El Perdido Interview By Ingrid Chavez
I first discovered El Perdido’s artwork this past winter when he sent me a message via Myspace asking if I would be interested in selling (or trading) a print from my Beauty in Chaos photographs that are on display on my Myspace Music page. This is a series of photographs taken in the aftermath of the ice storm that had devastated the small town that I live in here in the northeast last December. When I first saw his work on his Myspace page I was immediately drawn to his faded polaroids of dreamy landscapes. I also really loved his ink paintings, every bit as evocative as his polaroids. I lived in Minnesota for 12 years where he is from and currently lives. His paintings of open fields, roads lined with telephone poles, farm houses and silos took me back to that feeling of living in the flatlands of the midwest. I have driven across the breadth of America several times in my life. I love the solitude of an open road. I am at peace when driving. I felt an immediate nostalgic connection to his work, a longing and sense of wanderlust reflected in the minimal landscapes, empty spaces framed by silhouetted farm scenes and telephone lines like a thread...running through all of his work.
Having just completed mixing my album ‘A Flutter And Some Words’, I began to imagine what the cover artwork might look like. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted yet but I knew what I didn’t want, a photographed portrait. I visited El Perdido’s Myspace page several times over the next month before asking him if he would be interested in creating the artwork for the cover. He was very positive about it. We spent the next few weeks getting to know each other as artists and spoke at length about what direction we should go. Once we decided on the basic idea, he went to work creating a portrait of me in ink. In this day and age of the ‘cd’, original artwork for albums seems a dying artform. We agreed that we wanted something that would hold up artistically for many years to come, something that would look beautiful as an ‘album’ cover. Something classic. I believe that we achieved this goal.
Following is an email exchange between El Perdido and myself. The first in a series of artist to artist email interviews.
So El Perdido, your name translates as ‘The Lost One’. What does this mean to you and why and when did you decide to start going by this name?
there are three layers to this particular pseudonym:
One:
It started as a joke and turned into a nickname of sorts:
A funny way of saying “sad-bastard,” “hopefulist,” or “eternal-romantic.”
At the same time, I was submitting to art shows and contests
where I had to remain anonymous, so I chose to enter as El Perdido:
Then I started thinking about it more....
Two:
It is a creation of a new life:
A chance to do all things relative to one large “project,”
without having to stand beside it forever:
Much like a band chooses a name when it starts out:
The name will stay with the work,
and when the work changes,
so will the name....
Three:
It is Chicano slang for what I am, demographically speaking:
The child of American parents, one Latino, one Caucasian,
who is not fully immersed within either culture:
With no culture or heritage forced upon me,
and partial acceptance at best when I choose to follow bloodlines,
I am free to write my own history:
Probably the most freeing insult ever....
Since you opened the door of communication with me through my Myspace page can you tell me what you saw in my work that compelled you to reach out to me?
It started with a photograph of you on your [my]space:
black, white, and wanderlust among birch and fallen leaves--
the comtemplation of an autumn hike:
I knew that sort of walk:
I had pictures and sketches and writing to prove it;
It wasn’t until your photographs of a December ice-storm that i actually needed to speak to you. Until this point, we were seeing and thinking alike within our visual work...but these images were so new to me:
Pieces of downed powerlines and fallen trees,
stuck frozen to an icy road—
A promise of i’ll_always_be_here,
broken with wind and water—
Beauty within a silent destruction:
I wanted to know what it felt like to be within that:
so i broke the silence and wrote you, and now we’re here.
We both have Mexican blood coursing through our veins but neither of us speak Spanish, at least not fluently and neither one of us has a strong connection to our Hispanic roots. Your surname is Verdeja. Do you feel like there is a disconnection there and if so, does that play out in your work on some level?
Here’s a story that might help make this as concise as possible:
In 2004, I was at an art museum for a lecture/tour of Chicano, a traveling show of what is considered to be the most definitive collection of Chicano Art. The lecture/tour was led by two Minnecano(Chicano, living in Minnesota) Artists. One man spoke very aggressively and loudly as he pointed out the powerful metaphors and stories of struggle within the art. The other man was very quiet and delicate with his words as he focused on the power within the beauty of the same artwork...a regular Odd Couple of art historians, which was quite entertaining until the Q & A portion of the lecture at the very end.
People asked many different historical questions, which naturally led to someone asking where Chicano Art and the Chicano Movement are right now, and where they are going. I listened as they both gave their sides to the matter: the Loud One, foreseeing new struggles and battles with every generation of Mexican immigrants; the Quiet One, hopeful and excited to see the integration of Chicano Art within a broader sense of American Culture. Everyone was done with their questions, but I had one last one. “What do you do with the children—the bi-products—of the Chicano Movement?” I asked. “Is there a place for us anywhere in the Latino Community, as artists or as people?”
The Loud One, without hesitation, began some crazy rant about reminding me that I am not Chicano...that I am Mexican-American: integrated, and less pure than Chicano. “You are a Perdido,” he yelled at me, in front of the 50-some people, “and you will always be lost....Do not use my movement for your therapy.” And that was the end of the lecture. He just said thank you and walked away....
Everyone left. I tried to stay at the end of the line on my way out, so as to save myself from as many strange looks as possible from this crowd of white people who were wondering what the hell just happened. At the door waiting for me was the Quiet One. He smiled and introduced himself, holding out a business card to meet my attempt at a handshake. I called him later in the week, as requested, and met him for breakfast. We talked and talked about life and the evolving subcultures within the US. Turns out he was a major player in Latino Arts organizations in Minnesota for decades. Finally, he cut to the chase: Latino Arts groups are dying because of assimilation and mixed-marriages, and with it, funding for these Latino Arts organizations. What “we,” he said, needed was someone like me—of the new generation of mixed blood, to lead everyone back to change the movement. I was to be his protÈgÈ, and he would mold me into this perfect community leader. We never even talked about art that day....
I never had anything to do with either of those two again after that weird week. They infected my thoughts and dreams for months, and I finally rested when I realized that we are all just adding to the same palette to create new shades of grey: that the only movement worth being a part of is the forward-movement of your own life. Introspection and Autobiography is the New American Art Movement, and now I am too busy focusing on that to think about a culture that didn’t really give a shit about me from conception to cultivation, yet needs me to progress itself.
When did you begin to imagine that the path of the artist was for you? Who was the first artist to inspire you?
Art has always been something that I have felt compelled to do. I think it was the murals of the area I grew up in, the over-decoration of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church, and just general encouragement from people that helped me. My mother and I used to draw landscapes in the driveway during the warm seasons. She would buy me pastels—not sidewalk chalk—so we could mix colors better. When I was eight, my art teacher Sister Geran Madison started giving me extra projects to do outside of class. She helped me get into the habit of working on my own, and helped me get into a show at the Children’s Museum of Minnesota. It ended up that my work was selected to be imagery that promoted and symbolized the show as well. I got to see my drawing in newspapers, on billboards and T-Shirts...everywhere. It was that experience that made me realize that a career in Art was possible. I also fell in love with multiplicity during the time—something which has never really gone away.
The first artist that I really remember talking about was Da Vinci. I really admired him for his creativity, and still think he was one of the most innovative people of human history. I really think that there is more to an artist than his/her ability to paint or sing or write...that we are missing out as a culture by not utilizing the innovative and the aesthetic found within our artists.
I remember Minneapolis as being a thriving community for artists back in the day. The city was pouring money into the arts. What is it like today and how do you feel about being an artist living there now?
First, i don’t live in Minneapolis: I’m just far enough to stay away from the distractions of the city. That being said, I have very little interaction with other local artists, but, from what I have read in current
political news, it seems like The Arts are still a priority to public spending.
Last November, we (Minnesotans) voted in favor of a small increase in sales tax to raise even more Arts and Environmental funding. This same vote made us the first state in the US to define The Arts in a state constitution as a part of “our cultural legacy”
The Twin Cities(Minneapolis & St. Paul) are very colorful cities—public art everywhere, sculpture gardens, constantly rotating local art and music within public and private social spaces, a top-notch art school, a top-ten non-MOMA modern art gallery(Walker Art Center), a top-ten off-Broadway theatre(The Guthrie), and every type of artist/musician/writer can find their social niche and small local market if they try hard enough. It all works out wonderfully if you want to be in a very communal and arts-friendly place;
But, as a self-employed artist, you can’t make a living any faster here than anywhere else right now. Tourism in Minnesota isn’t what it is in a coastal metropolitan city, and there’s only so much private money here to spend on too many artists. It’s getting to the point where the people who frequently buy art have enough of it, and new art-buyers are not moving in fast enough or staying around long enough to help industrial/economic progress....
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about global economics. I’m trying to utilize the internet, social-networking, and traveling to make my money; trying to create new markets in other countries—that way new money can be brought in and taxed for the first time, and as an artist I might be able to actually contribute to the Economy....but, if you want me to start getting off on tangents about the incestuous American Economy, and how we are trying to make and tax the same penny too many times, that’s a whole ‘nother conversation....
I know that you have been experimenting with live performance art for a couple of years now. Can you talk a little about your process and your vision? Are there any artists out there doing live performance art that you admire or who inspire you?
I am a wanderer. In my work, I use landscapes to gauge time. The ever-present telephone pole is a depiction of the self within time and place: the powerline, a reminder of a past, a future, running over horizons.
I started working and touring with musicians three years ago. I felt like I needed a way to earn my keep, but I didn’t know how I could perform. I don’t like being in front of my work—I prefer to let the work speak for itself. So I started using translucent material and creating large light boxes onstage. I began drawing landscapes on top of landscapes as fast as I could, from behind the work. The process achieved all of my goals and more: I was behind the work, with minimal shadows of myself in it; I learned to use my materials—water and ink—in a way that kept the piece literally moving and changing, so that the process was as appealing as the imagery; and most importantly, I managed to turn process into a sort of animation: a journey through landscapes: a movement from flat farmland into the city, and back out into the woods...There is autobiography in the process—people could see what I saw as I roamed about the United States, just looking for something...
As far as I know, no one has treated the materials in the way that I do—but, again, I try to stay detached from what is going on, in an attempt keep the work a personal reaction to the world around me...autobiography in the process...but I am sure that someone has done what I am doing at some point in time. But, it doesn’t matter. I am doing it for myself and those in the crowd, and until either of us is tired by the work, it will continue
Can you speak a bit about your process in creating the artwork for my album. You made a film of yourself painting a large piece for it that we used a small section of. Are you happy with how it all turned out?
As I told you before, I am a painter, and not a designer...so design work is always a bit of a challenge for me. You asked me to present an image that incorporated a portrait of you and the work that I am doing right now(landscapes). I created the portrait with the same materials that I use for my live landscapes: mylar, ink, and water. Once that was accomplished, I set up my stage rig in a friend’s loft in an artist co-op in St. Paul, and created a reactionary landscape to your album: I let the music guide me on my journey through terrain, trying only to keep the movement of the ink in time with the movement of the music...I filmed the whole process as a gift to you, never really intending on using any of the imagery for your album. But, the way it ended, with the houses tied together by one powerline, and the words “here,” “there,” “this” seemed to conceptualize our relationship: we have never met, yet there is this thing, this work, this empathy, that ties you and I together. So, in the background of the cover are the “here” and “there” houses, telling the story of you and me.
I am very pleased with the way it turned out—and, if anything, this album has given me visions of future projects for the two of us to embark on.
How important is music to your work and what music are you currently listening to?
Sound is critical to my life and work. While being a guidance most of the time(rhythmically/lyrically), music most importantly gives me something to constantly react to. It keeps me ready to feel and change at any moment—It can intensify that which I observe visually, and forces my eyes to search for something that equates to the emotion of the sound.
I listen to a full mix of music throughout the year, mainly based on the climate and if I need to work with any musicians at the time. I am beginning to work with a heavier rock back this summer, so my summer soundtrack is a bit more loud than normal. Here’s the list for the week of 28 June, 2009:
Currently listening to,
While painting in the studio:
Dead Can Dance: Into the Within
Radiohead: In Rainbows // Extended Edition Disc II
P.O.S.: Never Better
Sleeping In Gethsemane: Burrows
The String Quartet Tribute to The Cure: Whisper
Mary Lou Lord: Got No Shadow
Ashtray Hearts: Old Numbers
Neil Young: Decade
But the summer will always be best experienced while driving back highways through the low-rolling plains at dusk, arm out the window so you can feel the temperature change as you pass low-lying ponds, blasting “Feeling Yourself Disintegrate” by The Flaming Lips.
What inspires you to get out your brushes and paint or to pull out your camera and take a photograph?
normally, i would answer that with something romantic:
something about waking over and over again to the newness of the mundane:
about taking in all of the minute changes as you drive across America and remembering :
about trying to remain vulnerable to the world and it’s possibilities,
hoping to be let into the hearts of it all:
to catch a smile looking back over the shoulder and know that its for me:
that i was paying so much attention to simple beauty that simple beauty acknowledged me….
but its really just the fiction i write for my own reading:
the romanticism keeps me distracted from my severe fear of death,
and makes a game of this documented rat-race:
and when it stops, i stop
You once spoke about a film that you would like to make. Is that something that you are still working towards? Are you interested in filmmaking?
The film is such a simple idea that I don’t want to reveal it yet….I have already begun to shoot some very small parts and some script-writing, but no official beginning is in sight until after 2010. I am interested in everything visual and have become fascinated with the challenge to bend time within my work…naturally that will lead me to experimenting with film, but I’m not rushing it.
Now that this album cover is behind you, what are you doing now? Being the kind of multi media artist that you are, I do hope to work with you again in some capacity, maybe you will paint live if I do some shows. I would love that.
I am finishing up a body of work to include in the Ingrid Chavez Store(or whatever you are going to call it)….a decent variation of sizes and styles, originals and prints.
I am also working on a series of large landscapes, a couple of other album-art projects, and my new website, www.yousmiling.com . This summer, I began to film unsigned musicians that inspire me, so I should probably work on editing all of the video and put something together about that…I would love to incorporate you in this project at some point, as you have given me so much more than music that inspires me daily.
Working with you on this album only seems like the beginning, Ingrid: I would love to share my efforts with you onstage if the time is right, and I hope to begin devoting some of my time and work on there to here…
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Stef Angel Music Group
Email:
stefaniah@stefangelmusic.com
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