Today we’d like to introduce you to Evelyn Quijas.
So, before we jump into specific questions, why don’t you give us some details about you and your story.
I was born in LA, and actually from my apartment in Boyle Heights I can see the hospital where I was born. I spent the first five years of my life in Montebello living with my parents and two older brothers who emigrated from Mexico. When my younger brother was born we moved to Los Serranos, which is a working-class neighborhood of Chino Hills. The name Los Serranos is what the Spanish missionaries gave to the indigenous peoples who once inhabited that area. My childhood was split between living there and frequently visiting my parents’ hometown, San Antonio Matute, where I lived at age nine and attended 4th grade. My parents are both from that same small, rural town in Jalisco, MX. It’s so small that my maternal grandparents and paternal grandparents lived only a few blocks away from each other. I have cousins from both sides of my family that grew up together and hang out. Having both sides of my family together in one place made it feel like my hometown too. Every time I’d visit, my maternal grandma, my abuelita Lola, would always tell me the same stories about when I was around three and how my aunt, my Tia Coni, taught me how to dance la quebradita. She would laugh and insist that I danced it well, said I was bien curiosita wearing my little white cowgirl boots with fringe, and that I would get angry when my Tia Baybi would jokingly try to outshine my dance moves. I only vaguely remember that and don’t really know how to dance it anymore, but what I do remember is at around age 4 or 5, I developed a strong interest in drawing, which has stayed with me throughout the years and developed into a love of creating visual art ever since. In elementary school, I always looked forward to projects which involved drawing, putting more effort into them than was probably necessary. I cherished the few times our class would have dedicated art lessons, learning about artists and emulating their work.
In 7th grade, I experienced my first real art class as an elective. It changed my world. My teacher’s name was Mrs. Cunningham. I think she saw something in me, whether it was actual “talent” or just a genuine interest in art, she nurtured it. I remember when that elective course was over, she offered me a waiver which allowed me to take the class again, only this time she would assign me individual projects separate from the rest of the class. At the time, I was kind of a dorky kid, those years are usually awkward for kids but I wasn’t popular, I was shy, kind of chubby and insecure, I was taller than all the boys my age, but with art none of that mattered. I was able to escape all of that and cultivate something more important, which later became a source of confidence for me. High school was much the same, I took art as an elective when available and my teachers would sometimes assign me projects separate from the class. Sometimes I would get to leave class and work on painting murals throughout the campus and I fancied myself a little badass because of it. After high school, I didn’t really have a clear direction of what I wanted to do, even though I enjoyed art and liked the idea of doing it as a career, I was too indecisive to commit to art school, I knew financially it would be hard. I didn’t think I was good enough, or maybe I didn’t want to take the risk of failing. My dad was pressuring me to choose something practical. As long as I can remember, he emphasized the importance of becoming self-sufficient to my brothers and me, because he intended to move back to his hometown once he retired, which he did. I went to community college, took some general education classes and again, took as many art classes as possible, I got waivers from my professors which allowed me to skip the prerequisite beginner classes and got really into life drawing and painting.
Eventually, I moved to LA and started volunteering at the Cinefamily. I would do different jobs there as a volunteer, like bartending or ushering, but eventually I found my niche there painting for them. I would paint scenery for photo booth backdrops, props related to whatever film was being screened at the time, and anything else they wanted basically. I did an 8′ x 8′ Frank Frazetta reproduction for one of their events, which was the biggest thing I had painted at the time. I would even take the work home to my shared studio apartment sometimes working until 4 in the morning, flipping my mattress against the wall to have space for painting. None of this work was paid-for by the way, but at the time it didn’t matter because it was satisfying to see my work getting recognition for once, even if it was just from screening to screening. I did, however, get some paid gigs as a result of the visibility. During this time, I was teaching realistic drawing and painting at an art studio to children and some teens and adults. I enjoyed it, but ultimately it wasn’t a viable career option. Afterward, I started working at MOCA as a gallery attendant, which itself was a type of art school for me. When I started learning more about contemporary art, I had a new appreciation for what art meant; for what it could do and communicate. I tried to learn as much as possible, not only because it was my job to engage visitors about the works, but because I realized how much I didn’t know. Many of my colleagues there had attended or were currently attending an art school, and I felt like I had missed out.
In 2016 I took a life-changing, 2-month, solo backpacking trip through central, southeast, and southern Mexico. I was so inspired by those experiences at that time in my life, they gave me a newfound sense of direction artistically. When I came back, I transferred into the art-handling department of MOCA. That time also felt like a type of school for me, I didn’t really know what I was doing at first but learned quickly and loved the job, I loved working with my hands, I especially liked the precise nature of handling works, how everyone agrees that this rusty can, for instance, is not just a rusty can, it’s part of an artwork, and so we imbue it with meaning and importance and treat it as you would a delicate artifact. Finally beginning to apply the inspirations from my Mexico trip, I began to experiment with materials and concepts in my art practice, these ideas and inspirations would later become central to the works in my first solo show Más Caras, which happened last year in 2019 at Nous Tous during my art residency with Level Ground. The Level Ground residency was the first time I felt like an actual artist. I had always hesitated to call myself that before. But for the first time in my life, I had an actual art studio and a consistent art practice. Because of COVID and life in general, I had to leave my art studio and move everything into my apartment. I currently have a huge sculpture that I made, a 6’ x 5’ mask, just sitting in my bedroom. I’m currently trying to set up my living room as a dedicated art-making space.
Overall, has it been relatively smooth? If not, what were some of the struggles along the way?
I think the challenges I’ve faced have stemmed from me doubting myself, my abilities, and selling myself short. I took a very roundabout way of getting to where I am, but I think all the experiences I’ve lived and mistakes I’ve made were lessons and insights that I needed to learn one way or another, and I hope to keep growing from them.
Please tell us more about your art.
My works vary in medium; I wouldn’t say I specialize in one in particular. I have more experience with drawing and painting, but relatively recently I started making different kinds of sculptures which has been really fun. In the past, I focused on figure and portrait works, but now I’m more interested in creating a narrative by using different, sometimes unusual materials. Because my works are usually directly or peripherally personal, I draw inspiration from my own life and history as well as the history of my ancestors. I am Mexican-American and my family is of both indigenous and European descent. Through my art practice, I try to incorporate more of these facets of my identity. What I am interested in is finding the remnants or persisting symbols and reinterpreting them to create a personal understanding of my history and my link to the past. Each generation is so vastly different from the last, but I don’t want to forget where I come from. In my works, I’ve used found objects that relate to this understanding. Some of these objects include stones, obsidian shards, and broken bits of pottery that used to belong to the Caxcanes, the indigenous peoples that once lived in the region of my family’s hometown. I have a multimedia installation which features the voice of my father speaking and his father singing within a collage of sounds, so I think of my art practice as a type of preservation work as well.
Any shoutouts? Who else deserves credit in this story – who has played a meaningful role?
My family has been very supportive, and my dad in particular has instilled in me and my brothers a sense of pride in our culture and history. He worked so hard to provide for us and give us more opportunities than he ever had. And the sacrifices of my mother and grandmothers, my Chilo and my abuelita Lola. They dedicated themselves to raising their children with limited means, and laid the foundation for me to take a different path. Growing up, I looked up to my older brothers, Brian and Serafin, whether they know it or not they were also imparting a different facet of our culture onto my younger brother, Kevin, and me. The music they would play around the house, usually oldies, r&b and rap, mixed with the Mexican music my parents would play, all of the Chicano art I would see in the Lowrider magazines my brother bought, all these culturally syncretic elements influenced me, made me curious, and gave me inspiration to draw from later on. There are so many people that helped me along the way, and continue to do so, all my friends definitely. Special thanks to my dear friend Allegra Jones for recommending me for this interview and being an endless source of inspiration. I always have thankful things to say about Level Ground, that is, Samantha Curly, Rebekah Neel, and Leslie Foster, for mentoring me and making my first solo show possible.
Contact Info:
- Website: evelynquijasgodinez.com
- Email: [email protected]
- Instagram: @magiccconch
Image Credit:
Evelyn Quijas (myself), Aura Oropeza, Elijah Reynoso
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