JAVA Mar-2019

277 •MAR 2019
GENNARO
GARCIA
BASSIM AL SHAKER • CAROLINA ARANIBAR-FERNANDEZ • NICK OZA

WONDROUS WORLDS
ART & ISLAM THROUGH TIME & PLACE
Discover more than 100 works of Islamic art from around the world and spanning a millennium.
ON VIEW NOW THROUGH MAY 26
PHXART.ORG
CENTRAL + MCDOWELL
@PHXART
Wondrous Worlds: Art & Islam Through Time & Place is organized by the Newark Museum. Its premiere at Phoenix Art Museum is made possible through the generosity of the Virginia G. Piper Charitable Trust Exhibition Endowment Fund, and supported by
E. Rhodes and Leona B. Carpenter Foundation, APS, and OUTFRONT Media. image credit (detail): Molded Luster Tile with Sentence Fragment in Raised Calligraphy, Floral, Avian and Geometric Motifs (detail), Kashan, Iran, first half of the 13th century.
Molded fritware polychrome painted over white slip under transparent glaze. Newark Museum Gift of Herman A. E. Jaehne and Paul C. Jaehne, 1938.

NOVO AMOR
Opening Act: Gia Margaret
Wed., March 6 | 7 p.m. | $28.50–$38.50
“His melodic instrumental accompaniments
pair perfectly with his Bon Iver-esque vocals,
creating a beautiful flow to his songs.”
—The Triangle
Upcoming Concerts
River Whyless and
Darlingside
March 17
Omar Sosa and Seckou Keita:
Transparent Water
March 24
Antonio Sanchez and
Migration
March 24
SFJazz Collective:
Music of Miles Davis
April 4
And many more!
2019 Concert Series sponsored by
MIM.org | 480.478.6000 | 4725 E. Mayo Blvd., Phoenix, AZ

CONTENTS
8
12
22
30
34
FEATURES
Cover: Gennaro Garcia
Photo by: Juan Loza
8 12 22
34
THE ART AND LIFE OF
GENNARO GARCIA
By Jeff Kronenfeld
BASSIM AL SHAKER
Opens Green Leaf Gallery
By Rembrandt Quiballo
KNIGHT LIFE
Photography: Karl Millings
Sara Krug, Ta Nee’ Townsend
ARTIST CAROLINA
ARANIBAR-FERNANDEZ
From Bolivia to Arizona and Beyond
By Morgan Moore
PHOTOJOURNALIST
NICK OZA
Documenting Life on the Border
By Tom Reardon
COLUMNS
7
16
20
38
40
BUZZ
Immigration and the Arts
By Robert Sentinery
ARTS
Josef Albers in Mexico
By Jenna Duncan
Now Playing: Video 1999–2019
Mikey Foster Estes
FOOD FETISH
Sapiens Paleo French Cuisine
By Sloane Burwell
GIRL ON FARMER
Fry’s Favorite
By Celia Beresford
NIGHT GALLERY
Photos by Robert Sentinery
JAVA MAGAZINE
EDITOR & PUBLISHER
Robert Sentinery
ART DIRECTOR
Victor Vasquez
ARTS EDITOR
Rembrandt Quiballo
FOOD EDITOR
Sloane Burwell
CONTRIBUTING EDITOR
Jenna Duncan
CONTRIBUTING WRITERS
Celia Beresford
Mikey Foster Estes
Kevin Hanlon
Jeff Kronenfeld
Ashley Naftule
Tom Reardon
PROOFREADER
Patricia Sanders
CONTRIBUTING PHOTOGRAPHERS
Enrique Garcia
Karl Millings
Sara Krug
Johnny Jaffe
Ta Nee’ Townsend
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4 JAVA
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THE HEARD MUSEUM PRESENTS
ORGANIZED BY THE SOLOMON R. GUGGENHEIM FOUNDATION, NEW YORK
ON VIEW NOW THROUGH MAY 27, 2019
PRESENTING SPONSORS: The Diane and Bruce Halle Foundation, Virginia M. Ullman Foundation
Heard Museum | 2301 N. Central Ave. Phoenix, AZ 85004 | 602.252.8840 | heard.org
Josef Albers, Study for Homage to the Square: Closing, 1964. Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York, Gift of the artist, 1969.
© 2019 The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York.

Partial funding provided by the Phoenix Office of Arts and Culture
through appropriations from the Phoenix City Council.
GALLERY
EXPERIENCE IT
BEFORE IT CLOSES
NOW - MAY 12
THE WINTER SHOW
Through March 29, 2019
Bassim Al Shaker, Bill Dambrova, CeCe Cole, Colin Chillag,
Patricia Sannit, Catherine Cole, Abbey Messmer, Falah Saeedi
Lisa Von Hoffner, Raypule, Rafael Navarro, Anthony Pessler
Claire Warden, Charles Orme, Sean Deckert, Rembrandt Quiballo
Fausto Fernandez, Jay Hardin, Joe Brklacich, Daniel Funkhouser
Aileen Frick, Diyar Al Asadi, David Emitt Adams
AMERICAN
AIRLINES
SPONSORED BY:
SUNSTATE
EQUIPMENT CO.
TEMPE TOURISM
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Open daily 10 am – 7 pm, First & Third Fridays until 10 pm
Art classes, event & meeting space
Call for an appointment 602 777 8646
222 E McDowell Road Phoenix, AZ 85004

IMMIGRATION AND THE ARTS
By Robert Sentinery
BUZZ
In the midst of the border wall debate, we look at how immigration impacts the
Valley by specifically featuring artists who hail from other countries. There is no
doubt that certain cities become artist magnets (think Paris in the 1920s), and
the result is a cross-pollination of ideas and culture that ultimately makes for a
thriving community. The four artists featured this month currently call Phoenix
home but come from around the globe – Mexico, Iraq, Bolivia, and India.
Gennaro Garcia was born in the Mexican city of San Luis Rio Colorado, Sonora,
just across the border from Yuma. He grew up poor but with an artistic eye and
a knack for making things. When Garcia became old enough to work, he helped
with his family’s food cart, eventually building it into a brick and mortar. But he
knew there had to be more for him.
He came to the U.S. with nothing except his dual talents for making art and
running restaurants, and he built a strong career encompassing both his
homeland and his adopted one. Garcia’s artwork expands beyond traditional
painting to ceramics, sculpture, and murals (many in high-profile restaurants
here, on the West Coast, and in the Mexican art mecca of San Miguel de
Allende). He has representation at half a dozen galleries across both countries
and is co-owner of Taco Chelo restaurant in the heart of Roosevelt Row (see
“The Art and Life of Gennaro Garcia,” p. 8).
Bassim Al Shaker’s life is already well documented in sources like The New York
Times. Having escaped persecution in his native Baghdad, Iraq, he found asylum
here in the desert with the help of ASU’s visiting artist program. He has shown
his work in prestigious international venues including the Venice Biennale and
the Biennale of Sydney.
Al Shaker has started a new venture, as a way of giving back to the city that
welcomed him and his family – the Green Leaf Gallery. Located in a building
adjacent to the Phoenix Art Museum that houses luxury apartments, it will help
fill the void of professional galleries that represent the many talented contemporary
artists in Phoenix (see “Bassim Al Shaker Opens Green Leaf Gallery,” p. 12).
Carolina Aranibar-Fernandez is here by way of a year-long fellowship with
ASU. Growing up in her native Bolivia, she experienced the Cochabamba
Water War firsthand, where a California company took control of the city’s
water supply and jacked up rates. This incident continues to inform her
artwork. Her current project explores the impact of copper mining in Arizona
and the ways in which private companies handle our natural resources (see
“Artist Carolina Aranibar-Fernandez:From Bolivia to Arizona and Beyond,” p. 30).
Nick Oza came to study in the U.S. from his native Mumbai, India, and his
talent behind the camera kept him here. The recipient of numerous awards,
including two Pulitzer Prizes, for his work with the Arizona Republic, Oza has
achieved a career pinnacle. His current body of work covering border issues and
the migrant caravan brings a great degree of humanity to a complex issue (see
“Photojournalist Nick Oza: Documenting Life on the Border,” p. 34).

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For Gennaro Garcia, art is all around us,
from the clothes we wear to the buildings
we live in to the food – and tequila – we
consume. Whether he’s designing murals for
restaurants or leading tours of his studio for students,
Garcia tirelessly spreads his gospel of creativity. His
paintings, prints, ceramics, and woodwork grace the
walls of three-star Michelin restaurants, nearly a dozen
prestigious galleries spread across two countries, and
the homes of collectors, where they even hang beside
the works of his main inspiration, Frida Kahlo.
Garcia also owns restaurants, counting a string of
celebrity chefs as his friends and partners. In a
time when walls have become lenses exposing
America’s underbelly, Garcia shows that the
Mexican and American dreams can share a border
and a table, making all our lives a little happier and
more colorful for it.
Growing up poor in Mexico, for Garcia, creativity was
a part of daily life. When he wanted toys, Garcia and
his father made them out of whatever materials were
available. As a teen in San Luis – a Mexican town
across the border from Yuma – he painted signs for
local businesses and helped his dad run restaurants.
He honed the DIY ethos and down-to-earth style that
are as much his trademarks as Tzompantli skulls and
outstretched hands. He studied graphic design at a
university in Tijuana and then returned to San Luis to
take over his father’s restaurant, after the rest of the
family moved to Yuma.
Continually trading up from a small food cart to a
larger one to an actual storefront, Garcia noticed
that field workers a few hundred meters north in the
U.S. were making more than he was as a restaurant
owner. Like so many young and ambitious immigrants
before him, he came to America with a dream and
little else. Broke and with no connections, he slept in
an alley for the first few weeks while he found a job
and place to live.
Later, Garcia painted murals on the walls and ceilings
of the modest house his family rented. He took
photos, to show local restaurant owners what he
could do. Though at first he had no takers, Garcia
eventually received his first commission to paint a
mural for Mi Ranchito Restaurant in Yuma, where
his art still graces the walls. Within two months of
starting the project, he was hired as the restaurant’s
general manager, a job he kept for five years.
“The owner is like my second dad,” Garcia recalled.
“His son was the best man at my wedding years later.”
Garcia eventually met Briseida, an ASU student
visiting Yuma. They quickly fell in love. After a few
months, he moved to Phoenix and worked as a
manager at a Mexican restaurant. Two years later, he
told Briseida that he wanted to do art full-time. She
encouraged him to pursue his dream, helping him to
weather the drop in his income during the transition.
“I think that’s something every artist needs,
somebody that gives them support,” Garcia said.
Garcia quit his day job and began painting at a
furious pace, then working in a highly abstract style.
In Ahwatukee, where he and Briseida still live, he
found a coffee shop that let him display his art. A
woman who liked what she saw contacted him,
explaining that she ran a high-end interior design
company and offering him a job doing what he loved:
painting. Garcia honed his craft and style, working
first as an apprentice and eventually as senior
muralist. After five years, Garcia sold his stake in the
company and finally married Briseida. He was ready
to court the art world in a big way.
His first gallery show was with Xico Arte y Cultura,
now known as Xico Inc., whose mission is to “nourish
a greater appreciation of the cultural and spiritual
heritages of the Latino and Indigenous peoples of
the Americas throughout the Arts.” The organization
operates galleries at their headquarters on Buckeye
Road as well as the container complex on Roosevelt
Row. It was through Xico that Garcia first connected
with Virginia Cardenas, who was on the nonprofit’s
board. Virginia and her husband Jose are prominent
local art collectors and supporters of Latino culture.
Garcia resolved to see his works enter their extensive
collection. He developed a friendship and deep
admiration for the couple.
“They used to come and see my art at festivals and
galleries,” Garcia recalls. “They loved the art, but it
took them two years to get one of my pieces.”
Now six of his works grace the walls of the couple’s
home, which Jose preserves in honor of Virginia –
she died of kidney cancer in 2012. One of Garcia’s
next big breaks came with a show at Calvin Charles
Gallery in Scottsdale. Things went well, and he
began lobbying hard for a solo show, which he got
a few months later. At the time, he was only the
second Latino to do so there. Knowing how vital
the show’s success would be for his career, Garcia
poured his own money and energy into promoting
it, even taking out full-page ads in magazines. His
efforts paid off: the show sold well and launched
Garcia into a higher stratum of the art world.
“After that one, most galleries came easily,”
Garcia recalls.
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Garcia had also begun working with prominent
spaces in Los Angeles, such as ChimMaya Gallery,
an East L.A. fixture for up-and-coming Latino artists
since 2005. At long last, he was achieving the
success he had pursued for years. A gallery from
New York reached out about doing a show there,
and Garcia said yes. During a family celebration
afterward, his father congratulated him on finally
achieving his “American dream.” The comment
lodged in Garcia’s head, leading him to deep
introspection and precipitating something of an
artistic crisis.
“I was talking to my wife the next day and told her,
‘Seriously, what happened to my Mexican dream?’”
Garcia recalls. “I’m about to have the show of my life
in New York, but nobody knows my name in Mexico.”
Unable to dislodge the demon of doubt, Garcia
made the bold move of cancelling the show. He had
recently met and befriended Carlos Muñoz, a film
director from Mexico City, whom he told about his
decision one night while they shared tequila. “Oh
pendejo, that’s stupid,” Garcia recalls his friend
saying before breaking into a self-effacing laugh.
However, Muñoz also understood Garcia’s desire to
be true to his roots. He eventually accompanied the
artist and filmed him as he journeyed across Mexico
in search of gallery representation in his homeland.
Garcia set his sights on San Miguel de Allende,
drawn by the city’s unique history and beauty.
Located in the central Mexican state of Guanajuato,
San Miguel de Allende has a history of attracting
artists from around the world, and was recognized as
a UNESCO world heritage site in 2008. A friend and
art collector he knew there took Garcia and Muñoz
around town, introducing the artist to numerous
gallery owners.
After a series of rejections, the indefatigable Garcia
finally found a gallery space. He carted his art across
the border, and the show proved to be a critical and
commercial success. After the show, when Garcia
picked up the remaining items, a local art collector –
who had acquired five trunks of art, journals, and other
property purportedly belonging to Frida Kahlo (though its
authenticity has been hotly disputed) – acquired Garcia’s
remaining works. His gambit had paid off.
Garcia continued to work in the U.S. at the same
time, adopting a border-straddling existence he
continues to this day, traveling between the two
countries at least ten times each year for various art
and business projects. Like his life, Garcia’s art fuses
elements from both of the countries he calls home, as
well as his twin passions of food and art.
One example of this is his Hecho A Mano ceramics collection, which features a pair of open palms as the primary
visual motif – sometimes connected to wrists tattooed with birds, webs, and roses – representing the way his
parents worked with their own hands to feed Garcia and his siblings. After Marcela Valladolid, a chef famous for her
show on the Food Network, posted images of the plates to her social media accounts, Garcia saw orders on his web
store skyrocket overnight.
Garcia also began to study and collaborate with Mexican artists and craftsmen in the city of Pueblo, learning the
city’s colorful tradition of Talavera ceramics, which he used to create a mosaic for the Four Seasons Resort in
Scottsdale.
Another transnational endeavor is Garcia’s work with chef Javier Plascencia, who helped Baja California become a
mecca for foodies and wine aficionados from across the globe. In a business mashup worthy of the hippest urban
enclaves in the U.S., the two are opening an art gallery/butcher shop.
With plans to house the hams, chorizos, and other locally made artisan meats within a glass cube inside the space,
Garcia explains that the project’s heart is two friends sharing their respective arts in one place. The shop will share
a property with Plascencia’s Animalon, a dining experience located under a hundred-year-old oak tree, and Finca
Altozano, another of the chef’s world-class restaurants.
A little north of Baja, in La Jolla, California, Garcia has worked with George Hauer and Trey Foshee on both George’s
at the Cove and Galaxy Taco, another pair of famous restaurants. The latter establishment invited Garcia to dust off
his chef’s hat and participate in its Taco Takeover event, where a visiting chef (or artist/chef) occupies the kitchen for
an evening.
Garcia was somewhat reluctant at first, afraid his cooking skills were rusty, but luckily Aaron Chamberlin, a
prominent Phoenix chef and restaurateur previously profiled in JAVA, volunteered himself and Suny Santana
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to tag along for a road trip and guerilla-cooking
expedition to California. On the way home, the trio
discussed their love for the taco, a conversation that
spurred them to partner in the creation of Taco Chelo
on Roosevelt Row in Phoenix.
Garcia “is one of the best marketers I know,”
Chamberlin said of his friend and business partner.
“He knows everybody, and that’s because of his
passion for food. He understands food, and he
understands restaurants. Another thing about
Gennaro that makes him unique from the art
perspective is that he’s very fast. When you’re in the
restaurant business, you need everything two weeks
ago. Those are the things that make him unique and
relevant to restaurants and why he gets work through
so many chefs.”
Garcia currently splits his time about 50/50 between
his design work – collaborating with everything
from fashion labels to wineries and tequila
distilleries – and studio art, juggling a staggering
number of projects that keep him constantly on the
go. While you might think this lifestyle could pose
challenges for the father of a nine-year-old daughter
(who, of course, is named Frida), the pair share a
passion for art and Disney. Though Frida is still
in elementary school, her own work has been
featured in a half-dozen gallery shows, and it
has sold well, as Garcia – her first collector and
biggest fan – is quick to point out.
During a night of dining with a group in
California, one of the guests asked Garcia if he
would be willing to discuss how he integrates
creativity into parenting in front of a crowd, for
a nice paycheck. Somewhat incredulous at first,
Garcia finally understood when a friend explained
that the man was vice president for Disney’s
Latin American and Caribbean operations. Garcia
accepted, and Disney footed the bill to fly him
and his family to Mexico City, where he and Frida
gave a presentation to a rapt crowd of Disney
executives and creatives.
When Frida was asked who her favorite princess
was, she said she didn’t like princesses, but
preferred the heroines from the Disney series “The
Descendants,” which follows the younger relatives of
some of the company’s most infamous villains. This
led to her and her father flying to Mexico City again,
where they created a mural to promote the film. In
classic style, Garcia invited local graffiti artists to
participate as well. As always, Garcia was acting as
a bridge, this time between the rough-and-tumble
world of Mexico City street art and one of the world’s
largest entertainment companies.
Garcia points to his own life as an example of the
contributions immigrants can offer. For him, the
border is a cultural crossroads, not a place for hate
or lies. Ever sensitive to his surroundings, he laments
the “visual contamination” that barriers on the border
impose on communities along both sides. Now, his
art literally helps block such aesthetic imperialism.
In 2015, San Luis installed a series of 30 billboards
featuring Garcia’s art in front of the metal barrier
running along the border. Like his other projects,
it embodies his commitments both to building
community through art and infusing creativity into
daily life.
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Photo: Rembrandt Quiballo

It’s another balmy winter evening around downtown
Phoenix. There’s a DJ playing rhythmic
music amid contemporary works of art and a
throng of people in conversation. It’s First Friday,
but we’re not on Roosevelt Row. The celebration is
the opening of a new art gallery in a luxury apartment
complex across from the Phoenix Art Museum.
Bassim Al Shaker, the individual who made all this
happen, is chatting up visitors, and there’s been a
smile on his face since the doors opened. He knows
to enjoy the moment, because as a young immigrant
artist, nothing can be taken for granted.
Al Shaker has come a long way from his hometown
of Baghdad, and through it all, he has kept his positive
outlook intact. The politically tenuous environment
he grew up in and his near-death experience
have been well documented in numerous publications,
including The New York Times. The media
portrayal of bombings in Iraq and neighborhoods in
shambles is accurate; however, Al Shaker prefers to
focus on Iraq’s rich history and the culture that has
endured despite all the hardships. “The art is in our
blood,” he said. “We’re the oldest country in the
world. [Iraq] taught the world so many things. We
taught the world how to write.”
From the beginning, he was surrounded by family that
had a great appreciation for the arts. “I come from
an art family,” he said. “My uncles are all artists. My
dad is an artist. My uncle was a famous drummer in
the Middle East. They taught me a lot.”
The young Al Shaker would draw every chance he
got. He would draw at home or anywhere he could
set his paper and pencil. He found himself in trouble
for not showing up at his assigned classroom;
instead, he would be in the studio drawing or painting.
At an early age, Al Shaker already had the ability
to render anything with precise detail. In fact, he
drew so well he had to prove himself to a teacher
when she did not believe he had created one particularly
adept work. She told him to replicate the work
in front of her. He not only replicated the image, but
he improved upon it, finally convincing the teacher.
This innate talent would allow Al Shaker to get into a
specialized arts school. “This high school, they have
music, they have actors, they have movies, everything,”
he said. “Not everyone could go to this high
school. You needed to have a test, and they apply
every year more than eight hundred to a thousand
students, and they accept just fifty to sixty. When I
applied, in the beginning, my family, they didn’t know
I applied to this school.”
Al Shaker’s hard work and his willingness to bet on
himself paid off when he was invited to an important
art show that took place in Egypt. “I won a gold
medal,” he said with a laugh. “It’s very funny, when
I say gold medal, because I’m not a sport guy. I don’t
know why they gave me a gold medal. It was for the
most detailed painting in the Middle East.”
After winning the award, Al Shaker returned to Iraq
and attended the College of Fine Arts at the University
of Baghdad. He would hone his craft to a point
where he was chosen to be one of a select group of
artists to represent the country of Iraq in the 55th
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Venice Biennale in 2013. This inclusion to the prestigious
international exhibition would prove a catalyst
for the young artist’s life and career. Gordon Knox,
the director of the ASU Art Museum at the time, saw
his work and invited Al Shaker to participate in the
International Artist Residency Program at Combine
Studios in downtown Phoenix.
Al Shaker arrived in the U.S. speaking no English.
Gradually, he is becoming more and more comfortable
with the language. “When I came here, I started
from zero. I don’t have a language. I speak ‘yes’ and
‘no,’ and I speak ‘hello’ and from one to ten. The ASU
Art Museum, they give me someone with me always.
Her name is Layal Rabat. She’s from Syria, and she’s
one of my best friends. She translated everything.
She introduced me to all the people I know now.”
Although Al Shaker was thankful for the assistance
from the ASU Art Museum, his lack of mastery over
the English language made him feel isolated early
on. He endured an existential crisis when he stayed
inside his home for ten days straight to really examine
his decision to relocate halfway around the world
and to ask if this would ultimately be beneficial to
his art.
“You know, when you come from all big festivals,”
Al Shaker said, “all the media come to you, all the
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things. When you come here and then you feel alone,
it’s just very hard, you know. You feel alone because
the language. I decided, maybe I will go to [another]
country in the Middle East because I can’t go back to
Iraq, or maybe I will stay here and start from zero. So
I stayed here. I went outside, talked with the people.
Just read one sentence or read a question and at
home repeat it like ten times. Then go outside and
just ask the people. So I hear them – what they talk
about. From there I changed my life.”
Al Shaker has had to be truly resourceful, moving
from one space to the next in order to continue
making art. After a productive stint in the residency
program at ASU, he committed to staying in the U.S.
and moved to Grant Street Studios. He was able to
have a show and paint at 720 Gallery briefly, but
had several of his works stolen during a break-in. He
worked at a studio in Bentley Projects and had a special
exhibition of portrait works depicting his biggest
supporters. He opened Babylon Gallery on Roosevelt
Row and found some stability to practice his craft as
he continued to teach art around the Valley.
His next venture took him to another artist residency,
this time at Broadstone Arts District, a luxury
apartment complex inspired by the arts. Al Shaker
was brought in to do a four-month residency. After
the complex sold to a different company – it’s now
called the Green Leaf Arts District – the new owners
decided to extend his residency indefinitely, and Al
Shaker vowed to create a quality arts experience for
his adopted city.
He now paints in the complex and teaches art classes
for tenants, as well as the general public. Although
Al Shaker’s work area was originally more of a lounge
than an actual art space, he envisioned a viable
space where artists could show their work and be
appreciated by art lovers.
“My dream here is in Phoenix,” he said. “Baghdad
is still my first love. But Phoenix is my second city,
because when I walk in the street, I say ‘hi’ to everyone
and they say ‘hi’ to me. When I go anywhere, I
feel like I’m born here, so this is why it’s really amazing.
And people here are lovely. I try to do something
for the city, because we have very good artists, we
have the space, and we just need to put up high-level
art. We need more galleries.”
Al Shaker puts his words into practice. After months
of preparation overhauling the space and selecting
art, he recently opened a group show in the newly
minted Green Leaf Gallery, with some notable Phoenix
artists. It was a rousing success.

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Al Shaker will be having a solo exhibition of his most recent work in April. It has
great emotional value to him in light of his beloved uncle passing away in a car
accident. The experience has resulted in the artist experimenting with cutting
and laying canvas on the floor. “I am doing this show for my uncle who died ten
months ago,” Al Shaker said. “He’s really in my soul. When he died, I feel everything
is broken in my life because I used to paint because of him.”
Throughout all this, Al Shaker has been working diligently on an even more ambitious
project. Consisting of large-scale paintings featuring musicians, the work
comments on the dangers of religious intolerance. “I’m doing a series. It’s eight
paintings, all of them [featuring] musicians. It’s not about the technique – it’s just
about the idea behind it. I’m talking about all religion in the world. About how
some people, they use religion to do whatever they want. It’s about what’s going
on in the world now. These paintings, I’ve been sketching and reading about it
more than seven years.”
When asked if he practices a specific religion, Al-Shaker plainly states: “I’m an
artist.”
“I need to focus on my art,” Al Shaker said. “We didn’t come to this life to just
fight. We didn’t come to this life to just, ‘Oh, I am Muslim, oh, you are Jewish,
and, oh, you are Christian.’ No, we came to do something in this life. This life is
very quick. We came to do something before we leave.”
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Green Leaf Gallery
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The Winter Show
Through March 29th
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Opening Reception: April 5, 6 – 11 p.m.
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SCOTTSDALE LEAGUE
FOR THE ARTS, a 501(c)(3)
supporting local arts
programs since 1978,
donates 100% of net
proceeds to the arts.
$4.5 million donated
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Proud presenters of Arizona’s Tastiest Fundraisers:
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Scottsdale Culinary Festival – April 13-14, 2019

ARTS
JOSEF ALBERS IN MEXICO
By Jenna Duncan
History can often influence movements in contemporary
art, as evidenced by images of the ancients
resurfacing in the works of Modern masters.
Artistic influences of the past begin to meld with
modern artists – Minimalists, Abstract Expressionists,
and Bauhaus-era designers – particularly evidenced
in the paintings, drawings, and photographs
of Josef Albers. “Josef Albers in Mexico” is now on
view at Heard Museum.
This exhibit allows guests to view and consider the
links between Meso-American architecture and ruins
that Josef Albers explored during his travels and the
way these sites influenced his practice for the next
30 years, explains Lauren Hinkson, Associate Curator
of Collections for the Guggenheim Museum in New
York, where the show was organized.
“Before Albers traveled to Mexico in 1935, he was
not painting,” Hinkson said. “He took thousands of
photos. You can see that he really studied elements
of the pyramids and their designs.”
Many revelations come in viewing the photography,
Hinkson said. “We have included about sixty
photos and photo collages in this show, many of
which have not been seen in the United States,
and rarely seen at all.”
Works in the exhibit are grouped by architectural
sites across Central Mexico and the Yucatan
peninsula, including Chichén Itza, Mitla, Monte
Albán, and Teothuacán. Josef and his wife,
Anni Albers, also visited additional sites in
South America, including Peru, but the spotlight
was placed on Mexico for this show.
“We wanted to focus on both the Guggenheim’s
holdings and also what was available from the
Albers Foundation,” Hinkson said. Many of the
photos came from his namesake foundation. Most
of the works, including the very familiar Homage
to the Square series, have never been on view in
Arizona prior to this show.
Anni Albers was a well-known and influential
designer and textile artist. Anni taught design theory
to weavers at Bauhaus and later became the school’s
acting director. From 1933 to 1949, she was head of
the weaving department at Black Mountain College.
She was recently recognized with a solo exhibition
at the Tate in London from October 2018 to the end
of January. She is seen in several of the photos and
contact sheet collages.
Hinkson says she discovered Albers’ photographs
in the Guggenheim collection about 10 years ago
and became very excited about them because
they had not been shown. She connected with
chief curator Brenda Danilowitz of the Albers
Foundation, then planned and arranged for the collaboration.
While much of the work comes from
the Guggenheim collection, Hinkson also borrowed
extensively from the Albers Foundation to
complement, Danilowitz explained.
In the arrangement of this exhibit, the juxtaposition
of photos of geometric and serpentine patterns
next to the paintings of Albers makes it easy to
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see the influences in shape, texture, and hue. “He
started experimenting using the colors of Mexico,”
Danilowitz said, pointing out details of some of his
older paintings.
Some credit Albers for inspiring the Minimalist
movement in art, and he is often noted for his work
in color theory. Though Donald Judd called him the
godfather of Minimalism, Albers probably wouldn’t
have labeled himself that way, Danilowitz said. However,
his teaching at Black Mountain College and Yale
directly influenced a generation of artists, including
Cy Twombly, Eva Hesse, and Robert Rauschenberg.
“All of the ’60s artists knew about Albers. That
is when he began to be seen as this old master,”
Danilowitz said.
Albers joined the Bauhaus school of art, design, and
architecture in 1920 at age 32. He was one of the
first students to become a meister, or master, Hinkson
says. Due to pressures from the Nazi government, the
school was forced to move from Weimar to Dessau
and then Berlin in its final months. Josef, Anni, and
many others fled Germany. After relocating to the
United States, Albers became active at Black Mountain
College in North Carolina and later settled in
Connecticut to teach at Yale. He and Anni continued
their travels through Mexico into the 1960s.
Over the decades of their travel, the development
of the tourism industry in Mexico is also chronicled.
“When they first arrived in the 1930s, there wasn’t
much,” Hinkson said. “In one of his tiny contact
prints, you can see Josef Albers standing in front of
a streamlined car, right next to a pyramid, because
you could drive right up to the pyramids and walk
right in.”
At the Zapotec site, Monte Alban, in the 1940s and
1950s, Mexican archeologist Alfonso Caso was
in the process of excavating for years. This was
particularly exciting to Josef and Anni because each
time they returned, there was something new to see,
Hinkson said.
Another interesting part of this exhibit is the collection
of a few well-preserved Pemex travel maps.
These maps were produced by the state-run oil company
to support the travel industry and designed as
highly visual souvenirs.
“Josef Albers in Mexico”
Heard Museum
Jacobson Gallery
Through May 27
heard.org
Josef Albers (1888-1976), Study for Homage to the Square, Closing, 1964,
Acrylic on Masonite, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, Gift, The
Josef Albers Foundation, Inc., 1996
Anni Albers (1899-1994), Josef Albers, Mitla, 1935-39, The Josef and Anni
Albers Foundation, Bethany, Connecticut, 1976
Josef Albers (1888-1976), Study for Sanctuary, 1941-1942, Ink on paper, The
Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, Bethany, Connecticut, 1976
Josef Albers (1888-1976), Ballcourt at Monte Alban, Mexico, ca. 1936-37, Gelatin
silver print, The Josef and Anni Albers Foundation, Bethany, Connecticut, 1976
Josef Albers (1888-1976), The Pyramid of the Magician, Uxmal, 1950, Gelatin
silver print, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, Gift, The Josef Albers
Foundation, Inc., 1996
Josef Albers (1888-1976), Luminous Day, 1947-1952, Oil on Masonite, The Josef
and Anni Albers Foundation, Bethany, Connecticut, 1976
Josef Albers (1888-1976), Tenayuca I, 1942, Oil on Masonite, The Josef and
Anni Albers Foundation, Bethany, Connecticut, 1976
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NOW PLAYING: VIDEO 1999–2019
Mikey Foster Estes
To mark its 20th anniversary and commemorate its movie theater past,
Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art presents an exhibition entirely
focused on the moving image. “Now Playing: Video 1999–2019” brings
together works by 11 international artists and samples both major
contributions to video art and works from SMoCA’s collection. The exhibition
highlights different aspects of video: its ephemerality, animation, and its
relationship to narrative.
Writing on the relationship between painting and cinema in 1967, French film
theorist André Bazin distinguished the space of the picture frame from that
of the screen. A painting, Bazin wrote, pulls our gaze inward, but the screen
harnesses a centrifugal force that propels us outward. The moving image,
unlike its still counterpart, exists in time, and in many cases blurs the line
between reality and fiction.
This exhibition poses an intriguing situation in which to view video. Instead
of solely being secluded in darkened, soundproofed rooms or confined to
a monitor via headset, the exhibition allows for sets of relationships and
rhythms to take form. In one gallery, the metronomic sound of dribbling
a basketball from a video by Mark Bradford bounces through the space,
becoming an acoustic aspect of other works in the room.
The experiential light and projection works by Diana Thater and Aaron
Rothman complement one another. Both artists are concerned with the
natural landscape. Thater’s Orange Room Wallflowers contrasts nature and
beauty with technology and artifice. Rothman’s slow-moving simulation of
light moving across the wall plays with the viewer’s sense of orientation.
Looking up toward the ceiling, you try to discern its cause – the skylight
or the projector?
Shirin Neshat’s Turbulent is in the next space over. Prior to seeing this
installation at SMoCA, I had only seen poor reproductions of it on
YouTube. It’s mesmerizing to see and hear. Upon walking in, the viewer
is caught between two black-and-white videos that stand in for two
opposing forces. In one, a man performs a traditional song in front of a
full audience of other men; in the other, a female singer, Sussan Deyhim,
delivers an ecstatic and deeply moving vocal performance with no
audience. For Neshat, this duel of opposites highlights the inherent social
and political gap between genders in Islamic Iran.
A second gallery contains a total of eight looping videos by four different
artists, all of which clock in at under four minutes. The display of these
is reminiscent of that of painting, in that the moving images exist on a
picture plane and in relation to one another. One can quickly hop from
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one to the next or devote a few minutes to each. These images, unlike
painting, seem to morph in time endlessly.
The animations on view by Christian Marclay provide one such example.
At first, each work seems to be a catalog of images: chewing gum, bottle
caps, cigarette butts. Minutes in, the images start to transform into
playful flipbook narratives. The blotches of chewing gum on the sidewalk
split and multiply like a culture of microscopic cells. The bottle caps of
different colors and brands seem to remain still on an ever-changing
ground. The cigarette butt slowly inches back up to completion, only to
dwindle down again.
Simpson Verdict, a short animated video by Kota Ezawa, is based on footage
from the O.J. Simpson trial. The audio of the verdict, playing from a
speaker above, is stark against the cartoonish and flattened image of
Simpson’s response to the verdict. The trial was a media event – even if
you didn’t particularly follow it, you knew about it. The video speaks to
the way reality is rendered and compressed by popular culture.
Candice Breitz’s large-scale video installation in the next room, Love
Story, similarly approaches media imagery. The setup itself is like a movie
theater. In separate clips, Alec Baldwin and Julianne Moore appear on
set in front of a green screen, each telling tidbits of an emotional
tale of escape. Almost immediately, we know they are acting, but the
question is: As who? Behind this Hollywood rendition is another set of six
screens and narrators who are refugees, but here they are telling their
own unedited stories. Only when the curtain is pulled back completely do we
have the opportunity to truly empathize.
“Now Playing: Video 1999–2019”
Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art
Through May 12
smoca.org
Candice Breitz, “Stills from Love Story,” 2016, Featuring Julianne Moore and Alec Baldwin
Top: Shabeena Francis Saveri, Sarah Ezzat Mardini, Mamy Maloba Langa / Bottom: José Maria
João, Farah Abdi Mohamed, Luis Ernesto Nava Molero.
7-Channel Installation, Commissioned by the National Gallery of Victoria, Outset Germany + Medienboard Berlin-Brandenburg
Courtesy: Goodman Gallery, Kaufmann Repetto + KOW
Mark Bradford, “Practice,” 2003, single channel video; Courtesy of the artist and Hauser & Wirth
Song Dong (b. 1966, Beijing, China, where he lives and works)
“Floating: Scottsdale,” 2005, Video projection, Duration: Left screen 21:38, right 17:16
Collection of Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art
Purchased with funds from Mai Yahn, Richard Hayslip and Sara and David Lieberman
Mika Rottenberg, “Sneeze,” 2012, Single channel video; Courtesy of the artist and Hauser & Wirth.
Kota Ezawa, “The Simpson Verdict” (still), 2002; Courtesy of the artist and Haines Gallery, San Francisco
Diana Thater, “Orange Room Wallflowers,” 2001; Courtesy of the artist and 1301PE, Los Angeles
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SAPIENS PALEO FRENCH CUISINE
By Sloane Burwell

Fusion cuisine usually involves a mish-mash of cultures that follows the
movement of people with regional influences, like Cuban Chinese food
found on the East Coast. Sometimes it’s fun and trendy, like Mexican sushi.
Sometimes it’s a food analog, like vegan wings. Sometimes it’s strange and
inexplicable. Like French Paleo.
The paleo diet is jokingly referred to as the Caveman diet, with a focus on
meats and some veggies, eschewing things like dairy and grain – since our preagricultural
ancestors wouldn’t have had access to cheese and bread. So how
would that work for French food, where the focus is often on precisely that,
cheese and bread?
Quite well, actually. Sapiens Paleo Kitchen is a French restaurant, perched in far
North Scottsdale. For me, it’s a destination spot, since it’s easily a 40-minute
drive from my super central domicile. When I heard of its opening, I was more
intrigued than excited. I’ve been on Team Keto for quite a while. The keto diet is
essentially paleo with dairy, and they’ll take my dairy when they pry it from my
cold, dead fingers.
Located in a fancy, modern, albeit small strip mall, Sapiens seems like any nice
restaurant. There are about 16 tables inside. The interior is decorated in dark gray,
with appropriately smooth music playing, and it’s packed with families, couples,
and muscle-y CrossFit types. On my visit, it was a BYO situation, and most tables
were happily sipping away.
We started with coffee ($3.50), which comes with almond milk and a shot of MCT
for a $1 upcharge. MCT, or medium chain triglyceride, is essentially fractionated
coconut oil (coconut oil with a molecule removed to keep it from solidifying). It
does give a surge of energy, but it’s challenging to stir pure oil into coffee – it
needs the help of a blender. We make it work, but have to stir furiously lest the
first sip be nothing but coconut oil.
Our charming server engaged us immediately to find out why we were there.
It appears that all of the servers are on the paleo diet, as we heard similar
conversations repeat throughout the evening. Since I’m keto, she advised how we
could add cheese or butter to dishes. So we did.
It would be nearly criminal to skip Escargot ($15) at a French restaurant, so we
didn’t. A cast iron crock comes to the table with more than half a dozen snails,
with a king’s ransom of garlicky herb butter goodness. There are some paleo
bread slices (more on that later) served alongside for scooping, lest anything go
to waste. And it shouldn’t – this dish is quite fabulous, herbaceous, and garlicky
enough to ward away vampires. All conversation ceased while we dug into it, only
stopping long enough to gasp for air before it was gone.
I feel the same way about French Onion Soup ($9), partially because it’s my
favorite of all the soups, and because I make a mean one. So do they. And since
we’re fine with dairy, we had the Gruyère cheese added on top. I’ll own up to
being a tiny bit disappointed when it came out – I’m used to a bubbling mass of
cheese. What felt skimpy was actually about right – turns out if the broth and
onions are this delicious, the cheese isn’t as important. The salty, sultry, deeply
flavorful broth takes two days for them to make, and the hard work wasn’t lost
on us. The dollop of melty cheese gave a bit of textural interest. And flavor. Who
doesn’t love cheese?
Of course, when I saw the Paleo Bread Platter ($10), we had to order it. A
charming tray containing fresh French butter, artichoke dip, and tomato jam is
served along with several types of paleo “bread.” Only one could be classified
as bread, and it was closer to a toast point than a slice of French bread. The
consistency was a bit dry, as one would expect bread analogs to be, but it was
perfect for smearing butter and the other dips on top.
There were two other breads, but I would say they were more like crackers you’d
find at a fancy specialty store. And they worked for the tasty tomato jam – a savory
spread closer in taste to a bruschetta topping. The artichoke dip was great – warm,
savory hunks of chopped artichoke hearts surrounded by ghee, garlic, and onions,
paired perfectly with their fancy cracker-bread.
I adored the Duck Confit ($26), an engaging dish of duck cooked in duck fat until it
essentially falls apart. Here, it is as French and fabulous as you would hope, and
I only knew it was paleo because of the sides – a gratin of parsnip and roasted
seasonal veggies. Both were tasty and delicious.
Curious about Paleo Meatloaf ($18), I tried theirs. A solid hunk of grass-fed beef
arrives on the plate, surrounded by potato gratin and the aforementioned veggies.
It’s worth noting that none of their gratins have cream or cheese. They are cooked
with flavorful stock and coconut oil. Somehow, there is no coconut taste or smell,
and the dish still manages to taste as creamy as you would expect its French
counterpart to be, even without dairy. Their gratins are inscrutably delicious.
Since we’d taken the leap of faith to drive this far – and no one in our party had
ever tried it – we went all in for the Liver and Onions ($25). An impossibly large
serving of at least six slices of medium rare liver appeared before us, in a silky
sauce, surrounded by mounds of sautéed onions. We all looked at each other before
I went in first. It was great.
As our server explained, liver is one of the most healthful meats one can consume.
It’s full of minerals and nutrients. To be fair, some of my friends found it a bit too
mineral-y, but that is what liver tastes like. You can taste the pâté that is made out
of this, in a sense, in that the rich flavors are on the top of your tongue. If you eat
pâté, you should try liver and onions. And if you haven’t tried liver and onions – this
is the place to do it. The sherry sauce in this dish is plate-lickingly fabulous, and
let’s be frank – who doesn’t love sautéed onions?
As for dessert, every server recommended the same dish – Apple Crisp ($8). Warm,
soulful apples are sautéed in cinnamon, ghee, and spices, and served piping hot. At
the bottom of the dish was the crisp – noted on the menu as “crunchy topping.” It
was crunchy, and it was okay. I didn’t think it added much to the dish. I would have
happily enjoyed the warm sautéed apples on ice cream. I’m sure there is a Paleofriendly
version somewhere, and that would really make this a special dish. It’s
good; I would eat it again. But it could be great.
So is it possible to enjoy the fruits of a French paleo restaurant if you aren’t paleo?
Absolutely. Sapiens Paleo Kitchen is a sweet restaurant serving excellent French
classics.
Sapiens Paleo Kitchen
10411 E. McDowell Mountain Ranch Rd., Suite 120, Scottsdale
(480) 771-5123
Tuesday – Saturday 4 p.m. – 10 p.m.
Closed Sunday and Monday
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Knight Life

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Photographers:
Karl Millings
Sara Krug
Ta Nee’Townsend
Models”
Tondra Dene’
Simon Rohrich
Ta Nee’Townsend
Hair and makeup:
Christine De Angelis
Assistant
Jesse Joseph Fairchild
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Artist Carolina Aranibar-Fernandez
From Bolivia to Arizona and Beyond
Text and portraits
By Morgan Moore
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Carolina Aranibar-Fernandez comes to Arizona from
Bolivia, where she started her life of art at the
age of eight. Her passion and work are driven by
the mapped relationship between people, capital, and
place, and fueled by history and current events.
Bolivia’s famous Water War was one of the sparks
for Aranibar-Fernandez’s body of work, in which
she questions systems of colonization, capitalism,
commodification, and extraction. She grew up at the
time California-based Bechtel took control of her
country’s water and spiked the rates, causing outrage
and protest among Bolivians. She found herself
questioning, then and years after, how a company
so far away from a community could have so much
power over it.
Ten years ago, she left Bolivia to attend art school in
the United States. Since then, her questions and art
have taken her to Virginia, Qatar, Nepal, the Amazon,
Brazil, back to Bolivia, and Arizona, and will take her
soon to Florida.
In each place her work leads her, she first waits
for an invitation to enter the space. She comes
to collaborate, not to work. She takes care not to
perpetuate the colonialist habit of self-inserting
and forcefully exploring for the sake of art. Instead,
she builds relationships with the community, asks
questions, and listens. Her goal is to create dialogue
and form connections with the viewers of her pieces
as well as with the communities with which she
collaborates. Sometimes she engages in with a
community for over a year before starting a piece – or
doesn’t start a piece at all.
Her work projects questions of power and how it
manifests. Often formed as multi-media installations,
Aranibar-Fernandez’s art immerses viewers into
the behind-the-scenes world of production and
extraction. She creates rooms that illustrate, by
engaging almost every sense, the duality of a journey
– between commodity and person – out of the earth,
through the sea, and into a foreign land. Video
projections and audio composites are mixed with
textiles, ceramics, weaving, and beading, merging
traditional forms of storytelling and creation with
more contemporary and processed media.
As an artist within an imperialistic, neocolonialist,
and capitalistic society, she strives to exist inside – but
against – this system, or, as the Peruvian sociologist
Aníbal Quijano asserts, “vivir adentro y en contra.”
This is demonstrated aptly through her exhibited
work, commonly installed in colonial institutions
(art galleries). Viewers unwittingly participate in
destroying the work they experience, dropping its
perceived value rapidly – sometimes simply by
walking into the room. No single piece she has made
still exists in physical form, to reject any attempts
at commodifying an art piece made to question
commodification.
The unperceived value of her work is her process.
Vulnerability threads itself into her regimen as
she visits male-dominated mining sites through
discomfort during deep dives into research. She also
embraces vulnerability to ensure her work reflects
the experiences of others above her own. Whether
it’s silver-leafed coins made of quinoa and cocoa in
Bolivia, or sugar molded in Brazil to model gold bars,
Aranibar-Fernandez makes a point to work with those
impacted by exploitation of these commodities as she
fabricates her pieces. Each small part of the work is
painstakingly handmade in collaboration with local
working-class women of color, who engage in hours
and hours of dialogue with her that in turn informs
the rest of her process, from beginning to end.
The women in these communities are crucial to
Aranibar-Fernandez’s messages. They are directly
impacted by the exploitation of their countries’
resources, be it minerals and food commodities in
Bolivia and Brazil, physical labor in Nepal, or oil and
gas in Qatar. They are, as she affirms, the “most
invisible labor.” She not only collaborates with them
to make her work but also illustrates their stories
visually and aurally.
Women also exhibit a more ideal distribution of power
than what is seen in the typical realm of capitalism.
“If power is not only a ladder, rather a web, I think
we could move differently in the world. And I think a
lot of decisions in the capitalist system that we live
in create an individual, egotistical ladder that I find
very problematic.” Aranibar-Fernandez continues,
“Redistributing power is really important. And in thinking
about community, women have – for thousands of years
– shown that when you work in community, there’s no
ladder in the structure of power.”
Elevating women and sharing their histories is
only one, albeit a significant, facet of Aranibar-
Fernandez’s work. She also wants to introduce

people to the layers of place, and to give thought to how hierarchies of power shape
history and mythology.
“Space – every place we go, and every land we step – has layers of history,” she
explains, and her intent is to uncover the history not rewritten by colonists but shared
by the people who were born and raised on the land – those who live here today
and their ancestors. History indigenous to many of the places Aranibar-Fernandez
has visited is considered mythology by Westerners, who use their position of power
to frame their own narratives as objective history and discredit others. Aranibar-
Fernandez learns as much as she can about the history of a place through reading,
as well as through oral stories told by members of the communities she collaborates
with, before settling on an idea for a project.
She also uses place to differentiate forms of movement and exploitation. On the land,
she analyzes resource extraction in mining, agriculture, and construction. But she also
uses place as negative space – an opportunity to discuss what’s between places. That
is why her work has also always been rooted in and across bodies of water; she is, in
many of her pieces, “exploring depth in the ocean.”
Perhaps Bolivia’s Water War served as a precursor to her consideration, as she has
examined water as both a commodity and a plane on which to travel and to assert
dominance. One of her first forays into this concept was working in and near
the ports of Norfolk, Virginia, where she began to (and still to this day does)
shed light on the trafficking of capital and bodies across the Atlantic.
While Aranibar-Fernandez is sharing insight into the backbreaking realm of
extraction, she is also revealing the aftermath of it, both in the transport and
the destination. Her work has taken viewers from the silver mines of South
America across meticulously traced routes to the importing nations of Europe.
She has tracked the traffic of blue-collar workers from Nepal to Qatar, where
they are all but held hostage to build modernity on top of the rich history that
once was there. She illuminates the consequences of destroying value to
construct wealth.
In Arizona, Aranibar-Fernandez delves into the narrative of extraction with one
of our state’s five Cs: copper.
Arizona’s copper mining narrative does not look quite like the silver mining
narrative in Bolivia. Where, in the latter, the country’s resources were stripped
to form another’s (Spain’s) currency, the modern-day copper narrative in Arizona
represents one of dominance and control. Aranibar-Fernandez is delving
into the power dynamics of copper companies that hold influence across
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the world, and she is only just starting to form her
representation of it.
She has, since August of 2018, immersed herself in
research and conversations revolving around copper,
how its value is perceived across the globe, who
takes it from the ground, where it goes, and who
profits. As she unearths Arizona’s role in the mineral’s
commodification, she is learning new things about
her place in the world, as well as in her own family.
She discovered only recently that her grandfather
was a miner in Bolivia, pulling from the earth silver
and estaño (tin) in a small, rural town she had never
previously considered visiting. Consistent with her usual
form, the information came about through questioning
and conversing with the town’s community.
During her time here, Aranibar-Fernandez has also
developed a relationship with the Copper State that
she has not established with any other place outside
of Bolivia. She rejects any singular term to describe
her identity (not simply an immigrant, not simply
a Bolivian), and this emerges in her sentiments of
belonging, as well. While she considers Bolivia a
home due to her roots, family, and ancestors, Arizona
has presented a similar feeling.
“I feel like since I’ve arrived, my body feels at home
here, and that hasn’t happened before, in a place that
wasn’t Bolivia. I feel that here. It seems like it comes
from… I don’t know. I feel it really inside; it feels
more like home. Arizona is very special.” Ancestral
energy, the weather, the heat, and something still
untouchable connect her to the state, in addition to
human connections.
The politics of a border state has created a sense
of belonging for her unwavering questions. The
effect of power on place exhibits itself in the historic
displacement of indigenous people and people of
color for mining, and the contamination of tribal
and reservation waters when minerals are washed
of their toxicity. Like Bolivia, Brazil, Qatar, Nepal,
and other disenfranchised countries, Arizona is not
unfamiliar with this historical trend. But while it
houses groups marginalized as a result of extraction
and commodification, it also houses the agents who
act to marginalize. In exploring the disparate nature
of a place’s relationships, Aranibar-Fernandez’s art
becomes as multidimensional as the histories and
mythologies she works to unearth.
She views Phoenix as an important space for
community and conversations. As with every place
she has worked, she feels lucky to have mostly
experienced receptivity to her art. She joins Arizona’s
community through the ASU Herberger Institute’s
Projecting All Voices Fellowship, which seeks to
promote equity and inclusion in the arts by upholding
spaces for discourse and representation. At the same
time, any resistance, discomfort, or rejection of her
work is viewed just as positively, and resounds with her
own discomfort and vulnerability in making the pieces.
Aranibar-Fernandez has experienced the privatization
of a country’s resources and the effects spurred from
it, and she observes this still happening throughout
the world, displacing and transporting people and
things from one side of the ocean to the other.
She can feel the state our society is in, and while
conversations may be changing, she doesn’t think the
structure is – at least, not fast enough.
With her work, she wants people to become
conscious of the movement of people, resources, and
narratives. Of those viewing her work, she doesn’t
expect radical change, but smaller movements and
conversations that may someday be catalysts to
something larger.
“My biggest goal is to make and ask questions,”
she concludes. “If every viewer can leave with a
question, that’s amazing.”
JAVA 33
MAGAZINE

34 JAVA
MAGAZINE
Photo Sean Logan

Images can tell stories that transcend time and history, align our collective
souls, or change our minds completely. Photojournalist Nick Oza, who has
worked for the Arizona Republic since March of 2006, is not only locally known
but an internationally esteemed two-time Pulitzer Prize–winning photographer.
To say Oza’s resumé is impressive is an understatement. The Mumbai, Indiaborn
journalist is a humble yet steadfast arbiter of truth in a world weary from
misinformation and “fake” news. When everyone with a smartphone can be a
photographer, it takes a special talent to make photos that evoke real feelings,
images that inspire viewers to think about their own place in the world and
empathize with others they may never meet. Oza possesses this ability, and his
talent behind the viewfinder is something to be celebrated, even when his images
echo a world we do our best to ignore.
Old enough to know better, but young enough to burn the candle at both ends,
Oza is, by his own admission, part of a dying breed. While good storytelling will
always be an important aspect of humanity, the type of in-depth journalism Oza
espouses is on life support. Over the coming decades, only time will tell if there is
any hope for revival.
Recently Oza learned that he will be receiving a grant from the National
Geographic Society to continue documenting immigration issues in the Americas,
so – luckily for all of us – he will be able to persist in making photos that capture
the spirit of truth.
We caught up with Oza to talk about his life, immigration, and what comes next.
So, Nick, where did you grow up?
I grew up in Mumbai. They used to call it Bombay.
And how long did you live in Mumbai?
I lived there until my twenties. I came here when I was 22, in 1989.
So, thirty years here. What were your expectations when moving to the U.S.?
It was, for me, an opportunity. I knew I wanted to be a photographer, but my
whole notion was to be a commercial photographer. When migrants come here,
their focus is to be successful with money. That’s why they’re coming to a foreign
land. But my professors changed my mind after seeing the way I interacted with
my subject matter. And they said I had a gift of getting closer to people, and
having people trust me, so I should go into documentary work and journalism.
Was that anything you had previously thought about doing while growing up?
Honestly, I grew up being very shy, and people knew I didn’t like to talk much.
Journalism just opened my mind on another level. As my work is maturing, I’m
so grateful that the Arizona Republic editors gave me the opportunity to explore
immigration issues.
So, in a way, photography is becoming a smaller segment for me, and storytelling
is becoming the bigger picture. I spend tremendous hours and have a reputation
for working nonstop. I work on sensitive issues like immigration, mental health,
women’s issues, the opioid crisis, and all of that takes time to fully immerse

yourself. You have to gain their [the subject matter of the images] trust. That’s why I
spend more time talking, almost like a preacher; then the photography follows. Trust
is a big thing.
So, if I’m hearing you correctly, you are pitching what you want to work on,
as opposed to being sent on assignment.
Right. I do have general assignments, but yeah, a lot of times I pitch story ideas
because I’m more out in the community with boots on the ground. Everybody’s a
photographer nowadays because they have a cell phone, but you have to know
aesthetics and understand the in-depth work of creating a story and, of course,
finding the right subject matter.
As part of the community with boots on the ground, when you’re here in
Phoenix, where do you hang out? Do you go out and look for things, or let
them find you?
Honestly, things seem to find me. The Indian philosopher Muktananda said: “If you’re
a dancer, other dancers will follow you.” So if you truly understand yourself, things
will come to you.
The biggest thing is learning the community, earning their respect. Then people will
come to you with good story ideas. People know me by my successes, but success
is based on previous failures. There were so many times people would just say no
because they didn’t understand what kind of work I did. That was back in 2008, when
I first started documenting immigration. But once people started knowing me, they
would call me and say, “My uncle or my father just got deported.” Earning that trust was
quite an honor.
Why do you think that is? Can you put your finger on what you did to go from
being an outsider to someone that people trust with really personal and
tough issues?
Well, their stories need to be told, that’s the main thing. I think that vulnerable
people, once you have that trust, they become comfortable, and I become
comfortable too. That is a formula that allows for amazing photographs. It’s all about
understanding the people, the concepts, the story, and then everything clicks.
For an example, I did a piece on gangs in Phoenix, which was my first real attempt at
storytelling. A lot of people would ask, “How did you get that shot?” and I was like,
“I just explained my intentions to the family, and they saw I was showing respect, so
they let me in.” I remember standing in a very deep corner trying not to be intrusive,
and some family member said, “Hey, you should come on this side. This is the better
angle.” When they said that, I had tears in my eyes because they understood me and why
I was there.
You mentioned that you missed a great shot because it didn’t feel right to
take the photo. Can you share a moment when you were compelled to put
the camera down?
I was working on story about CPS [formerly Child Protective Services, now
Department of Child Safety], and a caseworker was taking the kid away from the
mother. The CPS worker was asking all the questions, and whether the kid was
abused by one of the family members. It was such a heartbreaking moment, and the

mother had allowed me into her house. She said, “I
think I had so much trouble in my life and I’m just so
fed up with it. I need to puke this out.” She went in
the bathroom to throw up and I sat shaken, having
seen all this firsthand, and never took a picture.
The second time she went to the bathroom I said,
“I’m sorry to say this, but may I follow you?” And she
was like, “That’s why you’re here.” That’s saying a
lot. Whatever story I’m working on, whether someone
likes the media or not, I want to show them that
they’re beautiful, not just a face. I always want to
show the beauty and humanity.
In some of the toughest possible situations, too…
Yes, yes. And covering this immigration issue, it takes
a toll on your mind. You are hearing about atrocities –
people that are fleeing because of gang violence, and
women getting raped. I met two siblings coming to
the U.S. The brother was fourteen, and he was able
to stay. His sister was eighteen, so she got deported,
and she was raped after going back.
The mother called to tell the brother what happened,
and it was just too much to comprehend. People
fleeing with nothing, leaving everything they know. Poor
people, leaving their heart and soul, and they cannot go
back because they’re fleeing danger and violence.
Being from Mumbai, how has your own
immigration experience impacted the work
you’ve done?
I understand better than most, not because I relate
to their specific issues, but I understand the concept
and what it takes. I came here to study, so the
circumstances were different. Maybe the community
opens up because of my ethnicity. I’m not sure. A
lot of times I feel like a cat. I go and people are so
nice, and I do my work. Once you build the trust and
communication, you can do much better work.
It feels like we live in a pretty interesting time,
from a journalistic standpoint.
Yes, chaos. And I’m sorry to say it, but chaos creates
opportunities. It’s a tough time for journalists. Things
have gone so extreme on both sides, but I just want
to communicate that these are the facts, this is what
is happening.
Do people want to hear the facts, or do they just
want to hear what they want to hear?
We are living in the age of social media. Traditional
media is having a hard time keeping up. Everybody
wants to be first, without fact checking. I’d rather be
good than first. First is not my priority and neither are
the awards, though I do have bragging rights. I would
rather leave the awards for athletes because that’s
what they do. Everything is about competition, but
in journalism, you shouldn’t think about competing.
Journalists should focus on an effective way of
storytelling with the facts.
What do you think is going to happen in the
next decade in terms of how journalism exists?
We are living in an evolving society. Everything
changes, but good journalism and good storytelling
will always exist. You can see forty or fifty
photojournalists’ work in one place, but everybody
has a unique way of seeing. I have my own vision,
and nobody can take it away. I know some amazing
photographers who have done great work, even
pocket cameras. They are visionaries and poets of
storytelling. That’s what I aim to be.
JAVA 37
MAGAZINE

GIRL ON FARMER
Fry’s Favorite
BY CELIA BERESFORD
I am a devoted Fry’s shopper. It is the cheapest and
most convenient grocery store to cover most of my
shopping needs. Sure, I go to Sprouts and Trader
Joe’s to get a few select items. And if I’m making a
big Mexican whoop-up I will go to Food City, but to
cover the majority of what we need to eat and live,
you will find me at Fry’s.
I’m not crazy about all the auto-checkout lanes, and I
do not like that they have moved the wood piles inside,
making my self-designated two-for-one special on
firewood much harder to pull off. But for the most part,
I love Fry’s. However, due to recent events, I’ve felt
some pressure during my shopping trips.
A while ago, I was checking out and the cashier said
something like, “Oh! Here’s my favorite customer.” I
think I started blushing, and as with anything where I
am directly called out, I started feeling embarrassed
and that mystery feeling I closely relate to – guilt. I
don’t know why. What I should have done was said
something like, “You’re my favorite employee,” and
although I never really thought about it, I guess he is.
I gave this a lot of thought as I walked out of the
store and wondered why I was his favorite. I’m not
especially chatty, and although I am nice and polite,
I have never gone out of my way to go all-out as a
customer. Maybe I’m his fave because I bag my own
groceries? Maybe because when the groceries aren’t
moving down the belt, I just flip that switch on the
bottom of the lane and make it start moving without
needing any extra help. As a former grocery store
employee, I know my way around the belts.
I spent way too much time sitting in my car pondering
it. I also continue to think about it while shopping,
wondering if he’ll be my checker. It’s ridiculous. He
probably says this to a lot of customers, but I took it
very seriously. And now I get so nervous whenever I
see him. What if I let him down? If I don’t know what
I did to deserve this award, I don’t know what to do
to keep up the good work! This is stressful.
Now, I am extra smiley and maybe a bit too talkative
when he’s my cashier. It’s kind of like we’re on a
date. And he never gives me any signs that I’m still
his favorite, or that he likes me anymore. “Did I do
something to upset him?” I ask myself while standing
in line. Did I ruin the magic? I just wish I never knew,
and he’d just kept his favorites to himself.
38 JAVA
MAGAZINE

A while ago, I was checking out and the cashier
said something like, “Oh! Here’s my favorite
customer.” I think I started blushing, and as
with anything where I am directly called out, I
started feeling embarrassed and that mystery
feeling I closely relate to – guilt.
A few months ago, when the lottery reached an astronomical payout, I bought
some tickets. Because everyone knows the best time to play the lottery is the
time when every other human in the country is playing it too. He was, of course,
my cashier. To bring my odds back to the more realistic zillion-to-one, I bought
ten tickets. And because I knew I was his favorite, I said that if I won, there was
going to be a BIG payout for him.
This time when I went to my car, because I was sure I would win, I really
stressed out thinking about where he fit into my lottery winnings. I have written
before about my extensive and very well laid plans on how I will distribute my
lottery winnings. How much does he get now? I mean, I have always had the
ticket seller in my payout plans, but this is different – I’m his favorite customer.
This certainly means I need to up his portion.
Here’s something else that happens at Fry’s. If you are there at the start of a new
hour, you are in for a dystopian treat via an automated announcement. The Muzak
usually playing suddenly stops, followed by a couple of bing-bong-bing chimes
to get your attention. Then comes the weird announcement that says: “Attention
Fry’s employees. It’s 3 o’clock. Time for the top of the hour conditioning check.”
Conditioning check? That sounds like something from 1984 or Brave New World.
I expected the people stocking shelves to drop what they were doing and start
doing push-ups or line up in rows military inspection style, but the employees didn’t
even seem to notice. I asked one of them what this “conditioning” means, but he just
shrugged his shoulders and carried on crafting a pyramid of canned tomatoes.
I hope my favorite employee knows what to do so he won’t get a demotion.
I worry about him and his job security with all this automation at the grocery
stores. As if it isn’t bad enough that we are supposed to scan and bag our own
groceries – which is really free labor for the store – now they are pushing these
hand-held scanners where you can walk through the store and scan as you are
shopping. No thanks.
On the other hand, using the hand scanner could be the answer to my Fry’s
anxiety. I won’t feel the pressure of potentially letting my guy down if I don’t
interact with him. But then I’d be contributing to phasing out cashier jobs,
and I won’t do that. Also, I can’t be so distracted when I’m shopping. I have to
concentrate on what to buy and which one is cheapest. And, I have to devote
time to thinking about more important things – mainly, how to maintain my status
as favorite customer.

NIGHT
GALLERY
Photos By
Robert Sentinery
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1. Lovely harpist at FORM Labs Phoenix
2. Steve with Bill Dambrova’s work a Green Leaf
3. Rielle and friends, FORM Labs at Phoenix Art Museum
4. Lisa Von Hoffner at Green Leaf Gallery
5. Isse Maloi and pal at PAM
6. Claire Warden at Green Leaf
7. Titus rocks his cashmere coat
8. All together now ladies at FORM Labs
9. Peter and Melissa at SMoCA’s 20th
10. Fun times at the True North / Meow Wolf fete
11. Davina and Stephen are stylishly matchy
Spellbound Burlesque
PRESENTS
EVERY 2ND
SUNDAY AT 6PM
5749 N 7TH ST, PHX AZ
THEWOMACK.US

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12. Meow Wolf party at monOrchid with Dorina and pal
13. FORM Labs at PAM with Megan and friend
14. Fun bumping into this interesting posse
15. Orange you glad you wore orange?
16. Pouring Caduceus Cellars in the VIP
17. Snapped these guys at FORM Labs
18. Daniel Funkhouser at Green Leaf Gallery
19. Riana and friend at Phoenix Art Museum
20. Hangin’ with M’Rocka in the VIP
21. Iraqi artist Dyar Al Asadi at Green Leaf
22. Drinks with May and her sis
23. Fortoul Brothers with their pops
24. Much love for Pour Amor cocktail artistry
25. Fausto with his piece in The Winter Show
26. Handsome couple at Green Leaf
27. FORM Labs with these guys
28. Aileen has a piece in The Winter Show at Green Leaf
29. Artlink juried show at Park Central

Registration for Summer/Fall
begins March 18
enroll-maricopa.com
The Maricopa County Community College District (MCCCD) is an EEO/AA institution and an equal opportunity employer of protected veterans and individuals with disabilities. All qualified applicants will receive
consideration for employment without regard to race, color, religion, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, age, or national origin. A lack of English language skills will not be a barrier to admission and
participation in the career and technical education programs of the District.
The Maricopa County Community College District does not discriminate on the basis of race, color, national origin, sex, disability or age in its programs or activities. For Title IX/504 concerns, call the following
number to reach the appointed coordinator: (480) 731-8499. For additional information, as well as a listing of all coordinators within the Maricopa College system, visit www.maricopa.edu/non-discrimination.

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30. Lani is running things tonight at PAM
31. Cheers to these pretty brunettes
32. Rafael with his guitarra
33. Men with hats
34. Maureen and Becca at Phoenix Art Museum
35. Artlink juried show opening night
36. John Reyes and friend at the Artlink opening
37. Green Leaf’s Bassim Al Shaker and friends
38. Sam and Merryn at Mesa Contemporary Art Museum
39. Laura Spalding Best with her kiddos
40. Artlink juried show first prize winner Antoinette Cauley
41. Mitch and Thomas at SMoCA’s 20-year
42. Cheers to beers!
43. Carrie Ann Baade at Mesa Contemporary
44. Joe and Justin at Green Leaf
45. Elliott Kayser, MCA Contemporary Crafts juror’s award winner
46. Artist Liz Cohen and her hubby at SMoCA
47. Meow Wolf peeps in town for the True North event

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48. The curatorial team at SMoCA
49. Szabo with her friend from Philly at MCA Museum
50. FORM Labs attendees at PAM
51. Kandice checks out Melena’s work at Cobra Flute Projects
52. Cobra Flute Projects with Jennyfer, Amanda, and Christine
53. Lisa Von Hoffner’s epic piece at the Artlink juried show
54. Bill and Abbey at Cobra Flute
55. Danielle and friend at Mesa Contemporary
56. Anthony and pretty friends at SMoCA
57. Cobra Flute featured artists
58. Celebrating SMoCA’s 20th anniversary
59. Artlink chief Catrina Kahler and hubby Chris
60. SMoCA’s 20th anniversary celebration
61. Marshall and pal at the Meow Wolf event
62. Janet Towbin’s opening at Mesa Contemporary
63. SMoCA 20th anniversary celebration attendees
64. Now Playing at SMoCA
65. Meow Wolf founder Vince Kadlubek

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66. John with one of the visiting Meow Wolf crew
67. Gary and Oscar at SMoCA’s big 2-0!
68. Two-time Grammy winner Gregory Porter at Scottsdale Center
69. Karina and Francisco at monOrchid
70. Scott, Louise and Will at SMoCA
71. Always nice to catch Holly Pyle form House of Stairs
72. Rembrandt and Nicole at the Meow Wolf party
73. Sara and friend behind the bar at monOrchid
74. Drinks and good times with Victoria and friend at SMoCA
75. Josh and his crew at PAM
76. John and Janet at SMoCA
77. Grace Unger at the True North party for Meow Wolf
78. Gerd and CeCe at the SMoCA 20-year
79. Melena, Angie and Grant at Cobra Flute Projects
80. More fun at the Meow Wolf party at monOrchid
81. True North Studio’s Jonathon Vento and friend
82. Drinks and fun with this posse
83. Cheers at the monOrchid Meow Wolf party

ART FABRICATION
Free Event !
Cash Bar
Friday, March 29th 4-7pm
The Newton / First Draft Book Bar
300 W Camelback Rd., Phoenix Drop in or hang out!
Learn how complex
artworks are made!
&
SOCIAL LUBRICATION
www.artfabrication.social

march @smoca
Now Playing: Video 1999 – 2019
February 16 – May 12, 2019
Works by 11 international artists transform the museum
and former movie theater into a space dedicated to the
moving image. The iconic survey marks the importance
of video in contemporary art and the social and political
concerns that artists have addressed over the last two
decades. Through various techniques, from animation and
time-based performance to large-scale and immersive
installations, the artists explore the complexity and beauty
of contemporary art and life.
March Events
Dog Days @SMoCA
Sat, Mar 2 I 6 p.m. I $10
Flavor Lab: Collaborate, Decorate, Celebrate!
Sat, Mar 16 I Noon I Pair $50, Individual $35
Now Showing @SMoCA: Under the Wire
Thu, Mar 21 I 7 p.m. I $5
Trivia Night @SMoCA: Film Buff Edition
Fri, Mar 29 I 7 p.m. I $10 (one drink included)
Level It @SMoCA
Fri & Sat, Mar 29 & 30 I 9 a.m. – 4 p.m.
Two-day workshop $100, One-day workshop $60
Now Playing: Video 1999 – 2019 is organized by the Scottsdale
Museum of Contemporary Art. Curated by Director and Chief
Curator Jennifer McCabe. Sponsored by Carrie Lynn Richardson
and Paul Giancola.
Image: Candice Breitz, stills from Love Story, 2016. Featuring Julianne
Moore and Alec Baldwin. 7-Channel Installation. Commissioned by
the National Gallery of Victoria, Outset Germany + Medienboard
Berlin-Brandenburg. Photo courtesy of Goodman Gallery, Kaufmann
Repetto + KOW
SMoCA.org I 7374 E Second St, Scottsdale, AZ 85251 I 480-874-4666