12 March 9-15, 2023 dallasobserver.com DALLAS OBSERVER Classified | MusiC | dish | Culture | unfair Park | Contents Painting the Truth Fort Worth muralist Juan Velázquez’s best work is yet to come. BY DESIREE GUTIERREZ S ince 2020, 150 local walls have been transformed into can- vases. The urban landscape in North Texas pops with vibrant realism in murals honoring Te- jano queen Selena, Grand Prairie boxer Ver- gil Ortiz Jr., the Dallas Cowboys, actor Sam Elliott, deceased Dallas rapper MO3 and Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata. And they’re all the works of just one art- ist: Fort Worth muralist Juan Velázquez. For years, Velázquez’s medium of choice was oil paint on canvas. But it was a can of Montana 94 spray paint that propelled his pursuit of art into overdrive, allowing him to step into his calling. “I didn’t feel like I wanted to be an artist, I just was one,” Velázquez says. “I have al- ways been an artist. I was born to do this.” Art hadn’t always been Velázquez’s call- ing, though, as far as he knew. He had spent the better part of his adulthood as a family man, confined in corporate America. Velazquez migrated to the U.S. from Mexico at the age of 3. As an adult, he had dreamed of serving the country that had af- forded him opportunity. He wanted to be- long. “I always felt like I was adopted,” Ve- lázquez says. “Imagine you’re in a family and you’re adopted, and they’re like, ‘OK, you’re part of us,’ but you always feel like you’re adopted, like you’re not really their kid. I always felt that way about America. I wanted to be part of the family.” In 2019, he enlisted in the U.S. Army. When he returned, his life drastically trans- formed. In the span of five months from late 2019 to early 2020, Velázquez was without a job and his marriage of 12 years was over. He also lost his home and totaled his vehicle. With his back against the wall, he turned to art as a means of escape. In 2020, the multimedia artist visited The Fabrication Yard, a legit West Dallas artpark. There, artist Trey Wilder was spray painting a mural of Snoop Dogg. Velázquez was mesmerized. He had never seen art like the murals at The Fabri- cation Yard. He wanted in. “My logic was not a question of whether or not I can paint somebody with a spray can,” he says. “It’s just a matter of getting used to the new tool. Spray paint is just a tool.” He practiced by recalling the images of his childhood. Some of his first murals were of Dragon Ball Z characters Goku and Go- han. Then the news broke of the death of U.S. Army soldier Vanessa Guillén, whose remains were found months after she’d gone missing from her base in Fort Hood. Velázquez didn’t know Guillén, but he had trained in the same company. He wanted to pay his respects by painting a mural of her. On July 2, 2020, Velázquez made a call for a wall. Three days later, he and a collective of artists gathered at 3604 Hemphill St. in Fort Worth to paint the mural. By dawn, Velázquez was a sensation. “It just kind of happened overnight for me,” he says. He gained about 6,000 new followers on Instagram. His Facebook messages were flooded. Hundreds of people lined the block to look at the commemoration of Guillén. Velázquez hadn’t set out for fame. His ar- tistic motivation is to push for awareness and representation. “I never felt represented — represented by the art around my community, or even the museums,” he says. “There’s not a single person that matches my skin color at the Kimbell Art Museum or the Modern Art Museum [of Fort Worth]. When you see yourself in the art, it makes you feel better about yourself.” So he set out to transform the community one mural at a time. “I turned to the people; I paint for them,” Velázquez says. “I paint stuff that the community likes, and in return, they support me.” On any given week, Ve- lázquez paints one to three murals. Most are commis- sioned by local businesses. Some of these businesses come to the table with ideas, and others give the artist cre- ative freedom. The result has been transformative, with the works bringing a sense of communal pride. “If you see artwork in your neighbor- hood, it makes you feel better about it,” Ve- lázquez says. “You feel an ownership to that area and it just makes people feel better.” Velázquez’s partnerships beautifies neighborhoods with artwork that pays trib- ute to Mexican history, culture and music. Fort Worth’s The Original Del Norte is home to a mural inspired by “La Bamba,” a 1940s oil on canvas painting of a couple dancing ballet folklorico by Mexican artist Jesús Helguera. Velázquez pays homage to Helguera in Oak Cliff with a mural of Aztec mythological figures Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl. At Paco’s Mexican Cuisine, visitors are greeted with Velázquez’s mural of Vicente Fernández, who is lauded as the king of ranchera music. Paco’s Mexican Cuisine’s sister company, Islas Tropicales, celebrates Mexican art and history with a Frida Kahlo mural. Other murals are personal. Two years ago, Velázquez sat indoors with his 3-year-old daughter. He told her to go play outside, but she refused, saying she didn’t want to “get darker,” Velázquez re- calls her saying. Getting darker would make her ugly, she told him. ▼ Culture courtesy Juan Velázquez Fort Worth artist Juan Velázquez is gaining national attention with his poignant artwork, which often honors his Mexican heritage. “I NEVER FELT REPRESENTED — REPRESENTED BY THE ART AROUND MY COMMUNITY, OR EVEN THE MUSEUMS.” —JUAN VELÁZQUEZ
