Color: Dopamina.

What Happened to the Drawing You Made for Your Mom or Dad?

Do you remember the scent of your first crayons, the metallic markers, the glittery gel pens, and those fruity-scented tube erasers? The ones you cherished but somehow ended every school year with barely six of the twenty-four colored pencils from your box?

Deep down, you always knew that your friend Jaime had taken that aquamarine pencil you loved so much.

Jaime thought he was clever, believing that by peeling off the sticker with your full name, you wouldn't recognize your prized pencil. But you knew the truth. Still, you cared for Jaime, because in your pencil case, you held an object coveted by the gods—his beloved dinosaur-shaped eraser. The one you never dared to use, hoping to preserve it intact for eternity, yet somehow lost just a few weeks later.

How much have you forgotten about your first dreams?

In her first solo exhibition, Shalom Hernández invites us to reconnect with the nostalgia of childhood, with those carefree moments, and to reflect on that safe space—whether it was, is, or will be—depending on the childhood we lived. We are enveloped by bright colors, apartment windows into other worlds and realities, leading us back to personal memories that seek a dialogue with what remains of that primary essence of our childhood. As distant as it seems, it is still close—because now, whether we realize it or not, those memories form the pillars of our adult identity, shaping a colorful path that connects our inner child with the journey of maturity.

How grown-up we all are. Shalom doesn’t cry, Juan is invincible, and Fernanda always gets perfect grades.

Sometimes, we are nothing more than children with clumsy motor skills, stumbling through life, playing “The Adults”—a game where no one gave us the rules but still hurts, just like that dodgeball to the face in gym class. Like the one Marifer got hit with during recess—poor Marifer, her brand-new glasses bent out of shape.

Hernández observes everyday life with keen awareness, taking in public spaces and noticing the most seemingly insignificant details, which she turns into a diary. She is the one who wants to know everything about you—now, it’s time to look at her and want to know everything about her.

Shalom finds in color an optimistic form of artistic expression, creating a record of landscapes and daily experiences while embracing the ups and downs of existence. She invites us to walk the streets, speaking openly, child to child, and encourages us to draw new dreams—before recess time is up.

"Accept the present circumstances without resistance or resentment." —Shalom Hernández

H. S. V.