Who is Nicoletta Daríta?

A Love Letter to Myself in Public Space

I am an art school nerd who survived. I am the little girl who danced in fancy dresses, spinning between worlds—one that hurt and one that saved me. Baltimore School for the Arts was my sanctuary, a place where teachers and mentors saw me when I was struggling to see myself. That school didn’t just teach me; it held me up when I was breaking, it shaped me, and it saved me. Art became my first language, my refuge, my freedom.

I am the granddaughter of the kindest woman on the planet. Mi abuelita, with her gentle hands and boundless love, taught me how to heal in her kitchen. That tiny, sacred space smelled of herbs, yucca, and bacalao. It was there, watching her stir remedies into pots and whisper love into every dish, that I first understood: healing is something we do with our hands, our hearts, our presence. She is why I am a Curandera Chamána. She is why I practice plant medicine.

I live with a service dog who walks beside me as I navigate the world. He is small, but his presence is mighty—a soft, living reminder that I deserve care too. Some days, the weight of the world sits heavy on my chest, but I have learned that healing is a daily ritual. I move, I create, I breathe, I tend to my nervous system the way I tend to the plants in my kitchen—gently, with patience and love.

I am an artist in the business of healing. My work is a bridge between past and future, between my ancestors and the communities I serve. I pour my Panamanian roots into everything I touch, into every performance, sculpture, and ritual. I reimagine the artist’s life as one of abundance, where creation is not just about making art but about making space—for joy, for healing, for connection.

Little me, if you could see me now, I hope you’d smile. I hope you’d feel safe. I hope you’d know that we made it.