January 20, 2025
In Firelei Báez’s World: History, Identity, and Reclamation
by Irena Chou, SASC Volunteer

Mawu-Lisa (I build my language out of rocks), 2024. Courtesy of Firelei Báez and Hauser & Wirth, New York.
Firelei Báez, born in the Dominican Republic and currently based in New York, turns historical maps, documents and patterns into vibrant, layered works that reimagine the legacies of colonial histories and African diaspora in the Caribbean. Her work interweaves several different perspectives—like social history, anthropology, and folklore—inviting people from all backgrounds and histories to have a space to confront the work and their identities. As Báez herself explains, “with a larger work you are confronted physically—it becomes something joyous, or something visceral… and before you start putting in different hierarchies and saying ‘this thing doesn’t belong to me’ or ‘I don’t belong in this space,’ you are already enmeshed formally with the work.”
(For more information, check out the links at the end!)
Walking through Firelei Báez’s exhibition at the Vancouver Art Gallery was an experience that lingered long after I left. Her work doesn’t just depict history and folklore—it actively invites viewers to think about how these narratives shape identity and our understanding of the body. Through vibrant colors, different textures, and layers of historical details, Báez crafts pieces that seemingly feel alive, which I believe encourages a deeper consideration of how we navigate the stories we inherit.
I was particularly struck by her reimagining of the Ciguapa, a mythological figure from Dominican folklore. The Ciguapa, with her backward-facing feet and flowing hair, embodies contradictions—she is both captivating and dangerous, free yet somehow elusive. Báez uses this figure to explore how cultural and personal histories can be simultaneously illuminating and misleading. The backward feet, for example, make the Ciguapa’s footprints impossible to follow, a metaphor for the fragmented and nonlinear nature of history.
I found that this theme of layered, incomplete, or obscured histories runs throughout Báez’s other works. Her use of unconventional materials, such as old maps and decommissioned books, grounds her art with the physical remnants of history. I believe that Báez incorporates purposeful marks of decay, with stains that mimic the aging of old manuscripts, to create a sense of time’s passage and its impact on our collective memory. It’s interesting that her art doesn’t offer neat answers or tidy resolutions—instead, it invites viewers to consider themselves in her space, questioning what has been preserved, what has been lost, and what remains open to reinterpretation.

How to slip out of your body quietly, 2018. Courtesy of Firelei Báez and Hauser & Wirth, New York.
Báez’s figures are also equally striking in their resistance to categorization. Blending elements of humans, plants, and animals, these hybrid forms reject the rigid classifications imposed by systems like scientific taxonomy. Her figures seemed to challenge binary understandings of identity and open space for more fluid and dynamic perspectives. I especially saw this resistance to categorization in her depictions of hair, which Báez transforms into a symbol of resistance and autonomy. The way hair spills across her canvases feels like a deliberate defiance of societal expectations—a visual celebration of individuality and transformation.

Can I Pass? Installation view, “Firelei Báez: Vessels of Genealogies,” DePaul Art Museum, Chicago, 2017. Courtesy of Firelei Báez and Hauser & Wirth, New York. Image courtesy DePaul Art Museum.
Another example of her rejection of categorization connects to Báez’s earlier series of self-portraits (collectively named “Can I Pass?”) created between 2011 and 2013. In this series, she paints silhouettes of her face, head, hair, and shoulders in shades matching her forearm, referencing the historical Brown paper bag test, which was used to classify blackness in the United States. Through these works, Báez examines how physical features have been used to enforce discriminatory boundaries, challenging viewers to confront these systems of oppression and the hierarchies they uphold.
Moving further into the physicality of the body, I also found myself drawn to the way Báez instills themes of femininity in her art. Her figures don’t just represent, they assert. To me, they seem to push back against the objectification and constraints imposed by history and culture. The merging of human and non-human forms in her work challenges viewers to rethink what it means to belong to a category at all—and to consider celebrating the freedom that comes with rejecting these imposed boundaries.
On a final note, Báez’s work invites us to imagine ways of reclaiming and renewing what’s been lost, offering a sense of hope alongside her critique. Her references to disavowed histories—like those of Henrietta Lacks (who had cervical cancer, and had her tissue given to a researcher without Lacks’ knowledge or consent) or the ruins of the Sans Souci palace in Haiti (the palace of the first king of Haiti, destroyed by an earthquake in 1842)—force us to confront the violence and erasures of the past. Yet her work doesn’t just point out the weight of history, it asks us to consider how we can engage with it in ways that foster understanding and transformation. Through this balance of critique and possibility, Báez encourages us to reimagine historical narratives and envision new ways forward.
Standing before her work, I felt the weight of those histories—both personal and collective—but also a sense of empowerment. Báez’s art reminds us that we are not merely passive recipients of the stories we inherit. We have the agency to question, reinterpret, and reshape those narratives. Her work encourages us to actively participate in this process, whether through creating, reflecting, or simply engaging with what we encounter. If you haven’t experienced her art yet, it’s worth seeing firsthand. Each person brings their own stories and interpretations, and I believe that it’s through this interaction that Báez’s pieces truly come alive.
And if you’re interested in learning more about Báez online, here are some of my personal recommendations for places to start:
- The Vancouver Art Gallery’s website for an official artist bio (her exhibition is running until March 16, 2025!): https://www.vanartgallery.bc.ca/exhibitions/firelei-baez
- A very lovely and thoughtful interview conducted by the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ht5o3mfMsDw
- Information about one of Báez’s recent exhibitions, The fact that it amazes me does not mean I relinquish it, held at Hauser & Wirth in Downtown Los Angeles: https://www.hauserwirth.com/hauser-wirth-exhibitions/firelei-baez-fall2024/