Raymundo Gardea, who owns Gardea Galleries at 105-B Linden Ave., is just such a soul. “Once I start painting,” he says, “I lose track of time.” His canvases cover the walls, and one can see pieces of his life in every brushstroke. A tall, thin man dressed in a dark, button-down work shirt, Gardea exudes humility and quietude, yet the handsome devil in sunglasses and a zoot suit featured in “Role Model” is an earlier incarnation, as is the young boy to his right.

“I used to shine shoes in downtown LA,” he explains matter-of-factly. “My mother was an alcoholic. I had to fend for myself.” The canvas and its title echo the famous paradox “The child is the father of the man,” since the resourceful, hard-working youth, rather than the dandy, must have been the role model for the current Gardea. And yet the playfulness of the former “player” comes out to cavort too.

Gardea smiles, revealing a twinkle in his eyes, and says, “That’s how I dressed when I was 18. I was a pachuco.” Pachucos were Mexican- American youths who developed their own subculture, and even their own dialect, known as Calo, during the 1930s and '40s.

He points to another of his paintings—four pachucos, including himself, standing with an angel. “She painted herself as one of the girls,” he says fondly. His word choice reveals his belief that he is not wholly responsible for his art but is inspired, even directed, by unseen forces.

Angels are a common theme in his work and take many forms, from a heavenly blonde with flowing, gold ribbons to an impish, wide-eyed forest creature with an attitude and a ragamuffin cut to the partially nude “Rose.”

Of the latter he says, “She was a waitress in Little Tokyo. So beautiful. I had to go to her parents to ask their permission to paint her. Finally, they believed that I was an artist.” Gardea gets a dreamy, faraway look when he talks of Rose, but denies that there was any romance. Of course, what transpires in the soul of an artist and on his canvas may be far more intense than what passes for romance in the eyes of the world.

Gardea’s work includes bright, Mayan-themed paintings, Paul Klee-like forms, and a riveting, monochromatic piece of a girl with a vacant stare. This one, called “Labor Child,” he says, grabs the attention of anyone who steps into his gallery.

Gardea began his artistic journey by drawing on sidewalks between shoe-shine customers. Though he was raised Catholic and served as an altar boy, he says that he is more spiritually than religiously oriented. And though his own work features a multitude of the heavenly host, in the back room of his gallery, which serves as his office, a large gargoyle is perched above his desk. “It’s a protector too,” he says.


Enrique Chiu is Gardea’s neighbor with a 2,000- square-foot studio above Utopia Restaurant at the corner of First and Linden. At the top of his stairs is a 1897 piano, above which is “Flamenco,” a painting of flamenco, tango, and salsa dancing, complete with his signature guitar. To its right is “La Loca,” a large canvas with mannequin parts and wild, red hair emerging from the paint.

Chiu’s colors are bold—a Mayan priest who for the uninitiated appears to be a blue angel with black, red-tipped wings. “He’s in anguish or ecstasy,” Chiu says. “He’s trying to express it, but cannot.”

Chiu is creating work for a February show about Mayans and neon. The novelty of such a marriage brings a spark to his eyes. But sure enough, all about his studio are paintings and sculptures of pre-Columbian gods intertwined with neon tubing. “I went to the Yucatan to see my dad’s family,” he says. “They all looked like Mayans. I love that culture.”

Yet his heritage is more complicated than that: His grandfather was Chinese, his grandmother Arabic, his mother’s family was from Spain, and his father has German and Italian blood as well. Born in Veracruz, Chui honors all his lineages, as both Buddhist and Catholic statuary pepper his shelves, and his books range from business and the Bible to massage and the kabbalah. Truly he is a cosmopolitan man who is fluent in English and Spanish, and speaks a little Portuguese.

The good-looking 34-year-old may not have a lot of time for romance in the traditional sense, since work seems to be his passion. Like Gardea, he is active in the East Village Arts District, which sponsors Artwalks the second Saturday of each month, 4-10 p.m. He runs C1D, which does the make-up, hair-styling, and photography for fashion shoots, portfolios, weddings, proms, and other special events. Cake decorating and catering can be added on, if needed. He creates neon signage for restaurants and cafes, as well as murals for commercial venues. At his C1D Gallery at 441 E. First St., he hosts monthly exhibitions through his nonprofit organization, the National Foundation of Independent Artists, showcasing talent from around the world. “The gallery is booked through June,” he says proudly.

What’s more, he is opening a gallery to showcase his own work in Guadalajara. And he has shows coming up in France and Italy this year. When he gets an extra moment—whenever that is—he studies French online in his cramped, book-laden office. “Keep learning, keep doing, never stop,” he says.

A portrait of the singer Sade looks down at him from the wall above his desk. It was painted by a man who murdered his wife in 1990 and has been in prison since. Chiu acquired the painting through the cousin of his best friend, who is Sade’s manager. The prisoner had given the painting to Sade in thanks for the clothing and other items she had donated to the prison. “He used his fingers to paint this,” Chiu says, explaining that prisoners are not allowed to have brushes, as they could be used as weapons. He is clearly impressed by the prisoner’s drive to create art despite these limitations, and perhaps the portrait serves as a daily prod to Chiu to push himself to his full potential.

Chiu says he gives no thought to cutting back on the make-up, hair-styling, and signage and simply concentrating on his gallery art. “I’m an electrician, a welder, a fashion designer, a graphic artist, a painter, a sculptor, a marketing person, a business man. I don’t want to give any of that up. It’s all art,” he says in defense of his many outlets for expression. “It’s all creating something.”


Like the photos that are her hallmark, the studio of Sarah Vinci is sans color, save for her strawberry blonde dog, her carnelian teardrop earrings, and her own red hair. What’s more, her glasses are black-rimmed, her pants are true black, and her shirt and scalloped-edged jacket are the whitest white. No half tones in Vinci’s attire.

Her studio is a converted garage next to her house in the historic Rose Park area, a perfect setting for a photographer who is captivated by the romance of history. One of Vinci’s current projects is a cataloguing of the craftsman-style houses within this district, which is centered about its namesake park at the intersection of Eighth Street and Orizaba Avenue. Using a medium-format Hasselblad camera, Vinci photographs the exterior of a house, then selects an interior shot that exemplifies the period—a slice of the pantry, a mantelpiece, a breakfast nook. She composes these two images side by side. Ultimately, she would like to assemble a book with these images, using the grant she has been given from the Rose Park Historical Society.

“History is romantic,” Vinci says. “I care deeply about the past and preserving it for the future.”

She says that this interest was cultivated in her at a young age: “I grew up in Philadelphia, with its great sense of history and architecture.” Above her, suspended from the ceiling, is a Louis XVI chair she has stripped and is planning to refinish. “I’m fanatical about chairs,” she confesses, especially since this one belonged to her grandmother who lived with Vinci when she was a child.

Wherever she travels, Vinci is attuned to a place’s sense of history, something that impressed her during a visit to Cuba in her capacity as the public relations director for the University Art Museum at California State University, Long Beach. “They don’t tear anything down,” she says. “You can find architecture dating back to the 17th Century. If a building is vacant, it’s just boarded up, in hopes that someday it will be restored.”

During her sojourn in Havana, Vinci rose at 6 each morning to “wander the streets.” On one such stroll, she met an electrician, who upon seeing her camera, said, “Oh, come with me. I want to show you something.”

Vinci followed, using her limited Spanish. “He wanted me to see the alley where he was born,” she says. This warmth and genuineness about the Cuban people impressed Vinci, and she ended up photographing many such hidden scenes of everyday life.

On a smaller scale, Vinci has photographed the contents of her Scottish-Irish grandmother’s dresser—rubber bands, baby teeth, hair, and handkerchiefs. “I’m building a history of her” by cataloguing the small things that were important enough for her to save for so many years, says Vinci. And in this way, she understands her own history and her place within it. She assembles these images into handmade books that accentuate the intimate treasures she has recorded.

The contents of her grandmother’s purse have also been elevated to works of art. She is particularly fond of the lace handkerchiefs, some of which date back to the late 1800s. “All of my work is romantic,” she says with a smile. “I work from a place of romance.”


Gardea Galleries
105-B Linden Ave., Long Beach
562-436-9522
http://www.myspace.com/gardea_galleries


C1D Gallery
441 E. First St., Long Beach
562-244-3142
www.chiu1.com


www.vinciart.com


www.nfia.blogspot.com
www.myspace.com/nifa


Check out Enrique Chiu’s art at the following Long Beach businesses:

Bistro Bouchess - 515 Long Beach Blvd.
Dale's Diner - 4339 E. Carson St.
Papis & Chicas Boutique - 2752 E. Broadway Ave.
Savant Salon - 2543 E. Broadway Ave.
The Village Grind - 443 E. First St.