“It’s okay to be flamboyant if you’re macho”

You grew up close to the border in El Paso, Texas, near the border with Mexico. What role did the neighbouring country play in your childhood?

My mom and dad are Mexican and, from the age of 13, my mum would cross undocumented, into the US to clean houses, returning home again in the evening. Sometimes she'd cross through the Rio Grande and walk through the desert and sometimes she'd be smuggled across the border. Later, my parents migrated to El Paso, but my childhood was spent going back and forth over the border. Our relatives were mostly in Mexico, and we’d cross over weekly, if not daily. The border region had a very particular dynamic; it was a weird in-between space.

“From an early age I was really impressed with the flamboyant Norteño style of my dad, my uncles and my cousins.”

You often use clothing typical of north-Mexican Norteño culture in your artwork. What does it mean to you?

From an early age I was really impressed with the flamboyant Norteño style of my dad, my uncles and my cousins. My father never had an education, but he had a gift for music and played in Norteño bands, playing accordion but also keyboard, bass guitar, drums or singing. As a kid, I started paying attention to the flamboyancy of the costumes that these people wear, especially the musicians who perform in clothes that are fringed and glittery.

In some ways, the Mexican Norteño style looks similar to the North American cowboy outfit? Is there a connection?

Over time, these two styles have merged, especially in the border regions. The classic cowboy boot, though, is more simplistic and utilitarian. In general, Norteño boots are more ornate and use exotic skins like crocodile, stingray, ostrich, or shark. Some are sequinned, they are beautifully dyed and can have a very pointy tip. My stepdad was a Mexican boot maker. I have some of the boots he made, and I'd ask him about what drove him to create certain stitch patterns, and I'd even point out that embroidery is traditionally a more feminine craft. He couldn't explain specifics, he’d just say he liked it.

“I learnt as a kid it’s okay to be flamboyant if you’re macho”

And some boots have high heels.

I learnt as a kid it’s okay to be flamboyant if you’re macho - but if you dress flamboyantly and are queer, you are slurred as a faggot or a sissy or whatever else. This attire was very performative. It was like armour. As soon as they put on their boots, belts, hats and shirts they’d carry themselves differently, exuding power and acting tough.

And was it also a homophobic environment?

My family was conservative and religious, and it took me until I was 22 or 23 years old to come out of the closet. Before then, I feared being subjected to violence or my family rejecting me. When I came out, my mom stopped talking to me for a while and my whole family was like: we’ll pray for you! At some point they came round, but there’s a saying in Spanish: "Lo que se ve, no se pregunta,” or “what you can see, you don't ask about.” Even though my family knows I'm gay, it's not spoken about.

Your work gives Norteño attire a queer makeover. What inspired this?

I wanted to subvert how men wear these garbs. I experimented with the traditional and historical meaning an object carries. For me, these objects project power. I wanted to deconstruct that power and reconstruct it in a way that subverts machismo.

And you exaggerate the ornamentation, for example, adding fringes from the men’s shirts to decorate sombreros.

When you make the flamboyance that already exists in the culture louder, you start to see it for what it is. In the exhibition at ArtYard in Frenchtown New Jersey, I'm making huge sculptures based the stitched embroidery patterns on men’s boots. They attracted me because they're ornate, even flowery, but at the same time they're hidden under their pants. It's a secret flourish, something to hide. A boot is utilitarian but it has evolved with a strong sense of fashion. Yet when you mention the word “fashion” to these macho men, they reject it.

“Growing up, I felt I was not American enough nor Mexican enough”

Your art often explores dual identity, for example, in your installation “Ni de aqui, ni de alla” (Neither from here, nor there) which shows you being dragged through the sand by a horse, a metaphor of you being pulled in different directions.

That feeling of being caught in between two places is specific to the first-generation individuals who grew up on the border. In El Paso you’re on the highway, and you can see Ciudad Juárez, just 15 minutes down the road! Growing up, I felt I was not American enough nor Mexican enough. Being “Mexican-American” is an interesting term. I’d say: I'm Mexican, because that's my cultural background but people would say, no you're not Mexican, you’re American. In Mexico, they’d call me a “gringo”. It’s a constant battle of identities.

And you’ve also had exhibitions in Mexico, for example in Cuidad Juárez?

That show was about masculinity. It followed around a year I spent travelling to the northeastern part of the state of Chihuahua. I'd visit rural communities and take part in events, celebrations or traditions. I was interested in land ownership and who protects land, and how it's given to the next of kin, usually to a male. It's all about power - and as I see it, masculinity was designed with power in mind. I was also interested in meeting queer individuals in these rural regions. In my show I mounted 4 by 8 feet photographs of them on stacks of hay to form the centerpiece of the exhibition. They are printed on fabric, giving a sense of softness to their hardness. I chose images where you can't see all of their face, which suggests anonymity.

“It’s hard for queer people to fully accept themselves in rural Mexican communities”

Does that reflect a lack of social acceptance?

To a certain extent, yes. One of the men I photographed said his family knew about him, but they don't talk about it. Another doesn't consider himself to be gay, but he sleeps with men. Another projected a very masculine persona until he’s with close friends - only then do you see a different side of him. It’s hard for queer people to fully accept themselves in rural Mexican communities.

What reactions does your work get in Mexico?

I get positive reactions but also strong reactions. I have one installation composed of 11 belts, each one with a homophobic slur on it. Usually, men wear these ornate belts, and they have their last name on it. It reflects the idea of their lineage, showing off their last name. When I displayed those belts in Mexico, they got a lot of laughs, but it struck me these weren’t comical laughs, but nervous, like when someone recognises something about themselves and feels a bit guilty.