Valley of Mexico (CDMX), 2023. Acrylic latex and found paper on canvas. 75” x 136”. Attributed to Alberto, Kyokawa, & Otsubo (2018).

Mexico City, one of the world’s most complex urban landscapes, sits atop layers of ancient history—both human and geological. Built on a former lake bed surrounded by volcanoes, the city rests on sediment and ash from thousands of years of volcanic activity. That history is still alive: Popocatépetl, one of the region’s most iconic volcanoes, erupted as recently as early 2023, sending ash into parts of the city and reminding residents the ground beneath them is always shifting.

Like Houston, Mexico City faces the growing challenge of land subsidence. Both cities are sinking due to overpopulation, unchecked development, and aggressive groundwater extraction. Mexico City’s long history of managing this issue is now being studied as a model for addressing Houston’s own sinking problem—where cracked foundations and failing water systems reveal the layered consequences of building on unstable ground.

This painting captures that layered geology beneath the Mexico Basin. Reds, oranges, and browns represent volcanic origins; blues and greens reflect shifting tectonic and hydrological forces. The colors echo those found across the city’s homes and buildings, while the abstract forms connect Mexico City’s physical foundation with its cultural one—a landscape quilted together by both natural upheaval and human history.

Valley of Mexico (CDMX), 2023. Acrylic latex and found paper on canvas. 75” x 136”. Attributed to Alberto, Kyokawa, & Otsubo (2018).

Movements (East Texas Salt of the Cretaceous and The Mexico Basin Aquifer Groundwater Flowpaths), 2024. Acrylic latex and Oil on canvas. 35.75” x 24.25”

A love letter to form, deposition, and flow, this work compares two “sisters” shaped by water: Mexico City and Houston. Both face subsidence due to young, water-saturated sediments, unchecked expansion, and disregard for geological reports. Mexico City, built on an ancient lake, has sunk around 32 feet in 60 years, while Houston, atop three stacked aquifers, has sunk 10 feet since 1920, with rates expected to increase. Mexico City exemplifies the dangers of building on unstable ground, while Houston’s rapid growth highlights its unresolved groundwater issues. Houston ranks as the USA’s fourth-largest city in population, projected to rise to third largest in the next few years, with Mexico City ranking in the the world’s top seven.

Movements (East Texas Salt of the Cretaceous and The Mexico Basin Aquifer Groundwater Flowpaths), 2024. Acrylic latex and Oil on canvas. 35.75” x 24.25”

Utopia (Utopos), 2023. Acrylic latex and paper on canvas. 71.75” x 95”

Utopia plays on Sir Thomas More’s concept and the Greek root Utopos, meaning “no place”—suggesting that a perfect world can’t exist in a society driven by greed. The painting creates a geologically improbable landscape that reflects how humans reshape nature not to preserve, but for aesthetics or resource extraction.

This idea connects to both historical and modern echoes of Utopia in Mexico. In the 16th century, Vasco de Quiroga tried to put More’s vision into practice by founding indigenous hospital-collective communities in the outskirts of Mexico City and Michoacán. Today, Mexico City’s Iztapalapa district carries on that spirit through the “Utopias” project—community centers offering education and cultural programs to help build better lives. The use of primary colors in the painting—red, yellow, and blue—speaks to the ongoing tension between struggle, hope, and control, much like Utopia itself: always caught between idealism and human-shaped reality. Still, envisioning utopia remains an essential practice in striving for a more harmonious existence.

Utopia (Utopos), 2023. Acrylic latex and paper on canvas. 71.75” x 95”