🔥 Unusual Vintage Modern Mexican Folk Outsider Art Painting RALFKA GONZALEZ \'94 For Sale

This is a fascinating andUnusual Vintage Modern Mexican Folk Outsider Art Painting on Metal, by renowned San Francisco Mexican - American Chicano Outsider artist and LGBTQ+ Activist, Ralfka Gonzalez (b. 1958.) This artwork depicts the striking portrait of a fantastical creature, with a scorpion\'s body and watermelon head, bearing the face of a mustached man in profile. The subject and style of this piece is reminiscent of Argentinean artist, Diego Perotta (b. 1973.) The central character of this painting is set against a background of taxicab yellow hue, and commands attention from across the room. This piece is imbued with Mexican folklore and mysticism and reflects the culture and family history of the artist. Signed and dated: \"Ralfka \'94\" in the lower left corner. Approximately 28 5/8 x 35 inches. Good condition for age and use, with some moderate denting, creases, scuffing, edge wear and scratching to the thin painted metal surface (please see photos.) This painting was originally on the wall of a Bay Area restaurant which closed in the early 2000\'s. Ralfka had designed the imagery on the menus and gifted his original artworks as decor to display along the walls of this eatery. Acquired from a collection in the Bay Area of Northern California. Priced to Sell. If you like what you see, I encourage you to make an Offer. Please check out my other listings for more wonderful and unique artworks!
About the Artist:
Ralfka Gonzalez- Author, Illustrator

is a self-taught artist whose work creates an important bridge between folk art tradition and contemporary art. Born in San Antonio, Texas, he now lives in San Francisco, California.

Ralfka GonzalezAna Ruiz is a self-taught painter, writer and sculptor. She has also designed theater sets and organized art workshops for young people. Born in Barcelona, Spain, she now lives in San Francisco, California. Ralfka Gonzalez is a self-taught artist whose work creates an important bridge between folk art tradition and contemporary art. Born in San Antonio, Texas, he now lives in San Francisco, California.

Self-taught Chicano artistRalfka Gonzalezwas born in San Antonio, Texas in 1958 and now lives and works in Oakland, California. Gonzalez is also well known in Philadelphia, where he spent several years in the 1980s and 1990s, participating in exhibitions at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Arthur Ross Gallery, Taller Puertorriqueno, Indigo arts Gallery,Nexus Gallery, Afro-American Museum and The Painted Bride among other places. His mural,El Gran Conjunto del Fin del Mundocan be seen at the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia. Gonzalez has also worked for several periods in Chicago and in Oaxaca, Mexico. In September, 2011 A Seed on Diamond Gallery and Casa de Duende in Philadelphia presented a retrospective of Ralfka\'s work,Idiots, Icons & Idols: That Was Then, this Is Now.

Gonzalez’s work has also been exhibited at galleries and museums in Philadelphia, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Chicago, New York, and Oaxaca, Mexico. He co-wrote and illustrated the award-winning children’s book,My First Book of Proverbs/ Mi Primer Libro de Dichos, published by Childrens Book Press in 1995. Among his other diverse projects have been the interiors for restaurants in San Francisco and Chicago, graphics for a new label of Mexican mescal, postcard and notecard designs, and the cover art for Sandra Cisneros’ bookLoose Women(Random House, 1994). His work was featured in Raw Vision magazine in 1994.

Esoteric AmericasA SOLO EXHIBITION OF WORK BY RALFKA VALENTIN GONZALEZ @ DVAA EXHIBITION RUNS: OCTOBER 31 - NOVEMBER 18, 2020

ABOUT THE EXHIBITION:

Esoteric Americas is a solo exhibition byRalfka Valentin Gonzalez. Steeped deeply into Mexican indigenous culture, folklore, music, religion and mythology, Ralfka Gonzalez gets his inspiration from the world around him. This collection of paintings, Esoteric Americas, draws from the rich spiritual history of Philadelphia and Mexico, and from the occult readings of Theosophy, P.T. Barnum, and circuses to illustrate the chaos of the present moment. The vibrant, humorous, and political paintings use the mystical and magical narratives of indiginous Mexican culture to respond to contemporary life. Through the Chicano experience, Gonzalez comments on pop culture, value, and tradition with bright colors, mythological creatures, and compelling narrative. Gonzalez created this body of work after moving from Oaxaca to Mexico City, when he felt called to paint the magical powers of indigenous cultures throughout the world.

ABOUT THE ARTIST:

Self-taught Chicano artist Ralfka Gonzalez was born in San Antonio, Texas in 1958. Gonzalez is also well known in Philadelphia, where he spent several years in the 1980s and 1990s, participating in exhibitions at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Arthur Ross Gallery, Taller Puertorriqueno, Indigo arts Gallery, Nexus Gallery, Afro-American Museum and The Painted Bride among other places. His mural, El Gran Conjunto del Fin del Mundo can be seen at the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia. Gonzalez has also worked for several periods in Chicago and in Oaxaca, Mexico. In September, 2011 A Seed on Diamond Gallery and Casa de Duende in Philadelphia presented a retrospective of Ralfka\'s work, Idiots, Icons & Idols: That Was Then, This Is Now.

Gonzalez’s work has also been exhibited at galleries and museums in Philadelphia, San Francisco, Los Angeles, San Antonio, Chicago, New York, and Oaxaca, Mexico. He co-wrote and illustrated the award-winning children’s book, My First Book of Proverbs/ Mi Primer Libro de Dichos, published by Childrens Book Press in 1995. Among his other diverse projects have been the interiors for restaurants in San Francisco and Chicago, graphics for a new label of Mexican mescal, postcard and notecard designs, and the cover art for Sandra Cisneros’ book Loose Women (Random House, 1994). His work was featured in Raw Vision magazine in 1994.

Ralfka Gonzalez returns to PhiladelphiaTwo days before tonight’s opening, folk artist/gay activist Ralfka Gonzalez was sitting in the middle of A Seed on Diamondslipping final touches on to a painting. He was a little apologetic of as he reinterpreted the virgin’s traditional gold fleur de lis into runic gestures.Like Ralfka, the show is exuberant. It has two titles. No kidding. I hardly know which one to use. There’s Idiots, Icons & Idols: Ralfka Gonzalez; and then there’s Ralfka Gonzalez: That was then, this is now. Either way, the colors, the little devils, snakes and holy virgins–all burst from the canvases, sometimes with phrases thrown in. Good news. There’s a raffle on opening night. Throw in a small investment and you may get something bigger back if one of those little devils gives you some luck! The opening is tonight (Sat., Sept. 10, 6-10pm).Gonzalez, a San Antonio native, used to live in Philadelphia–he “followed love here”–and while here the self-taught artist was in a number of exhibits, including at PAFA, Nexus and the African American History Museum. The Pennsylvania Convention Center sports one of his murals, El Gran Conjunto del Fin del Mundo, and Indigo Galleryhas been carrying his work for 30 years, he said. A project with Taller Puertorriqueño and Pew sent him to the Mission Cultural Center in San Francisco, and he left Philadelphia behind for good. From there it was just a short jump south to Oaxaca–because someone told him his art work looked pretty Oaxacan!We talked a little about his life, the well-springs of his painting, and the culture he has adopted as his own in Oaxaca, where he spends half the year. A cheerful person, every once in a while tears spring to his eyes as he remembers his own brush with death, and the people he has lost. The discussion is more of a conversation than an interview, with Ralfka circling back over and over to the things that he cares about and worries about most.

He said an NEA grant in ’89 allowed him to spend the summer in Oaxaca, and since then he has cycled to San Francisco, Oaxaca and back again. In San Francisco, he shares a tiny studio, but in Oaxaca, his studio is spacious.

“I have a really good gallery there, La Mano Magica” (website not working).

Can you tell me about the imagery in your work, like the cute little devils?
“They are fools and jesters–our own folly and a celebration of life. They are testers, to make you stronger. In mexico they do devil dances–on Nov. 1. …The snakes with virgins are good over ego, discipline over what you can’t control.”

Later he said, “I designed the first sexually explicit safe-sex poster in Oaxaca–explicit with the little devils in it.”

Is your family background Mexican?
“Yes, I am totally Mexican. My family is from Northern Mexico.” In San Antonio, his father worked for United Fruit. “They called him the banana king.” Banana logos also show up in Ralfka’s paintings.

“I have HIV now. Like Tina Turner I got away and left all my stuff.” And within five months, I had full-blown AIDS. Sept. 10 is the day I learned I had it. I saw Nina Simone the night I found out, and I just cried the whole concert.” That was 10 years ago, the day before the planes flew into the World Trade Center.

After Sept. 11, people started leaving notes on his painted car, notes like “art heals,” from people who didn’t know anything about him or what he was going through. “I didn’t realize the power of what goes through me–that art had a lot of power. Painting is like a prayer.

“I kept painting on my car. The doctor said I would live! …I felt so blessed, going from full blown AIDS to HIV. I realized my self-taught imagery had an impact.”

The World Trade Center had particular meaning for him. Before all this happened to him, he used to go to the top there “to make affirmations–about having a children\'s book,which happened; about showing my art work more, which happened.”

When did you start painting?
“I started painting when my mother died. I painted on bed sheets with house paint. I had the house to myself. Within a few months, my father had a major heart attack. I was depressed in San Antonio.”

The first thing he painted was what he calls The Ba Man, a winged angel, that appears over and over in his paintings. But he first got the name from the punk-rock band Ba Syndicate. He himself was a punk rocker. Later he discovered Ba was the soul in Egyptian mythology. While he feels he is someone who has been called to paint because that is his destiny, he also comes from a family craft tradition.

“It’s not academic. It’s something I have to do. It was clear to me. I was close to death, and seeing how strangers responded to those colors…”

Why are you raffling off a painting?
“It’s very expensive to put on an art show. This can of paint cost $11. I’m on disability. I spend a lot of money on art supplies. When I am putting on an art show, I spend a lot more money than I make. They (Seed of Diamond) flew me here, they paid for the shipping. I want to pay them back.”

How has being ill affected your life?
“Being ill is like a filter. My hair is like a filter. Since 2001 I’ve grown my hair out. People make assumptions based on [my HIV and how my hair looks]. A guy I worked with in catering…, he had Tourettes. He said to me, ‘I love my Tourettes. If anybody gives me shit about my Tourettes, I know I don’t have to deal with them. It’s a filter from those who are prejudiced.’ That’s how I feel about my hair; that’s how I feel about my AIDS.

“I lost so many people to AIDS. I’ve lost 40 friends, three or four really close friends, in San Antonio [where they assumed that AIDS was just in San Francisco or in New York, and so they didn’t take precautions]. That was my Vietnam War.

“In Oaxaca every family has to have a drag queen. They are the shamans. If there’s a feminine boy, he starts getting raised as a girl and taught Oaxacan witchcraft. I want to be a tour guide there.”

But he doesn’t want people to look on the drag queens ormuxes, which came out of the indiginous culture there, as freaks or side shows. “I could let people know they can…survive.”

Artist Ralfka Gonzalez returns to Philadelphia
(8/18/2011) Self-taught Chicano artist Ralfka Gonzalez, known for his depictions of Mexican dichos or proverbs, was born in San Antonio, Texas, in 1958 and now lives and works in Oakland, Calif.He previously lived and worked as an artist in Philadelphia and Chicago, and has spent much of the past quarter-century in Oaxaca, Mexico. While in Philadelphia in the 1980s and ’90s, Gonzalez participated in exhibitions at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Arthur Ross Gallery, Taller Puertorriqueño, Nexus Gallery, Afro-American Museum and The Painted Bride, among others. His mural “El Gran Conjunto del Fin del Mundo” is on permanent exhibit at the Pennsylvania Convention Center in Philadelphia.

Gonzalez is opening a new show Sept. 10 at the Seed on Diamond Gallery in Philadelphia. Jerry Macdonald interviewed him about his work, HIV, his love of Mexico and what brings him back to Philadelphia after all these years.

JM:“Idiots, Icons And Idols: Ralfka Gonzalez: That was then, this is now.” What has changed in your art since the last time you worked in Philadelphia, and why return now?RG:I feel that my style of art has not changed that much. What is different is that, back then, I had a very romantic native view of Mexico. Like a lot Chicano artists, I was painting about things that I really didn’t really know about just because it’s Mexican. When I met people who were not Latino that spoke better Spanish than me, they taught me about Oaxaca and things about mama Mexico. I began to understand the difference between folks that have the “Corazon de Latino” [Latin at heart], and the ones that are looking for Mexican Disneyland. Now if I paint something, I make sure that I know the stories/history/herstory behind what it is. I’m no longer the tourist; I can say I’m part Oaxacan now.

JM:A lot of your paintings are illustrations of Mexican dichos or proverbs. In fact, you co-wrote and illustrated with Ana Ruiz “My First Book of Proverbs,” which won a number of awards. What is it that originally drew you to these dichos, and are you still painting dichos?

RG:The first time I traveled to Mexico alone, I noticed how Mexicans had a saying for anything and everything. I started to recall the proverbs my mama would tell me. I began to look at art that illustrated proverbs. I do hide some messages in my work. In Oaxaca the women wear dresses or ribbons in their hair in a way that the other people know things like, single, looking 4 work, someone is dying, someone just gave birth, just by the colors they wear or how they are dressed that day. The women in markets have the best dichos: bread with love is better than chicken with grief! So, yes, I do still draw or paint proverbs, they just might not be written out somewhere in the art.

JM:A huge part of your work and your life revolves around Oaxaca. How did you become so involved with that particular place?RG:My family would go to Mexico about three times year. I remember being 15 years old and crossing the border reading Carlos Castaneda where he talks of white owl witches flying over the Zocoxoco. An art curator told me that my work looks somewhat like the art down there … I got a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, at the right time as my 10-year relationship was dumping me for a 17-year-old genius waiter. So I packed my bags for Oaxaca, Mexico. Many moons later, there is still a family of white owls that lives in the bell towers of the church near the center of Oaxaca. They fly over your head, and you can dream that they really are magic witches that can fly in the night.

JM:Part of your upcoming exhibit will display photographs that you have taken over the years at drag balls in Oaxaca. How did that come about?RG:They have a story about why there are so many queers in Oaxaca. The mangod put all the queens in bag and tells a saint, ‘These people have special powers to be able to heal, and bring good luck … you are to put one here and one there.’ So the saint flew off and circles the world three times dropping queens, bisexuals, trans folk, lesbians … when he flew over Juchtan, Oaxaca, all the queers fell out! And that’s why there are so many gay people in Oaxaca. And it’s true, in this indigenous culture, it’s not only OK to be gay, every family needs to have a gay person or the family is off balance, or even has bad luck. So much so that the family can be shunned. The queen is made to take care of her parents as they get old … It’s OK if the gay son is living with them and his lover. To make a long story short, some of the queens began to tell me about and invite me to the parties. The first few, I just thought it was a gay party … through tourist eyes. Later, I found out that queens would walk the streets with banners of St. Sebastian. Then they would go to the church for mass. At the end, the queens would come to the altar and the priest would light the velas [candles]. As long as those candles burned, that was how long the fiesta would go on. There is a gay bar that opened in 1953 as a men’s bi/gay/trans bar, and it was probably queer even before that. This is what I love about Oaxaca.

JM:Let’s talk about HIV. You have been poz for some years now and this obviously is an important part of your life. How has it had an impact on your work?RG:To get my HIV meds, I have to do things or not do things so that I can still be eligible for them. When I make money, I can get cut off. It’s insane. Art supplies, art shows, traveling to [shows and] shipping art takes a lot of cash, and I don’t have any these days. So for me, I want to do work that is healing for me, and perhaps it gives that back to the viewer. I feel that now, I don’t take time for granted, yet I will plan some artwork and wait till I have the studio space or the right materials for the project. I’m saying that I’m more aware … if I got a good idea, I’m going to use the best that I can, before I begin to do it, whether I find something on the street to recycle or some super paint I need to buy. On the other hand, when you are so sick with AIDS and you think you are going to die, and on top of that you are having your midlife crisis, you roll with the punches.

JM:Can you talk about HIV themes in your art?RG:I did do the first erotic gay safe-sex poster in Mexico! It came out about 1995. Up until I got HIV, the work did not have that much reference to AIDS, only maybe a few Day of the Dead works. When I got very sick, that changed. I put a lot of what I feel about having HIV in my work. Not all of that is about my feelings being lonely, pissed off, sad, rejected, scared or that nagging survivor’s guilt from getting it so late after losing so many pals … 30 years! So many books, songs, artworks, discoveries lost to young people with AIDS. It was my war. It still is. What I do get from AIDS is peace, courage, responsibility, living one day at a time, inspiration from nature, renewal of the body, mind, soul, the love of others and my love for the world we live in, no matter how crazy it is.

JM:Speaking of crazy, a lot of your paintings have a life is crazy/life is gay theme about them.RG:The Dutch have a proverb: Just be normal, life is crazy enough. They also say: Just be crazy, life is normal enough. As a gay Latino, my life is about being crazy enough to be out, to be smart about my choices and to not be normal. We have enough gay people that act and want to be like straight people. We need to stand up to bullies, not just for the normal-looking, and acting, but especially for the ones that don’t fit in, the ones that don’t feel loved, the freaks, the “little monsters,” as Lady Gaga calls them. Bad or good, crazy keeps the world on its toes!

JM:So, has HIV closed off avenues or options for you?RG:Yes. The sad thing is even now it’s very hard how some people will react when I say I have HIV. The most painful is my Christian sister — I don’t know what happened to her! I visited her when I was coming back from Mexico. She said to me, “I don’t feel comfortable with my family using the bathroom after you, or breathing the same air as you, or washing the dishes you use.” I was so pissed. I have not talked to her since 2002. When you get very sick, you know who your real pals and family are. It’s very easy to get sad and isolated, and not make new friends or queer family; this endless AIDS phobia makes it hard not to feel like damaged goods. It does make me be grateful for being alive, but mostly it’s a cross to carry that wish I could burn!

JM:Has HIV opened up avenues for you artistically? Have you had opportunities or seen the world differently due to your HIV?RG:When I was very sick, the young buck doctor said that I might have AIDS or cancer or both. That night I cried so hard and watched Nina Simone at this art-deco theater in Oakland. A few days later, it was take the pills or write your will. I had this truck that I began to paint. It looked like a Mexican sugar bowl — you know: the flowery, hand-painted gourds you buy at the folk-art galleries. The truck was named Eye Too Hell Ah Gay — Eye2 for short. Then on Monday, Sept. 10, 2001, I went to the doctor. My T-cells were over 100. The meds were working! I was going to be HIV-poz and not have AIDS any more. The next day me and my best pal planned to go camping up in redwoods wine country. I woke up and went to the grocery store. It was mad. People were crying and running around! I asked why are people acting so odd? With a tear in his eye, the clerk said jets are crashing into buildings; I rushed back to turn on the news. After about three hours of this, we got in the truck and went camping. Then it hit us: People were crying and waving at us. For weeks, people would hug me as I got back to my truck, telling me that my art heals them! I even got a magnet with the Twin Towers from a fireman that had just come back from Ground Zero, saying my truck made his day, and that’s what freedom is about. I never told any of them that I was healing with this art too; it is the most powerful gift that AIDS has given me. I loved that the truck, putting smiles on people’s faces. To make a long story short, the car went poof, and I did not have the cash to fix it, so I left it beside the road. I sang part of Lulu’s song “To Sir With Love” as I walked away: “How do you thank someone, that has taken you from crayons to perfume …” I’d love to have a car of my own to paint again one day.

The opening reception for “Idiots, Icons & Idols: Ralfka Gonzalez: That was then, this is now” is at 6 p.m. Sept. 10 at Seed on Diamond Gallery, 124 W. Diamond St.

My First Book of Proverbs / Mi primer libro de dichos

By Ralfka Gonzalez, Ana Ruiz
Illustrated by Ralfka Gonzalez, Ana Ruiz

2002

In this playful collection of popular Mexicandichos, or proverbs, artists Ralfka Gonzalez and Ana Ruiz bring to life their most favorite sayings—recorded in their travels throughout Mexico and the United States. Filled with wisdom and optimism, thesedichosare a joyous celebration of life and culture; reminding us to \"pig out while you have the chance;\" that \"after the rain comes the sun;\" and to \"sing every day and chase the mean blues away.\"

Ralfka and Ana\'s exuberant illustrations vividly capture the mood and essence of eachdicho. With stunning color and folk art flavor, their paintings draw us into a whimsical world where bumble bees play bongo drums and roosters sing all day. Sandra Cisneros provided the introduction to this joyous collection.

Matter of TimeJournal Archives, Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts Museum Archives, ReviewsJune 30, 1988AUTHORJudith Stein
Ralfka Gonzalez, a folk artist who moved to Philadelphia from southern Texas five years ago, developed his contribution, Armageddon Times, from readings on religious concepts of the end of time. Already familiar with the visual traditions of Mexican popular art, he researched medieval scenes of the Apocalypse and pre-Columbian codices and wall paintings. Gonzalez’s cardboard and plywood installation depicts such eschatological images as the seven trumpet-playing angels described in the Book of Revelation, the Aztec dog traditionally depicted at Hell’s doorway, and a multitude of energetic skeletons. He also includes newspaper references to catastrophic current events such as famines, earthquakes, and Star Wars. Other elements of his imagery include the biblical seven virtues and vices, the archangel battling a seven-headed dragon, and two snakes configured into the numeral eight, alluding to the current year and to double infinity.Gonzalez, who has been painting for eight years, has never before worked on such an ambitious scale. For him, the collaborative process “influenced my life and the way I interpreted the subject. This was also true for Alan Powell and Connie Coleman, who have been working as a team for ten years. Their project, Gone Swimming, took shape in direct response to the ideas and energy of their collaborators, particularly Gonzalez and the Waisnis brothers. Electing to create a “playful, summer video,” they designed Gone Swimming as a floor piece that would easily co-exist with the neighboring wall components of Matter of Time.Artists portray the Dance of the 41

A gay Mexican artist celebrates the Dance of the 41 in the painting at the top of this post: “El Baile de los 41” by Felix d’Eon. “I painted a scene from the party, in which the men enjoy a beautiful evening, of happiness, friendship, and love, before their lives are ruined forever, at the ‘Dance of the 41,’” he explains. Based in Mexico City, D’Eon describes himself as a “latinx painter and activist dedicated to the art of queer love, romance, and sensuality,” Prints of this and his other art are available at Art of Felix d’Eon Etsy shop.

The vivid reports of the Dance of the 41 included a famous series of caricatures by popular Mexican artist Jose Guadalupe Posada. One of his satirical images is revitalized in a colorful painted drawing by Ralfka Gonzalez. He is a self-taught Chicano artist and gay Latino activist who divides his time between Oaxaca, Mexico and San Francisco. Gonzalez often paints Mexican and/or gay themes in a folk-art style. Some of the dancers wave rainbow fans in his “Los 41 Homosexuals de Mexico.” He intends to turn it into a limited-edition print to raise funds for queer causes.

The mocking images also stand in contrast to the LGBT Stations of the Cross by Mary Button, whose paintings connect police raids of queer bars with the suffering of Jesus. The raid on the Dance of the 41 is an example of police harassment that happened in many countries and continues in some.

Mexico’s 41 queer dancers were condemned as sinners, but they are included in the LGBTQ Saints series because their arrest and humiliation has contributed to LGBTQ visibility and pride. They represent the courage of all who were punished because of the queer ways that they lived and loved.

Mexico City became the first Latin American jurisdiction to legalize same-sex marriage in 2009 — before the U.S. Supreme Court legalized marriage equality. The law took effect on March 4, 2010.

A non-profit organization called “Honor 41\"honors and celebrates Latinx LGBTQ individuals who are role models. Their English-languagevideo on the Dance of the 41 gives an accessible overview of the history.