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Celeste Diaz Falzone (b. 1998 in Dallas TX to Colombian mother and American Father) is an artist and writer based in Pawtucket RI. Her studio practice consists of 2 and 3D mixed media with a base in textiles and illustration. Celeste is self taught, and her work explores culture, spirituality, psychology, humanity, fashion, dreams, and memory.

I make art because I want to have a good life. There's no difference between making art well and living well. How I approach my work is the same way I aim to approach my life. Over time I've seen how equally the two inform each other. Making art is like having the wisest Guru you could ever wish for, because to make it, you have to listen to yourself deeply, which I think of as communing with God. Though my life informs my art by being the place where I have collected all of my tangible experiences and developed a visual language, my art informs my approach towards life. Everything I learn while working is a lesson I can take away and often need to be reminded of at that time. Going slower, allowing repetition, being okay with a sudden change, letting go of expectations, refraining impositions, taking a step back to look at something in a different way. Beyond these general wisdoms my work points out to me, what I do to serve my artistic practice, are simply life practices. Taking periods of time to be alone, meditating, listening to myself, being with people, entering into unfamiliar spaces, being available for others, traveling, learning about other cultures, making where I live a place that suits me, opening up to pain, seeing beauty, becoming more subtle, recognizing stagnation, habitual patterns or belief systems, trying to approach them with curiosity, letting go of judgement, and taking a step into the unknown, over and over again.

I make art because the desire and ability to do so, is a gift I'm honored to receive. My work is devotional in some ways because I feel as though gratitude is at the heart of it. Often highlighting the people in my life, and looking with care at humanity. Sometimes I think about it as sending thank you letters to God. Catching up the universe about what's been going on. I am happy to document the vibrancy, tension, tragedy, horror, joy, generosity, and all encapsulating awe in this world. I don't usually want to focus on any one particular subject in my pieces, as I aim to regard this wholeness. I often feel claustrophobic to my own interests, if I were to try to label them. “This is what I care about, and make work about”, is so limiting. All I want is to use each passing day as a bead in my collection. I do this through working to make objects that feel borderless, and allow room to encapsulate something beyond my plan for them, or knowledge of what they might be. Usually it's not until a piece has been finished and I've had space from it, that I can actually see what it's telling me.

I often have visions when I’m in between being asleep and awake. Sometimes I let them go and trust they'll seep into the work naturally, and sometimes I rush to draw in my journal before they vanish, which is always a losing game. These images puzzle and fascinate me as they are so obvious, so clear and vivid in their presence. I always think, “how could I forget this?” Yet they disappear almost immediately once I have this thought and try to grab them. They leave me with nothing to hang on to, as they are beyond words, meaning or any reference I can discern. Art gives structure to what is formless. I will never grab it, get it right, or even be able to name it. All I can do is continue letting go, over and over again.