Site Presented By
Thursday, Nov 26, 2009
Not many sons and daughters of El Barrio -- or any other barrio -- escape the hardships of the community and then return by choice. A graduate of Cornell (he received an MFA in 1994), De La Vega has done this, consciously and purposively. Although he lives in the Bronx, he returns every morning to his studio, which is also a gallery, in El Barrio. He does not consider living in the Bronx a defection, explaining that he requires distance to work. His mother, stepfather and brother still live in the apartment where he grew up. His 2-year-old daughter and her mother, a former girlfriend, live nearby.
How can an artist like James De La Vega break out of El Barrio? And does it matter, apart from the obvious financial reasons, if he doesn't? Those were the questions that held me throughout the weeks I interviewed him in Spanish Harlem.
"You're asking the wrong questions. You should be asking why the art galleries aren't picking James up," says Yazmin Ramirez, consulting curator at El Museo del Barrio. "Why have they suddenly lost interest in vanguard artists? In the '80s, he would have been picked up in a second."
Most agree that De La Vega has great talent. The pop painter LeRoy Neiman has become one of De La Vega's advisors (they serendipitously met in a restaurant some years ago) and attends all his shows. Neiman seems unconcerned that De La Vega has not had a major gallery opening downtown, and pooh-poohs thoughts that De La Vega could somehow be managing his career more wisely. "He doesn't need an agent. He's a crackerjack and has a big talent. He's deserving and he'll make it," Neiman says.
De La Vega's studio is next to a flower shop on 104th Street and Lexington Avenue, across the street from the schoolyard of P.S. 72, which has become his outdoor gallery. He organizes shows there at least twice a year, not only for his own work but for that of other artists in El Barrio as well. The work hangs from the fences or leans against the walls. The gatherings are always gala events, drawing many from the community and still too few from outside.
On a day that I stopped by, his mother, his muse, also dropped in with some lunch for De La Vega and a bag of plums from the market. "Still feeding your son," I said facetiously, and she smiled broadly, maternally offering me a plum as well.
"She's the main woman in my life," De La Vega says.
People walked in and out at a steady pace. A self-taught artist, Francisco Lopez, came by asking for advice. De La Vega looked through his portfolio and kept a piece on consignment. I thought the young man would faint from happiness.
Helping others is one of the few things that makes De La Vega smile these days. "I'm an artist, not a criminal," he told me ruefully on the telephone the other day. He sounded sad, and wondered if he'd made the right decision to plead not guilty. It was a rare moment of doubt for him, and he ended with a more positive thought: "I think of the art in this neighborhood, and my history here. People come up to me and say, I'm living in Spanish Harlem because of the art. This neighborhood was hurting before you started painting on these walls."
