“I’m a very community-driven person,” said Miró-Rivera. He and his classmates became a team there, he says, and together created the first undergraduate art gallery in their soon-to-be demolished building. Thinking about the last four years, Miró-Rivera is grateful for the support of Trumbull College and the relationships he’s built on campus, including those forged in the undergraduate art studios at 341 Crown St. “I hope in the future my work continues to become more about the site specificity of the viewer and having a genuine encounter.” “I’d prefer my art to exist as a very potent memory rather than an object or an image,” he said. And while getting a drone and being able to see his own work from an aerial perspective was a milestone in his practice, he ultimately wishes people could see the work in person. In each of his pieces, Miró-Rivera aims to represent the essence of the place itself. For a year, Miró-Rivera collected thousands of cigarette butts left around the School of Art and for his piece, and then inserted them into cracks in a section of pavement between Crown Street and Chapel Street. For the latter, he studied humans’ spatial abilities in Yale’s Cognition and Development Lab, work that culminated in a thesis that shows the mind represents space in multiple ways simultaneously.īeing in New Haven has allowed Miró-Rivera to adapt his art practice to the urban environment, which is represented in his art senior thesis. To find a better answer, for himself as much as others, he double majored in art and cognitive science. “But I kept getting the same questions about how I know where I am and how I see what I’m doing.

“I’ve been doing things like this since before I can remember,” he said. The pieces play with perspective in terms of space - he creates art on the ground that’s often meant to be experienced from above - and time - the works are inherently temporary but each step is permanent when it comes to the final piece. Over large swaths of land - on beaches, on piers, on Cross Campus - he stomps out designs in sand, grass, or snow which he later images with a drone. Miró-Rivera is a sculptor and land artist. “But it solidified that I want to do this for the rest of my life,” said Miró-Rivera. Those two weeks of apprenticeship were filled with hard work and long days, assisting the artist to create site-specific work outside with organic materials. The email he’d been waiting for contained just four words - a location, in Scotland, and a date less than two weeks away. Now, after months of silence, Miró-Rivera had his answer. Months earlier, he’d reached out to an art collector, asking him to relay a pitch to the artist Andy Goldsworthy: two weeks of apprenticeship work, no salary required. Last summer, while sitting in a rural Guatemalan hospital with a severely twisted ankle after a fellowship spent searching for Mayan pyramids, Diego Miró-Rivera received an incredible email.

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