In Her Biggest Show Yet, Artist Manuela Solano Goes All-In on Pop Icons

During our Zoom call in late September, artist Manuela Solano appears before me in a striking club ensemble: a white leather jacket adorned with fringe, a white crop top, hot pants, and a uniquely designed leather harness that secures her cane to her body when not in use. It’s an eye-catching look, but tonight she’s not headed to a club. Instead, her outfit serves as a vibrant illustration of her exciting life in Berlin, which she has cultivated as a blind trans woman newly arrived in the city.

This exuberance is a recurring theme in our chat. Solano, 38, originally from Mexico and a resident of Berlin since 2019, is on the verge of unveiling her largest solo museum exhibition to date, titled Museo Tamayo in Mexico City. Named “Alien Queen / Paraíso Extraño,” this exhibition (October 9–January 4) showcases over 30 grand-scale paintings featuring queer and pop culture icons from the ‘90s and 2000s. Esteemed personalities such as Cher, Sinead O’Connor, and Marge Simpson are depicted from memory with vibrant precision, as are memorable scenes from films like Alien and The NeverEnding Story. Each figure is selected for its personal significance to Solano as well as its cultural impact, adding a layer of conceptual depth to these portraits.

Solano lost her vision over a decade ago due to an HIV-related illness, yet she persevered with her artistic endeavors. With the aid of her studio assistants, she has honed a technique involving pipe cleaners and string affixed to canvas to create tactile outlines. Her artistic journey has seen various evolutions, such as incorporating text and phrases on her canvases, including the quote “Is this your first time here, sweetie?” from her 2024 series Blind, Transgender and Wild. Other artworks are heartfelt interpretations of birds or portrayals of her family. Earlier this year, she presented a gallery exhibition in Madrid featuring five large self-portraits reflecting various facets of her identity, illustrating the complexity of selfhood.

Over recent years, she has gained significant recognition, participating in the 2018 New Museum Triennial and hosting major solo exhibitions at ICA Miami and Dundee Contemporary Arts, Scotland. Her artwork is also featured in the collections of the Guggenheim, ICA Miami, and Pérez Museum Miami.

However, this upcoming show at Museo Tamayo carries a unique significance. Much of the artwork has never been seen in public before. “It’s surreal. Seven years ago, I started creating that painting Alien Queen without knowing where it would lead, often daydreaming about the Tamayo museum. Telling myself it might not happen,” Solano reflects. “And yet here we are. I’m pleasantly shocked.”

In anticipation of the exhibition opening, we delved into topics including Karen O tribute art, insights from creating while blind, and how her initiation into club culture felt like “a baptism.” The following is an edited version of our conversation for clarity and brevity.

Vogue: What inspired the title of your exhibition, “Alien Queen / Paraíso Extraño”?

Manuela Solano: Since childhood, I have held a near-sacred affection for the Alien films, leading me to create a portrait of the Alien Queen. I was entranced by these two phrases, and “paraíso extraño,” which is from a song by the Spanish pop artist Mónica Naranjo. “Alien Queen” embodies something otherworldly yet noble, while “paraíso extraño” translates to “strange paradise,” representing an unusual experience that can still feel paradisiacal. Now that the show is nearly open, I realize it encapsulates my exuberance, passion, zest for life, and vitality—my essence. Ultimately, though, these pieces also speak to broader human experiences, reflecting the traits we all share.

These cultural icons—did they play significant roles in your life growing up?

It’s a mix of familiar and new. Many figures held special meaning for me as a child, like Karen O. The last addition to this exhibition was Karen O’s Hands or Maps. In my teenage years, I adored the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I witnessed them perform in Mexico City in 2005 and often sketched her likeness in my notebooks. There was an open call for fans to design a flag, and my design made it into their album booklet! Later, for a digital illustration assignment in college, I designed a cereal box inspired by Karen O. To my astonishment, the band’s PR contacted me, saying she loved my work and wanted to post it on her blog. As an art student and fan, that recognition was monumental for me, showing how art can bridge connections. Two decades later, that painting reflects that same drive.

That’s so incredible.

Alongside these figures, I’ve depicted others like Christina Aguilera, Pink, and even Jan Crouch, the televangelist—characters I never thought would resonate with me. Sometimes an idea strikes me, like showing Christina Aguilera in the video for “Dirrty” in the museum. That thought lingers and becomes amusing, ultimately informing my art. With Christina, it struck me recently how relatable she is; like me, she enjoys dressing up and dancing, immersing herself in the night.

What mood do you feel represents these paintings? Are they nostalgic or perhaps irreverent?

There’s a serious undertone to these works. While they may initially seem irreverent, as I connect with each character, a deep respect develops. They aren’t nostalgic, though; rather, they celebrate the present, embodying triumph and vitality. It could be said these are not just portraits; they also depict facets of ourselves. They reflect our goals, desires, humor, and anxieties. I’m not portraying a lost past but rather affirming that these characters are vibrantly alive.

Was being an artist always your aspiration?

Indeed, though my career aspirations shifted frequently in childhood. Becoming an artist was on that list. Since childhood, people said to me, “You are such an artist; you will become an artist.” At one point, I aspired to be a marine biologist, like many kids do. [Laughs.] Yet, what I practice now aligns with what I cherished back then—expressing myself through painting and drawing.

Can you describe your painting process now?

I had to adapt my methods to rely on touch rather than sight. Years ago, I began experimenting with materials I could feel on the canvas. My goal was to keep these elements as paintings instead of sculptures, so I needed adaptable elements that I could easily remove. Initially, my canvases were stretched on conventional stretchers, but the nails securing the string or pipe cleaners wouldn’t stay in place. That’s when I transitioned to stretching my canvases directly against the wall; the firmness allows the nails to hold better. I also switched to painting with my fingertips instead of brushes, which gives me more control and allows me to gauge how much paint I’m applying.

What do you wish people knew about creating art as a blind person?

Firstly, it’s vital to understand that art originates from within. It’s not limited to the painting you observe; instead, it’s about the feelings stirred within you and the circumstances that prompted the creation. Many people overlook this essence. They fixate solely on the visible art. However, the true artistry lies behind the piece and within you. Being blind has illuminated this reality for me. I could delve deeper into issues like accessibility in the art world and beyond, especially regarding misconceptions about disabilities. There’s always a demand for better access to information, and I strive to shift these misunderstandings. I wish more individuals and institutions would prioritize engaging with audiences with disabilities.

And your life in Berlin, where you’ve lived for six years—how has that experience shaped you?

Here’s another misconception about blind individuals. I’m wearing this outfit because I love going out. [Solano stands up to highlight her club attire.] I began exploring nightlife a couple of years ago. Prior to that, I felt a sense of frustration; I longed to experience the vibrant Berlin nightlife but often found myself alone, despite having friends. One day my brother Danny visited, and we were both feeling bored and lethargic in the heart of winter. I said, “Let’s go out, get ready! We are heading to Berghain.” He expressed concern about how we’d gain entrance, but I reassured him, “I’ll get us in. Trust me.” We got there, enjoyed a drink, and for the first time, I realized just how much I could gather about my environment through hearing. After finishing my drink, I declared I was heading to the dance floor. While Danny offered to assist, I wanted to go solo. Armed with my white cane, I made my way toward the crowd, feeling their energy without them walking—just dancing. Folding my cane away, I was met with astonished reactions like, Is that person really blind? That experience profoundly transformed me. I began frequenting clubs almost every weekend. It felt like a rebirth, unveiling a spirited, vibrant side of me I hadn’t known. I fell in love with Berlin through this experience.

That’s a beautiful story. People must often be surprised by you.

Absolutely! People frequently react with amazement, asking, “You go out? How do you manage?” I’m fully capable of caring for myself. The club experience looks out for me. I’ve learned there’s always someone willing to help if I need it. Berlin encourages individuality, which can have its pros and cons as it sometimes leads to isolation; however, it has also empowered me. Despite being blind and transgender, I do not feel out of place here. I can immerse myself in the club scene for hours, experiencing freedom in a way that feels enriching. I strive to convey this spirit not only in my daily life but also through my artwork.

“Manuela Solano: Alien Queen / Paraíso Extraño” will be showcased at Museo Tamayo in Mexico City from October 9, 2025, until January 4, 2026.