Gina Goico, Dominican Artist

by Larissa Jimenez

I really liked science and politics growing up in the DR, so, sure, art was a hobby of mine, but I was told over and over, you need a real career. It was like a choice after doing a career in advertising — my mom was supportive about letting me study art. I won scholarships, went to Altos de Chavón School of Design, and, por casualidad, apliqué a esas becas. Odiaba Nueva York, quería quedarme en la isla. La Dominicana, comienzo a cuestionarla, while being in art school. Who inspired me as a woman was my grandma. I didn't really get to know her. I asked myself, how do I remember things? How do I remember family? Mi abuela hacia pellizas. Being an artist of color, you need to talk about your identity. 

Parsons School of Design was my first time in a white space and Parsons questioned whether an American audience would care about pellizas. I just told them, ‘Mi verdad no es la tuya miamol [mi amor].’ (My truth is not yours, my love). While I was there for six months, I didn’t connect with faculty nor did I find a space in the art world. My thesis reviewer, for instance, wrote that because we had Obama as President at the time, feminism was no longer needed. We live in this myth of a post-racial world. It wasn’t until participating in “Boogie in the Boulevard,” an annual celebration of art, active living, and public space in the Bronx that I found a space to talk about memory with other immigrant Latina women. We had conversations about labor, memory, politics.

Being Dominican, I was obligated to learn at eight years old how to embroider telas, which was super gendered and ingrained into me. Now, I reclaim it as a way of discussing gender and the role of women in the D.R. Tela is also versatile; it carries memory. En la República Dominicana, hay una misoginia internalizada. Women always consider each other to be backstabbing.

Parsons questioned whether an American audience would care about pellizas.

I just told them, ‘Mi verdad no es la tuya miamol [mi amor].’

On Dominicanness, first off, tenemos una mente colonizada, un sistema imperialista y capitalista, and many gender issues and issues about the oppressions of Black and brown people. Tambien, el racismo. Aplastamos la herencia negra, y los cuerpos negros son dismissed. Siempre me dicen, “At least you’re not that Black.” La sociedad es patriarcha y bien machista. Cuestionando al primero, la mente colonizada, podemos resolver los otros problemas. 

Últimamente, la corrupción del gobierno ha sido la gotita que derramó el vaso. Supuestamente, el 16 de febrero iban a ser las elecciones municipales pero en el sistema de scan para votar, no aparecian todos los partidos. Sin embargo, si aparecia el PLD. Por esa razón se suspendieron las elecciones y la junta electoral no ha dicho nada. La gente dominicano se hartó. El 23 de febrero comenzó el cacerolazo.

When I’m creating a body of work, I first find a theme. I work de lo grande a lo pequeño, es decir de lo macro a lo micro. For me, creating art is what am i obsessed with now.

I make conceptual maps. For instance, I start with a question like ‘Que es ser dominicana, ser una mujer dominicana de la isla, de la diaspora?’ Then, I interview people.

On her work A(d)dress

It’s about exploring myself, starting from myself and trying to look really into mental health and emotions. I have kept a diary during my most difficult times about coping with different emotions. I was given the same diagnosis as my mom and I just thought, ‘I am you in so many ways,’ so I wanted to explore our relationship. She would hate it when I grabbed her clothes. Maybe it was the memories from that clothing, but I began breaking the clothing. I’m not sure why. I just remember thinking, ‘I’m just gonna break them.’ We don’t have the ability to put them back together, but they’re still beautiful even if useless. Caribbean women would relate. There’s the aspect of mental health which is really taboo, and we need to acknowledge medicine and growth. I just don’t want to see myself in my mother's mirror.

“There’s the aspect of mental health which is really taboo, and we need to acknowledge medicine and growth. I just don’t want to see myself in my mother's mirror.”

Women of color and Black representation in my field es super importante and I can’t do it justice in four minutes, but I’ll try. La negritud ha existido siempre pero muchos de los artistas de color son “wannabe white colonials.” It’s a privilege to be an artist. Esta carrera es un fucking privilege. It’s about showing face, going to stuff with curators and if you’re out of sight, you’re out of mind. Most artists don’t have a job. Not everybody has that privilege. También, la clase está alineada con tono de piel. Sólo son dos o tres gatos, a los demás no se le abre espacio. Si alguien no tiene amigos galeristas, no van a estar en una galería. Artists here in the Bronx are being vocal about the lack of Black bodies in these circles. Still, I want to see Black artists get the recognition, education, and space they deserve.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

To connect with Gina and view more of her work, click here.