Food as Language, Care as Revolution
By Mónica Martínez Guerrero
Tainá Guedes’ work occupies a unique and often overlooked space in contemporary art: the intersection of the domestic, nutritional, physical, and emotional realms. These everyday practices sustain our lives but rarely receive the recognition they deserve as art. Through her work, Tainá aims to elevate these elements to the spotlight.
From a feminist standpoint, her use of food as a form of communication carries significant weight. Cooking, nourishing, and serving have long been roles assigned to women, often seen as duties rather than creative expressions. Tainá challenges and redefines this perception. She doesn’t idealize the kitchen or motherhood; instead, she embraces these spaces as sources of power, agency, aesthetic creation, and political critique.
Her artistic journey functions as a form of education. From her most personal pieces to her large-scale installations, there’s a continuous act of sharing that emerges from experiences tied to the earth, childhood, migration, and community. Food transcends its role as mere material; it becomes a vessel for memory, inheritance, love, and conflict.
In projects like Bread Waste Globe, Food Art Week, and UNWATER, Tainá develops an artistic language that critiques without being dogmatic, prompts questions without resorting to aggression, and instills deep reflections using common materials. Her strength lies in the reminder that the most significant revolutions often take place with hands kneading dough, bodies enduring weariness, and a heartfelt desire to nourish, even in times of scarcity.
When I first encountered her work, I realized we shared more than just concerns. Her approach to the overlooked (the undervalued, undefined, or unacknowledged) echoes a feminist lineage that seeks to expand art’s narratives, bringing together various times, bodies, and creation methods. For instance, in Invisible Work, several pressing questions arise: What constitutes work? What generates value? How burdensome does a routine become when it goes unnoticed?
Tainá doesn’t ask for permission to bring the intimate into the public sphere or to assert that care can be a form of resistance. She embodies this principle in each project with coherence, sensitivity, and a tender political stance that is deeply subversive.
Her work steers clear of spectacle; instead, it aims for genuine meaning. It doesn’t impose; it offers. Through this act of giving, it reminds us that to feed, care for, nurture, repeat, persist, and sustain is also a form of creation.
Recently, I had the privilege of spending time with her in Brazil while we presented Invisible Work at the Brazilian Senate. I witnessed her in multiple roles (as a mother, wife, artist, friend, and collaborator). I saw her address a plenary not just to showcase art as an aesthetic endeavor but to advocate for it as a vital form of protest, a political call for change. Watching her navigate these roles with such clarity and strength left an indelible impression on me. I hold immense admiration for her work, her integrity, and her resilience.
Mónica Martínez Guerrero, curator, feminist activist, and founder of Banana Contemporary