Did you know that orchids are the national flower of Colombia?” “Did Kali Uchis quietly enthuses over the phone from her room in Los Angeles. It’s 8am when she dials in, and though the Colombian-American artist is admittedly tired, she is getting ready for her album release party later that night. The album she’s celebrating is Orquídeas, technically her fourth studio full-length, but her second instalment in Spanish. Orchids, regarded in many cultures for being symbols of love, beauty and refinement, “represent femininity to me, and a celebration of my Latinidad,” she explains in a sleepy voice. Indeed, Orquídeas is a work that luxuriates in the variousness of her identity, where baddie schemes and unwavering self-worth sit comfortably with sorrow and vulnerability. On the cover art, Uchis is submerged in a milky, marbled body of liquid, swirls of pink, purple and blue orchids covering her naked body; a divine feminine who moves in elegant, earthquaking strides.
“Since the beginning of my career, a lot of people were always like, ‘Oh, this is women empowerment music.’ But I don’t think that I’ve made music particularly with that in mind. I just create freely and whatever happens, happens,” she diplomatically offers when asked how she perceives her own artistry. “This is just me.” It’s unsurprising that her music is considered through a feminist lens. Since she arrived with her assured, soul-stirring 2015 debut EP, , Uchis has embodied what straight literary men would call a femme fatale; a devilish, uncompromising woman that devours everything (and
