Chicano Photographer Speech - St. Mary's College of Maryland

[Photo: Chicano Education Pilgrimage, 1971. Click on image to enlarge. Copyright 2007 Jesús Manuel Mena Garza. All rights reserved.]

Chicano Photographer Exhibition Speech, October 17, 2007

Intro

Good afternoon. Before I begin my remarks, I would like to acknowledge the many people that have helped make this exhibition possible. I would first like to thank Professor Cristin Cash and the members of the Art and Art History department faculty for extending the invitation to myself and Dr. Ann Marie Leimer and bringing us the beautiful St. Mary’s campus.

I was born and raised in San José, California and this is my first visit to the East Coast. I am grateful for this tremendous opportunity to share my work with St. Mary’s students and the University community. I must also especially acknowledge Gallery Director Catherine Dunn for her coordination of the show. I also want to thank students from Professor Cash’s Curatorial course for their assistance in mounting the exhibition.

I will be talking for about fifteen minutes how I came to be an artist, my process as a photographer, and the images. I would welcome any questions you might have at the conclusion of my presentation.

Becoming a Chicano Photographer

When I was eight years old, I remember shuffling through a drawer where I found 35mm negatives my sister Dolores had hidden. I pulled them out and held them to the light. They looked like film strips used in elementary school projectors during the late 1950s and early 1960s. The celluloid miniatures held a certain mystery. I wondered how you could make a print from such a small negative. What made this transformation possible?

From this raw beginning, I pursued the many skills necessary to be a professional photographer. I advanced from first taking simple snapshots to eventually exhibiting in galleries. My role as critical observer empowered me, but developing technically and aesthetically as an artist required a great deal of effort and continual experimentation. It also required coursework, taking countless pictures and endless discovery. Over the years, I learned how to effectively previsualize, capture, store and distribute my art.

During the 1970s, I explored and documented Chicano culture through photography. this time, Chicanos struggled to enter the American mainstream while retaining their identity. Previously, Chicanos and Chicanas, Mexican-Americans or Hispanics were known as the silent minority. In the 1970s, I became part of a new, loud and proud chorus.

I consider myself a Chicano photographer. But what does it mean to use the term “Chicano photographer”? Is it someone who only specializes in photographing Chicano subjects? What is Chicano subject matter anyway?

Should I be limiting my photographic work to only include stereotypical Chicano imagery, such as the Virgin of Guadalupe or a desert landscape complete with thorny cactus? I have gone to exhibits by Chicano and Chicana artists. They can often be divided into two categories. One large group consists of the Frida Kahlo imitators. The second category is resplendent with independent thinkers. Both are valid.

Frida’s legacy is manifest in the work of many contemporary artists. Frida will never die as long as dozens emulate her. This genre contains at least one of the following cultural clichés: the maguey, the Sacred Heart, the Virgen de Guadalupe, a struggling woman, roses. When I enter an exhibition and discover examples of such formulaic work, I always have the refreshments to look forward to.

I consider myself in the latter category — an independent thinker. I am not limited to preconceived or politically dictated notions of Chicano art. Chicano art is a hybrid of the Mexican and American experience. That experience is constantly evolving. It is also nuanced by region, gender and other variables. Personally, I have used my camera to explore the Chicano Movement, Americana, fashion models, and much more. And yes, I have also photographed representations of the Virgen de Guadalupe.

The Photograph

What makes a great photograph? There is no single path to achieve this goal and there is plenty of room for creative interpretation. Fine art photography requires two distinct skills — technical and aesthetic. To be a great photographer, you must combine the two.

The works of Ansel Adams, Edward Weston and Richard Avedon have influenced me in this regard. Warhol is another favorite. His audacity and marketing shrewdness have inspired me and made me laugh. Warhol was truly a master marketer. He was at his best when he not only mocked his project, but himself, the art world and tradition.

Another artist who influenced me was Diane Arbus. Her photographs of so-called “freaks” published in the 1960s opened my eyes. She exposed beautiful people and common people as well. Her lens was uncompromising.

Texas, California, Y Mi Familia

My story, at least in the beginning, is similar to many other Chicanos and Chicanas. My parents were modest farm workers. I was born in beautiful San José, California in 1952, the seventh of eight children born to Eusebio and Guadalupe Mena Garza. Guadalupe was born in 1914 in Carrizo Springs, Texas, and grew up in nearby Crystal City. My father, Eusebio, was born in 1907. He hailed from Coahuila in Northern Mexico and came to Texas as a child in 1916. The Garza family settled in Crystal City where Eusebio later met and married my mother.

My parents worked their entire lives as farm laborers. Like many campesinos, meaning migrant farmworkers, in Crystal City, our entire family migrated throughout the Midwest and West during the harvest season. Each winter, they would return home to Texas.

In the late 1940s, my father’s eldest brother Manuel led the extended Garza family to San José in search of increased opportunities. Again the entire Garza family worked in the fields while living in migrant labor camps. We picked fruit and vegetables at orchards and farms that later became prized locations for Silicon Valley’s computer industry's chip manufacturing plants.

Growing up in San José during the 1950s and 60s, I saw my hometown evolve from an agricultural oasis south of San Francisco to the capital of Silicon Valley. During this period, my parents bought a house in a racially diverse, working-class neighborhood in the city’s Northside.

My mother Guadalupe eventually began working at local canneries, although she also continued laboring in the fields. I worked in the fields during summers, on weekends throughout my middle and high school years, and occasionally in college. Manual labor is always a valuable commodity.

My parents were quite humble. I do not remember having any long conversations with either of them. My father usually sat in the corner reading the Spanish language newspaper. He also loved listening to Spanish language radio. Eusebio was very proud of his Mexican heritage and South Texas culture. I shared his love of Tejano music, dancing and spicy cuisine. To this day, I share this aspect of his South Texas soul.

My mother could neither read nor write, but she had a keen mind and a great creative spirit. She knitted, crocheted, made quilts and clothing as did many women of her generation. She enjoyed gardening and especially tending to her roses. I share her passion for flowers.

My mother and I returned to Crystal City several times to see members of the familia, family, that remained behind. In 1962, when I was ten years old, I traveled with my mother, my brother David and my sister Dolores’ in-laws. We stuffed eight people into a car. The trip lasted more than 24 hours. The trip took 24 hours and we did not stop once? or rarely stopped OR drove continuously

During this trip, I distinctly remember that I saw a sign posted on a dusty rural Texas saloon stating, "No Mexicans or Dogs Allowed." Although the adults ignored the sign and entered the saloon without incident, this experience revealed to me another side of the South.

I returned to Crystal City in 1969, during the historic high-school walkout. Chicano/as Chicana and Chicano high school students walked out of scheduled classes to protest racist policies that denied them opportunities typically afforded Anglo students. In this small Texas town, I witnessed the impact of poverty, segregation and activism, an encounter that shaped my future political and community involvement. This event galvanized high school and college students throughout the country.

The Birth Of A Photographer

My parents could not afford a camera or record player. So, at age eleven, I bought myself my first camera at La Pulga, the San José Flea Market. I used this simple twin-lens box camera to capture my initial portraits of close friends and neighborhood buildings, subjects I would continue to record throughout my career.

I processed my first exposed rolls of film at Arena’s Photography on Thirteenth Street in San José. There, Gaetano Arena magically transformed my negatives into prints. At least then, I thought it was magic.

From the beginning, my images had as their source my migrant farmworker heritage and my immersion in the dynamic political and artistic culture of El Movimiento, the political movement that emerged during the mid-1960s seeking social justice for Chicanos and Chicanas.

San José High

My artistic vision was shaped and nurtured at Roosevelt Junior High, San José High, San José State University (SJSU), the San Francisco Art Institute, and the Academy of Art College (now University). Drawn to the role of outside observer, the documentation of people and events formed the primary focus of my early photographic work. I served as photographer for both the junior and senior school newspaper and yearbook and discovered documentary photography and photojournalism as my calling.

In high school, I also learned basic serigraphy, or silk-screen printing, an important skill that helped financially support me through college. At various screen shops, I did everything from constructing screens to printing. It was great training for making Chicano Movement posters and flyers.

Growing Up Chicano

My parents let me to do my own thing when I turned 18. They weren’t strict; in fact, they were generally oblivious. I converted their old garage into a hippie palace. I had all the necessities of life including a king-size waterbed, stereo, sofa, and dozens of political posters. Covering a large window with the then ubiquitous upside-down American flag was my not so subtle protest against the war in Viet Nam.

My parents never understood the value of an education. I believed that they were not on my side. I had to make life-changing decisions on my own. My father stated on many occasions that being a laborer was good enough for me. He never went to college (nor elementary school) — why should I?

Just this year (2007), I learned from my eldest sister, Carmen, that I had been offered a full scholarship to a private school when I was in the first grade. Apparently, I did very well on a test. But my parents declined the offer saying that their son didn’t need to go to any fancy school. I wonder what my life would have been like had I been able to take advantage of this opportunity.

Another story about my parents: my father Eusebio did what he was told. In 1975, the police were looking for someone in the neighborhood. Rather than saying no, he let them search my garage bedroom. That day I lay ill with the flu. My girlfriend was visiting and had brought me a bowl of hot soup.

One officer caught a glimpse of me and said, “You disgust me.” I do not remember asking for his opinion. From his expression, I could tell that he didn’t like the lefty posters, waterbed and upside-down flag. He could tell I wasn’t a member of the Young Republicans.

The Chicano Film Institute

Immediately after high school, I worked as a photographer and cinematographer at the Chicano Film Institute (CFI) of San José. It was an excellent opportunity to document Chicano/as in Santa Clara Valley. I shot 16mm film of Teatro Campesino, the Farmworkers’ theatre founded by Luis Valdez, as well as slides for a presentation on de jure and de facto housing patterns in Santa Clara County, and many other projects. It was at this time that I began to identify myself as a “Chicano Photographer.”

I have many stories from the 70s that can shed light on the conditions Chicanos and Chicanas faced at that time. For example, I used to walk around the neighborhood of San José State University with a 16mm film camera. I had no film, but practiced zooming, panning and composing. One day, a San José police officer saw me and quickly grabbed my arm demanding, “Where did you get that camera?” I noted that I was a cinematographer and that I worked around the block. He responded harshly and continued to interrogate me for several minutes. Such was life for a longhaired lefty. This was not the first time I was hassled, and it would not be the last.

La Vida Suave - College Life

At an early age, I knew I would attend San José State College, now University. I had investigated their Journalism Department, knew the school had an excellent reputation, and that Dr. Joe Swan would be an excellent teacher. For me and many others, college was an opportunity for personal growth. I felt that there were no boundaries. This was the early 70s. There were hippies, be-ins, demonstrations, marijuana, miniskirts, free love and college classes, too.

As a photographer, I found plenty of creative opportunities. My camera was an excellent tool for personal expression. I had my first photo exhibit at SJSU the summer before I entered college. There would be many to follow. By the way, it took me eight years to finish college. I was the first and only one in my family to go to a university, and I did not have anyone to guide me through the process. I probably took too many esoteric classes. In retrospect, I should have finished in four years.

Not many Chicanos of my generation had the opportunity to take classes, join clubs and investigate new cultures. At SJSU, I served as president of three campus organizations and was a member of the United Farm Workers Support Committee and the Community Alert Patrol, or CAP. As part of CAP, I monitored and documented police activities. Through my political involvement, I met César Chávez, Corky Gonzáles, José Angel Gutiérrez and many other Chicano/a leaders.

El Centro Cultural de la Gente

Concurrently with my involvement in the university and broadcast communities, I served as Treasurer, Gallery Director, and Resident Photographer at El Centro Cultural de la Gente of San José, where I helped produce various exhibits of my work and that of other San José and Bay Area artists. El Centro Cultural de la Gente was a community based arts organization. El Centro was one of the epicenters of the Chicano Movement in San José during the 70s. Most of the photographs in this exhibit are from this period.

Conclusion

That concludes my talk. I appreciate your interest in my photographs. If you have any questions, I will try my best to answer them now.


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