Blanca S. Villalobos
Blanca S. Villalobos (they/them) is a queer, non-binary femme of color that offers services as a bilingual cultural worker and interdisciplinary artist. They are currently enrolled in a natural resources program to develop a stronger lens on how to care and advocate for the land that raised them while working in the outdoors with various conservation groups. Blanca is currently a guest on the ancestral lands of the Cahuilla and Yuhaviatam/Maarenga'yam people, in the Morongo Basin of California's Mojave desert.
Sheephole Wilderness as seen from Highway 62 in Southern California
“What is your relationship to time?”
— question posed by Abbey Meyer at my artist talk
There are cycles we witness, experience & take part in as humans over the course of our lives. However, the way in which time moves throughout these cycles is funny. In my six weeks away from my beloved home in the Mojave desert of Southern California I experienced time with the same ebb and flow that water has as it occupies space from shore to source. I noticed that when left alone and in the grips of depression, time moves rather slowly for me in my solitude, yet when I am experiencing life with another who I have managed to bond with through authentic connection & wonder the hands on the clock accelerate.
Left to Right: Blanca’s altar in the Epicenter studio. Blanca working in the studio. Guiding questions created for weekly tarot pulls. (Click to enlarge image)
My first day in the studio fell on the same day as the full moon in Pisces. The studio is located in the basement of Epicenter, which features minimal natural light and an ongoing vortex of dust due to its underground environment in a desert town. After organizing my supplies I created an altar as a way to see myself reflected, with the hope that I would be more inclined to spend time there.
Left: Blanca’s shadow reflected on the Green River. Right: An entry from Blanca’s sketch book. (Click to enlarge image)
Hours later, I realized I was not having the best mental health day so I decided to break loose of any productivity for the rest of my day and took it upon myself to bike from Epicenter house all the way to the end of Long Road, the longest road in town. Once I reached the ‘no trespassing sign’ at the end of the dirt road, I made my way back to my neighborhood but not before finishing my burrito on top of an embankment. Tummy full of leftovers, I quietly sketched the Book Cliffs onto my pad and in the stillness of that time I gazed up to capture the shadows across the minerals only to meet the eyes of a coyote instead. I think I held my breath for a few seconds, this descendant of wolves was perhaps only five feet away from me. Once they managed to understand my immobility they decided on another route to pass and scurried beneath me and through the cottonwoods who’s heart shaped leaves reflected the late sunlight. My own heart radiated and I recognized an affirmation, I was meant to be there. It wasn’t until I returned to the house that I realized I had biked seventeen miles.
Swells & Softness
It had been months since I had meditated, journaled or sang; practices that had brought me so much joy yet which had been neglected for months. Perhaps it was Magia’s death or the conflict I had with my parents days before the summer solstice that led me back into the safety of numbness; como si fuera una cueva dentro de un árbol que solo yo sabía cómo encontrar. However, being in a new place with strangers in a desert quite unlike the one I left gave me the motivation to recall all those disciplines and more. Over the course of my time in Green River I was reminded how precious life was, that pleasure could be found in the most mundane activities.
The San Rafael Swell
A week into the residency, my art practice shifted from a structured schedule of indoor studio time to spontaneous embodied performances across the region’s desert landscape. The westward view from Epicenter house highlighted the reef of the San Rafael Swell, a geological feature that had me burst into tears once I came upon its many bodies. Seen on the canyon walls of the trail I had chosen, the Barrier Canyon culture left behind pictographs, which were as playful as the childhood spirit I was calling back to myself. Unfortunately, these pictographs were defaced in chalk by John Simonson in 1947, disrupting the original ancient drawings. Driving onward, another colonial moment is held in time through the blasting of said reef, exposing not only the walls of the ancient, monumental rock but the extraction and exploitation of the land. Days came and went and I gathered documentation over the course of my time before knowing that these ‘excerpts’ of my life would become raw footage for a film. Moments with butterflies, clay and native plants were but some examples of the arrangement of the themes I leaned into: softness, shadows & mirrors, non-verbal communication, twins and time. Julie Perini’s minute movies come to mind, snapshots of the everyday as if they were digital memoirs of our brief but sacred lives.
Left: Highway 70 cutting through the San Rafael Swell. Right: A Black family enjoying the Swell’s geological features at a rest stop. (Click to enlarge image)
Left: Pictographs from the Barrier Canyon culture in Black Dragon Canyon. Right: Blanca looking at pictographs in Black Dragon Canyon. (Click to enlarge image)
Epicenter Reading Circle
Left: Blanca and friends around the campfire. Right: Burnt campfire popcorn. (Click to enlarge image)
A few nights before my closing artist talk and return to the Mojave desert, I invited the folks from Epicenter to a campfire and reading of prose & poetry. One of my favorite ways to express my love for people is to read to them, curiously it is one of my preferred love languages. As such, everyone was encouraged to read something in an act of reciprocity.
Once the fire was established, and after a hilarious attempt of campfire popcorn, folks slowly began to shake off their nerves and tune into the eerie cool of a mid October evening. One by one, every lovely person performed their piece to their liking. I share their chosen text here to provide some insight into the rhythm of that night.
The Dead by Billy Collins; read by Maria Sykes
October by Louise Glück; read by Frances Erlandson
Poppies by Mary Oliver; read by Kristin Hamilton
Two-Headed Calf by Laura Gilpin; read by Aurora Smith
Harrowing by Maggie Smith; read by Summer Orr
Song for Autumn by Mary Oliver; read by Blair Sagan
Twins by Ren Hatt; written and read by Ren himself!
Chac Mool by Carlos Fuentes; read by Blanca S. Villalobos
For this particular night in Green River, I chose to read Carlos Fuentes’ short story Chac Mool. In a way, I was providing context of my residency experience & artistic practice through prose that was written in 1954.
Artist Talk & Karaoke
Blanca’s artist talk video, 18:35 min.
““Hace poco tiempo, Filiberto murió ahogado en Acapulco.”
”
My last evening in Green River was bittersweet. With the help of Blair, Summer, Kristin, Grace and Aurora, Epicenter was adorned with candles, an ephemeral stage and flowers which were gifted to me by Abbey Meyer, an artist I had recently met during her workshop on native plant dyes in Moab. Since I love creating experiences that encompass most if not all of our available senses, I brewed tea made with medicinal plants and served them to the crowd as a meditation. Folks were then asked to gently shut their eyes while my film began, the sound of flowing water as their entryway into my ‘talk’. As someone who communicates verbally for much of their work, I wanted to express my artist talk in lieu of words.
The talk inevitably became a new film titled “Chac y yo'', which features various performances in response to my experience in Green River, Utah, and how I chose to embody the character and energy of Chac Mool. The work carries the narrative of my embodiment through field recordings, performance, and non verbal communication.
Left to Right: The remaining artist talk flowers travel back to the Mojave in Blanca’s car. Frances reflected on the back window of Maria’s truck. Blair sticking their head out of Maria’s truck to greeting the camera. Lyrics from Prince & The Revolution “Let's Go Crazy” karaoke song. Lyrics that read, “So you’re leaving in the morning.” (Click to enlarge image)
Since I am a sucker for karaoke, we decided that the second portion of my artist talk would also act as a farewell through performance. Thank you to all who sang, cheered and hosted the karaoke program! If you’d like to peruse the playlist of songs we gathered for my last evening with Epicenter you can find them here.
