In an industrial part of town somewhere in Los Angeles, Vincent Valdez shows me around his studio one morning. We come into a world of imagery that seems as though it’s been bestowed upon him so that he could pour them out from his soul. We walk through his worldbuilding practice where the questions of lineage, mass media, pop culture, and political unrest in a fragile American ecosystem are interrogated, refuting our position as causal or passive viewers but as people answering these questions. We are worldbuilders alongside him.

Valdez takes on his varying modes and styles of making as pathways to tying a collective struggle we piece together in his work. He fills the gap in an exploration of lineage–how policy and praxis funnel into his experience of everyday life and the lives of his community. "El Gente de la Sol"(2018) is a meditation on the will and beauty of age, honoring Valdez’ grandparents. The intricacies in their hands and faces are stories of resilience, of resistance, of a commitment to the legacy of their families. Valdez is conveying so much more than a romanticized or overly aestheticized experience of his culture and lineage–his grandparents are weaved into the narrative of his life’s work in his exploration of American exceptionalism, the American Dream, the throes of power. Where Chicano artists are subjugated to co-optation and tokenism, Valdez subverts the expectation to feed this machine. His grandparents in this form are the collective struggle of families everywhere who invest into the promised fruit of the American dream, often underpinned by the nature of the system which strives to suppress them. We see it in their faces. They are our elders, but they are the future of our liberation in our reflections and strategies. His form warps the line between reality and the plane of creation, often surreal while maintaining elements of reality to engage critical reflection. They are mirrors to the rawest parts of ourselves.

Valdez shows me more pieces in the exhibition, and I’m captivated by the poetry and political undertones present in each piece, even his more personal ones. He shows me "So Long, Mary Ann" (2019), an old friend of his posing in bare form, weathered by the world. Across his body is the narrative of his life. Valdez tells me more about the man and we both sit in silence, moved by the gentleness in his eyes. We talk about prison abolition and how we build community, and our shared language on these issues demonstrate to me how much deeper the larger theme of Valdez’ work penetrates the American collective consciousness than either of us might understand. Valdez is not aiming to make work only personal to him, but work that is personal to all of us–how do we address these larger structural issues of power that subjugate the varying types of “American” each day? To take on this Americanness, who do we decide is extended the title of American? Who makes the decision on who an American is? Are we Americans?

Valdez’ revelations are clear–he doesn’t do the work for us or point fingers, but instead he draws parallels to demonstrate these two very different sectors of American life. There is an underside, for which the proliferation of liberation, the production of culture, and the raw scenes of life in action are taking place, the side we all hope or choose to live in. And yet, it often feels as though it cannot exist without the collocation of opposition, the thick protectionism of bureaucracy and exceptionalism that define American life, or at least its goals. In a nation founded on slavery and dispossession, how do we situate our conformity? "It Was a Very Good Year (Nineteen Eighty Seven)" (2024)  is a two-part experience, larger-than-life panels examining the balancing act of American life. Oliver North raises his arm in oath in the Iran-Contra Affair, high in the ranks and primed for power, a liaison of corruption and backdoor deals at the global, imperial scale. Opposite him, Michael Jordan coddles a ball in the air, a Black entertainer of the masses, basketball prophet of American excellence. He champions the demand of the American people to be entertained, but his duty to his country is a creative extension of subjugation in the history of the United States. As he soars through the air, we catch him in a moment taking oath to this complicated legacy.

At the time of my visit, a common thread in his series of many large works is their statuses as works in progress. As Valdez makes finishing touches to the works, they’re a perfect metaphor for progress in the United States. This is the primary aim of empire, a beautified and sterilized version of progress. And yet, in his works, a truth about this empire is revealed to us. Vincent Valdez makes the work I think will be in museums long after he is gone, works that will live in history books. He is a contemporary leader in the American art canon, fundamental to dissecting the nuances of American life. This exhibition makes sense of his body of work in a larger context of American history, generating new ideas in a post-2024 election world. They are crucial to view in person and for each one of us to digest in their large forms, to think, to be critical. They’re compelling and dreamlike. This survey of his life’s work explores modalities of power in the United States that are best conveyed visually, that our collective individualism must be ripped open to reveal a shift in the practice of American life, that radical change can happen. They are often heavy and dark, but these works are filled with hope–that we cannot turn away in the face of harm, but instead be truthful about complicity and the defining traits of American life.

Just a Dream… is on view at Contemporary Arts Museum Houston in collaboration with Massachusetts MoCA from November 15th, 2024 until March 23rd, 2025. 

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