Echoes of Haworth: the Brontë series that sold out in under two hours
Haworth is a village on the edge of the Yorkshire moors. For most of the nineteenth century it was an unremarkable place with a parsonage at the top of a steep street, and inside that parsonage three sisters were writing some of the most durable books in the English language.
Echoes of Haworth begins there — not with the novels, but with the conditions the novels were written under.
Three writers who published as men
Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë first appeared in print as Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. The initials were kept; the gender was not. They were working in a literary world where being known as women could cost them the reading they wanted, so they arranged to be read as someone else.
That arrangement is the starting point for this series. Not the moors, not the romance, not the costume drama the Brontës have been flattened into since — but the specific act of putting a different name on your own work so the work can get through.
Faces that refuse to resolve
Echoes of Haworth does not illustrate Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre or Agnes Grey. The novels are present as weather rather than as subject matter. What the paintings take from them is a psychological register — confinement, watchfulness, the sense of a self being held slightly out of view.
The faces fracture. Features slide sideways, double, and dissolve into overlapping gestures — the visual glitch that has become the recognisable move in this body of work. A portrait is supposed to settle a person into a single image. These refuse to. The figures sit between being recognised and disappearing altogether, which is more or less the position the Brontës wrote from.
It is worth saying that these are oil paintings, made slowly, doing something that looks like digital failure. The glitch is hand-built. That gap between how it looks and how it was made is part of the point.
The gold frames are not decoration
Every work in the series sits in a gold frame, and the frames are doing an argument rather than a decorating job.
Ornamental gilt is the visual signature of exactly the nineteenth-century portraiture the Brontës lived inside — the frame that says this person has been settled, described and hung. Putting a fractured, unresolved face inside one sets up the collision directly: the container insists the sitter has been fixed in place, and the image inside it plainly has not been. The frame makes the claim; the painting declines it.
Galera 32, 17 September
Echoes of Haworth opened at Galera 32, Iker Ortiz's space in Narvarte Poniente, Mexico City, in collaboration with Alessandra Migliano's Galería Errante. It was curated by Rafael Pérez y Pérez and produced by Napkin71, the art agency founded by Paulina Villarreal.
The room filled. Then something unusual happened: the entire series sold during the opening itself, in under two hours, to collectors standing in the room. Exhibitions normally run for weeks. This one effectively completed its route from studio to private collections in a single evening.
Echoes of Haworth is sold out. There is no waiting list for the series, because there is nothing left in it to wait for.
What comes next
Non Finito, the first institutional solo exhibition, ran at the Museo de la Ciudad de Mérida from May to August 2026.
Invisibilis follows at the Centro Cultural Caja Real in San Luis Potosí, from October 2026 through January 2027 — a second institutional solo show.
After that comes a first solo presentation outside Mexico, during Miami Art Week, on 28 November 2026.
The available original paintings on this site are listed under originals. For commissions or enquiries about work not shown here, use the contact page.