Disculpe que Ande Sucio, Nací en la Tierra y Trabajo en la Tierra.
Thesis exhibition: Juan Vallejo
Since the beginning, humanity has had a close connection to clay. With a vast spectrum of uses, from building material to the treatment of human digestive diseases, to a variety of manufacturing applications, clay is a significant part of the world in which we live. Disculpe que Ande Sucio, Nací en la Tierra y Trabajo en la Tierra, exhibits clay as the primary media I have explored during my studies at UTSA. With clay as the primary formal and conceptual support, this body of work employs found objects, photographs on ceramic slabs, vessels, and clay slipcovered burlap sacks that are kiln-fired. Using these materials, I explore the personal and shared themes of memory, land, and labor and how they form an identity.
My family immigrated from the mountain of Central Mexico in San Luis Potosi. Their village, named Tanque de Dolores, was built on the ruins of a hacienda. In search of a better life, they immigrated to the United States. As the children of immigrants, my siblings and I spent much of our childhood harvesting the fields of the Rio Grande Valley and other northern states.
The memories of my time as a migrant laborer are a large part of my identity and my studio practice. There were occasions when we had to duck from the school buses because we were not supposed to be working. We would leave school in early May for the planting season and returned to the Valley around September or October, depending on how long the season lasted. Growing up as a migrant laborer, I continually used my hands as tools to dig the ground, harvest, or to fix broken machinery. Through my artwork, I continue working with my hands, to create and experiment in many ways.
Some of the memories that influence my work are the Mexican migrant culture, the long-standing labor connection between the United States and Mexico, and the vital work of the migrant community. I want the viewer to connect the ritual of labor as bettering the self and the pursuit of better circumstances. I hope to communicate the universal message of sacrifice for a better life while providing an insight into the aspects of life as a migrant, including the darker times. The work is my experience as a migrant laborer, as being part of the farm-laboring migrant community. Within this body of work are not only my experiences but the stories that I witnessed and were shared with me.
I remember the pickup truck. The back end of the pickup truck was a communal space. The tailgate was where we came together either for breakfast or lunch, to discuss how the work was going. The pickup bed also carried tools for the job, necessary to keep us going. I recall the plastic picking baskets, which came in different styles and colors, and served multiple uses, not just for the gathering of the tomatoes and cucumbers. Theses baskets also functioned as points of demarcation. They marked the boundaries between families and the allotted area they would be picking that day. It is like the borders spoken of by Arnold van Gennep in his book The Rites of Passage. If these borderlines were not taken seriously, they could generate disagreement between the heads of family, with the implication of theft. The picking baskets also served as seats during communal lunch at the truck bed or the end of a field. Other times these baskets were adapted as toilet seats. A hole was cut at the bottom and placed upside-down over a shallow trench, in a nearby wooded area or a cornfield, for the older people who could not squat properly. This action had to be kept secret because the boss would get upset for having damaged his property. Other times the baskets were used as shade for infants to sleep. The baskets subsequently were rotated as the sun traveled through the sky to maintain the shadow on the infants. The washing machine and tubs also have a prominent place in my memories of that time. They were communal areas where once a week, the women would go and wash all the clothes from that week. It was also a place where they could talk and converse with each other.
Another aspect of migrant farmworker's experience that my work addresses is fear. Fear because of the need for protection from the unknown. In our case, it was the American culture of which we were outsiders. This need for "protection" led us to create our community within another community. In many cases, this established stronger ties within our family, but other times it worked against us. One of the consequences of this was self-governance. When conflicts arose in our community, they were settled within the community.
I experiment with different elements in my work. For example, I explore the memories of my past and link them with the social issues of the present. My work is in the vein of Rachel Whiteread in that my work is art-as-autobiography. Her work in capturing fading memories through slip cast molds struck me as a significant approach to a solution to the challenge of the ephemerality of memory. These forms become a part of the negative space in my work while at the same time being a mnemonic device to tell a story of memories nearly forgotten. As seen in the piece, Tailgate, I remember the pick-up truck clearly. Although I do not remember the color of the thermos or the brand of beer my dad drank, I do remember these items being there. As a means of reinforcing the experience and the memory, I include diegetic sources such as the voices of family members reminiscing on their time as migrant workers.
Along with Writeread, Donald Judd is also an influence on my work. In his work is see rhythm, repetition, and pattern which heavily influences my work. In Judd, I see stacks of pallets, tractor treads, and rows of crops that seem to go on forever. His work helps me analyze my experience as a migrant worker. For example, his work Untitled, 1993, made of plexiglass and brass reminds me of the stacks of pallets filled with the produce we had picked during the day.
Like Juan Granados, I include images in my work. The images in the truck mirror series are from the time when my family harvested oranges in Florida. Granados, who comes from a family of migrant farmworkers in the southern United States, states of his work, "My language echoes the origins of the earth. I have worked the land in various parts of the country and have harvested many types of crops and produce. All of this is part of me, and I have enjoyed celebrating these experiences of cultivation." His work, like mine, share memories of the past while making them relevant in the present. Like him, I also use photo transfers to add another layer of information to my work. The imagery I use references working the land, family, and memory. We worked in different states, picking a variety of crops until the early 2000s. The citrus picking bags I use in my work are the original bags my mother and father used. I asked my dad why he kept them all these years, and he responded, “Well if I ever need to go back to picking oranges, I will not have to buy another bag.”
Looking back, I see how these experiences have influenced my artistic growth. I learned valuable skills such as creative thinking, problem-solving, making do with whatever is on hand at the time, and the need to grow beyond the comfort zone of a close-knit community.
As a former migrant worker, I see my artwork as necessary because it shows the view of what life was like for land laborers and for people whose presence is almost invisible because of the nature of their work. People with hopes and dreams coming to this country for a better life, not faceless strangers who are attempting to overrun this country, as some have stated. Grafting my personal experiences, along with current social issues, allows me to create a unique work that is both aesthetically challenging and socially relevant.
Thesis exhibition: Juan Vallejo
Since the beginning, humanity has had a close connection to clay. With a vast spectrum of uses, from building material to the treatment of human digestive diseases, to a variety of manufacturing applications, clay is a significant part of the world in which we live. Disculpe que Ande Sucio, Nací en la Tierra y Trabajo en la Tierra, exhibits clay as the primary media I have explored during my studies at UTSA. With clay as the primary formal and conceptual support, this body of work employs found objects, photographs on ceramic slabs, vessels, and clay slipcovered burlap sacks that are kiln-fired. Using these materials, I explore the personal and shared themes of memory, land, and labor and how they form an identity.
My family immigrated from the mountain of Central Mexico in San Luis Potosi. Their village, named Tanque de Dolores, was built on the ruins of a hacienda. In search of a better life, they immigrated to the United States. As the children of immigrants, my siblings and I spent much of our childhood harvesting the fields of the Rio Grande Valley and other northern states.
The memories of my time as a migrant laborer are a large part of my identity and my studio practice. There were occasions when we had to duck from the school buses because we were not supposed to be working. We would leave school in early May for the planting season and returned to the Valley around September or October, depending on how long the season lasted. Growing up as a migrant laborer, I continually used my hands as tools to dig the ground, harvest, or to fix broken machinery. Through my artwork, I continue working with my hands, to create and experiment in many ways.
Some of the memories that influence my work are the Mexican migrant culture, the long-standing labor connection between the United States and Mexico, and the vital work of the migrant community. I want the viewer to connect the ritual of labor as bettering the self and the pursuit of better circumstances. I hope to communicate the universal message of sacrifice for a better life while providing an insight into the aspects of life as a migrant, including the darker times. The work is my experience as a migrant laborer, as being part of the farm-laboring migrant community. Within this body of work are not only my experiences but the stories that I witnessed and were shared with me.
I remember the pickup truck. The back end of the pickup truck was a communal space. The tailgate was where we came together either for breakfast or lunch, to discuss how the work was going. The pickup bed also carried tools for the job, necessary to keep us going. I recall the plastic picking baskets, which came in different styles and colors, and served multiple uses, not just for the gathering of the tomatoes and cucumbers. Theses baskets also functioned as points of demarcation. They marked the boundaries between families and the allotted area they would be picking that day. It is like the borders spoken of by Arnold van Gennep in his book The Rites of Passage. If these borderlines were not taken seriously, they could generate disagreement between the heads of family, with the implication of theft. The picking baskets also served as seats during communal lunch at the truck bed or the end of a field. Other times these baskets were adapted as toilet seats. A hole was cut at the bottom and placed upside-down over a shallow trench, in a nearby wooded area or a cornfield, for the older people who could not squat properly. This action had to be kept secret because the boss would get upset for having damaged his property. Other times the baskets were used as shade for infants to sleep. The baskets subsequently were rotated as the sun traveled through the sky to maintain the shadow on the infants. The washing machine and tubs also have a prominent place in my memories of that time. They were communal areas where once a week, the women would go and wash all the clothes from that week. It was also a place where they could talk and converse with each other.
Another aspect of migrant farmworker's experience that my work addresses is fear. Fear because of the need for protection from the unknown. In our case, it was the American culture of which we were outsiders. This need for "protection" led us to create our community within another community. In many cases, this established stronger ties within our family, but other times it worked against us. One of the consequences of this was self-governance. When conflicts arose in our community, they were settled within the community.
I experiment with different elements in my work. For example, I explore the memories of my past and link them with the social issues of the present. My work is in the vein of Rachel Whiteread in that my work is art-as-autobiography. Her work in capturing fading memories through slip cast molds struck me as a significant approach to a solution to the challenge of the ephemerality of memory. These forms become a part of the negative space in my work while at the same time being a mnemonic device to tell a story of memories nearly forgotten. As seen in the piece, Tailgate, I remember the pick-up truck clearly. Although I do not remember the color of the thermos or the brand of beer my dad drank, I do remember these items being there. As a means of reinforcing the experience and the memory, I include diegetic sources such as the voices of family members reminiscing on their time as migrant workers.
Along with Writeread, Donald Judd is also an influence on my work. In his work is see rhythm, repetition, and pattern which heavily influences my work. In Judd, I see stacks of pallets, tractor treads, and rows of crops that seem to go on forever. His work helps me analyze my experience as a migrant worker. For example, his work Untitled, 1993, made of plexiglass and brass reminds me of the stacks of pallets filled with the produce we had picked during the day.
Like Juan Granados, I include images in my work. The images in the truck mirror series are from the time when my family harvested oranges in Florida. Granados, who comes from a family of migrant farmworkers in the southern United States, states of his work, "My language echoes the origins of the earth. I have worked the land in various parts of the country and have harvested many types of crops and produce. All of this is part of me, and I have enjoyed celebrating these experiences of cultivation." His work, like mine, share memories of the past while making them relevant in the present. Like him, I also use photo transfers to add another layer of information to my work. The imagery I use references working the land, family, and memory. We worked in different states, picking a variety of crops until the early 2000s. The citrus picking bags I use in my work are the original bags my mother and father used. I asked my dad why he kept them all these years, and he responded, “Well if I ever need to go back to picking oranges, I will not have to buy another bag.”
Looking back, I see how these experiences have influenced my artistic growth. I learned valuable skills such as creative thinking, problem-solving, making do with whatever is on hand at the time, and the need to grow beyond the comfort zone of a close-knit community.
As a former migrant worker, I see my artwork as necessary because it shows the view of what life was like for land laborers and for people whose presence is almost invisible because of the nature of their work. People with hopes and dreams coming to this country for a better life, not faceless strangers who are attempting to overrun this country, as some have stated. Grafting my personal experiences, along with current social issues, allows me to create a unique work that is both aesthetically challenging and socially relevant.
