First Station – Jesus Condemned
I put myself out there for people to judge, for you to judge. This isn’t intentional, but that is part of the package deal of stepping out the front door into the world. I don’t always welcome this, but what can I do. As for making art, it's what I’m driven to do, for better or for worse. I can’t stop it. When you look at my art, or any art for that matter, you bring your own baggage to it. You come armed with your own sense of aesthetics and use it to form an opinion. Maybe you enjoy it or perhaps you don’t, maybe it is even forgettable. It doesn’t matter to me.
At art shows, street fairs and even emails, people frequently ask; “why do you draw/paint/make skeletons?” or “Why are you obsessed with death?” The truth of the matter is, “I’m obsessed with life” and I’ve been drawing skeletons and skulls since I first held a pencil in my hand. Like it or not, underneath our skin and muscle, we are skeletons.
Second Station – Jesus carries his cross
When I worked the 10pm-6am shift at Winchells Donut’s back in late 80’s, I would listen to “MAGIC 105.7 FM for the great oldies from then 60’s and 70’s.” And I swear to you that after what seemed like the extended version of The Moody Blues Nights in White Satin there would be a 10-minute Jesus commercial that would always tweak me. Here I was frying donuts in the middle of the night all crazed on at least two pots of coffee jamming along to the likes of The Eagles, Firefall, and Gilbert O’Sullivan. When the music stopped there was a calm, tranquil voice over the radio talking about how Jesus can help you. A story is then told about this dude who was having a bummin’ time and got all bent because Jesus didn’t help him through his rough times. Then Jesus came to him and said, “see these pairs of footsteps in the sands of life, and when they turn into one set they are deeper.” The analogy was then made that Christ carried the man through his times of despair but had always walked alongside him. I might have gawked at the commercial, but sometimes wondered if there was any truth to it.
Third Station - Jesus falls
On one of my “Back To School” nights when the parents of my pupils come to my classroom for a mini-session /overview of what I teach their child, I made a comment to the effect that “failure is the best thing that could happen to your daughter or son.” I went on to tell them, “the process of failure will teach your child more than I ever could.”
Self admittedly, I’m stubborn. I take after my father. Growing up, I seldom saw him fail. He has an uncanny understanding of how things work, as if he was graced with wisdom. He was a machine and knew what had to be done and did it without complaint. He pushed himself until the job was completed to his satisfaction. He was hyper-focused and had an un-bending work ethic. I inherited this quality but with my hazardous slant to it.
I’m also impatient, that was also a gift from dad. I don’t like waste time because it is too precious. Although, I have his drive and desire for accomplishment, I sometimes settle for slightly crude outcomes. Chaos has a place in my life, and little imperfections garnish my plate.
Fourth Station - Jesus meets his mother
I have known people who have made their own crosses. They chose their material, color, and so on. They bring it out of their closet when they want to parade it around.
There are other people I know who carry their crosses with them at all times, it is synonymous with their existence. If you ever loved someone who suffers from abuse or an illness such as cancer, depression or addiction, you know what I mean. If you love them unconditionally, your path will naturally mend with theirs. In the end, their path is their path and you must let go, because you have no control.
Fifth Station – Simon helps carry the cross
The Martinez side of my family had a reunion when I was 15. The party started out at Micky’s, which is a bar located close to the merge of I-25 and the Boulder Turnpike in north Denver. The inside was dark and reeked of stale beer with a soundtrack of depressing lowrider Chicano R&B songs. The conversations were loud and I went from table to table being nosey and seeking attention. The party at Micky’s ended and we moved it to Uncle Bob’s house, which was a five-minute drive down the road. For a Jehovah Witness, he had quite an impressive bar in his basement equipped with fully stocked shelves, beer on tap, and video poker. Since everyone else was immersed in the moment of drinking and telling stories, I had an inclination to drink since I had never really drank before. I thought it would be fun to take a couple of beers from his fridge and sneak them outside to the backyard. After chugging a couple, I hid the empties into the rear of his hunting jeep and walked back into the house, I was feeling dizzy and approached my cousins who had flown in from California and told them that I was going to be an art teacher when I grew up. They laughed and word got out to my mom that I was drunk and talking non-sense. She came and found me and told me how disgusted she was. She told my sister to take me home before dad found out. I remembered about five of us cramming into my sister’s two-tone blue Monte Carlo. Thirty minutes later, just as we turned the corner onto my street, all the beer and food from my stomach came up on to my clothes and all over her backseat. I think her and my brother pulled me out of the car and carried me up the stairs into the shower and finally tucked me into bed. The next day, my mom told me how lucky I was that dad didn’t catch me.
I did end up keeping my promise of one day becoming an art teacher. I’ve been doing it for over ten years now. To me, the arts are sometimes a refuge for those who lack success in other subjects in school such as English and math. I know this from a first-hand experience, they were the classes I was successful in. It was my art teachers who saw my potential and encouraged me.
Today, I see some of my so-called low achieving students experience this. A couple of years ago one of my co-workers approached me to inquire why I had nominated one of my students for an award since the student performed poorly in her class. She felt that since the student lacked success in her class, she was entitled to dispute my decision, essentially wanting to bar the pupil from receiving the award. In a similar case, another teacher came into my room raging mad because I had given her low achieving, disruptive student an “outstanding” mark in my class for his behavior and demanded that I change it. In both cases, the two mentioned pupils had success in my class and were appropriately awarded. I never gave into the requests of my co-workers, it wasn’t their place to have a say. I do commend the first teacher for being sensible and doing the right thing by putting her personal prejudices aside. If given the opportunity and support, people are capable of succeeding. Some may need an extra push, and sometimes you have to help them carry their cross until they are strong enough to discover their own path.
Sixth Station – Veronica wipes Jesus’ face
My friend Jimmy Lopez who had been responsible for turning me on to punk rock also introduced me to the Tao Te Ching. In the Christmas of 85’ one of the items I hoped Santa would bring me was a copy of Alan Watt’s interpretation of the Tao. Jimmy already owned a copy and had lent it to me on several occasions. The chapters were insightful and I made an instant connection to the philosophy. By tenth grade, I was already flirting with eastern thought and religions. Everything I had learned about western civilization up to then, seemed trite and boring. The simplicity of the Tao had invaluable life applications such as the importance of the interconnectivity of everything in the world. It taught me that no matter how insignificant something seemed, it was all a part of a natural order of balance and therefore was equally important. I’m still in awe of the concept that “good can only exists because there is evil, and if you eliminate good then you inherently eliminate evil” I had never learned this from the Bible.
As I inquired more into eastern thought, I must pay homage to the Hare Krishnas. It was my friends Spike, Big John, and Toledo Pat who were responsible for my encounter with them. We would go to the Krishna temple for the free Sunday dinner. We sat through their ceremony followed by a feast of American-style Indian food. People from the temple (devotees) would sit with us and chat about their life and how they discovered Krishna consciousness. Although, I never fully bought into the religion, I did connect to the ideology of being non-materialistic and it is something I still feel strongly about today. I have a strong sense of detachment to material items. Don’t get me wrong, I do like the items I proceed over, but in the end they are never really mine. They are just things that enhance my life but I also acknowledge that they are only temporary. Death takes everything away. I have lost or given away many things in my life and I feel no remorse. Be it that you admit it on not, we are slaves to and are burdened by the things we own. It blows me away how much energy people spend thinking about the material things they wished they had and when they do finally get what they want, the happiness is only temporary. For some, the thirst will never be satisfied.
Seventh Station - Jesus falls the second time
I flew out to Denver at the beginning of the summer of 2004 to visit my family. It had been only three months since Janet had passed away and I was contemplating moving back home. It happened that my longtime friend Matt was also in town visiting. We met up for a couple of drinks. At the end of the night when he took me to my car to drop me off, we sat for a while talking about Janet and relationships. I swore to him that I was finished, and that there wasn’t going to be anymore women in my life. He concurred. I felt defeated and a great sense of loss when those words fell from my mouth. It was if I had condemned myself to a life of loneliness and made an oath to God. I really didn’t know where I was at in life or where I was going and was becoming overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all. I drove back to my parent’s house in silence taking it all in.
There is a dicho (saying) in Spanish: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans”
At the end of the summer, I decided to move forward with my life and bought a house to make a concerted effort to establish a new beginning. I also started to see a counselor to help me confront the pain and unresolved issues I had been holding onto. I figured that the only way I would ever become healthy was to be honest about my feelings without judging myself. It was not an easy task and although I had made great strides, it's still a work in progress. It has been a humbling journey admitting my imperfection and faults, but with the awareness comes a sense of inner peace.