“To live your own history is to wake up from someone else’s dream. In Camellia, a testament of her lucid trances, the artist who knows herself as Dia Luna walks the primordial deserts and lush farms and concrete crypts of America as one simultaneous plane, threading together its collective soul behind every stone and stalk, around every corner. “This tree winds roots around my backbone/thank heaven for the stories I’ve grown”; her bloodstream travels through the fertile fields and she will harvest her future self: “vision pulls you to the seams of the landscape/closer and closer to sowing your escape”; growth is transport, across seasons or centuries. The path can take what course it will, and peoples can go underground, “crawl in the tunnels of my infinite mind,” but the deluge comes and bears us up, “birthed from the watery beds/of your own mother’s flesh.” Lies will stamp the ground of myth (“I’m a cowboy now”) but the green chaotic earth has soil on its side. Cross-border transmissions of false faith drift into the mix, found sounds of some radio evangelist’s ghost going lost again as a private hymn rises from laborers to their loved ones, those who stitched the land with seedlings and sutured it with rails, destiny sowed as amber fields and reaped as steel, binding us and bearing us away. Ancestors possess ethereal machines and Dia Luna’s unadorned voice hovers in a mist above Tomas Deltoro-diaz’ transcendent technology and tide of tones and rhythms streamed in from many lineages and landscapes. Every voice she has is heard, and you feel your own soul echo.
I went to the oracle for brief answers and the right next questions, in her earth name, Andrea Diaz…”
For the full interview, visit HILOBROW here.