We chatted with the Portland-based artist about her show I Am de Mis Antepasadas at One Grand Gallery in Portland, OR.
Q: How do food and art relate to each other?
A: Food and art both evoke powerful emotional and sensory responses. As an artist who works with food, I often find myself moving fluidly between the two. Both processes are very similar. When working with clay, I notice gestures that mirror what I do in my kitchen. Such as blending slip to mimic fudge on ceramic cookies, or wedging clay the same way I knead masa for sopes. I have even found myself “seasoning” clay with the same care I apply when preparing meats or vegetables.
These parallels have opened my eyes to how both mediums serve as tools for personal expression and storytelling. To me, food is more than something to eat; it holds memory, culture, and is a part of my identity. By incorporating food into my art, I’m sharing something deeply personal and vulnerable, inviting others into my world. There’s a unique joy in watching people engage with my art. It’s the same joy I feel when someone goes back for a second helping of a meal I made.
Q: What’s the most inspiring gathering you’ve been to recently?
A: The most inspiring gathering I’ve been to recently was a little family dinner last weekend. My brother made beef ribs, which we enjoyed alongside loaded baked potatoes and Caesar salad. What made this evening truly special was meeting and holding my godson, Kyrie, for the first time. While honoring our ancestors remains a central theme in my work, I am equally committed to sharing our culture and family history with the next generation. Spending that time with Kyrie, my brother and his partner, and our parents renewed my sense of purpose and deepened my commitment to my practice. It was a meaningful and transformative meal for all of us.
Q: What are the top three things you learned in your last year of your graduate program at PNCA?
A: The most significant lesson I learned during my final year at PNCA was taking ownership of my practice and trusting my intuition. In the beginning, I struggled with curating my work and imagining it in a professional context. I lacked confidence, and that hesitation showed in my choices. Over time, I grew more sure of my curatorial decisions, my ability to tell meaningful visual stories, and my creative instincts.
I also learned to step out of my comfort zone and embrace curiosity. Taking risks didn’t come naturally to me as I often preferred to do what was most familiar. But with the encouragement of my mentors and peers, I pushed past that fear. Their support helped me rediscover my passion and reignite my creative spark.
Finally, I learned to recognize my worth as an artist. Growing up in a community that undervalued the arts made me anxious about pursuing this path. I’m not the first in my family to enjoy making art, but I am the first to make this my career. I hope to inspire others to take risks and follow their passions. It hasn’t been an easy road, but I’m proud of how far I have come.
Q: What is the most meaningful dish for you?
A: The most meaningful dishes to me are pasteles from Puerto Rico and tamales from Mexico. Though each is rooted in a different culture and prepared with its own distinct flavors, they share a special significance in my life. What makes them so meaningful isn’t just the taste, it’s what they represent: sacred time, unity, and family bonding. Preparing both dishes is a time-intensive process: it takes days just to ready the ingredients, several hours to stew the meat, and additional time to make the masa, carefully wrap the filling in corn husks or banana leaves, and finally steam everything to perfection. That process brings generations together in the kitchen. It becomes a shared ritual, filled with laughter, music, stories, and love. For me, it’s in those moments—surrounded by family, working together and connecting—that these dishes become truly special. They aren’t just food; they’re a celebration of efforts and inherited traditions.
Q: How does clay reveal the nature of the foods you’re depicting?
A: Clay reveals the nature of these cultural foods by preserving both their physical form and emotional resonance. These foods carry memory, and working with clay allows me to transform their organic state into something everlasting. During the burnout firing process, the chemical interaction between the food and the clay creates interesting results. For instance, the chilies, rice, and corn leave behind halos in the clay body, white residue in crevices, and even glass-like finishes that permanently mark the clay’s surface. In pieces like “No es Cookies,” I deliberately left these surfaces unglazed and unaltered, honoring the true imprint of the foods. Clay not only depicts the foods, but it records their essence, turning impermanence into something that will outlive me.
Q: Who are the Antepasadas (foremothers) that inform you and your work?
My mother is the first Antepasada in my life. She is the strongest, hardest-working, and most loyal woman I know. Her unwavering support was key in encouraging me to pursue art. Her limitless strength continues to inspire me, and I model my own work ethic after hers. She is the reason I keep going, even when I fail. My great-grandmother Sixta, and my Abuela Socorro are also vital figures. Sixta taught me how to make her pasteles and, more importantly, how to cook with care. Abuela Socorro taught me how to make tamales and emphasized the importance of being educated. She embodies kindness and generosity. Anyone who visits her home is guaranteed to leave full and cared for, often with extra food in hand. My Grandma Rose passed down her humor and positive energy. Her ability to make people laugh, even during hard times, is a gift I cherish. From her, I also inherited my love for thrifting and collecting. This is why I prefer to use found objects or second-hand items in my installations. My godmother, Christina, is the most determined Antepasada. She taught me that if there’s a will, there’s always a way. I draw my own determination from her. This is why I have an abundance of artwork and am able to jump straight into a solo exhibition immediately after graduate school. My Tías—Angelica, Celeste, Lorena, Toni, and Feliz—are essential to who I am. They passed on their nurturing, loving spirits, bold characters, and perseverance to overcome life’s challenges. Though I never met my great-great-grandmother Monserrate, I feel connected to her through the recounts of her moonshining days in Puerto Rico from other elders. Her legacy lives on in my work. When I create my fossils, I think of all these women and the others before them. I hope my work honors their strength, stories, and enduring spirits.
Adelina Ruvalcaba: I Am de Mis Antepasadas
One Grand Gallery, Portland, OR
June 26, 2025 to July 25, 2025