[ MECHANICAL NOISES ] ♪ AZPM INTRO PLAYS (Mary) This week on State of the Arts, three artists share their stories, their identity beyond the paintbrush, and what motivates them to keep painting.

Coming up on State of the Arts.

I'm Mary Paul, and welcome to this week's show, where we'll bring you the stories of three unique painters, and what led them to share their lives through their work.

Artist and University of Arizona professor emeritus, Alfred Quiroz, was born and raised in Tucson before enlisting in the Navy and serving in the war in Vietnam.

His work, "A Critique of War and Violence," is also a deep reflection of American history.

On the U of A faculty for three decades, Quiroz trained and mentored thousands of other artists, and continues to influence minds through his artwork.

♪ SOFT JAZZ PLAYS (Alfred) Peter Saul, my first mentor, asked me, "What do you really think about?"

And I said, "Well, the things I really think about are not very nice."

And he said, "That's what you should be painting."

(Anne) We seem to have a great capacity to tolerate violence, but we have a limited capacity to tolerate critiques of that violence.

(Julie) He works from a place of political outrage.

As a Mexican-American, he understands what discrimination is.

Some people sit there and just cry.

Others, with the kind of talent Alfred Quiroz has, can bring attention to injustice.

(David) He was the first Hispanic to be hired as a full-time professor at the University of Arizona.

(Olivia) I actually first met Alfred when I took a painting class with him.

It was fun to come to class.

At the same time, he's a serious artist.

He has high standards for students.

♪ SOFT JAZZ CONTINUES (Alfred) I was always reading comic books, "Mad Magazine," and then I started copying the comics.

I was always the school artist, but my main focus in school was always math and science.

If you wanted to run for office in high school and you wanted to get elected, you went to see 'Al-Qui.'

I was Al-Qui.

And Al-Qui would do your thing with magic markers, "Mad Magazine" stuff.

They would get elected.

When I graduated high school, in high expectation of continuing my career as an artist, and then found out there was no art scholarships that year, so I joined the Navy.

Ended up going to Vietnam, became the ship's artist: designing flags, painting— Plus, I was teaching a little bit of art classes on the ship.

When we first got to Vietnam, off the coast of Vietnam, I couldn't believe; it was like looking at paradise, these beautiful white, pristine beaches, palm trees, you know, the jungle.

To me, it was like, "why are we screwing up with paradise?"

Throughout the whole entire four years, three months, two days, I would write to the San Francisco Art Institute every month, "I want to study painting at "the San Francisco Art Institute.

"Sincerely yours."

And then I would put my rank down, you know, "Alfred Quiroz: Seaman" or "Alfred Quiroz: "Quarter Master, third class."

Then I became "Quarter Master: second class, so.

The GI Bill was reenacted.

January of '68, went to the San Francisco Art Institute.

I'm applying to get my BFA in painting, and they said, "Where's your portfolio?"

"I don't have a portfolio.

I have nothing."

Looking through my paperwork, they said, "You're the one who's been writing.

"You're making all your letters."

"Yeah, that's me."

The GI Bill covered tuition, period.

I would give them the green check, and they would say, "Thank you."

And I'm like, "Oh, isn't there like, "your rent money and food money "supposed to come out of there?"

Nope, nope.

Gotta get a job, so I got a job as a fry cook.

So I would work a graveyard, 11 to seven, 40 hours a week, Union Cook.

I would draw floating hamburgers on my hat.

Head supervisor came and complained that, "Stop drawing on your hats."

And I made a series of hamburger drawings just to get that element out.

(Barbara) His work is satirical, but it comes from a base of his knowledge of history, of the world and history of America, and history of immigration, the wonderful things immigration has created for this country, and the problems this country has created for the immigrants.

(Julie) He's actually got a really sculptural sense of painting and space, shaped canvases, and the way that he sort of constructs environments with the narratives of the large scale.

There's something almost theatrical about that.

But the result is that the work is deeply immersive.

(Alfred) This is how I start.

This is my rough sketch.

It's a wall piece, I'm figuring out the size, six by eight.

So I make notes, say, "Good old Hickory."

Okay, he was known as old Hickory.

He's known for the $20 bill.

His inauguration was the first one open to the public.

So they were serving cheese.

And I'm like, "Serving cheese?"

I'm thinking that his legs are gonna be, maybe being a jig.

1838, the Great Removal Act, removing the Indians militarily.

The Medal of Honor painting's idea happened, came to me in 1972, when the war ended in Vietnam.

I cried.

Too many friends are still there.

One of the paintings I did was "Put em on top of us," was an actual incident that happened in the Vietnam War.

I knew I was gonna upset a lot of people.

I mean, I've given lectures where ex-military people get up and walk out.

And I understand, I know why they're doing that.

There's a certain patriotism, but they don't understand what I'm really talking about.

I'm really talking about the symbols that are being used, and the fact that we always think of war as either being an economical element or against somebody that we don't like.

But majority of war is a way of legalizing murder.

(Julie) One of the greatest black artists in the United States acted as his mentor.

(Anne) Both Colescott and Quiroz terrified people, and in the best possible way... (Alfred) My presidential series was a direct spin-off of the Medal of Honor series.

Who's in charge of the Soldiers of the Medal of Honor?

President of the United States.

He's the Commander-in-Chief.

My relationship between art and justice.

For me, they go hand in hand.

It's my way of justifying some of the stuff that goes on— the evils in the world, the evils of our experience.

I mean, I've been called every Mexican slur word I can imagine.

In my artwork, it was important for me to be able to reflect on that.

So justice, it's about my work.

I'm not making things pretty.

I can make it look pretty, but I can hammer you over the head with that prettiness.

And it comes with Duchamp's thinking of shock.

Shocking the viewer.

And that's the idea of my work, is to make you think, why did he do this?

Or why would he show that?

If I can alter your mind a sixteenth of an inch, then I've struck.

♪ SLOW JAZZ PLAYS Inspired by the Chicano movement and ancestral memory, painter Pola Lopez seeks to reclaim identity, honor feminine strength, and remind us we are all one people.

We travel to neighboring New Mexico to see her paintings and mural work.

(Pola) I think art should make a statement.

It should have some meaning.

On one level or the other, they have to connect with the viewer.

(Faith) You talked about the Brown Berets being an inspiration for you.

Can you talk about how that experience in high school inspired you?

The Brown Berets, in 1972, came over and took over my high school, West Las Vegas.

And they brought muralists along with them.

And they were painting murals in our courtyard of our high school.

And they told us, "Do not come to school.

"We've been taking over and stuff."

So of course they had to go see what was going on.

And they were painting these images of like the Vietnam War and Chicano images that were like Mexican heritage images, like the pyramids and the farm workers.

And they were using these brilliant colors.

So I was immediately drawn to them.

I didn't understand the imagery.

And that's when I first heard the word Chicano.

And I never had a clue what that meant because we were always told we were Spanish-American, and or Hispanic.

And so it piqued my curiosity.

And I saw that day the power of art to inform people and educate people and move people.

I walked away that year saying "that's what I want to do."

♪ SOFT GUITAR PLAYS (Faith) Then you went on to make your own murals.

And one of the murals I wanted to talk about was "Shards of Our Stories."

Can you tell me what was the inspiration behind that mural?

"Shards of Our Stories" was a mural I just recently did here in Santa Fe.

And it was commissioned by the Three Sisters Collective.

And it's the Corn Mother storyteller.

So on each shard, there's one of our stories of the culture in this area of Northern New Mexico.

Corn Mother, which is our mother, carries all the stories and she's got all the children around her.

So each shard had a story of our mixed culture being both Native American and mixed European.

It was all painted in red, white, and black because I called it a stop-side mural because I wanted people to really stop and pay attention because it's a Chicana mural, right?

♪ GUITAR FADES OUT ♪ BANJO FADES IN (Faith) And then I want to move on to your paintings.

And this one is "Who Wins This Game?

2.0" Can you tell me a little bit about what inspired this painting and what stories you're trying to tell - through this one?

- (Pola) This painting is based on a tic-tac-toe game.

And in each square, there's a label of identity.

So I noticed that I was being labeled many things.

I would be called Spanish American or I'd be called Mexican American, or I'd be called Hispanic.

You know, there's so many labels.

And so I just saw, I was confused.

I was searching for my identities.

So I can be Latina, and I can be Chicana and I can be Indohispana.

I can be all of those.

So I think the labels helped me to discover my identity.

And that was a good thing because you should always know your roots and where you come from.

And that gives you strength.

But today, I think that knowing that, now we have to rise above that and realize that we're all one tribe.

We're all one people.

We're all connected, and that we really need to work together.

And culture can be secondary to the one big nation of who we all are as one people.

So then who does win this game?

Well, I leave that up to you to answer.

And my answer was always whoever identifies themself.

You have to identify yourself.

Don't let anyone tell you who you are.

♪ UPBEAT GUITAR This one is titled "All One People."

What does that title mean in the context of this painting?

It's about the world being one and that we should all get along.

But this was my first 'Virgen de Guadalupe' painting.

And she's surrounded by flowers and beauty and this little square that says, "All One People" with the picture of the planet.

And I really care about the environment and the earth.

So it's like the mother telling us, "Take care of your planet.

Take care of each other.

"You're all my children."

[ LAUGHTER ] And, you know, because growing up through the Vietnam War and all the strife, and it just seems to be getting worse and worse.

And I think we forget that we are connected to each other.

We need to help each other.

So that's her prayer and her reminder to us.

I noticed there's a recurring theme of hummingbirds in your paintings.

What does that mean?

They say in Aztec mythology that they're the souls of the fallen warriors.

So they're warriors.

And they're also very beautiful, and they're fast.

So I use a lot of symbols in my painting.

♪ LUSH GUITARS I paint ravens a lot because ravens— my totem, my spirit animal, they're sacred birds to me.

I paint a lot of cultural things, like a lot of Day of the Dead.

Every October, November, we have to do a "Day of the Dead" piece to honor our ancestors.

So I do a lot of work based on the sacred feminine energy, paintings that pertain to women and their lives, you know, both past and present and future.

So I focus a lot on spirituality.

I always say my artwork is my spiritual path because I see art as a way of healing.

And I know that the color is healing.

The colors you choose can be very healing.

It's magic.

It's medicine.

♪ UPBEAT GUITARS CONTINUE (Faith) And we were talking about your inspiration of bringing feminine energy into your paintings.

So I wanted to talk about "La Bailarina" here.

What was the inspiration behind this piece?

Well, this piece is a ballerina—bailarina— but she's also a Luchadora.

And when I was in LA, they invited me to be in an exhibit of Luchadores.

They were all painting male wrestlers.

Luchadores is a wrestler, right?

And so I said, "Well, I'm gonna paint a woman, Luchadora."

She was the only woman among all the other men.

So I put a tutu on her and I put her mask on it and she's got her silk gloves and she's styling, but it represents how women are always in the battle.

They're always in the fight.

They're always struggling, but they're always still very beautiful and they grow from it and they're not defeated.

They get up and, you know, so a lot of people think that women are very delicate and that, you know, they can't defend themselves or, and I just want to put forward that, yes, we can be both.

We can wear our tutu and our sandals, but we can also go to battle.

And that's what that was about.

And she's smiling because she knows it.

She's like, "Boom, bam, take that."

But still she's very attractive.

I've made many paintings that show the different facets of women, you know, and the many masks we wear and the different identities we can portray.

It's about taking ownership of your femininity and your power and your strength.

It's just to empower women and to honor them because I don't think they realize how beautiful and powerful they are sometimes because we've had years of subjugation and I think they're finding their power now, especially the younger women.

So I just want to encourage that.

Women represent creative energy.

They're powerful, you know.

I mean, my grandmother and my great-grandmother survived a genocide, you know.

They've survived so much and we're still here, you know.

So we have to look to that to remember them and to carry that forward, you know.

So I'll pass that strength on, that inner strength.

Why do you feel it's really important to explore these themes of identity?

It makes you stronger in knowing who you are.

Like when I was growing up and I was told all these lies about who I was, it was very confusing.

I did my DNA during COVID and I found out what my true heritage is.

It was shocking.

[ LAUGHING ] Because there's a truth looking at you straight back and then you start to realize, well, that's where that trait comes from, that's where this comes from.

So, then you start to make connections, you know.

And then to know who your ancestors are so you can honor them.

Because you carry their DNA within you.

So you bring forth a lot of their experience and everything they went through and struggled for and survived and you know, and then you pass it on to future generation.

So... Something to be proud of.

Yeah, something they should own and be proud of.

Recognizing the power of public art in society, Clyde Santana has been painting murals since the 1970s and shows no sign of slowing down.

He shares the story of his inspiration and what motivates him to create work for the community (Clyde) I'm a public artist.

Public arts mean that you go out there and you don't own the work anymore.

It's for the community.

♪ BLUESY ROCK MUSIC I went to Springfield College.

That was pre-med.

I needed a job and I wandered over to the art department building because I heard they needed somebody to clean up.

And I ran into the chairperson and he said, "You think you want to transfer?

"Well, I have an art and urban life program."

I said, "Art and urban life program?

What is that?"

And he said, "You make art relative to the work and the people and the type of environment that's out here.

Plus I have a job for you too."

I can give you 20 hours a week.

Well, that sparked my interest because I was broke ♪ UPBEAT DRUM BREAK This first mural was started in 1971 at the African American Cultural Center at Springfield College.

And I started painting it in 1971.

I finished it in early spring of 1972.

And that was the beginning of me painting murals.

I was a loner.

I was kind of a quiet kid.

After I graduated, I became a traveler and muralist.

And I ended up down here.

I went to the police department.

I tested for the Norfolk PD.

And when I got in, I started to see, there was a few people that I saw in the community.

They were doing art and they were doing theater.

And I hooked up with a little small group I can design sets and I can write plays and I can work with teaching.

That was my beginning of teaching writers.

And I started taking writing classes and playwriting and screenwriting in New York.

And I was starting to date my first wife, Gail Davis.

And she started to go with me.

She got into it.

We met at UMass.

Several years later, I ran back into her after I graduated.

And we found out that basically both of us needed each other.

And we ended up eventually getting married.

And several months later, we had a child, my son.

And that was probably one of the happiest moments in my life.

Children's Center didn't have money, but I kept saying, if you're working with these kids and we can give them a nice program and we can do plays that let them do the work, let them be the hams on the stage.

So create a fantasy world for them.

And I said, well, I know how to do that.

And as a result, the kids just loved it.

During that time, we had Derek Williams and Tominita Booth.

She went to the Mickey Mouse Club and Derek Williams went to "Wicked" on Broadway and "The Full Monty" and "House of Mormon."

At the same time now, my wife is getting sick.

So I had to run back and forth to chemo.

As she gets worse and worse with the cancer, she was into working with other people and helping them because some of the young playwrights would come to her and say, "hey, "how do I get this done?

How do I do it?

And she would just sit there—even when she had the cancer, she would help them through When everything went upside down and she really took a turn for the worst, I realized that I was gonna be in the house.

I gotta do something to keep my sanity.

And I started painting.

And it gave me something to focus on other than all the death and despair that was around me.

And then she passed.

And I said, I need to do more painting.

♪ FUNKY DRUM AND BASS This is from Dr.

Vali Meeks when she was in Rwanda.

You see her with the little mirror and one of the tools that you do for cleaning.

She had gone over to Rwanda to do some work.

Harvard Initiative was doing the dental school.

They were creating the first dental school in Rwanda, you know, right after the genocide.

It was set up to treat people who were HIV positive or who had AIDS.

So you had to be very confident of yourself in working with patients and not being afraid of them.

And that's one of the things that I asked.

I said, "Well, you know, were you afraid of the patients?"

She said, "No, I'm a doctor.

I'm supposed to help people.

"I can't be afraid of them."

And that was interesting to me.

And then I said, "Well, "there's a happiness in this clinic."

So I had to make it so that in this world that they created, it was like I wanted to give her the feeling of happiness.

There was dignity because that was one of the things that she wanted them to have.

She did not want them to walk out of there without their dignity.

One of the patients that she had, they had asked her who was the person that had the most influence on your life.

And said, Dr.

Meeks, she gave me back my smile.

So I thought about it.

I said, "no, this always has to be about smile."

There's the teeth here.

They're bright.

There's the toothbrushes.

And she always used to tell them, "you gotta brush."

And of course, the sunlight and their happy up here and the angel who's up there.

And we don't have enough public servants that care about people.

We need to write more stories about public servants and just ordinary people who rise to greatness because of what they give.

We didn't know each other that well.

I was working with a group of alumni people.

So we were trying to get a scholarship.

So we were calling around the people we knew.

And I happened to know Valerie.

We just became like phone pals.

But she always encouraged me to keep painting and keep doing this.

She pushed me.

I think it's the support that she gave me.

And finally, I started going up and seeing her.

And we ended up coming together.

She was that voice that was kind of like a grief counselor for me Valerie was a lifeline to me.

We ended up getting married.

I look at it like, yeah, you know, I will never forget Gail.

But I've moved on to a new life.

♪ CHEERY FUNK MUSIC PLAYS I'm just happy that Norfolk gave me this exhibit.

I've had people tell me that they have seen it, you know, and they loved it.

So I think that the arts is something that brings people together.

And sometimes we find out that in the humblest of circumstances, at the lowest level of the arts is where the community really grows.

♪ CHEERY FUNK MUSIC CONTINUES ♪ Thanks for joining us this week on State of the Arts.

I'm Mary Paul, and I'll be back next week with more.

♪ SYNTH MUSIC