Thanks for article, Miguel.  Those of us attending the Houston conference
are looking forward to hearing both Dr. Tomas Ybarra-Frausto and Cheech
Marin at the session you are moderating (Chicano Art through the Collector's
Eye) on Tuesday from 9:30-11 am.

----- Original Message -----
From: "Juarez, Miguel" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Tuesday, January 18, 2005 1:42 PM
Subject: [ARLIS-L] FW: LA Times Magazine(1-9-05) Article by Josh Kun:THE NEW
CHICANO MOVMENT


>>   COVER STORY
>>
>>   The new Chicano movement
>>
>>     Twenty years ago, L.A. became the capital of a vital genre in the
>>     American art scene. Now its inheritors are making work that
>>     reflects their changing cultural reality.
>>
>> By Josh Kun
>> Josh Kun is a Los Angeles-based freelance writer and cultural critic
>> whose last story for the magazine was about the music and art scene in
>> Tijuana.
>>
>> January 9, 2005
>>
>> On the roof of a single-story house, a man is yelling into a
>> megaphone. His hair is long, his white tube socks are pulled up to his
>> knees, and his fist is in the air. He appears to be protesting.
>>
>> But because this is a photograph, an image from Mario Ybarra Jr.'s "Go
>> Tell It" series, we hear nothing, not a single slogan or plea for
>> justice. There is no caption, no context, no clues as to where he
>> is-just a man shouting on a roof in the midst of empty sky.
>
>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
>> FOR THE RECORD
>>
>> Chicano art - An article on Chicano artists in Sunday's Los Angeles
>> Times Magazine misspelled the surname of Rita Gonzalez, an assistant
>> curator with the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, as Gonzales. It
>> also stated that the touring exhibition "Chicano Visions: American
>> Painters on the Verge," organized by actor and art collector Cheech
>> Marin, will be shown at LACMA in 2006. A selection of items from
>> Marin's private collection is scheduled for a 2008 LACMA exhibit.
>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
>> He is protesting alone, to no one, from nowhere, in silence.
>>
>> Because Ybarra is 31 years old and Chicano, it's hard not to read the
>> image as a next-generation commentary on the artistic legacy of the
>> 1960s-'70s Chicano movement. The empty skies could represent empty
>> protest. The solitude of the protester in an unidentified neighborhood
>> is perhaps a symbol of fading collectivity. For Chicano artists of
>> Ybarra's generation, the title of his series carries an implied
>> question mark: Go tell what? To whom? And is it even worth telling?
>>
>> It's been more than 35 years since Chicano art grew out of the
>> political urgency of the Chicano civil rights movement. The earliest
>> examples of the work were aesthetically raw posters and banners
>> inspired by the farmworkers' struggle and by protests over social
>> issues in cities throughout the Southwest. It quickly grew into a more
>> refined body of work that often was marked by familiar religious and
>> cultural images-La Virgen de Guadalupe, Day of the Dead skeletons,
>> pre-Columbian figures, lowriders. The genre, dominated by narrative
>> painting executed with lush palettes, took its place as a distinct
>> movement in the American art scene. Los Angeles-by virtue of its role
>> as one of Mexican America's most important capitals, and the sheer
>> number of artists working here-became the center of the Chicano art
>> universe.
>>
>> Today, a rapidly expanding pool of young Southern California artists
>> is actively redefining what it means to make Chicano art in the new
>> millennium. Where the social movements of the past once supplied
>> muralists and painters with a rich iconography to choose from and
>> social causes to speak to, the new school wants icons for the events
>> and experiences of its own time.
>>
>> The far-ranging diversity of these events and experiences has caused a
>> shift in Chicano artistic consciousness. What once was a necessary and
>> useful catchall category now represents a more complicated set of
>> choices and consequences for young artists who know their history from
>> art school and MTV as well as Chicano Studies classes. This new
>> generation of artists also reflects the larger transformation of
>> L.A.'s Chicano community, which continues to grow and assimilate in
>> new and unpredictable ways.
>>
>> "There's the old avant-garde idea that you're better off if you
>> rupture antecedent traditions and forge something new," says veteran
>> Chicano art critic Tomas Ybarra-Frausto. "But contemporary Chicano
>> expression is not just about rupture, it's a real negotiation between
>> tradition and change. There is rupture, but there is also continuity.
>> There are still murals, but the murals are being done through digital
>> media. There is still figurative art, but it is more conceptual and
>> abstract."
>>
>> The artists Ybarra-Frausto dubs "the millennial generation" are
>> disciples of digital technology and fans of hip-hop and Japanese
>> anime. They include known figures such as Ybarra, Salomon Huerta and
>> Artemio Rodriguez, and newcomers such as Marissa Rangel and Shizu
>> Saldamondo. They have the catalog to the landmark 1990 "Chicano Art:
>> Resistance and Affirmation" exhibition on their bookshelves, but it's
>> right next to "Helter Skelter: L.A. Art in the '90s," the Museum of
>> Contemporary Art's 1992 show that featured provocateurs such as
>> Charles Ray and Chris Burden.
>>
>> "You can't say there is one rite of passage the way you could 30 or 40
>> years ago," says Chon Noriega, director of UCLA's Chicano Studies
>> Research Center. "They are coming up with different things and you
>> think, Well, is it Chicano? How do you label this? The category is
>> still useful, but it's not entirely accurate. Sometimes it's the only
>> category by which these artists will get some sort of recognition, but
>> they are reaching out to other people as well."
>>
>> Perhaps no young artist better exemplifies the new rubric than Camille
>> Rose Garcia, 34, who grew up in the suburban hinterlands of Huntington
>> Beach and is the daughter of a Franco German muralist mother and a
>> Chicano filmmaker father from Lincoln Heights. Her experiences and
>> work perfectly reflect the crossroads at which this new generation of
>> artists has arrived.
>>
>> "I was always made aware that I was a 'beaner' by other kids, but I
>> don't have the same viewpoint of someone who grew up in East L.A.,"
>> says Garcia, wearing an AC/DC T-shirt at the Merry Karnowsky Gallery
>> in West Hollywood, where she recently had her first major solo show.
>> "I don't feel like I fit into a totally Chicano scene. I'm one foot in
>> and one foot out."
>>
>> Garcia's work looks nothing like how Chicano art is supposed to look.
>> There are no traces of earlier iconography, no signs of cultural
>> celebration. Instead, there are demonic princesses who froth at the
>> mouth and spit profanities, wielding machetes dripping with blood.
>> There are swarming armies of blood-sucking parasites that topple
>> castles full of jewels. For her Karnowsky show, she turned the entire
>> gallery into a gothic pop netherworld she calls Ultraviolenceland,
>> full of cartoonish paintings and fantastical sculptures.
>>
>> Yet she also was part of a group show at Self-Help Graphics, East
>> L.A.'s venerable art space, and she counts the prominent single-named
>> Chicano artist Gronk as a primary influence. Garcia sees her toppled
>> castles and murderous princesses as critiques of wealth and power in
>> general, with roots in Chicano art's history of social protest. Her
>> filmmaker father was active in the movimiento, and she grew up around
>> artists committed to social and political change.
>>
>> "The Chicano tradition of activism and social commentary is so
>> important to me," she says. "But if your work is only about identity,
>> a lot of people can't relate to it. I want people to care about my
>> work because I want them to care about the world, about the Earth,
>> about extinction."
>>
>> Adds 29-year-old conceptual artist Ruben Ochoa: "Sometimes I feel like
>> we're carrying this baggage on our shoulders, like we've been born
>> into it. But if we just keep repeating the same iconography, it
>> defeats the purpose of art: to grow and create and explore. Chicano
>> art is so young. We can't start repeating ourselves. We need to mix
>> and blend and make art from where we're from."
>>
>> The story of Chicano art in Los Angeles is the story of Chicanos in
>> Los Angeles. It's the story of a community in the midst of a massive
>> transition, from a civil rights past to a multicultural present, from
>> being a geographically bound vocal minority with focused political and
>> social aims in the '60s to an amorphous demographic dispersed across a
>> city that now has no majority ethnic population. (According to the
>> 2000 census, Latinos make up nearly 45% of the L.A. County population,
>> and 70% of those Latinos are of Mexican origin.)
>>
>> For Chicano artists in Los Angeles, the transition has led to a
>> difficult question that often leads to multiple answers: Do you make
>> Chicano art, or do you make art?
>>
>> "Why just because of my name should I be put in a show based on color,
>> when all the white students I graduated with from Art Center and UCLA
>> are being put in shows based on their work?" asks painter Salomon
>> Huerta, whose pastel portraits of the backs of male Chicano heads
>> caused a stir among collectors in the '90s and earned him acclaim in
>> mainstream museums and galleries. Later this year, he will show
>> alongside Cindy Sherman and Gabriel Orozco at New York's Robert Miller
>> Gallery. "It is very important to me that I be recognized as an artist
>> who is part of the world like everyone else. But I was inspired by the
>> Chicano movement. When the old Chicanos recognize my work, it still
>> means more to me than getting recognition from John Baldessari."
>>
>> But as Chicano artists move away from strictly identity-based work,
>> museums and galleries continue to move toward it.
>>
>> "Museums are still trying to get Chicano art in their collections, but
>> the artists have moved beyond that with their own work," says Rita
>> Gonzales, who has become the Chicano new wave's leading critical and
>> curatorial voice. "So how can we find a common language? I think a lot
>> of people are tired of being curated by ethnic category. Artists will
>> be supportive of galleries or museums that want to show Chicano
>> artists, but they also want to be expanding the parameters of their
>> identity as well."
>>
>> In many ways, these debates started taking shape in the late 1980s,
>> when Chicano art was introduced to widespread national audiences
>> through two major touring exhibitions: the 1987 "Hispanic Art in the
>> United States" show organized by Washington's Corcoran Gallery of Art,
>> and, three years later, the UCLA Wight Gallery's "Chicano Art:
>> Resistance and Affirmation, 1965-1985."
>>
>> The exhibits presented competing tendencies that continue to divide
>> contemporary Chicano art. The Corcoran show, which included Latino
>> artists of various ethnicities and was organized by white curators,
>> lobbied for Chicano artists to be included as part of a larger
>> contemporary art scene, albeit as exotic, primitive outsiders. The
>> UCLA show, organized by Chicano curators, lobbied for Chicano art to
>> remain a strictly delineated identity-based genre, a singular entity
>> with defined boundaries rooted in the struggle for civil rights and
>> visibility.
>>
>> When the genre went international in 1989 as part of what many
>> observers hyped as a "Chicano art boom," French curators managed to
>> have it both ways, casting L.A. Chicanos as visionary prophets of the
>> urban future. "It is now a must for Beverly Hills collectors to own
>> their 'Chicano!'," declared an essay in the catalog for "Le Demon des
>> Anges" ("Angels' Demon"), a show that was seen in France, Spain and
>> Sweden. "For the first time, Latinos have gained entry to the largest
>> Los Angeles museums."
>>
>> Back home, the reality was a bit more sobering. Until the Los Angeles
>> County Museum of Art hosted the Corcoran show in 1989, its recognition
>> of Chicano artists hadn't gone far beyond 1974, when it exhibited the
>> work of the Los Four collective-Carlos Almaraz, Frank Romero, Gilbert
>> "Magu" Lujan and Beto de la Rocha. Chicano artists might have been in
>> vogue, especially abroad, but at home they remained on the fringes of
>> the art establishment.
>>
>> Little has changed today. The number of commercial galleries showing
>> Chicano work has not grown since the '80s (the Patricia Correia and
>> Robert Berman galleries remain constants), though long-established
>> cultural centers such as Self-Help Graphics, the Mexican Cultural
>> Institute and Plaza de la Raza continue as mainstays of the scene.
>>
>> The latest effort to address this cultural void comes from L.A. County
>> Supervisor Gloria Molina, who is spearheading the $70-million Plaza de
>> Cultura y Artes, which is scheduled to open across from Olvera Street
>> in 2007. And LACMA has just inked a five-year strategic partnership
>> with UCLA's Chicano Studies Research Center to develop art
>> exhibitions, publications and programming. The partnership already has
>> led to the hiring of Rita Gonzales as an assistant curator and to a
>> new acquisition for the museum's permanent collection, "The Great
>> Blind Huron," a print by Camille Rose Garcia.
>>
>> "The Chicano art scene has always been here," says Correia, whose
>> Santa Monica gallery shows only Mexican American artists. "The art
>> world is still waking up to it. There is still so little exposure on a
>> local and national level. Are we still living in an era with that much
>> bigotry? I can't think of any other answer. It's still about exclusion."
>>
>> That is precisely why actor and art collector Cheech Marin decided to
>> organize "Chicano Visions: American Painters on the Verge," the first
>> nationally touring exhibition devoted to Chicano painters. The show,
>> which has support from media conglomerate Clear Channel, features
>> major figures such as Frank Romero, John Valadez, Patssi Valdez and
>> Gronk and is slated for LACMA in 2006.
>>
>> "Ninety-nine percent of the country doesn't know what a Chicano is,
>> let alone what their art looks like," Marin says. "The whole purpose
>> of this thing is to give access to Chicano cultures in the mainstream.
>> We're done preaching to ourselves."
>>
>> Many worry that the show's emphasis on painting, the scant attention
>> it pays to younger artists and its tendency toward the recognizable
>> imagery of decades past misrepresents the diversity of Chicano art.
>> But Marin disagrees. "The Chicano school of art is every generation's
>> interpretation of what the Chicano experience is about," he says. "To
>> every generation, it's a little bit different. They each have as much
>> right to say what is or isn't Chicano art than anyone who went before
>> them."
>>
>> Mario Ybarra Jr. grew up in Wilmington, one of Mexican L.A.'s more
>> unsuspected suburban capitals. Slanguage, the gallery/store/studio he
>> and fellow artist Juan Capistran opened in 2002, is squeezed into
>> Wilmington's industrial row, across the street from a body shop and a
>> block down from a pool hall.
>>
>> Slanguage used to be La Guadalupana Bakery. It now serves as Ybarra
>> and Capistran's artistic home base, and it sells custom airbrushed
>> Vans, thong underwear bearing portraits of rappers Notorious B.I.G.
>> and Tupac Shakur, and classic hip-hop films such as "Style Wars" and
>> "Breakin'." The work of Ybarra and Capistran's friends covers the
>> walls, and on weekends neighborhood kids flood Slanguage for art
>> workshops that include hat customizing, toy design and paper puppetry.
>>
>> "These kids grow up in a homogenized space with freeways that close
>> them in," Ybarra says. "We try to bring in as many different kinds of
>> people to interface with them . . . so that they don't think the only
>> people they can communicate with look just like them, speak just like
>> them."
>>
>> It's an attitude of openness and cultural contact that pervades
>> Ybarra's own work. Although he respects earlier Chicano artists'
>> political need to create a visual language for ethnic identity, he is
>> more interested in how identities intersect and open up, creating new
>> urban hybrids in which cholo action figures meet futuristic sci-fi low
>> riders and Pablo Escobar is dressed in a Columbia space shuttle suit.
>>
>> "I don't think I make Chicano art," says Ybarra, standing in
>> Slanguage's backroom, which is cluttered with Mac computers, crates of
>> records, an Osama bin Laden piñata and a spray-painted portrait of
>> reggae singer Jimmy Cliff. "It's something I have learned as a history
>> and acquired as a filter. But right now, I don't think I could say I'm
>> making it. It's like saying I make abstract expressionist painting.
>> I'm not an ab-ex painter. I can't go back and make that art. I make
>> contemporary art that is filtered from a Mexican American experience
>> in Los Angeles."
>>
>> Ybarra thinks of it as the Edward James Olmos theory of Chicano art.
>> He wants to be less like the actor in "American Me" and "Zoot Suit"-in
>> which Olmos was prison tough and pachuco savvy-and more like Olmos'
>> character in "Blade Runner." In the film's dystopian 2029 L.A. future,
>> Olmos is Gaff-a digital urban polyglot, a Chinese Chicano detective
>> who speaks a street patois of English, Spanish, French, Chinese,
>> Hungarian and German.
>>
>> "My main drive," says Ybarra, "is not to learn Nahuatl, but to learn
>> Mandarin or Cantonese."
>>
>> Like many of his peers, part of Ybarra's interest in juggling multiple
>> cultural realities comes from his experiences in art school. In the
>> '70s and '80s, art school was less common for Chicano artists-a luxury
>> that distracted from the political urgency of the movement. Now it's
>> the norm. Ybarra graduated from Otis Art Institute and then pursued an
>> MFA at UC Irvine. He studied with Chicanos and non-Chicanos alike,
>> including renowned L.A. artist Martin Kersels and Daniel Martinez, an
>> acclaimed conceptual artist who often has kept his distance from
>> identity politics.
>>
>> "I needed my degrees," Ybarra says. "I needed to be official. I'm not
>> going to operate from a handicap position."
>>
>> Ybarra's art school training taught him how to get gallery shows (he's
>> exhibited, often alongside Capistran, in London, San Francisco,
>> Vancouver and Berlin), but he insists that the early Chicano muralists
>> and performance artists taught him the importance of carrying on
>> public art traditions. He's painted the message "sublime" over signs
>> advertising plumbers in South Los Angeles, installed a
>> graffiti-viewing bench in downtown L.A.'s Belmont Tunnel, and is now
>> designing a series of harbor-view benches for the Port of Los Angeles.
>>
>> "Chicano art is not a dead history," Ybarra says. "It informs my
>> artistic sensibility. How could it not? They are the little voices in
>> my head that help me process my own work. What I take from them most
>> is the idea of producing art under extreme circumstances with an
>> imaginative and critical stance."
>>
>> Ybarra cites the influence of ASCO, the edgy, pioneering Chicano
>> performance art collective whose name is Spanish for "nausea." The
>> group became known for its conceptual, iconoclastic performance art
>> pieces.
>>
>> But it was ASCO's 1972 "Pie in the Face" piece that had the greatest
>> impact on Ybarra. In response to a LACMA curator who said he was not
>> exhibiting Chicano work because it was all "folk art" (code for
>> "naïve" or "unschooled"), ASCO members Harry Gamboa, Willie Herrón and
>> Gronk spray-painted their names on LACMA's entrances, making the
>> museum itself the first piece of Chicano art to be exhibited there.
>> They returned the next day and took a photograph of ASCO's fourth
>> founding member, Patssi Valdez, posing with their handiwork hours
>> before it was whitewashed.
>>
>> Ybarra beams: "That was the most relevant act of graffiti I can think
>> of, as both a Chicano and an artist in Los Angeles. I feel proud that
>> I carry that with me."
>>
>> Gamboa was 21 when he tagged LACMA; now 52, he's still proud of "Pie
>> in the Face."
>>
>> "I sprayed that museum only because I couldn't lift it and toss it
>> into the tar pits," he says.
>>
>> Gamboa, who has taught at several local universities and whose
>> groundbreaking video art from the '70s and '80s is newly available on
>> DVDs released by UCLA's Chicano Studies Center, hasn't stopped making
>> work since he began in the late '60s. Nor has he stopped thinking
>> about his art through the politicized eyes of a teenager who
>> participated in the student walkouts at Garfield High School in East L.A.
>>
>> "When I became involved with ASCO," he recalls, "we were developing
>> artwork within the concept of 'Chicano.' It was particularly important
>> to utilize that term at that point. Now I find an even more pressing
>> need to utilize it, because since that time our numbers have expanded
>> while our representation everywhere has dwindled."
>>
>> Yet when ASCO began in the '70s, it was Gamboa and his colleagues who
>> were often told by other Chicano artists that their work-which played
>> with concepts of glamour and sexual convention-wasn't "Chicano enough."
>>
>> "There was the preconceived idea of what Chicano art was supposed to
>> be," says Diane Gamboa, Harry's sister, who joined ASCO in the '80s
>> and works as a photographer, painter and designer. "The reality was
>> our lives-everything from cross-dressing to the Marx Brothers and
>> Soupy Sales. We were part of the unpopular culture."
>>
>> Eschewing the more overt political messages of many of their
>> contemporaries, ASCO experimented with punk barrio
>> existentialism-sending out mail art, taping each other to walls and
>> throwing dinner parties in the middle of traffic islands. As a result,
>> they were often criticized for being too conceptual, too ideologically
>> slippery, too arty.
>>
>> In the '80s, Gronk's solo career as a painter began to take off, and
>> he soon became the Chicano art world's first star, showing his work
>> nationally and internationally. His more recent work has found him
>> collaborating with the Kronos Quartet and Peter Sellars.
>>
>> Gronk's willingness to move across genres and defy expectations has
>> made him one of the more frequently cited role models for younger
>> Chicano artists looking to develop their own aesthetic.
>>
>> "I think a lot of young artists approach me because I'm one of the
>> people that came out of that whole thing without doing the lowrider or
>> the cholo," Gronk says. "That wasn't in my vocabulary. It would have
>> been dishonest of me to say, 'Yes, I'm Chicano and here are the
>> images.' It was more like doing a mural in East L.A. and making a
>> reference to a French film. The possibilities are wide open."
>>
>> There is a white 1985 Chevy van parked at the end of Chung King Road
>> in Chinatown. It is a cold fall night, and instead of taking refuge in
>> one of the nearby galleries, a crowd of people is trying to glimpse
>> the image that dominates the van's interior-a panoramic
>> black-and-white photograph of Los Angeles by Sandra de la Loza. Titled
>> "View From the East," the image is less striking for the city
>> landscape it depicts than for its perspective-from an Eastside hilltop
>> that is a favorite Chicano hangout. "I wanted to force people to
>> reflect on L.A. from another vantage point," she says.
>>
>> Asking people to see the city, and the art that's inspired by it,
>> through different eyes is also the point of the van itself, which
>> doubles as a mobile art gallery complete with white walls, fake wood
>> floors and track lighting. Its creator and director, Ruben Ochoa,
>> dubbed the van "Class:C," a reference to the common driver's license
>> code, because it was once the tortilla delivery truck for his parents'
>> restaurant.
>>
>> The van now delivers art. Ochoa curates exhibits on or inside the van,
>> then drives it around Southern California for public viewings in
>> neighborhoods and locales-parks, banks, parking lots-where
>> cutting-edge contemporary art is typically not shown. The Chinatown
>> venue was on the itinerary for Ochoa's contribution to the Orange
>> County Museum of Art's 2004 California Biennial.
>>
>> "A major concern of artists of my generation is to create our own
>> space instead of waiting around for exhibits," explains Ochoa, who
>> recently imagined car seats as customized coffins for his show with
>> Marco Rios at the Laguna Art Museum. "Where most of my work is headed
>> now is less about any singular ethnic identity and [more toward] where
>> different identities intersect and mix us up. I hope that you don't
>> see my work and all you get from it is that I'm Chicano."
>>
>> Ochoa is quick to flash his influences as proof: lurid Mexican
>> tabloids and British sci-fi novelist J.G. Ballard, seminal L.A.
>> assemblage artist Ed Kienholz and pop music parodist Weird Al
>> Yankovic, ASCO and toy characters the Garbage Pail Kids. "I don't just
>> go to Dia de Los Muertos events," quips Ochoa, who like Ybarra studied
>> under Daniel Martinez at UC Irvine.
>>
>> At Chung King Road, Ochoa's van also features "The O.C.," a bumper
>> sticker show about Orange County that De la Loza co-curated. The
>> commissioned stickers, displayed on the van's back doors, include
>> Rios' appropriation of the Irvine ZIP Code 92697, and Capistran
>> putting Richard "The Night Stalker" Ramirez in Mickey Mouse ears.
>> Though most of the artists are Chicano, the show makes no mention of
>> ethnicity.
>>
>> "My work is about L.A., a place that is constantly changing," De la
>> Loza says. "The earlier generation, their essential question was
>> defining the Chicano aspect of their work. I don't think I need to do
>> that all the time. It's more about my interaction with this place."
>>
>> This last point echoes the loudest among these artists: They may be
>> Chicanos, but more important, they are Chicanos in Los Angeles, and
>> they want more than anything to make art in dialogue with their
>> city-with traffic and freeways, globalization and immigration, police
>> brutality and, yes, even Richard Ramirez.
>>
>> Of course, the artists in Marin's "Chicano Visions" show also were
>> making art about place. John Valadez's "Getting Them Out of The Car"
>> said as much about the struggle for everyday Chicano survival as it
>> did about the border between the barrio and the beach and the failed
>> promises of L.A. sunshine. Carlos Almaraz's "Flipover" and "Sunset
>> Crash" found toxic beauty in freeway death and the twisted metal of
>> crushed cars. And Patssi Valdez's paintings of house interiors are
>> inverted dreams of the exterior world-the East L.A. neighborhood she
>> was born and raised in, separated from the rest of Los Angeles by
>> bridges and offramps.
>>
>> The difference is that the place, and the role of Chicanos in that
>> place, has changed. Populations have come and gone. Koreatown is also
>> Oaxacatown. Little Tokyo is hip. Echo Park is expensive. Surburbia is
>> Latino. Hip-hop is the dominant force in pop culture.
>>
>> The shift is perhaps best registered in De la Loza's 2002 sound
>> installation at the African American Museum, "Whatcha talkin'
>> 'bout"-originally part of her master's thesis at Cal State Long Beach.
>> De la Loza interviewed her friends, all from her generation, collected
>> their stories and then chopped them into phrases. In an empty gallery
>> room, their voices poured out of numerous stereo speakers.
>>
>> There was the "punk rock dyke Salvadoran MacArthur Park crazy girl,"
>> the environmental activist from Commerce and her friend from UC
>> Berkeley who studied acupuncture. Their stories moved in and out of
>> one another, layered on top of a looped recording of a traditional
>> corrido mixed with hip-hop beats.
>>
>> "It's my way of not rehashing what's been done," she says. "We live in
>> a very different moment than 30 years ago. I want to find different
>> ways to tell the stories of what I live."
>>
>> If you want other stories on this topic, search the Archives at
>> latimes.com/archives <http://www.latimes.com/archives>.
>> <http://www.latimes.com/copyright>
>> Article licensing and reprint options <http://www.latimes.com/copyright>
>>
>>
>> ------------------------------------------------------------------------
>>
>> Copyright 2005 Los Angeles Times
>
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