Hello!

I am Dian, a Mexican craftswoman, textile artist, and designer living in The Netherlands.

In my practice, I strive to create a sanctuary of beauty, resilience, and profound meaning. Each piece is an invitation to explore the depths of our collective and individual narratives, to honor our heritage, and to embrace the transformative power of creativity. Through my work, I aim to contribute to the healing of generational and colonial wounds, offering a space for reflection, connection, and remembrance.

get in touch 

sotovegadian@gmail.com
studio 1.2 @ de wasserij

instagram @diannsv
tumblr @diannsv 
pinterest @diannsv

2024
She of the jade skirt
70 x 70 cm

Chalchiuhtlicue is a Mexica water goddess associated with groundwater, serpents, and the womb. In the creation myth of the Five Suns, she ruled over the Fourth Sun (era), which ended in a great flood, transforming people into fish. 

Her name comes from the Nahuatl words ‘chalchihuitl,’ meaning jade, and ‘cueitl,’ meaning skirt.

This piece celebrates and honors the feminine power of water to give, take and renew life.

2024
She of the jade skirt
70 x 70 cm

Chalchiuhtlicue is a Mexica water goddess associated with groundwater, serpents, and the womb. In the creation myth of the Five Suns, she ruled over the Fourth Sun (era), which ended in a great flood, transforming people into fish. 

Her name comes from the Nahuatl words ‘chalchihuitl,’ meaning jade, and ‘cueitl,’ meaning skirt.

This piece celebrates and honors the feminine power of water to give, take and renew life.

2024
Chalchiuhtlicue
140 x 140 cm

Chalchiuhtlicue is a Mexica water goddess associated with groundwater, serpents, and the womb. In the creation myth of the Five Suns, she ruled over the Fourth Sun (era), which ended in a great flood, transforming people into fish. 

Her name comes from the Nahuatl words ‘chalchihuitl,’ meaning jade, and ‘cueitl,’ meaning skirt.

This piece celebrates and honors the feminine power of water to give, take and renew life.

2024
Chalchiuhtlicue
140 x 140 cm

Chalchiuhtlicue is a Mexica water goddess associated with groundwater, serpents, and the womb. In the creation myth of the Five Suns, she ruled over the Fourth Sun (era), which ended in a great flood, transforming people into fish. 

Her name comes from the Nahuatl words ‘chalchihuitl,’ meaning jade, and ‘cueitl,’ meaning skirt.

This piece celebrates and honors the feminine power of water to give, take and renew life.

2024
Trini / pirul
200 x 140 cm

Trini was the mom of my dad’s mom. My great-grandmother.

She lived in the middle of the desert, with no one else around for kilometers. Her house was made of adobe, and a pink peppercorn tree (pirul) stood next to it. She spent most of her life in that house, built by her aggressor, my great-grandfather.

The process of making this quilt allowed me to connect with her spirit, imagining her living in that house in the desert, watching the seasons change, and witnessing the pink peppercorn tree bearing fruit. I like to think that the tree was there to support her, sharing with her the knowledge of how to endure, persevere, and thrive despite the harsh environment.

2024
Trini / Pirul
200 x 140 cm

Trini was the mom of my dad’s mom. My great-grandmother.

She lived in the middle of the desert, with no one else around for kilometers. Her house was made of adobe, and a pink peppercorn tree (pirul) stood next to it. She spent most of her life in that house, built by her aggressor, my great-grandfather.

The process of making this quilt allowed me to connect with her spirit, imagining her living in that house in the desert, watching the seasons change, and witnessing the pink peppercorn tree bearing fruit. I like to think that the tree was there to support her, sharing with her the knowledge of how to endure, persevere, and thrive despite the harsh environment.

2023
Snakes and ladders
20 x 80 cm

A naturally dyed wall hanger to celebrate the birth of a good friend’s daughter.

2023
Snakes and ladders
20 x 80 cm

A naturally dyed wall hanger to celebrate the birth of a good friend’s daughter.

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum.”

2022
Tlalnepantla
64 x 78 cm

Named after the municipality where I was born. The word Tlalnepantla comes from the Nahuatl words ‘tlali’ (earth) and ‘nepantla’ (in the middle).

Originally, this piece was an affirmation of my being. With the snaky hill and the sun rising, it expressed my coming into existence in the middle of the earth, as a mestiza in a land with a complicated history.

While researching the pyramids and churches I grew up around, I learned that the church near my parent’s work (where I attended fairs and Independence Day celebrations) was actually built with stolen stones from a pyramid close to my parent’s home (that pyramid is special to me because I went to an elementary school a block away from it; the school was named after the pyramid, and its image was embroidered on my uniforms). I also learned that the church was built with the forced labor of indigenous people who were later compelled to convert to Catholicism and learn Spanish.

It was a strange feeling to see the echoes of colonialism so clear, close, and personal in the landmarks of my childhood. From that moment on, I understood that no matter where I look, our colonial past is still present. 

2022
Tlalnepantla
64 x 78 cm

Named after the municipality where I was born. The word Tlalnepantla comes from the Nahuatl words ‘tlali’ (earth) and ‘nepantla’ (in the middle).

Originally, this piece was an affirmation of my being. With the snaky hill and the sun rising, it expressed my coming into existence in the middle of the earth, as a mestiza in a land with a complicated history.

While researching the pyramids and churches I grew up around, I learned that the church near my parent’s work (where I attended fairs and Independence Day celebrations) was actually built with stolen stones from a pyramid close to my parent’s home (that pyramid is special to me because I went to an elementary school a block away from it; the school was named after the pyramid, and its image was embroidered on my uniforms). I also learned that the church was built with the forced labor of indigenous people who were later compelled to convert to Catholicism and learn Spanish.

It was a strange feeling to see the echoes of colonialism so clear, close, and personal in the landmarks of my childhood. From that moment on, I understood that no matter where I look, our colonial past is still present. 

2022
Ahuehuetes
150 x 100 cm

The first few years after migrating were tough and lonely. I was constantly confused and saddened by leaving my home behind. I missed my mom and the simplicity of childhood. I often daydreamed about my childhood in the house where I grew up, so I turned those memories into a quilt to celebrate her, my inner child.

2022
Ahuehuetes
150 x 100 cm

The first few years after migrating were tough and lonely. I was constantly confused and saddened by leaving my home behind. I missed my mom and the simplicity of childhood. I often daydreamed about my childhood in the house where I grew up, so I turned those memories into a quilt to celebrate her, my inner child.

2022
Anáhuac
200 x 220 cm

In 2020, I moved out of my parents’ house in Tlalnepantla, Mexico, to an apartment on the eighth floor of a building in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. 

This quilt portrays the expansion of ‘my world.’ It begins with La Sierra de Guadalupe, a set of hills on the northern border between Mexico City and the State of Mexico, and ends with the mountain El Ajusco in the southwest of the city. The yellow line in the mid-right section represents the journey from what I knew to what I was about to discover.

The crafting process gave me time and space to feel my loss and reflect on my roots, my home, and my upbringing. Once I accepted the change, I felt ready to jump into the unknown and embrace life’s lessons and surprises.

2022
Anáhuac
200 x 220 cm

In 2020, I moved out of my parents’ house in Tlalnepantla, Mexico, to an apartment on the eighth floor of a building in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. 

This quilt portrays the expansion of ‘my world.’ It begins with La Sierra de Guadalupe, a set of hills on the northern border between Mexico City and the State of Mexico, and ends with the mountain El Ajusco in the southwest of the city. 

The crafting process gave me time and space to feel my loss and reflect on my roots, my home, and my upbringing. Once I accepted the change, I felt ready to jump into the unknown and embrace life’s lessons and surprises.

Copyright © 2024 Diana Soto Vega