As indigenous cultures begin to be recognized not just as ethnographic products but as living heritage and knowledge systems—and increasingly valued in their contemporary discourse—indigenous artists have become a recurring theme in two major frontiers. However, among the national bands in Venice, very few Indigenous artists have represented their countries. Jeffrey Gibson taking over the US Pavilion in 2024 marked a first, as did the Scandinavian Pavilion becoming the Sámi Pavilion in 2022, the first time indigenous artists represented the Nordic countries jointly in Venice.
In this Biennale, Peru will once again mark the first, acknowledging the role of the cultures that are still prevalent in its Indigenous communities. After her installation at the last Venice Biennale, Sara Flores will represent Peru, taking charge of the National Pavilion at an important moment of honoring the entire Shipibo-Konibo community of which she is a part. In just a few years, he gained worldwide recognition and fully entered the world circuit, represented by major exhibitions such as White Cube and a collaboration with Dior. In recent months, leading New York institutions, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Guggenheim, have acquired his work, joining other major museums that have already added his work to their collections, among them the Tate, the Hammer Museum and the Museum of Fine Arts, San Francisco.
Flores’ art practice is, first and foremost, a tradition of reconfiguration with a broad universal order. Incorporating the ancient wisdom and spirituality of his community into his canvases, his labyrinthine grids and twists of lines chart the essential entanglement of all beings—the entanglement of energy, matter and energy that connects human life and space, that connects the micro and the macro, the earthly and the heavenly. As the title of the forum indicates, these complex patterns seem to come from “other worlds,” which Flores transfers to our earthly, time-bound environment. This process involves entering into an altered state of consciousness that is in harmony with nature and the wider cosmic energy—the continuous flow of energy and matter that emanates from and depends on all matter.
Flores says: “I think of myself as a channel, a speaker. I am part of the process,” Flores said, speaking to the Observer before the opening of the Venice Biennale. Designs come from visions, dreams, his relationship with plants and knowledge passed down to him, he explains. “My role is to accept, understand, and deliver that with care and precision.”
Flores follows a tradition that has been handed down for centuries by the Shipibo-Konibo people, and his work brings this heritage to the area of that time. There is both a sense of responsibility and a political act in this, as he works as a contemporary artist and custodian of his community and its living heritage. The particular design he works with is called kené; both language and power. “When the work is finished, it exists, in a way that often surprises me, the lines move, they vibrate, they can change the way you see,” he comments. Many people feel drawn to work, almost as if they are entering another place. In that sense, Flores admits, they can be understood as portals—not because they contain fixed meaning, but because they open the way to perception. “We, the Shipibo, believe that illness is caused by unstructured patterns, and that healing involves dismantling them and replacing them with structured patterns,” he explains, noting that kené is also a form of medicine, facilitating a collaborative healing process. As a network, kené connects different forms of life, bringing together the human and the impersonal, the visible and the invisible, in one plane of existence. “It shows a way of understanding the world where everything is connected, like a reciprocal system,” Flores said.
His kené designs can also be read as visual evidence of his commitment to the core principles of Shipibo ethics and regulations of reconciliation, reconciliation and kinship that extend beyond humans to animals, plants, land and water. His art in this way has a political charge, standing as a symbol of artistic struggle. The healing power of his patterns extends to both the human dimension and nature, calling for global unity and sustainability.
At the same time, Flores has been pushing these ancestral designs into new areas, involving a continuous process of experimentation and evolution. For him, the word “culture” can be misleading, because kené is not something organized. It is a living language—forward-looking, with a natural desire for continuous renewal. “Kené has features, like a vocabulary. You can combine them, change them and create new ones,” he explained. “My work is to combine these elements and create new ones. I never repeat the same pattern twice. Each design is unique. In this way, practice becomes a movement towards infinity.” The most important task is always the one ahead.
There are two aspects to these activities. Menín is part of technique—discipline, precision, the ability to make a design correctly, without blemishes—and it develops through discipline, dedication and long practice sessions. Then there is shinán: part of vision, imagination, energy that comes through dreams and relationships with plants. That’s what makes the job scary. It precedes everything else. Therefore, even if the language belongs to the ancestors, it never stops. “It continues to grow, like a plant. It responds to the life force that grows, in the artist, in what is lived and felt,” said Flores. “For me, pushing kené to new places is about securing Indigenous identity for the future.”
He explains: “In the time of our ancestors, those who lived downriver drew vertical designs, or punté kené. “We learned kené from different sources. This is the history of our families, formed by the union of Shipibo and Konibo. This is our modern art history.”
This approach also clearly resists any notion of individual identity or single artistic identity that underpins Western art history. Instead, Flores’ work emerges and remains connected to collective experience and society. “For me, art is not separate from life. Kené is part of our way of life and of relating to the world. Kené is also a way of storing and passing on knowledge. “My daughters and I and my grandchildren, we spend all day, every day, painting, talking, laughing, crying,” he shares. “The lines we paint connect us between the matriarchy that begins in the times of our ancestors and will never end; it will continue to exist forever.” Drawing together creates and reinforces the essential matriarchal continuity; the kené lines connect each individual to past generations and to the community as one. For Flores, his work does not begin with him, and it will not end with him.
At the same time, each task is performed by a single person in that shared process. In the past, every woman received training in this art. Today, however, it is rare to find a family of artists as dedicated as his. “We continue to work with a level of quality, love and sacrifice that is no longer common. For this reason, it is also important to recognize the identity of each person and the effort to succeed,” he said, noting that he hopes this can encourage others to follow the same path. “We are here to honor those who painted before us, and at the same time to pave the way for future generations.”
When these works enter the realm of contemporary art, Flores argues, they do not change their nature: they continue to carry that knowledge. But they can form an alliance. “They invite people to slow down, look, feel, and reconnect with something they may have forgotten,” he says. “I’ve seen people’s reactions.
Flores recounts how he had a powerful experience. He will never forget what happened to American artist and poet Julie Ezelle-Patton the first time he entered his program. “He began to cry and laugh at the same time, expressing very strong emotions, and I believe he began to have strong ideas of his own.” These moments remind him that the work goes on beyond him.
Flores wants people to understand that kené is not something he “brought back,” because it was never lost. “It has been living among our people, and it will continue to be reinvented forever, carried by women, passed down from generation to generation and present in our daily life, in our bodies, in our relationship with the forest. What was not, he adds, recognition of its importance outside these communities-especially within Peru, where the experience of the Indigenous people is always marked by discrimination, appropriation of culture and violation of rights.
Flores considers his work to start from the place of cultural continuity: “I paint as I was taught, following the knowledge from my mother and grandmother and that, according to our legends, it was revealed in ancient times, when the communication between people, animals and nature was direct, from the cosmic antelope Ronín, whose skin contains all possible designs. Kené is a way of visual renewal.
Bringing this practice to a place like the Venice Biennale is not about adapting it to the current world, but about allowing it to exist and have an impact beyond its current context. “I don’t see myself as representing my people, but as part of a bigger plan than me,” he said.
Flores, however, accepts his responsibility. “My work makes visible information that was often ignored or looked down upon in Peru. I am the first Indigenous artist ever chosen to represent our country in Venice. I openly welcome this act of inclusion,” he explains. However, for him, being featured in a national exhibition does not erase a long history of exclusion. “It’s an act of poetic justice, and I hope it paves the way for many other women who look like me to follow.”
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