15.1 Discover Winter 2022

Downtown San Jose is not for everyone. (Or maybe it is.)

No actors. These are real people doing real things. Show us your downtown San Jose and you could be in the next ad. Scan the QR code or post to #DTSJ, where we regularly and randomly award prizes to contributors. Presented by the people and businesses of downtown and the San Jose Downtown Association.

#DTSJ

ISSUE 15.1

“Discover”

Winter 2022

Cultivator

Daniel Garcia

Editors

Elizabeth Sullivan, Grace Olivieri

Katherine Hypes, Virginia Graham

Samantha Peth, Katie Shiver

David Ngo

Community Partnerships

Kristen Garcia

Photographers

Stan Olszewski, Peter Salcido

Ngozi Harrison, Arabela Espinoza

Leopoldo Macaya

Writers

Brandon Roos, Esther Young

Ethan Gregory Dodge

Alyssarhaye Graciano, Katie Shiver

David E. Valdespino Jr., Michèle Jubilee

Alexandra Urbanowski, Tovah Cheng

Interns

Susan Do, Addison Otto

Publisher SVCREATES

As we end the 11th year of printing CONTENT, I acknowledge that, though I get many accolades for the significant role the magazine plays in the South Bay arts ecosystem, it is a team and community effort that has allowed us the privilege to publish for over a decade. I listed and mentioned all in our 10th anniversary issue 14.1, but I wanted to dedicate this issue to Kristen (Pfund) Garcia. Without Kristen’s support and work helping me stay focused, her connecting with the community for sponsors, and her producing the pick-up party, CONTENT, would not be what it is today. Kristen began volunteering in 2014 when we were all volunteers. Then, in 2015, when we merged with SVCreates, Kristen and I joined the organization.

She has stayed longer than either of us had thought she would, as she, behind the scenes, continued her pursuit of a counseling degree. Now the time has come for her to move into her next career phase. This is sad for me because of the valuable partner she has been to me and the magazine, but I am excited about this next chapter for her.

As many who have worked with her know, Kristen’s integrity, authenticity, hard work, and adaptability have been invaluable to the community as she shared her talents through the magazine’s mission.

So, though it is not a profound phrase, I say, with deep sincerity, Thank You, Kristen.

Thank you, Daniel

To participate in CONTENT MAGAZINE: daniel@content-magazine.com

Membership & sponsorship information available by contacting kristen@content-magazine.com

WEST VALLEY COLLEGE

CREATE CULTURE CHANGE

APPLY TODAY!

westvalley.edu/art-design @wvccilkersoad

Certificate, associate’s degree and transfer programs accredited by the National Association of Schools of Art and Design.

DESIGN: Architecture, Interiors, Fashion, and UX

PERFORMING ARTS: Music, Dance, Film, and Theater

VISUAL ARTS: Studio and Art History

CONTENT

DISCOVER 15.1

Winter 2022 San Jose, California

ART & CULTURE

8 HERO Tent, Esha Shah & Kiana Simmons

12 1Culture, Andrew Espino

16 SVCreates Leadership Roundtables, Ann Watts, Joshua Lanam, Pedro Aquihua Perez, Rosalinda Sanchez, Sinjin Jones, Verónica Meza

30 Artist & Muralist, Wisper

36 Artist & Illustrator, John Mavroudis

42 Heritage of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe, Monica V. Arellano

48 Fiber Artist, Consuelo Jiménez Underwood

56 Syrarium Studios, Phil Leonard

MUSIC

62 Musician, Ian Santillano

66 Musician, Thatfool Al

70 Contributors

All materials in CONTENT MAGAZINE are protected by United States copyright law and may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published, broadcast, or modified in any way without the prior written consent of Silicon Valley Creates, or in the case of third party materials, the owner of that content. You may not alter or remove any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of this content. For further information, or to participate in the production or distribution, please contact us at editor@content-magazine.com

10 ye ars a decade of local creatives

HERO Tent

HERO Tent believes art is key to Black liberation

In the summer of 2020, protest signs sprinkled the Plaza de Cesar Chavez in downtown San Jose. Candles illuminated the words and images in the warm summer night air. It was a vigil in honor of those whose names had come to frequent the lips of many Americans—George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery were household names.

Kiana Simmons and a ragtag group of volunteers assumed the upkeep of the makeshift memorial. Many activists knew them as “Red Tent,” the group distributing water and food beneath a canopy at the daily downtown protests. But soon the motley crew opted to replace “Red” with “HERO,” an acronym for “human empowerment, radical optimism.” Simmons felt moved by the display and the community it created.

As part of the maintenance efforts, HERO Tent began hosting weekly Art in the Park events at Plaza de Cesar Chavez. They distributed canvases, paint, and sidewalk chalk. People created art together in the summer sun as local musicians serenaded them. Some danced. Many spoke among themselves. Others sat in silence as they contemplated the current state of affairs.

Today, HERO Tent’s Art in the Park series continues. Community members are still encouraged to create art in some

medium together with a backdrop of local musicians. The events have also come to feature local businesses, usually owned by people of color.

To Esha Shah, a lifelong artist and active member of HERO Tent, these events help San Joseans remember they’re part of something bigger. “When you’re doing art with someone else, you’re putting all those experiences and ideas into one project, one demonstration,” she says. “Art is not apolitical in any way. When you are working with other people who have been marginalized, maybe not the same way as you, but by the same people and structures, it brings people together.”

“Art gives a pathway to be in touch with your emotions,” says Simmons. “We’re talking about the murders of even more Black people in the United States. That’s a difficult thing to process. Art is an outlet that gives us that opportunity as a community to collectively hold space and process the tragedy of losing another person to white supremacy and police violence.”

In February 2022, HERO Tent designed a mural depicting six former female members of the Black Panther Party. They hired three Black artists to do the bulk of the painting at an Art in the Park. As always, they also invited event attendees to help however they wanted.

“The mural came from a need for recognition,” says Simmons. “A lot of the Black history we are taught is centered around Black men. We wanted it to be an education moment, an empowering moment, a Black feminist moment for our community who was there at the event.” But seeing an artist’s portrayal of a historical figure does not speak to the whole of their experience. To achieve that, a small pamphlet was distributed telling the story of each of the women. “These women didn’t live far away from San Jose. They are very important, influential leaders in the Black Power Movement, the Abolition Movement, the Police Accountability Movement, and the Black Feminist Movement. They should be known, and they should be known locally.”

Shah, who designed the mural, says she’s been finding inspiration in drawing portraits since she was a teen. “Sometimes I would see faces that were interesting,” she says. “I would imagine what their story was or where they were coming from. That’s when art started taking on a political meaning for me—because I was painting real people with stories.”

HERO Tent is now a nonprofit reimagining what San Jose may look like without law enforcement. Communal art is a pillar of that mission. “When a community comes together to make art, it’s not just our individual selves—it’s us, it’s our story,” says

Simmons. “That can definitely be stripped away when you go through the process of getting a certified art piece.” She notes all the hoops of bureaucracy one must go through to obtain a permit for a public mural or an event. “That process filters out the kind of art that you see throughout the city,” she says. Consequently, HERO Tent doesn’t seek permits for their art or events. It’s a small act of civil disobedience that Simmons says shows solidarity with those whose art has been criminalized. “There’s a lot of art in San Jose,” she says. “Some is deemed as graffiti and other art is praised. What is the real difference? There isn’t one. Just one is sanctioned and the other isn’t.”

In March 2022, a San Jose Police officer shot K’aun Green, a Black college student and football player. HERO Tent organized a rally to support him and his family. After the rallying cries for change, demonstrators wrote the names of every person killed by San Jose Police in the past 30 years—the list spanned over half of City Hall’s block. “Remembering people’s names is important, or else it’s so easy to dehumanize them,” says Shah. “When you’re dehumanizing people, it doesn’t impact you when they die. They meant something to their families, and we need to remember that.”

Some may argue HERO Tent’s art is propaganda, and Shah says they would be right. “When you’re painting about things

that are reflecting on a country, or a city, or a broad experience of a certain group, then your art is political and propaganda, no matter who you’re propagandizing for,” she argues.

In recent years, San Jose has invested a lot of time, money, and resources promoting and funding public art and related events. As a result, many artists have painted new murals; however, others have seen their murals removed, including several iconic Chicano murals on the East Side. Simmons is leery of the city’s approach. “A lot of their events that are art-centered require paid admission, are fenced off, exclude poor and unhoused people, and don’t resonate with the underground art community,” she says. “It seems like our elected officials are creating a city for people who don’t live here yet.”

There’s so much art, beauty, creativity in the city—and it’s all underground. “Most of the art and expression is very small and community centered. It’s backyard parties where people paint on their fences. It’s backyard concerts where people invite each other to sing and dance. I would like HERO Tent to find a way to connect more with those artists, amplify their stories and show the city that they’re missing something, that something is seriously wrong with their strategy.” C

“There’s a lot of art in San Jose. Some is deemed as graffiti and other art is praised. What is the real difference? There isn’t one. Just one is sanctioned and the other isn’t.”

- Kiana Simmons

“Art is not apolitical in any way.”

- Esha Shah

Andrew has a story to tell–just not his story.

Aseries of locally owned shops line the sidewalk down Santa Clara Street in San Jose: a plant store, a record shop, and eateries. The latest addition to this neighborhood is a boutique art gallery called 1Culture. This gallery started as a traveling pop-up and moved into a storefront across the street from San Jose City Hall. The shop, as it’s referred to by the small team that runs it, is owned by local real estate agent and art supporter, Andrew Espino. He has a story to tell–just not his story.

Right before the pandemic lockdown in March 2020, Espino was driving his sevenyear-old son to karate practice when his son posed a question: “Dad, what do you do to help people?” Baffled, and a little offended, Espino asked his son what he meant. “I know you sell real estate, but what do you

do to help people? To help the world?” Espino recalls, “That really dug at me. It’s how your kids see you.”

Espino studied business at Saint Mary’s College in Moraga, not entirely sure what he wanted to do with the degree. Sometime in college, he met and started helping a local real estate agent with administrative tasks. His very first real estate investment was a multi-family home located downtown on Reed Street.

Espino collaborated with graffiti artist Scape Martinez to create a one-of-a-kind mural that would live on the building. The painting process and unveiling of the piece turned into a community event, coordinated by Espino. He learned that he loved creating a space for both local art and the community. While the building has been sold since then, the mural

lives on today. It continues to read, “culture.”

Espino continued to work with local artists, helping them organize pop-up galleries. In the process, he learned the artists’ stories and promoted their art with folks who stopped by. “I wanted to understand the hustle that an artist goes through, from having to set up shop to selling their work. Some days we would leave with everything we came with, but to see an artist go right back out there the next weekend inspired me.” Espino’s time traveling to far off cities in search of art got his mind turning. He wondered, “How can we help change some of these artists’ lives? What tools do I have that can help? Giving them a platform? That’s when it hit me—that’s how we’re going

to make change. We’re going to help artists.”

From then on, Espino started his arts-focused business. Once he knew the story or meaning behind a piece, he loved it even more. He wanted others to experience that same feeling. “I realized I wanted to find a way to continue sharing artists’ stories far and wide. The meaning behind a piece makes it much more important.”

After a year of coordinating pop-ups, Espino opened 1Culture as a permanent space to uplift artists and bring community together. The gallery’s name, 1Culture, is rooted in originality, creativity, and unity. “If you believe in those three things, then you are part of one culture. We are a Chicano-owned gallery, but we are open to everybody and

“We like to ask each artist to tell a story—what is their art about?

That’s a huge part of our mission. We encourage them to give us the full body, the details of what they’re trying to say.”

–Andrew Espino

want to uplift all artists and communities.”

The gallery plans to rotate shows every six to eight weeks, curating a mixture of hand-selected artists and announcing calls for art. “Right now, there is a long list of artists we would like to highlight.” Espino runs 1Culture and coordinates art events around town while continuing his career in real estate. His first large event, KixCon, brought together sneaker heads, visual artists, musicians, and dancers at Eastridge Mall.

“We like to ask each artist to tell a story—what is their art about? That’s a huge part of our mission. We encourage them to give us the full body, the details of what they’re trying to say. We believe that behind the artwork is a mission, a purpose. We want to tell those stories.”

Espino has continued to incorporate art into his real estate career. He has procured a large art collection over the last 20 years. Occasionally, he will use his private collection to dress up the houses and apartments that he is selling, giving the space a local and welcoming feel. Today, Espino has an answer to his son’s questions. “When I opened the shop, I thought about what I wanted people to see or how they would feel—and with everything going on in the world, I really wanted people to feel present. When you walk in here, you can take a time out from the world and really get lost in these stories that haven’t been told, and you’ll be in a place where you can feel at home.” C

LEADERSHIP ROUNDTABLES SV CREATES

Helping the Silicon Valley ecosystem, one vulnerable conversation at a time.

featuring

ANN WATTS, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, STARTING ARTS

JOSHUA LANAM, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, VIVACE YOUTH CHORUS

PEDRO AQUIHUA PEREZ, SECOND PALABRA, CALPULLI TONALEHQUEH

ROSALINDA SANCHEZ, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, THE AUDACITY PERFORMING ARTS PROJECT

SINJIN JONES, EXECUTIVE DIRECTOR, THE PEAR THEATRE

VERÓNICA MEZA, ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, TEATRO NAHUAL

Introduction by Alexandra Urbanowski

Articles by Alyssarhaye Graciano

SVCreates is on a mission to strengthen and empower the local arts ecosystem through a suite of resources called ArtsWeb. ArtsWeb is a relationship-based network that connects artists, art groups, creative entrepreneurs, service providers, and resources to offer a wrap-around approach, advancing resilience and increasing the impact for small and mid-sized arts organizations throughout Santa Clara County.

In addition to grants, workshops, coaching, and conferences through the ArtsWeb program, SVCreates hosts regular Arts Leadership Roundtables to provide a forum for peer support, exploration of critical issues, and education on timely topics. These roundtables have expanded over the past several years to include seven cohorts divided by artistic discipline and geography and the intensive arts executive SVMindshare roundtable. Participants are from over 80 arts organizations supported through SVCreates grants.

Arts leaders and staff of arts organizations have found this resource invaluable in providing peer support, inspiring partnerships, generating new ideas, and sharing solutions to common challenges. The roundtables meet quarterly and are designed to support both the growth of individual arts professionals and the organizations they represent. SVCreates provides the Roundtable program at no cost to participants through funding partnerships with institutions such as the County of Santa Clara, Applied Materials Foundation, the City of San Jose Office of Cultural Affairs, the California Arts Council, and local foundations. On these pages, you will meet some of the participants.

STARTING ARTS

In 2000, a local school received a seed donation to grow an arts program. The school put out a request for applications and proposals, looking for a bright mind to guide its vision. Enter Ann Watts, a bubbly professional dancer with experience teaching and a scrappy tech startup attitude. Watts continues the story. “I applied, and I came in with the idea that we could do so much more than one art discipline at this one school. I wanted to bring in all the arts, provide for professional artists, and service the entire industry.” Watts’ proposal laid the groundwork for what is now Starting Arts.

Starting Arts is a hands-on, multidisciplinary arts program that implements art classes within public schools across the Bay Area. These classes are standards-based, aligned with Common Core, taught by skilled professionals, and take place during and after school. Watts grew Starting Arts with a combination of experience and an eager team of supporters. That growth further developed when she joined Mindshare.

“The nonprofit world can feel so siloed and isolating. Mindshare created a network and gathered a large group of people from different arts disciplines within the nonprofit sector,” says Watts. “We could ask each other anything; nothing was off the table.” These connections with arts leaders allowed Starting Arts to foster tangible partnerships with other Santa Clara County–based arts organizations such as Chopsticks Alley Art, Los Lupeños, and San Jose Taiko. “Those partnerships were really impactful for the community of kids and families that work with us,” shares Watts. Mindshare also included a one-on-one coaching program that further developed these leaders’ skills and knowledge. Watts’ coach helped her establish workflows for an expanding organization. In 22 years, Starting Arts grew from one school to 125, and six to 15 employees. “The number of contractors we worked with tripled. It was crucial for me to learn how to manage the growth of the organization’s infrastructure to remain sustainable.”

Today, Starting Arts provides art classes for thousands of students, and their schedule is booked through next year. Watts shares, “This is what makes me want to get up every morning— meeting all of these creative folks and supporting them by just getting out of their way. They have so much to give; I just have to facilitate.” C

startingarts.com

Instagram startingarts

“This is what makes me want to get up every morning— meeting all of these creative folks and supporting them by just getting out of their way. They have so much to give; I just have to facilitate.”

–Ann Watts

VIVACE YOUTH CHORUS

Vivace Youth Chorus offers the experience of the power of song using the Kodály (koh-DIE) method. Singers ages five to 18 develop vocal techniques, performance skills, and music appreciation.

Joshua Lanam joined Vivace Youth Chorus in 2016 as the organization’s first executive director. With his personal experiences in arts management and strategic planning, he guided Vivace Youth Chorus toward institutional change by fostering conversations between disparate groups.

Eighteen months into the role, Lanam joined the first Mindshare cohort. It was an experience that furthered his goals toward institutional change. Today, the organization operates with an abundance mindset and has come a long way in actualizing its vision of creating sanctuary. Those achievements are largely due to the Mindshare cohort and its facilitator, Alyssa Byrkit.

The first Mindshare cohort included new executive directors, seasoned development directors, and long-time arts curators. These perspectives helped Lanam and his fellow cohort members develop a support network. “With the program geared toward the arts, I developed relationships with my cohort members and bonded over our similar struggles and experiences,” shares Lanam. “Sharing meals and listening to industry leaders allowed us a safe space to flesh out solutions and create thought partnerships. Those social aspects, I believe, is how the arts have an opportunity to heal our society.”

Lanam regards Mindshare as profoundly influential, stating, “Mindshare is arguably the best program available for arts leaders.” With the cohort’s help, Lanam was able to confidently shape his career as a performer into a leadership role. “Mindshare helped me overcome the notion of self-doubt, to realize that I am not an imposter and have something to add to this conversation,” says Lanam.

Lanam continues his nonprofit career as a storyteller through his various roles as an executive, performer, and educator. His personal and professional missions are based on ideas of inclusivity, gratitude, vulnerability, and compassion. He has studied music, music education, and opera performance globally—at the Conservatory of Music at Capital University in Columbus, Ohio; Goldsmiths, University of London; and Trinity College of Music, London. He recently earned a Cross-Cultural Language and Academic Development Certificate from the Stanford Graduate School of Education. C vivaceyouthchorus.org

“Mindshare helped me overcome the notion of selfdoubt, to realize that I am not an imposter and have something to add to this conversation.”

– Joshua Lanam

Joshua Lanam

Pedro Aquihua Perez

CALPULLI TONALEHQUEH

Pedro Perez prefers to go by his native Nahuatl moniker, Aquihua, a name deeply rooted in Aztec culture which loosely translates to “the essence of water.” For the last 13 years, Aquihua has danced with Calpulli Tonalehqueh, an Aztec dance group based in San Jose. He teaches beginning dance classes and is what Calpulli calls the Second Palabra, or second voice. As Second Palabra, he supports the executive director and furthers the organization’s cultural work with community members and partners. Calpulli Tonalehqueh is grounded in wisdom, harmony, and culture—values they share through weekly community spiritual ceremonies at the School of Arts and Culture.

Calpulli Tonalehqueh was established in 2004 and has grown to become the state’s largest Aztec dance group. During that time, the organization became a nonprofit and began applying for grants. Access to grants brought community partners such as SOAC, SVCreates, and Veggielution. Grants also brought a need for administration and bookkeeping. “My relationship with danza began as a spiritual thirst for knowledge of our culture. I wanted to reunite with my heritage, but I am a worker and like identifying areas where we need help,” shares Aquihua. “I noticed one area that needed support was the administrative and logistics role, so I jumped in.”

Over the last two years, Aquihua has participated in SVCreates’ Folk and Traditional Roundtables, convening with other culturally rooted organizations within the county. In these meetings, he found community through everyday hardships and gained new perspectives on how to solve organizational and institutional issues. “It was helpful to know that organizations of all sizes were struggling. We no longer felt alone during this very isolated period in history,” he shares.

Aquihua recalls the roundtable structure: “The format of each meeting was discussing a topic at large, breaking into smaller groups to get deeper, and then regrouping to share our thoughts, [which] was beneficial. While I had experienced roundtables before, they were not nearly as impactful as these,” he shares. “It inspired me to bring the format back to Calpulli’s leadership and implement it in our weekly gatherings. This change was very constructive for us.”

As Aquihua’s spirit continues to grow as a dancer, he is sure to create space within the organization for its members to grow as they need and want. “Dance is a doorway into something greater,” he shares. C

“My relationship with danza began as a spiritual thirst for knowledge of our culture. I wanted to reunite with my heritage.”

–Pedro Aquihua Perez

THE AUDACITY PERFORMING ARTS PROJECT

Rosalinda Sanchez is one of five siblings born and raised in San Jose. She learned Spanish and English at a young age, lending her the ability to code-switch between Latino and US cultures. Having first explored the corporate grind, Sanchez forged a path toward arts education, cultural equity, and social justice for the past seven years. Her work across bicultural communities has fostered numerous arts projects and initiatives that uplift and celebrate cultural diversity. Today, Sanchez is the executive director for the Audacity Performing Arts Project.

From an early age, Sanchez used art to guide herself through emotional turmoil. Mindshare became another asset in her toolbox to help her navigate tough times in her professional and personal life. The program provided community, empowerment, and the audacity to cry in public. Sanchez recalls a meeting where she was having a particularly tough time, “After I shared my truth, the amount of support and the conversations that took place that day had a lot of relevance for what I was going through. I felt hopeful and supported by a group of people that really cared about me as a human.” Although they had yet to meet in person, they were able to form bonds over their virtual gatherings.

Sanchez appreciated being surrounded by others who also had to carry great responsibility on their shoulders. “We all have private issues and problems. Being able to share and be vulnerable with a group of professionals was such an incredibly supportive experience,” she shares. “I continue to learn what it means to be a leader and a human being at the same time.” Eventually, being able to convene in person, Sanchez felt empowered by fellow arts leaders striving to create positive change for their respective communities.

During Sanchez’s time at Audacity, programs have tripled in size, primarily due to the multi-genre programming implemented during the pandemic. Audacity works in various Title 1 schools across Silicon Valley, engaging in all aspects of inclusion-based theater productions and artistic programming at the intersection of performing arts and technology. Through accessible, quality arts education and experiences, students devise their own path to personal empowerment, self-discovery, and higher education. C

“We all have private issues and problems. Being able to share and be vulnerable with a group of professionals was such an incredibly supportive experience.”

–Rosalinda Sanchez

Rosalinda Sanchez

Sinjin Jones

THE PEAR THEATRE

From recording his own stories on his mom’s tape recorder as a child, to now directing plays and films across different states and whittling wood on the weekends, transmedia artist Sinjin Jones actively chooses to create regularly and has always been enraptured by storytelling, using whatever medium necessary. Now based in the Bay Area, Jones has been the executive director at the Pear Theatre since January 2020.

Upon his arrival, Jones aimed to stick to The Pear’s mission of “offering theater that challenges the community to see all aspects of our world fully.” He reinforced this philosophy by introducing and uplifting new directors, writers, and performers, amplifying the Pear’s tradition of featuring both new works and reimagined classics. Jones emphasizes, “There’s something special about being in a position where I can lift up and share artists who may not have the opportunity regularly.”

While having taught in schools and started his own organizations, Jones has never experienced a group like Mindshare. “When you’re joining an organization that has been working in the same way for 17, 18 years, you have to have a lot of different, potentially difficult conversations,” Jones shares. While pragmatic—Jones is comfortable with conflict—Mindshare aided in navigating those turbulent waters. “It has been helpful to be in a community with various experiences, including similar challenges,” Jones shares. “Listening to the voices of those who have gone through it and coming out on the other side allows me to ingest what they learned along the way without reinventing the wheel. People underestimate how important that is; it saves so much energy. I am so grateful because of that.”

Reflecting on his art practice, Jones shares, “I think people like to think about art as a wholly spontaneous creative process. But the day-to-day work of an artist is logistics. During our monthly Mindshare discussions, someone might share something casually and offhand, probably thinking about logistics but referencing their creative craft. That is a beautiful moment that is helpful and shaping who I’d like to be as an artist.”

“I’m all about the sublime; about connecting to something larger than ourselves. It’s my main focus of art creation. You try to find moments where people are connecting with the sublime,” shares Jones. C thepear.org

“There’s something special about being in a position where I can lift up and share artists who may not have the opportunity regularly.”

–Sinjin Jones

TEATRO NAHUAL

Teatro Nahual is a Santa Clara County–based organization dedicated to Spanish-speaking theater. Verónica Meza began Teatro Nahual in 2003 and has been the artistic director since then. The theater company reflects current societal issues through education and entertainment while preserving the Latin identity for all generations.

Having studied literature and theater arts at the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, Meza has experienced every role in the industry, from actor to director. She relocated to the Bay Area nearly 20 years ago to take on a teaching role at the Girls’ Middle School in Palo Alto. While exploring her new home base, she recalls, “I could not find any Spanish-speaking theaters, so I started one.”

Teatro Nahual became her extracurricular activity while she also became the Spanish department chair at the Girls’ Middle School. Nevertheless, Meza remained focused on her mission. “My purpose for all these years is my passion for theater and service to the community,” she shares. “It has taken hard work and a lot of discipline, but I am a dreamer. I put something on paper then put it into action.”

Over the last two years, Meza had the opportunity to participate in two SVCreates programs. During the height of the pandemic, when theaters were forced to shut down, Meza joined other cultural-based groups on Zoom for the Folk and Traditional Roundtable. As a playwright, she enjoyed listening to her colleagues tell their stories. “I’m a storyteller, and I found it helpful to hear others’ perspectives,” she shares. Meza and her peers held online meetings as a form of therapy, using the virtual platform where they could problem solve and reflect on their feelings together while far apart.

When the county started to lift safety measures around gathering, Mindshare was able to offer a hybrid model, both in person and on Zoom. In these meetings, Meza was shocked to learn that American theaters also grappled with reemergence. “I thought Teatro Nahual struggled because of what we offered as an organization. Our programs are not geared toward English speakers,” she shares. “Then I realized all theaters were suffering together. I’m thankful for each guest speaker focusing on different topics, such as leadership, fundraising, and navigating succession planning. It was so helpful to discuss these issues with theater colleagues across the county.” C teatronahual.org Instagram

“I am a dreamer. I put something on paper then put it into action.”

–Verónica Meza

Verónica Meza

Wisper

B etter than C ourage

Wisper’s life resemBles an un C anny staC k of pageturners. C onversations W ith him dredge up metaphors, tuned speC ifiC ally to the relationship Bet W een identity and outC ome . s uB jeC tive as art and truth may Be , the suBlime C oin C iden C es W ithin his experien C es hint at more .

As teenagers, Wisper and his best friends—Sno, Poe, Shen Shen, and Bizr—formed the intersection of two arts groups: Together We Create, a collective of muralists (est. 1985), and LORDS Crew (Legends of Rare Designs, est. 1986), a graffiti crew whose members grew out of San Jose and drew international attention. For this tight group of young, talented artists, the potential for fame was palpable. But certain threads split the chapters of their lives into unraveled dichotomies. For Wisper, a path of criminality handed him a prison sentence of 26 to life—ultimately, an unknowable length of time for truth, beauty, justice, and their rivals to battle through his mind like restless gods.

He vividly remembers the first time he caught injustice redhanded. As the middle sibling in his mother’s home at the time, it baffled him that after his father’s death, social security payments owed to his mother—$300 per child—couldn’t bring the family clothes, food, or rent installments. He and his brothers were eating rice every day that summer. Then one night, as he performed his usual chore of cleaning his stepfather’s car, he found Burger King wrappers. Claims didn’t match the evidence. There was little he could do about it, other than rebel. As a creative kid with a knack for detail, Wisper looked for his identity in spaces where originality shined. In the world of hip-hop, among b-boys, DJs, and rappers, Wisper was hooked by the wave of graffiti that made its way over from the East Coast, bringing with it a culture that admired innovation. As the LORDS Crew formed and grew its membership, some of his friends and fellow founding members went to vocational school to pursue graphic design.

But for Wisper, gang membership stood out as the most attractive option. “Everything I was seeking—unconditional love, loyalty, recognition, notoriety, reputation, education—they were giving it.” His gift for teaching was cultivated by their discipline. He could come up with illustrations and analogies to help someone else learn and memorize the codes of membership, without having to write a single word.

The last year Wisper did graffiti was 1988. The following year he was arrested. Once inside prison, faced with a life sentence, he found no reason to change. To survive, he leveraged his street education and climbed the ranks until he was running

the yard. The attention and his gang affiliation eventually sent him to solitary confinement in 1994, with other men in solitary confinement “deemed incorrigible.”

In the monotony, Wisper contemplated the value of his life. His path into crime had been a gradual progression of “becoming more and more empty.” As he explains today, “People who commit crimes don’t understand value. If I steal from you, if I vandalize your house…I don’t value you as a person. If my life doesn’t mean something, no one else’s does either.” Even a cup, he reasoned, had worth. It was created for a purpose. Yet like a cup left on the shelf, here he was, a human being locked away in sensory deprivation. If his life had purpose, it couldn’t come from this environment, not from his upbringing, his heritage, or ideologies—which he had been willing to die for. And which he was still affiliated with.

He knew he wanted to change, but change only began when he mustered the courage to revoke his prison gang status, fully aware of the punishment to follow.

Wisper credits supernatural intervention in the events that actually occurred once he lost his status. By the code, he should have died in prison—killed by his own cellmate to protect the rest of the gang. But his life was spared. By the law, he should have been rejected for parole. Involvement with prison gangs was deemed a greater offense than the crime that sentenced him in the first place. But the inmates who would have reported him had been removed from the yard weeks before his arrival.

By the time Wisper came home in 2013, nearly 24 years had passed. His former collaborator, Bizr, had written “FREE WISPER TOUR” on every art piece until Bizr’s passing in 2013, eight months before Wisper’s release. Of the friends who had kept in touch with him, Mesngr was the only one still in San Jose, doing art shows. As he slowly readjusted to life back in society, Wisper decided his goal was to “get my art out, make some money, provide for myself and my family.”

Wisper began looking for opportunities, at times initiating them by reaching out to connections and bringing plywood for

“If you can learn how to operate from a place of peace while creating art, you can learn how to operate from a place of peace in all aspects of your life.”

–Wisper

the artists to live paint on. As he formed the groundwork to revitalize Together We Create, he also accepted opportunities to speak at high schools and colleges. There were youth who wanted to learn graffiti, and Wisper saw the chance to share about his mistakes so they could make better decisions.

“That’s where I developed a curriculum of teaching peace,” he explains. Acting from a place of courage is revered, but in that state, fear is still present—“you’re acting in spite of fear.” He teaches his mentees to accept responsibility for where they’re at and to apply a faith-based practice until they can believe in themselves. “If you don’t know who you are, you can’t create unique art.”

There are still threads to unravel. To this day, he fights to control the blaze of anger that slices through at injustice. Just like in his youth, he feels the pressure to stay on guard, to secure himself and his safety. “After 24 years of living like that, you don’t just come home and start expressing emotions.” But he knows himself, and he values his life. That deep sense of peace is unshakeable. Hanging around Wisper, friends might not notice how calm and collected he is until he laughs—then, they’re caught by the irreversible, unforgettable belly laugh flying out of him.

This year marks nine years since his release—nine years of using his freedom to help youth secure their self-identity. Often called on to speak and share his story, he is in the final stages of publishing three books that he hopes will aid their discernment. Wisper believes that all people hold a sense of justice, beauty, and truth—but an absence of self-identity spawns a perilous emptiness. “If you’re empty your whole life,” he says, “you don’t know what full is.”

His mission now is to inspire others to create art from a secure sense of identity, free of the pressure to fit a label or hide under a mask. “If you can learn how to operate from a place of peace while creating art,” he promises, “you can learn how to operate from a place of peace in all aspects of your life.” C

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John Mavroudis

The most meaningful thing to John Mavroudis about his typographic portrait of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford wasn’t that it made the cover of TIME magazine in October 2018, that it won Cover of the Year, or that it went viral. It was the emotional response from the public. He was working at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts. On his BART commute, he was overwhelmed reading social media posts and personal emails about how much the cover meant to people. That was “a big deal in terms of my career, but it also told me the power that [my art] could have on certain people,” John remarked.

His art often keeps him up into the early morning hours, including before this interview and those preceding the TIME cover’s two-day deadline. But his dog and 12-year-old daughter make sure he wakes up by 8am no matter what time he goes to bed. “I got into art for two reasons,” John explains. “My uncle was an artist, and I always loved watching him draw.” Then, in third grade, on the way to Queen of Apostles School in San Jose, he and friends “found a whole stack of comic books” behind a 7-11. “That spurred my love of comic books,” he says. “I used to trace comic books.”

John’s family moved to Los Angeles from the Bay Area when he was in middle school. “The only reason I went to college at all,” he says of attending CSU Northridge, “was to do political cartooning in their newspaper.” John left without graduating, returning to the Bay Area to take a job in a software company’s shipping and receiving department with a plan of becoming their graphic designer. The plan worked, until life “was like Office Space…[with] the jargon of Silicon Valley, and I was working on tech manuals, and I just couldn’t stand it.” He turned his attention to finding a place where he “could work as an illustrator or graphic designer with some more entertaining content.” He became a graphic artist for the Tri-Valley Herald in Pleasanton,

If you believe in the art, make the art.

then the Marin Independent Journal, next, art director for a tennis magazine. “I’m a big sports fan, but I was never a tennis fan,” he explains. “But it was a chance to art direct…it was a step up.”

John worked each of these nine-to-fives, doing his “passion on the side,” with gigs like radio DJing and creating posters for shows at the Fillmore in San Francisco. The latter brought two of his favorite things together—art and music—and built his portfolio. The venue “would ask for two or three sketches, and I’d send them 10,” he says, which gave them a variety of choices and gave him an education in idea generating and creation. His job at an airport enriched his art and life by enabling him to travel and see the world. “After a while, it kind of deadens you inside if you can’t follow your passion. So, I just finally decided if I was going to make a career of it, then I gotta just really bare down on

the art side,” he says.

John’s magazine cover for The Nation celebrating the 2009 Obama inauguration was the first time his art went national. Before that, major publications, including The New Yorker and TIME, had bought his ideas—even awarding him Cover of the Year—but not used his art.

Rejections along the way served to further build his portfolio. “I went on a run where I had, like, four or five ideas accepted [to The New Yorker] in two years, which is pretty good. But I probably threw them over a 100.” Instead of idea sketches, John almost always sends completed art, “which is not a good way to work” because it takes more time on ideas that might not even be accepted. On the plus side, art that he believes in “will find its place later on.”

A bass player’s negative reaction to one of John’s Fillmore posters taught him “you

gotta let it go… just like you don’t like certain kinds of art…you have to give yourself permission to not be worried about everybody’s opinion…If you believe in the art, make the art. And assume that some, or a lot of people, are not gonna like it. And that’s okay. That’s not a bad thing,” he admits.

He scrolls through sketches on his iPad, revealing more about his artistic process. He works in both graphic and realistic styles, but “I work reverse…in the negative…I usually paint out of light,” John says of the way that, instead of starting with a white canvas, he starts with a black one.

John wants the subjects of his art to say, “ ‘That’s me’ or ‘that’s some representation that’s fair of me.’ ” Unless it’s someone like Trump, where “I’m not interested in flattery at all.” C

Reclamation of the History and Heritage of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area

Monica V. Arellano serves as the Tribal Vice Chairwoman for the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area. In her many roles, Monica ensures that the history, voice, and identity of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe is authentically represented in community projects. She works to safeguard and revitalize the Tribe’s 12,000-year cultural heritage by restoring the Muwekma Ohlone language, Chochenyo (SF Bay Costanoan). She also helps the Tribe access and reconnect to the land and Indigenous knowledge through stewardship. She protects the Tribe’s aboriginal and religious rights while caring for the proper and respectful treatment of their ancestral remains and cultural artifacts when ancestral heritage sites are encountered during construction projects. She issues Land Acknowledgments, Opening Blessings, and public Welcoming Declarations to Muwekma’s Ancestral Land on behalf of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe in the Chochenyo language.

Monica lives in Castro Valley, part of her direct ancestral Jalquin/ Yrgin tribal territory, with her son Lucas Tuyhešte. It was important for Monica to give her son a Chochenyo name. She chose Tuyhešte, which means “strong” in their native Chochenyo language. Monica’s main focus is raising her son, who is her source of inspiration in the preservation of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe’s language, culture, and heritage.

Written by Michèle Jubilee

Studio Photography by Daniel Garcia

Location Photography by Kike Arnal Facebook muwekma Instagram muwekma_ohlone_tribe

Numulosgatos.org

106 East Main Street Los Gatos, California 95030

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The Muwekma tribal leadership is partnering with New Museum Los Gatos (NUMU), San Jose State University, and Mosaic America on Reclamation: Resilience of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe—an art exhibition presented by NUMU. This exhibition is part of an ongoing effort to speak about the continued vibrancy of the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe by delving into themes such as the politics of erasure, ancestors, identity, cultural revitalization, and resilience. Featuring photography by tribal photographer Kike Arnal, Reclamation aims to promote a deeper understanding of local indigenous art, culture, community, history, and contemporary Indigenous issues in Los Gatos and the greater Bay Area. With a special focus on the critical issues of federal recognition that the Muwekma Ohlone continue to fight for every day, this exhibition is a call to action to all who live on their ancestral homeland.

Who are the Muwekma Ohlone as a contemporary community and what is your role as Vice Chairwoman of the Tribe? After our tribe organized and elected our Tribal Council in the early 1980s, the leadership took on a multitude of responsibilities, including seeking reaffirmation of our previous federal recognized status, which was never terminated by any act of Congress. Our leadership also came forward to address the protection of our ancestral heritage cemetery and village sites all over the Bay Area, as well as try to provide benefits for our enrolled membership, including jobs, housing, and education. We were also concerned about

“It has not been an easy path, but it has been my honor and privilege to work hard alongside our Tribal leadership and members.”

-Monica V. Arellano

how to best educate the public, which we have been doing since the 1980s, by providing presentations about our pre-contact and post-contact history, heritage, and language to a multitude of schools. Over the years, we have worked with various local museums on exhibitions and have set up educational booths at community events such as local powwows and the Santa Clara County American Indian Heritage Celebration.

Concurrently, we revitalized our Chochenyo language in 2002 and our traditional dances earlier this year. In March we danced for the first time in over 125 years. That was a very historic time for our tribe and our people. The last time we danced was at the Mission San Jose Centennial in 1897. Today we are making history for our people as we continue to work on our dance regalia and traditional dance with other California natives and tribes. We are also engaging tribal members to learn about traditional native plants and their uses by coming together to plant native gardens. We recently planted the Muwekma Four Directions Native Plant Garden at the Stanford University Farm. The roles of tribal chair and vice chair were ultimately passed along to the present-day leadership, and we have continued advocacy in this tradition.

How does your cultural revitalization work impact you personally? My personal involvement with the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe began in 1997 when my family asked me to serve on the Muwekma Ohlone Tribal Council. From that day on, I have been committed to helping my tribe in the fight to regain our federal recognized status. It has not been an easy path, but it has been my honor and privilege to work hard alongside our tribal leadership and members. I have tried to instill these morals and values in my son Lucas, as he is the next generation of leaders for our tribe. He now helps to present public Muwekma Tribal Land Acknowledgements, has learned to dance, and is learning the Chochenyo language. Lucas proudly represents the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe.

What does this collaborative exhibition at NUMU mean for the Muwekma Ohlone? Exhibitions such as what we are working on with the NUMU staff allows us to tell our story based upon historical documentation, oral history, and archaeological findings about our ancestral civilization and our survival into the 21st century. This exhibition is not the first time we have worked with the Los Gatos community. We worked and collaborated with the staff at the Forbes Mill Museum in 2009 to 2010 and again with NUMU staff in 2016 on the exhibitions History and Heritage of Muwekma Ohlone Tribe and Back from Extinction. At present, we are honoring several ancestral and contemporary heritage sites and creating a visual multimedia educational program for NUMU members, the general public, and school groups.

Why are collaborations like this so important? Projects like these provide a forum to shatter the many myths perpetrated by the dominant society that include:

1. The Muwekma Ohlone are extinct.

2. The Muwekma Ohlone were never federally recognized as a

3. The Muwekma Ohlone migrated to the Bay Area after 500 AD.

With recent DNA studies that connect our lineages to our ancestors, we pray that this will help in our quest for Federal Recognition so that one day our children and future generations may benefit from housing, health coverage, education, and all the benefits afforded to a recognized tribe.

How can the public and other institutions show their support of the Tribe’s work? The first thing that public institutions should do is obtain and read copies of our co-authored publications posted on our Tribe’s website and on academia.edu, such as The Ohlone: Back from Extinction (1994) and Mapping Erasure: The Power of Nominative Cartography in the Past and Present of the Muwekma Ohlones of the San Francisco Bay Area (2013) . They should also seek partnerships with the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe so that we can be engaged in collaborative educational endeavors. Lastly, our people should be paid for their efforts and knowledge.

Over these many recent decades we have been trying to gain the attention of many Bay Area educational institutions which has been a most difficult enterprise. However, more recently we have been successful and engaged with public agencies, educational institutions, and the public in order to share our history and heritage with those who are also interested in social and environmental justice.

What main message do you hope people learn when they visit the exhibition at NUMU?

The main message is twofold:

1. We are still here after 12,000 years and we never left our ancestral homeland of the San Francisco Bay Area.

2. We are striving to regain our federal recognition so that we can obtain equal rights and stand alongside our federally recognized brothers and sisters. C

“I have been committed to helping my tribe in the fight to regain our federal recognized status.”

-Monica V. Arellano

Jiménez

Underwood Consuelo

American Fiber Artist

If you asked acclaimed fiber artist Consuelo Jiménez Underwood about the meaning of life, love, and the universe, she would probably give you one word: thread. Best known for her mixed-media textiles and art installations, Underwood has spent over 30 years mastering an art form as old as mankind. “It’s so metaphoric, that’s why I love that word,” she says. “It’s a powerful idea, that one line can create an object…One thread, one cone, I can weave a beautiful weaving. And if I just placed the threads vertically, horizontally, and in a certain pattern, weaved stuff inside of them, I can make important statements that people will look at.”

From safety pins, barbed wire, silks, or caution tape, Underwood’s creations are not what you might think of as typical textiles. Instead, they’re bold tapestries and delicate shrouds, interwoven with commentary on immigration politics, spirituality, feminism, decolonization, and more. Mixing eclectic materials with traditional tools, Underwood loves to push the boundaries of expectation and meaning in her craft. Often drawing inspiration from her Chicana-Huichol heritage and her technical background in loom-based weaving, sewing, and embroidery, the end product is an object that is both nostalgic and familiar, with undertones of the artist’s personal narrative. Threads have been part of Underwood’s identity for as long as she can remember. Originally born in Sacramento, Underwood grew up on the road, shuttling back and forth between the towns of Calexico, California, and Mexicali, Mexico. From a young age she worked in agriculture, picking prunes and tomatoes in the fields with her family; she struggled with school, with Christianity, and the overarching fear of her father being deported (as he sometimes was).

Thinking back, Underwood recalls her father being her earliest mentor in weaving, when he used his loom in the garage during the winter off-season. “That’s when I saw the thread in action,” she shares. “He would weave those paper doll dresses, and just connect them on the top and the side, and I’d wear them. And that stopped by the time I was six because my elder brothers and my uncles would laugh at him. And so, he didn’t do it anymore.” That memory stayed with her, however, rooted in Underwood’s creative psyche as a dissonant reminder of both her father’s tenderness and the toxic social constructs surrounding the craft.

When Underwood started college at San Diego State in the early ’80s, she saw projections of beautiful textiles in her course “Folk Arts of Mexico” and was mesmerized. “I knew I wanted to learn how to weave a rebozo,” she explains. “Because I saw the old Indian ladies that were beggars on the sidewalk…And their shawls had holes; they were so faded in color. And I knew that lady who was asking for money with her two kids there on the sidewalk, being spat on and kicked by the people walking by; I knew she knew more than I did, because she knew how to make a rebozo…That struck me. I just realized, what a loss, what a cultural loss.” Thread was Underwood’s calling, but she wasn’t sure what she would do with her degree. Maybe she would work at a senior center or out of her garage or start a taquería just so she could weave on the side for herself. Either way, she was determined to be put into history.

After earning her BA and MA degrees from SDSU, Underwood entered the MFA program at San Jose State University as one of the few textile students among installation, mixed media, and performance majors. It was a culture shock: whereas San Diego

State taught her how to refine form, San Jose wanted content and context. “That’s when I started using barbed wire,” she says, referring to one of her favorite elements. “Well, you know my context? It’s that [border] fence; that’s the barbed wire.”

One of the most challenging aspects, Underwood reflects, was being ostracized in an arena dominated by the conventions of traditional fine art. “I knew what went down all over the world with fine work, anonymous [stitchers], and to be claimed decorative and made fun of as underwater basketry.” So, she became outspoken and confident, recognizing she had something authentic, powerful, and timeless.

“I was fearless. Fearless because I was in the unknown, where nobody was doing what I was doing.”

Following her MFA, Underwood took on a tenured teaching position as head of fiber and textiles at SJSU. She spent the next 20 years instructing students in technique while sharing philosophy on threads and self-expression. “I would tell them clearly and directly all my thoughts, and that’s why I think they loved me,” she adds, with an edge of humor. When her students got upset over mistakes, she wouldn’t hesitate to remind them of the big picture.

“If you want to be an artist, figure out who you are. Because that’s the most important strength and power an artist has…If you don’t do art for who you are, you’re doing it for your teacher, for your mom, for the color that you like so much. That’s fine when you’re starting, but if you’re a professional, serious, and you’re going to make this a life walk, then focus. Who are you, what do you need to talk about?”

Underwood equipped her pupils to not just be weavers of textiles, but contemporary artists ready to challenge and engage

“It’s a powerful idea, that one line can create an object…I can make important statements that people will look at.”

-Consuelo Jiménez Underwood

with the world. Much like her father and those anonymous stitchers lost to history, she was passing the torch to younger generations for them to empower and preserve the legacy of threads. When she reached 60, Underwood finally decided to retire from academia to pursue her art full-time. In her absence, the textiles concentration was stripped down and converted into the Department of Design. While this came as a loss, it was also a moment of long-overdue liberation; after spending decades transforming within the roles of student and mentor (and discovering her artistic drive while doing so), Underwood was ready to go all in.

Since then, her pace has hardly slowed, even amidst a global pandemic. Nowadays she works from her home in Gualala, California, complete with a bunker of yarn, several large looms on site, and her father’s small weaving frame—a keepsake reserved for making miniature tapestries in between projects. Over the years her work has been exhibited nationally and internationally, with artwork in permanent collections at the Smithsonian, Oakland Museum of Art, and MoMA. She’s been featured in countless specials like KQED’s Spark program or Craft in America by PBS; and this year, Underwood celebrates the award of a 2022 Latinx Artist Fellowship, along with the release of her publication Consuelo Jiménez Underwood: Art, Weaving, Vision.

As tedious and time-consuming as weaving may be, Underwood loves the craft more than any other medium. It is the nexus for her Chicana-Indigenous ancestry, her activism, and her natural inclination as a storyteller, an undeniable symbol of versatility and human connection extending through past, present, and future. “Now I’m at the age where I just want to enjoy it,” she muses, contemplating the endless possibilities. It’s a powerful idea, after all, that one person, one thread can be capable of so much. C

Phil Leonard SYRARIUM STUDIOS

Shades of Syrarium

Crunching gravel gives way to the thundering sound of metal roll-up doors as you enter the workshop of Syrarium Studios. Slender, gold-dusted mannequins adorned with chrome rams’ heads rise like space-age Nubian sentries to greet you as you enter. Longboard surfboards the size of small trees, each sprayed with a universe of geometric sparkle, hang ceiling to floor, leading one after another to a doorway. Passing through that door, you enter a paint shop with fresh white walls, a rusty chemical storage box, and a small pile of Harley-Davidson parts. This paint studio is where Phil Leonard, founder of Syrarium Studios, creates his art.

Syrarium is a problem-solving and creative-expression concept that expands beyond a singular medium. Leonard explains, “I like painting, but it is pretty stimulating when you can bite into a couple of different project layers.” Phil Leonard fuels the creations of Syrarium with his willingness to dive down any inventive rabbit hole that a project requires. The scope of his work often balances both vocational and fine art contexts and pushes the limit of what is possible with paint.

Car enthusiasts, art galleries, and business owners alike covet Leonard’s unique automotive-urethane-enamel paintwork style. His work is exhibited within Winfield Gallery in Carmel, on cars and motorcycles, and even on the walls of the prominent Born and Raised steakhouse in San Diego.

Growing up in Hollister, California, Leonard remembers working on motorcycles and modifying cars in his teens. He recalls, “We had an old Ford pickup that I lowered and put airbags on, but

the paint job was expensive. That was my first attraction to painting. It was very intentional.” His experience playing high school football taught him that if he showed up, learned the playbook, and gave it 100 percent his all, there was a good chance he would win. “I have carried the same dedication into the way I make art,” he shares. When it was time to transition to college football, Leonard realized that “you become an investment. Suppose you are just as good as someone else, but they are three inches taller. They go with them.” That reality inspired Leonard to make both creatively satisfying and financially sustainable work.

He would only paint for auto shops that paid him as a subcontractor and priced his work based on labor hours and skill. As an automotive painter and creator of fine art, he shares, “It is always a conversation. There is the vocational Harley world and the world where I create whatever I imagine and exhibit it.” He continues, “I try and straddle and give meaning to both—it’s like two legs to the same person.”

Leonard’s work is guided by intuition, and he refuses to be held up by concept. He mentions, “I try not to make an intentional move that could hinder the outcome. If I emphasize the details or message at the start, any deviation from the plan can make the project feel tainted.”

Dialogue is a common theme in his work and worldview. Leonard’s process of laying color that either sets or clashes is the conversation he seeks while painting. “It is not about what I want someone to take from a piece, but the intentional process of looking at how the colors speak to each other,” he describes.

Leonard’s eye for vision and depth allows him to make 2D objects appear 3D. He shares, “The painting is almost the easy part at this point. I like finding new ways to lay out the colors. Much of my work is about exercise. It is a certain level of preserving my skills.” He continues, “Truthfully at this point, it is not the excitement of finding a color; it is about dyeing that color, muting it back with an ugly color, and finding ways to weave them together. There must be a level of exploration in my work.”

The COVID-19 pandemic made it hard for Leonard to share and sell his work. He took a job coming up with creative solutions in design for an agricultural development company. This job afforded him a steady income when art could not always make ends meet. Nevertheless, he still works more than full-time in his workshop. He spends time with his family, tucks his daughters into bed, and heads into the paint booth to spray interwoven galaxies of color. Sometimes he pulls experimental ideas from his mind, and other times he pushes forward a customer’s vision, always managing to balance creativity and production.

Leonard’s plans include big paintings, returning to gallery exhibitions, and completing commissions of all varieties. The next time you pass an art gallery, keep one eye out for Leonard’s work, and keep the other eye on the streets, where you are just as likely to find a car, helmet, or motorcycle draped in the complex colorways of Syrarium studios. C

En tropy is often described as a measurement of disorder, a crucial concept in chemistry and physics that is notoriously hard for humans to wrap their heads around. It helps explain why ice melts and coffee gets cold. If energy has the opportunity to spread out, it will. In the case of multi-instrumentalist Ian Santillano, entropy can help us visualize the unfurling of creative identity and spiraling use of genre found in his zealous search for self. He has performed in musical groups such as Souled-Out Underground, Super Soul Bros, the Illiance, IPA, and the Housewarmers. Santillano’s debut album, Intropy, was released in September of 2022. The album name drops the “E” and science terminology, replacing it with an “I” and introspective indie-soul.

Santillano began studying music in his Catholic elementary school’s Musical Understanding Through Sound Education, or MUSE, program. Although classically trained, Ian found inspiration through the popular video game, Guitar Hero. He explains, “I wanted to be a guitar hero. Eventually, I was beating Through the Fire and Flames on ‘expert’ [level], and I asked my parents for an electric guitar starter kit.”

Throughout primary school, Ian balanced his responsibilities in the school band with his passion for guitar. He remembers studying sheet music during the day and guitar tablature by night. “Band wasn’t always for fun. I didn’t spend as much time practicing as I wish I would have. With guitar, I was much more doing it for fun. It wasn’t until college that musicianship and music theory took me into a space where it wasn’t about the instrument but rather learning music knowledge that could translate to other instruments and styles.”

Santillano’s transition from instrumentalist to singer-songwriter began when he was a teen. “I started to develop an interest in songs,” he says, “realizing that I could sing well enough to accompany the music. Later, I began treating vocals like an instrument.” After high school, his father’s battle with cancer emphasized the importance of taking a chance, following his dreams, and pursuing his music. “Before my dad passed,” Santillano explains, “he told me he was proud of me and talked about staying true to who you are. I remember thinking, ‘I want to take this music thing seriously.’ I told myself that I would write or record something every day. That was when I started to date all of my projects.”

Santillano’s sound is an extension of soul,

blues, hip-hop, jazz, and experimental influences, but he humbly settles on a genre called indie-soul. He describes it as “if John Mayer and Thundercat had a Filipino American baby that listened to Yebba and Faye Webster.” Early on, a cousin introduced Santillano to the sounds of John Mayer, an introduction that fueled his interest in guitar. Later, Santillano’s friend, mentor, and co-producer on Intropy, Angelo Macaraeg, professionally known as LASI, inspired him to think outside the box. Santillano remembers, “He asked me, ‘I know you are good at playing like John Mayer, but what else can you play?’ That was a huge push in expanding my sound.” Santillano frequently mentions how the support and influence of family and friends profoundly impacted his work.

Santillano’s process begins with sitting at a computer with instruments nearby and ready to record. He explains, “I like to see where my ideas take me. Sometimes I will start with a guitar part and end up recording another 20 guitar parts over it. I build out the skeleton of a song before writing.” The intuitive nature of his process allows his mind to flow where it wants. He makes a point of treating the process with grace and respect, rather than forcing songs into existence. Santillano’s work has been described as genre-bending; his relationship with genre tends to be a push and pull of structure and limitation. “At a certain point, I think a genre is marketing for listeners. In creating music, it can be hard to think about genre. Sometimes it can feel limiting, but sometimes limitations are what create amazing breakthroughs.”

Intropy touches on ideas of hardship, selfworth, and discovery. The instrumentation contains layers of funky bass lines and jazzy guitar riffs. Talking about producing the album, he states, “It always felt like I was creating pieces for a puzzle that didn’t exist yet.” With his music, Santillano hopes to push the boundaries of what it means to be a Filipino American musician while inspiring others and remaining true to himself. He explains, “I think what is important about what I have to say is that what I have to say is important. I hope people see that in my work and recognize it in themselves.” Santillano expects more album promotion, touring, and new music soon. Be on the lookout for more Ian Santillano, your local guitar hero and indie-soul singer-songwriter. C

“Sometimes limitations are what create amazing breakthroughs.”

AL THATFOOL

(ALEX ESTRADA)

Thatfool Al on stage. Mr. Alex in the classroom. Whatever the context, Alex Estrada is committed to pushing love, positivity, and collaboration throughout the San Jose community.

Just know that I come in love, I come with love, and I’m gonna leave with love,” shares Thatfool Al before launching into “Lil Wins” from Home Boy, his recently released third solo album. The song sports a bit of studio wizardry, but it’s meant to mimic the setting where he first recited the lyrics: Plaza de Cesar Chavez, the location for a protest where he was invited by community organizers to speak at.

“That was during the George Floyd stuff,” he notes of the time. While voicing the frustration evident in the crowd, his overarching message is a reflection on unity, with his evocative lyrics stating, “This is when I get the notion that I am not my drip / I am not a drop, but we are the ocean.”

When he recorded the first verse to opening track “March,” Al—born Alex Estrada—was just looking to create some share-

able content for Instagram. It became the start of a fruitful pairing with Milpitas-based beatmaker SomethingOk (@ somn.ok on Instagram), who soundtracks the entire album, as well as a reexamination of Estrada’s place in hip-hop.

He started Home Boy thinking this would be his final work as a rapper. Instead, it galvanized his voice and purpose, bringing a new vibrancy to what is now a new chapter in his musical journey.

Estrada recounts growing up among an interwoven community of aunts and uncles. His mom had him when she was a teen. His constant exposure to community, music, and art helped ignite an early love for writing and poetry. In time, he brought others into the process by inviting friends to his house after baseball practice to write rhymes together. Tupac and Snoop Dogg were early inspi-

rations, and Mac Dre helped him imagine comic possibilities with his rhymes at the height of the Bay Area’s hyphy movement in the mid-2000s. As he began to delve into underground hip-hop, the Hieroglyphics crew’s abstract, multi-syllabic lyrics helped him further refine his flow.

His creative drive took flight with the collective Westacy, who gained local buzz and opened for KRS-One in the early 2010s. Looking back, it’s hard for Estrada to relate with the person he sees in those videos, or even to connect with bars from his 2012 debut album, Fool Blown

“I definitely pushed boundaries for sure,” he says of his musical perspective at that time. “That was the fool part of my name, acting a fool, you know?”

Shortly after the release of Fool Blown , a close childhood friend suddenly passed away, which inspired a profound period of contemplation and change. “I put the music down. I was in probably the darkest time I’ve gone through,” he shares. A random walk past the Center for Spiritual Enlightenment led to attending weekly sermons about the parallel principles shared across several religious texts. He found peace through practicing yoga, and eventually became a teacher himself. His sophomore record, Moment of Silence, was the first glimpse of his revamped musical voice. “It wasn’t a moment of silence to honor a death,” explains Estrada. “It was like meditation. Just take a moment, reflect, chill, breathe, and then come more intentional with what you’re writing and saying.”

Following Moment of Silence, many other priorities began to take precedence. He utilized his yoga knowledge to teach classes in the community, leading to his involvement in organizing the Conscious San Jose festival. He started an urban garden near his downtown apartment after studying at the Urban Permaculture Institute of San Francisco. In recent years, he joined the staff at Sunrise Middle School, a charter school where he teaches yoga to 300 students and provides one-on-one counseling. He’s listed as one of the afterschool program coordinators but prefers a simpler title: “I’m just Mr. Alex,” he says.

Even though he serves in an advisor/teacher role, he’s quick to emphasize that it doesn’t alter his behavior. “I’m an educator, but I still consider myself a street kid. I don’t really censor myself, and I don’t really change who I am. I want to take all of me into these spaces and put it on display for people to be inspired to bring all of them[selves] into the space [too].”

He kept his rap career secret until coworkers shared a video of him performing, which instantly led to several new young followers. The moment reminded him of his responsibility to be a positive example for others in all aspects of his life.

While Estrada admits that his varying priorities have spread his art thin at times, he believes the next project is already well underway. “I finally had a moment to breathe and look through my notebook of writings since [this album], and I have, from what I can count, another 20 written songs that need to just be recorded,” he shares, noting that he feels confident he can complete a new project by early 2023. C

“I’m an educator, but I still consider myself a street kid. I don’t really censor myself, and I don’t really change who I am. I want to take all of me into these spaces and put it on display for people to be inspired to bring all of them[selves] into the space [too].”

–Alex Estrada

CONTRIBUTORS

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NGOZI

Ngozi is a creative and photographer using data, design, and photography to build brands and tell stories. His work primarily includes portraiture and documentary.

Instagram: kingnegritude

DAVID

David has a strong disposition for sarcasm and daydreaming. In his spare time, he likes to cook, lie in the grass, and find just the right song to listen to all day.

Twitter: dang_void

TOVAH

Tovah is an illustrator, printmaker, and art preparator based in the South Bay. As both creators and conduits for others’ artistic visions, they enjoy crafting stories that reflect life’s small, intimate niches.

Instagram: three.legged.cat

SUSAN

Susan is an intern at CONTENT MAGAZINE and genArts. And an aspiring creative for the arts, Bay Area born and raised. She has a love for being in nature and music. She is an art enthusiast with a passion for serving the community.

Instagram: suszxn

Addison is a college student who is studying graphic design. He enjoys spending time with his best friend, Jax, the golden retriever.

LUCAS

On Cover: Luca in full regalia, son of Monica V. Arellano, the Tribal Vice Chairwoman for the Muwekma Ohlone Tribe of the San Francisco Bay Area. Page 42.

instagram: muwekma_ohlone_tribe

Thank you, Kristen. From the first PickUp Party at MACLA to all the fun labs and regional connections, your work with CONTENT has been a blessing to the community. Best to you and Hugo in life and career.

Virginia is a community builder. The San José native grew up performing with Children’s Musical Theater and is a proud River Glen and Berkeley graduate.

Linkedin: graham316

TWO UNIQUE DINING EXPERIENCES. ONE LUXURY HOTEL.