The Audobon Climate report finds that 314 North American bird species are under serious threat due to climate change. Of these species, the climate-endangered group faces a reduction of 50% of its current range by 2050, and the climate-threatened group is projected to meet the same fate by 2080. 

In Nature's Keeper, the bird featured embodies the climate-endangered group: a stylistic blend of the Pine Warbler, Palm Warbler, Sage Sparrow, Rufous Hummingbird, and Varied Thrush. 

Humanity ignites fire to the bird in a candle-like flame meanwhile attempting to extinguish her fire; take care to notice the blue drip coming from her right arm. 

Is she turned away in negligence of her hands? Is this a transitional turn, in an attempt to correct her inferno? Can her stance be instead read as a gentle beholding? 

Have you, yourself, succumbed to pyromania? 

Fire is powerful, yet delicate. Without fuel, it ceases to exist. Its source goes up in smoke.

She is delicate, yet powerful. Her strength comes from an eternal source, that which precedes her and surpasses her. She is all possibility and past. However, she may only sustaine once she relinquishes her fire.

When physicists try to map out a three body celestial orbit, it appears nondeterministic, chaotic. The slightest deviation in the initial position wildly shifts the system's behavior. In other words, it is the butterfly effect.

In Taoism, the self is a reflection of the cosmos----the cosmos is a reflection of the self. To understand the world is to understand how you effect it, to come to know relationships and causality. 

Blindness is believing your actions, your mental state, your consciousness has no ripple, no gravity. 

We live in a global world, one in which the migration of ideas, beauty, mindset, culture, destruction, poison, hope is inevitable. The peacock, for instance, is native to Sri Lanka and India, yet they now thrive in my home neighborhood in South Florida. He is just one symbol of this constant border crossing, this interconnected globalism.

Your starting point matters, since you don't know how far reaching your end will be. 

Your reaction to climate change is not done in vain. Living in the delusion that what you do does not matter in the grand scheme of the climate crisis only adds to your destructive ability. 

Know your power, act as though you live in a three body world. 

Even further, understand the other bodies in the system.

The sun is generally drawn in red in Japanese art, yet in the US, we artists are taught to paint it in yellow. Your culture crafts the eyes in which your world is illuminated. How can you add dimension to your view? How may you acknowledge someone else's luminosity to make your own reflective potential more vibrant, more knowledgable? 

Must you rework your view of the world? Of the environment?

A memory of the artist's younger self looks at her older self. A cardinal flits through her hair, and an owl loooks past the child. 

Reflection of the past serves as a mode to hop between mental states. Allowing fluidy and whimsy into life is an acknowledgement of youth. It is also an invitation to the future. 

A crane finds its reflection of the present moment in the ripples it creates. The force it puts out changes its medium of study. 

With water, reflection is constrained to the present reality----and it is subject to the impulse of surroundings. 

An orchid crawls up the perifery of the baby. Its inclusion is an ode to the artist's grandmother. Her grandmother studied botany before shifting her life to account for the demands of a marriage. Her gardens are filled with orchids, upholding the legacy of flowers in the family.

The Whooping Crane featured here is native to her home in South Florida. They rely on freshwater marshes and floodplain habitats, both of which are at risk of drought and salination due to the changes in temperature and rising seas involved with climate change. 

She has submitted herself to becoming a ground for this bird, his foundation. Her composure is calm, meditative, accepting, as she takes up her mantle. 

Love is a display of modesty, of vulnerability. 

Can she kneel in the face of a calling? To replace quick satisfaction with longsighted meditation. 

This piece is temporality. Who comes first? 

How does power position itself?

A white ibis dips her head into the bay. A lotus emerges from the mud at her feet. 

The artist sat in mangroves, in the mud, watching ibises pass in front of her. They sifted through the water, looking for food in the muds. She took inspiration from her sit. The yellow lotus, native to Florida, is a recall to her childhood ventures in the gardens near her home. 

Here, the woman is the watcher, the beholder, the noticer. 

The creation of this piece was a sequence of waiting, seeing, and adding. Before the waters dried, Camila timed when to add more color. She played with opacity at each drying phase.

To grasp agency is to hold both destruction and promise. 

When we look to our ecological future, are we admitting our defeat or striving for a place of light and truth? Are we raising our arms up in strength, or lowering it with regret? 

These pieces are a product of experimental destruction and water-flow. War was painted and left out in the rain, while peace was made in a manner where the artist controlled the brush strokes diligently. 

They were made on tempo with music, each color a shift in melody. The artist constrainted her time based on the pulses of sound.