A Very Anxious Feeling: Voices of Unrest in the American Experience - Catalog - Page 29
JOSE ALVAREZ (D.O.P.A.)
Jose Alvarez (D.O.P.A.) in his studio, 2010
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Jose Alvarez (D.O.P.A.), The Promised Land, 2013,
acrylic, ink, colored pencil, feathers, quills,
crystals, mica with resin on wood panel
When I was a young man living in Venezuela, around 14 years
old, I used to dream of going to live in the USA. I devoured
pop magazines that showed Andy Warhol and his entourage
acting out their fantasies—for me, a magical space of endless
self-creation and creativity. I was completely fascinated by
it. Farrah Fawcett and Charlie’s Angels, rollerblading, the
movie Car Wash and its soundtrack, disco music and its
corresponding images on the record sleeves, Soul Train and
American Bandstand, truck movies, Donna Summer, A Chorus
Line and on and on. These pop culture exports became the
filter by which I—a budding gay kid—interpreted the notion
of “America.” A vast and rich land where anything could be
possible. The ubiquitous New York skyline with its twin towers
and the Statue of Liberty in the foreground encapsulated all of
that. The promise that if you get there, you, too, can be part
of it all. Freedom.
As I grew older and aware of my feelings as a gay man, it
became increasingly dangerous to live in a homophobic
society. The apex of which was an encounter with the military
police where they pointed guns to my head because they
thought “I was engaging in homosexual activity,” though they
had no proof. That was the moment I made the decision to
leave and go to the U.S.
And I did. I went to art school and I met the man that I ended
up marrying and spending my life with. I had no way of staying
in the country (gay marriage wasn’t recognized in the 90s), so
I took false papers in order to stay in the country.
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