all disciplines about life, art, ecology and the things that move us.