Ángel Faz’s studio practice centers around observation and research, unearthing the shrouded history of the land and those who inhabit it.
Inside Ángel Faz’s house-turned-studio, almost every space is utilized for their practice. One small room hosts a wall of woodcut blocks that portray life-sized portraits of local restaurant owners. In another room, a table with a few monitors showcases various animations and digital projects. On a table in their living room, there are piles of hand drawn maps, research outlines, and sticky notes. In their kitchen, a large pot on the stove is simmering paper pulp. It seems to me that, for Faz, there is little separation between living and making.
Faz’s studio practice centers around observation and research, unearthing the shrouded history of the land and those who inhabit it. Their interest in addressing issues of historical memory began when they took part in the Decolonize Dallas project, a series of events and exhibitions curated by Carol Zou and Darryl Ratcliff in 2017. The history of Dallas is a very personal one for Faz—their family is native to the land, having lived here since “before Texas was Texas,” as they phrase it.
Since then, their work has explored the displacement of animals and natural resources, the loss of Indigenous knowledge and language, and the undeniable parallel between the political history and the natural environment of a place.
But the subject that many of us in Dallas know Faz best for is water.
Although they grew up hearing stories from their family about the Trinity River—whose Indigenous name was thought to have been the Arkikosa, but more efforts to improve the translation by Indigenous scholars have revealed that a more accurate spelling is Akokisa—they found themselves feeling disconnected from the body of water. And they weren’t the only one—as they talked about the river with local Dallasites, they were shocked to discover that many people were unaware the river was even there, let alone its history.
And so their research began. They collected water from different areas of the river, testing the samples, taking notice of the ranges in transparency and how the water transforms over time. They also began kayaking the river and mapping it. Lining a table in their living room are large glass jugs that hold that water. “I’ve had those samples for a while,” Faz says thoughtfully. “I need to release them soon.”
Water as subject matter and as a medium felt fitting for Faz. Not only was it an illuminating avenue for exploring the living history of a place, but it also acted as a metaphor for their identity as a queer, genderfluid, Indigenous person. Through water, Faz explores how they’ve been shaped by external factors and how to return back to nature, back to themself.
“I enjoy learning about the water sources in whatever place I’m visiting,” they tell me. “The politics of water tells an interesting story about the history of the land and the people.”
One of the places Faz has recently traveled to was New Mexico, as they were selected for the 2023 International Thematic Residency, Changing Climate, at the Santa Fe Art Institute. While in Santa Fe, Faz explored an abundance of new media and projects. They also had the opportunity to take workshops in adobe. “I like building with adobe because although it’s old, Indigenous technology, it feels like I’m building the future,” Faz told me.
Now that they’re back in Texas, they have been using clay from the Akokisa and sand they brought back from New Mexico to make adobe blocks, creating an interesting cross geological conversation with the materials.
Although I have honestly never seen so many disciplines by a single artist under one roof, Faz’s work is minimal in its quantity. Their artistic practice is not always material-based and, even when a physical work is produced, its prerequisite is thoughtful, thorough research and consideration. “I try not to create a lot of artifacts,” Faz tells me.
And the material that they do use is primarily natural and local—clay from the river, sand from New Mexico, arugula seeds from their garden, fresh grass, and, of course, water from the river. Some of their recent endeavors have included making playful dioramas from adobe and creating natural ink from pine cones.
Although much of our conversation centered around the past, Faz shared with me some of their tentative plans for the future, which included building an adobe oven and kayaking the Akokisa from Dallas to Houston. I left Faz’s home-studio feeling hopeful. Despite their work dealing with such heavy subject matter, they exude only calmness and warmth.
A studio visit with Ángel Faz is far from conventional. Their artwork is an amalgamation of research, contemplation, and meditation—an evocation of the forgotten past. The richest aspects of their work are not static or even tangible… yet.
