The diary of my roots

They grew from my feet, from my arms, came out of my mouth, and of my lips, scratched my cheeks, pulled my hair. Bare, wild, they wove their house in my lungs, my bronchi. Without water, they spread over my skin, in my eyes, even in my tongue. They were there, and yet no one could see them. These roots were mine, I found my home, and they held me up.

My great-great-grandmothers left Europe by boat, I don’t know which one, and in which year. But what I do know is that they never came back. Probably, a small part of each one stayed here. I imagine them as weed, growing everywhere, and where I grow too now.

Maleza means weed, which isn’t wanted, which is pulled out but which grows again and again and never yields. A fake flower and yet, a real flower, too.


Nía Diedla

Santiago of Chile (1979)
Live and Work in Paris

It is through the image that the thread between things becomes evident for her and gives meaning to the voyage that brought her here: science studies, a degree in biochemistry, a passion for theatre and poetry. In 2006, on the basis of an artistic project, she was selected by the Franco-Chilean Institute to come to the Paris Academy as a teacher of Spanish. That year marked a turning point in her career. She studied theatre and contemporary puppetry, while science fell into a sleep without awakening, what remains of it is her love for bibliographies. For several years, she has worked in collaboration with puppet theatre companies in France. Little by little, the image has emerged like visual writing to fill all the space. Photography has become this place that she inhabits.

In her work, the photographs are born from the sprain of everyday life or its fable. They look like pieces of a puzzle that builds a permanently molting geography. What interests her is to understand the past from the present: the question of our roots, our(s) genealogical tree(s), childhood, the invented memory that comes from it and our own mythology that we construct with the missing pieces. She builds an open, intimate place, where images are confused with words, whether written or not, and where we do not differentiate the reality from the fiction. Each work looks for its form through the object. She is very sensitive to the edition of the work on paper, whether in artist book format, fanzine or box, she explores the narrative possibilities of the material supports that best respond to each project.