Life of Kelly Mus.

I am Kelly Mus,
and I was raised by art.

My father, Ricardo Mus,
was a painter by nature.
Self-taught. Experimental.
He painted Antigua Guatemala in oil,

again and again.

I was five years old,
and I remember the smell of turpentine in our home
of raw canvases bought in Zone 1 of Guatemala City,
of wood he shaped into frames from nothing.

He knew how to give art a body,
a presence.
It was the quiet devotion of someone who painted
because he knew no other way to exist, live and feeling alive.

A love for creating moved through our family,
like an inheritance.
In our home, art wasn't just a hobby

It was a way of being.

My brother, Kevin Mus, learned to paint by watching him.
Oil,
brushes,
patience.

He devoted himself to studying Fine Arts and Art History at the Universidad de San Carlos in Guatemala.
He was a pure artist, deeply talented and fully devoted to his art.

My father painted until the end, in 2019.

Five years later, Kevin slipped out of this world,

3 days before his 33th birthday arrived.
333.
Art do not left my life with them,
Art put me closer to them.

My way of creating expanded.

My curiosity deepened.

And with it,

my love for art;

its origins,

its impact,

its form,

its essence.

Museums became something different after my father died:
a way of feeling the present.
After my brother,
they became a way of perceiving
what it means to be alive.

I am Kelly Mus.
Mus.
Muse.
Museum.

Not as a concept.
As a destiny.

I believe art is alive.
A living force.

Something that changes,
and leaves us changed.

Something that transforms
everything it touches.

That is where I begin.
Where I begin to create.

Not simply to make.

But to leave
something behind.

Something
that
lasts.