There is a calmness in the way Federico Uribe speaks about chaos. In his Miami studio, piles of objects wait for their second life. Shoelaces, old books, cut coloured pencils, bullet shells. Items most of us forget or discard become the raw material of his imagination. The studio feels less like a workshop and more like a crossroads of stories, memory, touch and time.
Uribe was born in Bogotá. He grew up in a country that taught him about contrast early in life. Beauty and violence. Colour and sorrow. He talks about Colombia as a place rich in emotion and contradiction, a place that shaped the way he sees the world. He began as a painter, but canvas could not contain what he wanted to say. Colour was not enough. He needed form and friction. That realisation set him on the path toward sculptural installation, where he could build, connect and transform everyday objects into something new.
His early paintings were intense and reflective. For a time, he explored themes wrapped in religion, guilt and desire. Then came a turning point. In the mid nineties, he stopped painting and began experimenting with physical objects. It started almost playfully, but he soon realised the shift was permanent. He discovered that objects could speak more directly than paint. They had a history already embedded in them.
Today, his work feels like storytelling in three dimensions. He finds beauty in materials that normally carry a single purpose. Bullet shells become gentle animals. Books unfold as trees once again. Plastic waste transforms into coral bursting with colour. He leaves the materials visible, allowing the viewer to remember what they once were. The tension between object and meaning is part of the experience. His works are intricate and labour intensive, built through repetition, precision and time.
Nature is a constant presence in his practice. Animals, in particular, appear again and again. They stand as mirrors, reminders of instinct and vulnerability. For Uribe, the aim is not to preach. He is far more interested in connection than instruction. Different people see different messages in his pieces. Some think of violence, others think of environmental loss and some simply feel joy. If the work can spark curiosity or provoke a smile, he considers that a success.
He never sketches beforehand. A sculpture begins by instinct, taking shape through trial and discovery. He knows a piece is finished when it no longer needs him, when it seems to breathe on its own.
One of his installations, a sprawling coral reef made entirely from discarded plastic, was shown during an exhibition in Venice. Plastic bottles, caps and flip flops form an underwater world that leaves viewers suspended between beauty and discomfort, reminding them that fragility and waste are intertwined.
Uribe does not see his art as an act of perfection. Instead, it is an act of transformation. He takes what is forgotten and gives it room to speak. Whether the viewer responds with discomfort, delight or reflection, he welcomes it. For him, the work is complete the moment it triggers feeling.
“Once viewers realise they are seeing something they have never seen before, they smile.”
That seems to be the true medium he works in. Not shoes or pencils or shells. Wonder.
For readers curious to explore his work further, selected pieces from his collection can also be viewed through Superluxe.
