thebajarunner - 2-23-2006 at 09:31 AM
With a burgeoning arts community, Tijuana is rapidly reinventing itself as a dynamic, globalized city.
By Reed Johnson
Times Staff Writer
February 23, 2006
TIJUANA -- As the white stretch limo glides down the street, three blond gringas poke their heads out the sun roof and start yelling come-ons at
anyone within earshot. Nearby, a pair of hookers waits next to a pay phone, laughing hysterically over who knows what.
A guy in Raider Nation regalia struts past D'Volada coffee shop, where the cappuccinos are as strong as a double shot of tequila. Across the street,
hip-hop blasts from one of those bars popular with San Diego frat boys.
Can there be a weirder, more alienated place than this city's Avenida Revoluci?n on a Saturday night? The dark side of the moon, perhaps?
Yet Avenida Revoluci?n also is the pulsing subconscious of an exciting and restless city ? one of the world's busiest, most notorious border towns.
Finding questionable diversions in Tijuana is like finding sand on a Santa Monica beach. Americans have been flocking here since Prohibition in search
of verboten pleasures and cheap thrills. First it was casinos, bullfights and horse racing, then Cuban cigars and topless bars, and now ... well, pick
your own post-NAFTA poison.
But besides the stereotypical Tijuana ? the sleazy dystopia of the Orson Welles film "Touch of Evil" ? there are many intriguing sides to this
much-maligned metropolis of 1.2 million.
If you venture beyond the frantically commercial half-dozen blocks on either side of the Rio Tijuana that most tourists confine themselves to, you'll
find a surprisingly relaxed, unpretentious provincial city of scattered urban oases such as the Parque Teniente Guerrero, a municipal park full of
children munching churros and old men scrutinizing chessboards as if they were the Dead Sea Scrolls.
More alluring for avant-garde adventurists is Tijuana's thriving contemporary arts circuit: electronic music, photography, film, video installations,
fashion. Though for many years this scene existed largely underground, it lately has stepped out from the noir shadows and into the international
spotlight.
Electronic music pioneers Nortec Collective have acquired a worldwide following for their distinctive fusions of techno dance beats with traditional
norte?o and banda sounds. The innovative Torolab design group has taken part in museum shows in New York and San Diego. In 2002, Newsweek named
Tijuana one of the world's eight "most creative centers of culture and vitality." Last year, the ARCO international art fair in Madrid showcased the
work of more than a dozen artists from Tijuana and Baja California.
For better and worse, the old "border town" of brass bands, soggy taco joints and trashy souvenirs is rapidly reinventing itself as a dynamic,
globalized city. And to explore it, you needn't be fluent in Spanish; many Tijuanenses (as the natives are called) are bilingual, and the vast
majority are unfailingly polite and helpful to struggling English-only speakers.
But true to Tijuana's bipolar nature, much of this creative ferment is still hidden in plain sight, largely invisible to the casual tourist and even
to most locals.
"There's not a dialogue between the community and the artists," says Tania Candiani, a Mexico City-born painter and conceptual artist who has made her
home in Tijuana for the last 11 years. Even so, says Candiani, perhaps best known for her portraits of massive, fleshy females, Tijuana's cultural
richness is "like gasoline" that fuels her art.
Tijuana's largest (by far) and most striking public artwork is one that the majority of U.S. day-trippers never get to see if they cross the border by
foot or car. But if you fly into Tijuana and head for the city center, you can't miss it. All along the ugly metal wall that straddles the U.S.-Mexico
border are oversize graphic images (many derived from photo enlargements) of migrants, Pop Art logos, abstract designs and, now and then, the face of
Mexican presidential candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio, whose unsolved 1994 murder in Tijuana still haunts the city.
The images are constantly being replaced and rearranged, like a revolving-door gallery that befits the region's transitory personality.
The wall also is studded with little white crosses and lavishly decorated fake wooden coffins symbolizing the thousands of Mexicans and Central
Americans who've lost their lives trying to cross illegally into el norte.
For a more conventional arts experience, there's the reliable Centro Cultural Tijuana (Tijuana Cultural Center), a striking assemblage of modern
geometric buildings in the heart of the city. Offerings this winter and spring at the massive, multi-venue complex include a Mainly Mozart concert, a
Jim Jarmusch film festival, a Japanese animated film festival and a live comedy called "?Hombres!" ("Men!") starring the great Mexican actress
Patricia Reyes Sp?ndola, who played Frida Kahlo's mother opposite Salma Hayek in the biopic "Frida."
The center also is hosting an impressive display of artifacts from the pre-Aztec ruins at Teotihuac?n, near Mexico City, and a fascinating exhibition
on Baja California from the prehistoric era through Spanish colonization and up to the present. You won't find Tijuana's most riveting new
experimental art venues on any tourist map, however. Better to check out the local free alternative Spanish-language arts newspaper, Radiante, or poke
around on the Internet.
With the right keywords you'll come upon such sites as www.luivelazquez.org, the cyber home of the Lui Velazquez alternative art space. This small, spartan, multiuse venue resides on the top level of a
deceptively bland-looking three-story converted office compound a couple of blocks from the border. (The appellation "Lui Velazquez" is adapted from
the name of a doctor who formerly occupied the building.) One of Tijuana's most accomplished artists, Marcos Ram?rez, a.k.a. ERRE, operates a space,
Estaci?n Tijuana (Tijuana Station), in the same complex, with a direct view of the road leading into the United States.
Lui Velazquez's main mission is to promote critical perspectives on a variety of cross-disciplinary, contemporary art practices and issues,
principally through short-term (typically one-month) artist residencies. It also maintains a growing film and video archive.
Run by three artist-collaborators ? Sergio De La Torre, Shannon Spanhake and Camilo Ontiveros ? the space functions more as a community meeting place
and informal studio than as a traditional gallery, "as a point of outreach, not just as a place to hang something," as Spanhake puts it. While
Spanhake lives in San Diego, like many local artists she considers Tijuana to be her creative home and regards its northern sister city as a bit too
squeaky-clean and conservative. "If it wasn't for Tijuana, San Diego would be unlivable," she says.
On a recent Friday night, Lui Velazquez hosted a video screening/discussion by its current artist in residence, Patricia Montoya. Montoya, a Colombian
native and former New York resident, is working on a project called "Terrazas" ("Roof Terraces"), an experimental video triptych in which she uses
rooftops in her native Medell?n and in Tijuana to examine themes of emigrant dislocation and nostalgia. De La Torre was unable to attend because a
documentary film he collaborated on, "Maquilapolis," about the hard-pressed, low-wage employees of Tijuana's multinationally owned assembly factories,
the so-called maquiladoras, was having its premiere at the 35th International Film Festival Rotterdam. But Spanhake and Ontiveros kept the
conversation flowing while a small but enthusiastic crowd kept hunger at bay with veggie tamales and beer.
Being an artist in Tijuana isn't for timid souls. Despite the creative surge of the last 15 or 20 years, the arts community here is scattered; there
are only two commercial galleries and no large bohemian enclave where artists live and congregate. The local government offers little financial
support.
But among artists, those circumstances have given rise to an innovative, do-it-yourself aesthetic very much in keeping with a frontier town.
"It's the city that's always under construction," says Yvonne Venegas, a Tijuana-based photographer who's wrapping up a book project, "Las Novias M?s
Hermosas de Baja California" ("The Most Beautiful Brides of Baja California"), based on her photos of young, upper-middle-class Baja California brides
and young mothers, often interacting with their children. Many of Venegas' subjects are her former schoolmates, now grown up and raising families.
Collectively, the images offer an intriguing window into the gated and walled-off lives of Tijuana's well-to-do.
The local arts community is linked by e-mail and websites as much as by physical proximity. One of the best showcases of their work to date will be
the "Strange New World: Art and Design From Tijuana/Extra?o Nuevo Mundo: Arte y Dise?o Desde Tijuana" exhibition, scheduled to run May 21 through
Sept. 17 at the Museum of Contemporary Art San Diego.
Perhaps the most riveting art in Tijuana can't be seen at all, only heard. It's the synthesizer-driven, computerized sound of the city's electronic
music, which first broke into North American, then world consciousness a mere four or five years ago. Infatuated as teenagers with the cerebral beats
of Kraftwerk and other European techno-music pioneers, Tijuana DJ-musicians such as Bostich (Ramon Amezcua), Clorofila (Jorge Verdin), Hiperboreal
(Pedro Gabriel Beas), Fussible (Pepe Mogt) and Panoptica (Roberto Mendoza) created the darkly sleek musical hybrid that eventually became known as
Nortec.
You don't need to travel to Tijuana anymore to hear Nortec, which is now an alt-radio programming staple. But the music continues to evolve in the
city where it began. Today, one of the best venues for hearing it is La Embajada, a monthly showcase that takes place in the Playas de Tijuana
district that creeps up to the edge of the Pacific Ocean.
The host, Lauro Saavedra, a musician and dedicated promoter of the Tijuana sound, runs the event out of his home, a modest-looking two-story white
house. (Saavedra's brother, Rafa, edits the alt-periodical Radiante.) On showcase nights, the house becomes a laboratory for some of the most creative
musicianship anywhere south of Los Angeles.
"The idea is the people come here and they realize there's music being made in Mexico," Saavedra says, shouting over a thumping backbeat one night
last month.
The main room of his home was a thicket of speakers, turntables and laptop computers, ringing a small area for the performers. Giant photo
enlargements of David Bowie and Lou Reed hovered like graven saints on the rear wall. In two hours, half a dozen DJs and musicians worked through
roughly 45-minute sets ? El Poeta, the Trebles ? sampling beats and mixing everything from live acoustic guitar to Indian ragas into their lush aural
collages. The crowd, mostly in their 20s and 30s, consisted of guys in Devo glasses and leather jackets and girls with Grace Slick hair and little
ballet slippers. La Embajada is a great place to experience the young, hungry Tijuana, the booming metropolis of tomorrow that exists today. Before
heading off in search of Tijuana's elusive alt-arts scene, however, most visitors probably will want to experience the enticements of Avenida
Revoluci?n, its tributaries and the areas around the pedestrian bridges that span the river.
Some of this activity is profoundly depressing: barefoot Indian mothers and their children begging for handouts, legless men on skateboards selling
Chiclets for spare change.
Some is out-and-out criminal. Among the dangers, the region is caught in the crossfire of a bitter turf war between rival drug cartels in Baja
California and Sinaloa.
Tijuana is an urban anthropologist's dream and an urban reformer's nightmare, and if you go looking for trouble here, your success is likely assured.
But if you pick your spots and use a bit of common sense, you can have a fine time without getting (or giving) any grief.
For the weekend day-tripper, the greatest danger in Tijuana may be death by kitsch. The streets along the river are chockablock with shops selling
jewelry, sombreros, donkey statues, "Aztec" faux-jade masks and the like, much of it spit out by Chinese factories. Take any salesperson's spiel about
"hand-made" goods, lovingly crafted by Oaxacan peasants, with a whopping grain of salt.
Still, it can be fun to browse the more unusual wares, such as the large collection of lucha libre (Mexican wrestling) masks at Sergio's Gift Shop on
Revoluci?n, between 2nd and 3rd streets, where Pedro, a 15-year employee, will offer chapter and verse on which mask was worn by which beefy superstar
in the sport's golden age of the 1960s and '70s.
An ice-cold cerveza at Se?or Maguey, Safari, the Hard Rock Caf? or any of the other tourist traps, uh, that is, really cool and unusual bars along
Revoluci?n can take the edge off a warm winter afternoon or a chilly January night. A more interesting choice, however, is El Dandy Del Sur, a
friendly tavern on Calle 6 right off Revoluci?n. Opened in 1957, El Dandy is one of the area's more venerable drinking establishments. Black-and-white
photographs of bullfighters decorate its walls, the bilingual, crowd atmosphere is hospitable and the jukebox blends a wide variety of music from both
sides of the border.
El Dandy has the louche charm of the old Tijuana without the sleazy modern byproducts of today's narco-gangsta culture. If you go soon, you may be
able to sample the last of this year's Noche Buena beer, a special brew that is sold only around the Christmas holidays.
If you're in need of more substantial sustenance, smack in the middle of the Revoluci?n strip sits Sanborns restaurant, a family-style chain that
serves sturdy Mexican cuisine (huevos rancheras, enchiladas suizas and other comida t?pica). The waitresses wear traditional outfits, and the d?cor
consists of sepia-tinged photo prints of Mexico City during its Revolutionary War epoch.
You can close the evening at the Salon Social Blanco y Negro, a few doors up from El Dandy Del Sur, a cavernous, moodily lighted dance hall where the
mostly local crowd likes its salsa and cumbia hot and fast. But you don't have to be a pro to be welcomed into the pulsing throng.
A quieter guilty pleasure can be had by visiting the Wax Museum, whose highlights include the gruesome sculpture labeled "Human Sacrifice in Aztec
Culture" and a curiously light-skinned Moctezuma.
For the most part, Tijuana's tourist areas offer a harmless excuse to fritter away a few bucks over a couple of hours. The problem is that they amount
to a waxworks version of Mexico, glazed and embalmed for easy consumption. "It's like a fake Mexico. It's like a Mexico that doesn't exist," artist
Candiani says.
When you've had enough of this fake Mexico and are feeling art-saturated, it may be time to head back to Playas de Tijuana to take a stroll down the
beachfront. In daylight hours, you'll be joined by scores of Mexican families and dozens of vendors selling sodas and tacos off their carts. You can
savor the new concrete observation platform and the surrounding grounds, beautifully landscaped with cactus and maguey plants by artists Thomas
Glassford and Jos? Parral.
Across the wall, which runs like a scar all the way into the Pacific, you may spot a U.S. Border Patrol van or jeep parked on the beach. It's an odd
contrast: the American side, usually occupied by just a handful of sunbathers, and the Mexican side, teeming with people and pets and music and the
smells of mouthwatering food.
At such a moment, you may even ask yourself whether life, for all its hardships and challenges, isn't sometimes strangely richer on this side of the
border.Photographs by Don Bartletti Los Angeles Times
bajalera - 2-23-2006 at 01:50 PM
Thanks, Runner!
BajaNomad - 2-23-2006 at 02:38 PM
http://forums.bajanomad.com/viewthread.php?tid=15695
