Back to the Roots: Héctor's Art Between Oaxaca and Charlotte

By VozEs

Héctor arrived in the United States around 2003, at the age of 13, and went straight to Charlotte. Like many children, he didn’t choose to migrate: he followed his parents without fully understanding what crossing the border entailed. That journey, which as an adult he now recognizes as risky, remains in his childhood memory as a kind of adventure.

He started school, was exposed to other cultures, and, little by little, his connection to Mexico began to fade: he felt as though he were “getting lost” a bit amid new languages, new social norms, and the pressure to adapt. This growing distance from his traditions coincided with the awakening of his love for drawing.

His first artistic inspiration came during his childhood in Mexico. He remembers his father coming home tired from work, sitting down, and—even so—starting to draw to help his brother with a school project: one of the Niños Héroes. The drawing turned out so well that it won an award. That’s when the spark was ignited: if his dad could create something so powerful with just a pencil and some color, he wanted to try it too.

Once in Charlotte, a friend who drew reignited that interest. Héctor began to explore the Chicano style: clowns, lettering, icons like the Virgin of Guadalupe—images that spoke of pride, the neighborhood, and Mexican-American identity. That visual language became a way for him to feel like he belonged in a country he still didn’t feel was his own.

But life led him to put his artistic pursuits on hold time and again. The arrival of his first child, the need to work, and family responsibilities forced him to “set it aside,” although the desire to paint always returned as a kind of refuge from stress.

A major turning point came when he had to return to Mexico for a while and live in Oaxaca. That return confronted him with something deeper than Chicanism: his roots. Visiting ruins, seeing pre-Hispanic gold artifacts, stone carvings, ancient murals, and ancestral symbols made him wonder where it all really came from. He discovered that his strongest connection was not just to an urban style, but to a history that went back to the indigenous peoples.

From that point on, his art began to shift: from clowns and Chicano imagery toward figures like Xochipilli and other pre-Hispanic elements. Whereas before he saw himself as “just like everyone else,” he now wanted to go “further back,” to the very foundation of it all: the cultures that migrated, resisted, and created centuries ago—just as many families today cross borders to get ahead.

Another key experience was an invitation to speak about the Day of the Dead at a Catholic school. Several people viewed the tradition as something dark or “taboo.” Héctor then decided to study Mexican culture more deeply and explain, with respect, that death is not an end, but rather another step; that the offerings, flowers, and skulls are not witchcraft, but rather remembrance and love. After that talk, even several Anglo people set up their own altars, displayed photos of their loved ones, and engaged with curiosity.

That experience reinforced her decision: if she can’t always explain everything with words, she’ll do so through painting.
Each work attempts to convey what she has experienced—things she doesn’t always dare to, or doesn’t have time to, say out loud.

Today, Héctor works with airbrushing and tattooing. His process begins with searching for references that “say something”: images that seem to tell a story on their own. He then edits them to highlight light and contrast, prepares stencils, and gets to work. Before painting, he goes out to observe nature, puts on his headphones, and tunes out the noise. He listens to everything: rap, cumbia, salsa, banda, reggaeton. What matters isn’t the genre, but entering a state of concentration where only the piece and the color exist.

When he finishes a painting, he doesn't always hand it over right away. He might spend a week or two looking at it every day, making sure that the work "speaks to him" and that what he intended to convey is what others will see.

Héctor is the father of three young people—aged nearly 20, 18, and 17—and part of his creative drive stems from them. He wants to leave his mark on them: not just works hanging on the walls, but knowledge, techniques, and an example of discipline. His eldest daughter already tattoos and also works in the studio; he dreams that one of them will continue down the artistic path. He firmly believes that true death comes when we are forgotten, which is why he repeats that his goal is “to leave something here”—a visual memory that will outlive him.

His plans include expanding his work to include murals and collaborating with schools and public spaces. He knows that few people see a canvas inside a house, but a wall on the street can speak to an entire neighborhood. Through these images, he wants to show that Mexican culture is not just about color and folklore, but also about history, thought, and spirituality.

In every pre-Hispanic face, in every ornate skull, in every ancestral figure he paints, the question “Where do we come from?” takes on a visual form. And the answer, though complex, is clear: we come from a history worth remembering, honoring, and continuing to tell with our own hands.

Follow the artist on:

@ovejanegra.chino

@santisima_tinta