There is a particular kind of memory that does not arrive as a full image, but as a feeling—half-formed, slightly blurred at the edges, yet impossibly vivid in its emotional weight. In Becoming, Eric Alfaro leans into that space: the quiet, in-between years where identity is not yet declared, but actively unfolding.
These works do not attempt to document youth as a timeline. Instead, they distill it—into fragments, symbols, and gestures that feel deeply familiar. A pair of worn sneakers. The grounded presence of boots. Denim softened by time. A striped shirt that could belong to anyone, or to someone unforgettable. They are not portraits of individuals, but of a shared passage.
At the center of the series, shoes become vessels. From within them, wildflowers emerge—unruly, vibrant, and alive—pushing upward as if memory itself were taking root. They do not grow delicately, but insistently. There is something quietly radical in this gesture: the idea that even the most worn, familiar parts of ourselves carry the potential for transformation.
Elsewhere, the narrative shifts to the human form—though only in part. Alfaro withholds the face, and with it, the comfort of identity. We are left instead with torsos: two figures, pressed hip to hip, suspended in a moment of closeness that feels both fleeting and permanent. There is no need for expression, no need for eye contact. The language here is instinctual—friendship before explanation, siblinghood before distance, belonging without performance.
Why no faces? Because these works are not about who these people are, but about what they hold. By removing the face, Alfaro removes specificity, allowing the viewer to enter the work without resistance. These figures become open—familiar, even.
The simplicity of their clothing—white tees, denim, the occasional stripe—grounds the work in a kind of visual universality. And yet, within that restraint, there are moments of quiet experimentation: hair rendered in pinks, blues, and unexpected tones. Not declarations, but explorations—the subtle ways we begin to test, shape, and understand ourselves.
Alfaro’s painterly approach mirrors this state of transition. His gestures are intentional, yet deliberately unrefined. Acrylic and oil move freely across the surface, resisting over-definition. The work feels immediate, alive—never fixed, never finished.
Becoming does not offer resolution. It offers recognition.
A reminder that growth is rarely linear, rarely visible in real time. That the most defining moments are often the quietest ones. And that who we are is not something we arrive at—but something we continue, endlessly, to become.