It’s been three years since I’ve posted to my Drifting Studio newsletter, and I’m glad to be back in front of my computer writing about my process and concepts again. Like most people there were many changes that altered the course of my life since 2020. The major shifts from being locked out of China, losing my job, couch surfing from state-to-state, and then moving back to China just to move back to the US shortly after were tumultuous to say the least. I’m summarizing a lot of the major points for the moment, but I’ll write a more in depth newsletter later, mapping out more of the experience and how it affected my art. For this update I want to focus on a new body of work that I’ve been making since moving to Atlanta, the series entitled Piñata.
—KYRGYZSTAN—
The series Piñata has been in the works for a while, but I haven’t really focused on it until recently. Back in 2018 I had the chance to explore the wonderful country of Kyrgyzstan while attending the Star Art Residency in Bishkek. I made a series of paintings using gouache that revolved around the question of, ‘What makes a tradition, a tradition?’. Though a vague and almost impossible question to answer I took it upon myself to try and play with the question. During my time in Kyrgyzstan I talked to many of the residents about their cultural practices and the meanings behind them. I found that there were a variety of interpretations and beliefs about what gave their traditions credence. Some of their stories conflicted with historical data and some of the traditions were only a generation or two old. I was intrigued by the commitment some of the people had to their beliefs because it related to my own experience of being Latino in the US. The conflicting opinions really resonated for me in the sense that being half US American and half Mexican always felt like I was living two realities. Two worlds that were full of different traditions and expectations, two worlds that never felt like I was meant for them, but forever tied to.
The work I made in Bishkek has influenced my thought process ever since, and I’m finally diving deeper into the idea of existing in multitudes. For so long I’ve denied my Latino heritage in my work because I felt that I would be labeled a ‘Latino Artist’, but I’m finally giving myself the chance to explore what it means to be who I am. Recently I’ve tried to make art that would be seen as timeless and beyond culture, beyond myself, and beyond my experiences. I think it was an honest mistake on my part, because how can one completely separate from everything they are? I’m able now to see that I’m more than just two cultures and that there are so many grey areas to my existence. Growing up I could only see two worlds and I always felt separate from one when I was in the other. Travel opened my eyes to seeing that I would never be a singular, that I would always be fluctuating, always transforming and growing. I am all the things the world labels me as, but I’m so much more. Even though it is ludicrous to try and define ones’ self, this body of work is my chance to finally start trying.
—HOLLOW BOY—
Let’s start with the character, Hollow Boy (HB). I’ve been drawing his face in my sketchbooks since undergrad and he’s made a few appearances in paintings throughout the years. HB represents the part of myself that feels empty and alone, lost and often times confused. He is made of wood and has an empty stare that is reminiscent of Mesopotamian Votive figures, but unlike the figures, HB looks into the void of nothingness rather into the eyes of a god. He sees only emptiness and hears only echos, he is me when I’m at my lowest self. He has been a companion on my journey and I’ve come to appreciate him as an effigy of my depression. He allows me to see the part of myself that I’d rather ignore, the part of me that wants to leave this world and be swallowed by isolation. In Piñata he will make several appearances, often as a mask splitting in half and releasing confetti and streamers into the air. His explosion will reveal my own smiling face as I come to terms with my doubts about who I am and begin to see myself as someone who deserves happiness.
—SONRISA—
Piñata in essence is a series about self-love and reflection. The first finished work in the series is Sonrisa (Smile), a bright and colorful introduction to my new body of work. I intend to use myself as the main subject matter for this new series in an attempt to reconcile the last three years. I need to investigate and break down who I am and how I made it here to Atlanta. I want to explore the many pieces of my life through these new paintings. The first piece in this series shows myself here and now holding myself as a child. I stand in front of mountainness clouds surrounded by crystalline foliage that breaks apart into spectral color at the border between the ground and sky. My eyes are circles of yellow and blue and I smile wide facing the viewer, happiness bordering insanity. The Hollow Boy piñata head explodes and I’m showered by streamers as the confetti falls on the blue skin of my child self. My self as a child is curled up and pressing into my current self for safety and I hold him close reassuring him that there will be better things to come. That the beatings will stop and he will be able to celebrate being a person and not a piñata for someone else.
Both figures embody different aspects of a piñata, one being an artifice for violence and one for celebration. Growing up there were many times were I was blindfolded and given a stick to whale on a cartoon horse or some other colorful animal. I was often hesitant and scared to be left without my sight and spun around in front of a crowd of people, but once I started swinging I felt such a great release of pressure, I got to put so much of my anger and pain in those strikes into nothingness. Hearing everyone yelling and laughing goaded me on and when I touched wood to papier-mâché all my life seemed to rise into my heart. Once the carcass of whatever animal was spilled open all of us ran to grab the cheap candy and fight over our favorites. It was a beautifully violent experience that embodies this series, and Sonrisa is the love letter to myself as a child.
—PAPIER-MÂCHÉ—
I was abused as a child by my first step-father and I can see now that he was also a broken child; growing up in a childhood where there was no room for errors, and no room for crying. His beatings were meant to fix his own insignificances and self-doubts. His fears and shortcomings were meant to break me into pieces, and for over a decade I was to be the vessel that held his pain. I’ve painted my younger self as a blue piñata to accentuate how inhuman I felt, how much I was like papier-mâché, unable to hold my step-fathers weight. Hitting the real piñata in all those backyards allowed me to hit back when I couldn’t, allowed me to break something before I was completely broken.
—HERITAGE—
The years of abuse are so blurry to me when I look back, but the harshest memories stand out clear and opaque in my mind, like steel blades reflecting razor sharp when I trace the outline of myself. Some scars are visible to the eye, but many more are lodged deep inside, covered by muscle, bone and skin. I wear it well, this body of mine, a body that was framed by his hands, but built by my fear, my anger and hatred, a body that I wished to leave, a body I’m finally coming to accept. I don’t like to admit it, but much of who I am is because of his influence. Many of my insecurities were given purchase in the cracks he created, and they kept me from feeling comfortable in my skin. Growing up in the Mid-West didn’t help as I was one of the few mixed children in the areas I lived, and I never felt whole at home or at school. I was always trying to bend myself to fit another person’s perception or to disappear completely. I would do anything to not get attention or to cause any trouble, to keep him from noticing me. This persisted into my teenage years and into my undergraduate years in Cincinnati. I wanted to hide myself and never confront my true self, I wanted to be seen as someone new, someone that had left behind everything, including my heritage. It wasn’t until my poetry instructor, Matt Hart, ripped me from this delusion and kindled the fire inside my voice to finally speak, to finally rip away the scar tissue and expose the pain I had held in for so long.
I have to say here that it would take me another ten years to finally understand the words I had said, and to see how much of myself was missing from them. I had confronted my pain, but I was much more than a punching bag, and I had more to offer the world then what my stepfather struck into me. My multi-ethnic heritage played a part in these experiences because it dictated how others treated me. It left me wondering why I couldn’t seem to fit in. After the abuse I was left with the remnants of an ego, and didn’t understand the order of my life anymore. What was it to not run and hide anymore? Who was I to gauge myself against and who was I at all without him? There were few people that could help and I was left to wonder what it was to be an ethnically mixed teenage boy in the USA. I’m still grappling with this, but I’ve had so many wonderful people to help guide me. I’m forever grateful to everyone who has opened my mind to the world and given me the perspective I need to make Piñata.
—YO SOY—
This series of work is my first step in exploring my experience being split into multiple realities and giving myself the grace to see the errors I’ve made along the way. I’m celebrating the heritage that I come from and the heritage that I’m creating. Being in a constant flux was such a negative experience for me, but now I’m happy to be the colorful mess that I am. I’m Latino, I’m Irish, I’m Caucasian, I’m brown, I’m white, I’m wide, I’m heavy, I’m American, I’m Human, and most of all I’m here.
I’m so happy to be able to explore the most colorful parts of my life and unabashedly share them with you.
Kind Regards
I want to thank you for taking the time to read through my rabbling and rantings. I sincerely appreciate the encouragement that I receive from all the people who follow my work and want to know more about what the person in front of the easel. I write these newsletters to give you an insight into what I’m thinking as I create my art, but I think I gain more from the experience than you do. The exchange seem unfair in my opinion because I’m allowed to scribble all my feelings, all my worries and all my hopes into these posts and all you get is a few of my snippets of that transformative experience. I am grateful for the little hearts and comments you leave for me, and I hope you find something in my reflections that incite something in you as well.
Thank you,
Julio