The Making with Dariana Guerrero

On a gray and drizzly afternoon in late November, author and artist Dariana Guerrero and Essex Art Center's Executive Director, Monica Lynn Manoski, sat down in front of the glow of their computers for a Zoom meeting. Although they were separated in space, Dariana's fully embodied presence and the warm rasp of her voice enveloped the conversation, and Monica's deep listening made for a nourishing experience for them both.

Monica Lynn Manoski: Dariana, thank you for sitting down with me. I want to start somewhere near the beginning. Can you share where you were born and raised and some of your earliest creative memories?

Dariana Guerrero: I was born in Haverhill, Massachusetts, and my family and I moved to Lawrence when I was three years old. I did K through 12 in Lawrence Public Schools. So essentially my entire life has been in Lawrence.

I always had a creative bug. Some of my earliest creative memories include working with scraps of fabric and making clothing for my dolls and stuffed animals. 

But I also have memories of being told I wasn't good enough, and so for a time, I internalized that, thinking maybe I'm not creative, maybe I'm not an artist. 

As I've gotten older, I have resisted the limitations that others have placed on me. How dare you tell me that I'm not good enough? How dare you say my city is not beautiful? How dare you say that we are damned? What I love about art is that it has this ability to resist in a beautiful way. Resistance doesn't have to be war and destruction. 

MLM: Wow. I just got goosebumps. It's surprising to learn that you weren't always encouraged or supported in your creative work, because when I see you, watch you perform, or listen to you now, you are captivating. It is the beautiful resistance that you talk about. You have such confidence and conviction that I assumed your creativity was consistently recognized and uplifted. 

You designed an artwork that graces our building's facade that says "City of Promise." Can you share what those words mean to you? 

DG: When I started working on that project, I remember saying to Gabriel (Essex Art Center's Deputy Director), I want to make something that's beautiful, something that when people drive past it on the street, it's bright, and vibrant and catches people's attention.

For much of my life, I've felt like I've been hidden or disregarded. There's something really liberating about becoming an artist and being seen for the work you put out there. For a lot of marginalized people, we want to be seen and heard for who we are, not for what other people are telling us what we are. And so there's something beautiful about creating a piece of art that stands on its own, but it can come even more to life when you know the artist's life and backstory. Being able to choose how I carry myself, how I show up, and how I create pieces like that. That choice is such freedom, and it is a privilege that I definitely do not take for granted.

Dariana's City of Promise sign above Essex Art Center

MLM: I got to know you and your work while you were one of the Lawrence Arts Collective's artists-in-residence, a program that Essex Art Center facilitated. Can you share what participating in the program was like and how you've evolved as an artist because of this opportunity? 

DG: That program was absolutely instrumental to my development of confidence and my identity as an artist. When I first started, I had all these ideas flowing through my head. I thought, maybe I'll write another book. Maybe I'll do this or that. But, after meeting with Gabriel and the other artists, I knew I wanted to challenge myself to make a piece of visual art. I wanted to draw something. I wanted to make something tangible, something physical.

I was compelled by the idea that play can release trauma. I wanted to create something that could heal myself, heal the inner child with wounds, and heal my community and the traumas we've faced. And I remember thinking about the things that I loved growing up. There is a game called Lotería. It's traditionally Mexican or Central American, so it wasn't a game I grew up playing with my Dominican family but one of my colleagues and I played when I taught at Andover and the joy he felt connecting with his heritage and teaching me about the meaning of the cards in his family was extraordinary. There was something really special about the Lotería cards and what each one of them symbolized , and the stories each image told.

I decided to take the imagery of my poetry and as well as found local inspiration and set out to create a custom deck of playing cards I call, "The Sancocho Shuffle: Cartas Con Sabor!" The images are based on Lawrence, the imagery in my poetry book "Sancocho." The cards have 26 unique images and I get so emotional about the work because I saw it through from seed to a polished final product, I hired a collaborating artist–DeyCloud to help me refine  the images, and I know just how much work and love it took to become a reality. I taught myself how to draw last year. I learned how to use an app called Procreate and all of the intricacies of digital art.

And I had this amazing mentorship. I remember saying to Gabriel, I want to do something that challenges myself. I've done a lot of writing, and I love that, but I wanted to make something accessible to many people. Not everyone understands or responds to written poetry, but the imagery on the cards is something that everyone can connect with. As a spoken word artist, I know that poetry does so many beautiful things, and I wanted to see how a deck of cards could be read together as a poem. 

And these cards have taken on a life of their own. A few years ago I learned about the idea of a "Book Fairy," someone who leaves books for free in places near and far for people to find, take home, and enjoy--maybe even to encourage someone to pass a new book along and keep the chain of literacy going. Since I didn't publish The Sancocho Shuffle in a typical sense, the idea of taking copies of these Cartas Con Sabor and leaving them for folks to stumble upon has brought a new life to the cards and expanded the reach of my work and the community of Lawrence. On my travels to Europe this spring to celebrate my 29th birthday, I brought The Sancocho Shuffle in my luggage and left them near major monuments like Brandenburg Gate, on empty seats on the double decker buses, at Trinity College, by the Berlin Wall, inside of a windmill at a tulip garden, in little free libraries, outside of bodegas, in hotel lobbies, and as gifts to good Airbnb hosts. I sent a copy home with a friend I met from Belgium. 

The Sancocho Shuffle has now made it to 6 countries–the Dominican Republic, Ireland,  Belgium, Netherlands, Germany, and Portugal. I've sent copies nationally, too, to Nevada, California, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and New Jersey–and I know this is just the beginning. Locally, I've donated copies to Lawrence Public Schools and the Lawrence Boys and Girls Club and have plans to donate a copy to The Lawrence Public Library and The Center. The Sancocho Shuffle has a life of its own, beyond me, beyond Lawrence. But it is a small token of my big little city, of my story, my family, my community that will endure for years and years to come. 

The joy that I've seen those cards bring to other people has just made me feel so fulfilled. Our world can be scary sometimes, but when I see all these different people with different backgrounds, coming together, playing with these cards, laughing, and talking, I see that something transcendent is happening. Healing is happening. 

My experience as the artist-in-residence was truly special. Because of that program, now, I confidently say I am an artist. 

Pop up celebration of Dariana's Sancocho Shuffle at Jessy's Place

MLM: Yes, "The Sancocho Shuffle" is a generous offering you created. I love how it can circulate through multiple communities and its accessibility. Can you share more about your work "City of Promise" and what those words mean to you?

DG: Lawrence was given the name City of the Damned. And when that article came out, I was a junior at Lawrence High at the time; I remember being in my English class, and everybody was so pissed. There have been a few times when I've physically felt palpable energy and emotions, and that was one of them. 

The piece I made for Essex Art Center's facade is a resistance to that narrative, without giving the article more "airtime" and "clicks." The message is optimistic, and it looks to the future; it's not stuck in the past. When I was designing the piece, I wanted the flower that I used in The Sancocho Shuffle, the Plymouth Gentian, to be included. It is a very rare and endangered flower, and Lawrence is one of the only places it exists.

Often, outsiders look at our city and our residents as needing help. But like the Plymouth Gentian, our resilience continues to grow, and we thrive despite all the things being said about us. I see all of us as the Plymouth Gentian. We are fighting back. We are growing and thriving, and we're also the keepers of this secret, the secret that Lawrence is great. Lawrence is amazing and it always has been. But I'll admit, I didn't love it at first. I grew up in Lawrence Public Housing, next to a dumpster where the trash thrashed outside the door and scattered all about. The backside image of The Sancocho Shuffle is a beautiful dumpster with flowers overflowing out of its metal mouth. When I was younger. I didn't appreciate what I had because I was constantly trying to be someone else or somewhere else. When I went away to college, I realized how special Lawrence is, and I realized that all the things I wanted to do and be can be done here.

MLM: That's beautiful. I love that. 

What advice do you have for young artists looking to have a career in the creative field? 

DG: When I was a little girl, I was always quiet and hidden. I didn't like taking up space. I felt embarrassed about my body and how I looked, and I hated my voice. My advice is Be brave. I have it tattooed on my body because there was a moment in my life when I needed to be brave. I was terrified. I just repeated this phrase to myself: Just be brave. Just be brave. Just be brave. Do the thing that scares you. Doing the project for the artist-in-residence felt overwhelming at times because of everything I had put on my plate, and those recurring thoughts of doubt and insecurity started filling my head again. I remember Gabriel being so nurturing, so compassionate, so wise. He told me that I was doing a hard thing and it was okay to feel overwhelmed but that I would get through it. And I did. I am so thankful to the mentorship Gabriel provided, to my collaborating artist, and to EAC and the Lawrence Arts Collective for this amazing experience.

My other piece of advice is to Trust your vision. See it through. If I didn't trust my vision, The Sanchocho Shuffle would not be here.

Dariana performing spoken word at Ateneo Dominicano during her artist-in-residency at Essex Art Center.

MLM: Great advice. As an artist, if you make work and put yourself out there, you're going to have people who don't like it or suggest you take another path. It's good to take it all in, and then have the conviction to say, I hear you, thank you for the feedback, but I'm going to do it my way. 

DG: Yes! Trusting in yourself is really, really powerful. 

MLM: Dariana, it has been a delight to listen to you speak and to spend time getting to know you and your work better. I want to end the interview by asking you to share one of your poems. Is there one that you're thinking about now after our conversation? 

DG: Thank you, Monica. As an artist, it is so meaningful to be really seen and heard, and I felt that with you today. 

I want to read this poem that doesn't get enough love.  about the inner child and the ghosts we carry in our body.

Fragile Ghosts

My skin, ticklish 

from the brush of dandelions,

embraces each wish like wonder.

I am a child again and I love

my body. Its motion, each fall

reminding me of the gift of gravity

I am pliable. I still believe in tabula 

rasa. I cry soft 

tears thinking about the lull

of death. 

In my dreams she leaves me searching searching searching 

for goodbyes and endless love none

of which come. When I wake, a panic

of sweat and epinephrine surge 

through my veins and tickle 

the fragile ghost that sticks

to my bones. 

When I think about freedom, I peel

off the top layer of my skin 

letting the phantoms out

and they sing. 

They are happy

to put a face to the body 

they've lived in. 

Ever curious

to know where the little girl hides

where in the world do the dandelions

grow? 

I greet these whispers of wind

with an echo of their song, the child

still here    the child       still here

About Dariana Guerrero: Dariana Guerrero (she/her) is a dynamic, award-winning writer, dedicated activist, and passionate educator with an impressive track record spanning over a decade and counting. Drawing from her extensive 10-year experience in facilitating writing workshops, performing poetry, and advocating for equity and anti-racism, Dariana's focus on poetry and resistance narratives reflects her fervent commitment to using words as a catalyst for change. Her work has been featured in a wide variety of publications and media including, Caustic Frolic Literary Journal, Exposed Brick Literary Magazine, Glass Poetry Journal, Voices and Visions, Women: A Cultural Review, influencer Bailey Sarian's The Dark History of Diet Culture, Witness Magazine, and Death Never Dies: Mourning 2020 Through the Lives and Deaths of Public Figures. In addition, Dariana is the winner of the 2023 Mass Poetry Community Award for her outstanding poetry and community leadership. She proudly holds a degree from Smith College and is currently pursuing a master's in English at Salem State University. Check out more of Dariana's work at www.darianaguerrero.com or connect with her on social media @Darianawrites