Latinx Art Expo Honors Indigenous Roots

Javier Villatoro, who also performs music under the moniker Ene de Nadie. Kamini Purushothaman Photos.

Strains of traditional Mexican music floated over the inside of Best Video as Javier Villatoro began to sing in Spanish. Feet away, their friends strummed guitars and danced along. Villatoro’s soulful voice emanated through the cozy space, the raspy notes imbuing each lyric with potency. Audience members swayed with the rhythm of the music, chatted amongst each other, and perused the art displayed by vendors nearby.

Last Thursday evening, friends and families gathered at Best Video Film and Cultural Center (BVFCC) in Hamden for its inaugural “Latinx Art Expo,” an evening of diasporic art and music hosted by artist Renée Luna. Featuring several self-described Latinx creatives, the event embodied a reclamation of Indigenous roots and a celebration of the breadth of a diaspora.  

“I organized this,” exclaimed Luna as they peered at the bustling scene. 

Around Best Video, artists sold their creations, showed off their work, and made time for music and poetry throughout the evening. Villatoro, who is Indigenous Zapotec, performed poems in Spanish before delivering English translations. Quoting the saying commonly attributed to Malcolm X, Villatoro emphasized that they hadn’t lost their Indigenous roots, saying, “Just because a cat has kittens in the oven, that doesn’t make them biscuits.”

Villatoro is part of the Semilla Collective, a grassroots organization that advocates for Indigenous rights and the rights of immigrants living on Quinnipiac land. Formed in 2019, the cooperative hosts cultural events, organizes rallies and political actions, and has become a very active member of the Husky4Immigrants movement.

As Villatoro read one poem, they recounted a conversation with two individuals who mocked their Indigenous identity. 

"‘Are there still Mayan people?’ They both ask me sarcastically,” they narrated.  “I answer them ‘Yes, they are counted in the millions …. and they look very much like me.’” 

Throughout the poem, they repeated that last phrase, showcasing their solidarity with other Indigenous communities while exemplifying their ancestry’s legacy.

“I am a walking reminder that this land never was and never will be theirs,” Villatoro said of settlers, adding that they perform at community events like Thursday’s out of their “love for the people.” 

“$100, $200, anything,” they later joked as they encouraged the audience to offer donations after the performance. Many of the attendees dropped change into their hat, delighted. 

In the organization’s parking lot, Luna’s selection of clothing and knick-knacks hung on a rack and rested upon a nearby table. Artist Eduardo Alvarez displayed his paintings, vibrantly colored works full of feeling and movement. Outcast Cutz, a barber who operates out of New Haven, gave free haircuts by the door.

Back inside the space, vendors pedaled their goods at tables on both sides of the audience. At Best Video’s cafe, a barista served up Breugger’s Bagels along with coffee, chai, refreshers, beer, and mixed drinks among other beverages. 

Top: Work from multimedia artist Sarahi Zacatelco. Bottom: Free haircuts outside. 

The event was Luna’s third—the artist previously organized events in November of 2022 and March of this year. “I met them all through different ways,” Luna said excitedly of the eclectic range of artists, vendors and performers they brought together. 

Multimedia artist Sarahi Zacatelco sold handmade clay miniatures of various Latin foods, including elote—grilled corn smothered in crema, cheese, and guajillo or ancho chile powder—and Huevos Rancheros, a sunshine-colored dish with fresh corn tortillas, eggs, avocado and salsa. 

“See! You know it,” she said with encouragement as one attendee hesitantly identified the foods. Nearby, photographer Antonio Cuevas and mixed-media artist Andres Madariaga also displayed their work, uniquely composed photos and diversely synthesized paintings.

Estefania Cuzco, who runs Cuzco Beadwork, sold jewelry and stickers. At age 11, Cuzco moved to the United States from Ecuador, where she belonged to the Cañari Nation. She originally learned beadwork from her grandmother as a little girl. 

“I relearned from tutorials on YouTube,” she said. Around her, as if on cue, vendors handed out business cards with their Instagram handles and links to their websites. 

Embracing her heritage throughout her creative process, Cuzco sources her beads and other materials from Indigenous providers. She noted that this is “more expensive” than the typical wholesale-market but ultimately important to her. Cuzco accepted numerous forms of payment: cash, Venmo, and, as she said while gesturing to a keychain she received from another artist, “even trades!” 

“Estefania actually asked me if her uncle could perform,” said Luna as they described curating the expo’s set list. So magician Mago Melf joined Thursday’s performers with immersive magic tricks that wowed the crowd.

Nearby, artist Sylvia J. Yanez sold stickers with mental health affirmations and shrunken down copies of her own paintings finished with reflective film. The painter and writer, who identifies as a queer Mexican artist, learned how to paint from her grandmother.

Since her grandmother’s passing, she has completed some of her unfinished pieces, modernizing the works with a more inclusive lens. 

In one piece, she redid her grandmother’s “typical blonde, white angel” as a Black trans one instead.

Puerto Rican and Dominican artist Isadora Lopez, the creative lead of her brand Posh Pump, sold pop culture-themed goods of all sorts. She compiled stickers in a Mean Girls-inspired “Burn Book,” and themed tote bags hung by her stand.

Necklaces included amulets featuring well-known personas, from celebrities to anime characters. She also sold 3D printed earrings: unnerving cat skulls and stylized ramen-filled bowls. An abundance of Barbie-inspired accessories decorated Lopez’s table, and she enthusiastically held up a sign she crafted for her stand.

Attendees chatted with artists as the evening began to wind down, commending their creativity and eagerly listening as they described their work. They emptied vendors’ stands and savored the last of their drinks as they lingered in the space. 

“After centuries of forced assimilation perpetrated by these so-called nations that culturally pale next to ours,” Villatoro said. “[We] continue today in resistance.”