earliest memories of color and rhyme are those of the fields. Sitting in the
back of a pickup truck with my family, watching row upon row of corn and tomatoes
form a visual pattern of rhythm. Realities of superstition told by the elders,
stories of La Llorona (Weeping Woman), the earth, my glorious past—all these
images come to life in stone, paint and canvas, and walls. To point a finger
when no one dares. To search one's soul and then to share. This is my purpose
as a Chicano artista.