Evelyn López de Guzmán in Her Own Words
As told to Arlene Dávila
Evelyn López de Guzmán. Photo by Arlene Dávila.
In the 1980s and 1990s, Evelyn López de Guzmán became one of the first women to show at Cayman Gallery and one of the only Latina artists to show at NOHO Gallery. Once active in New York City art circles, she left NYC to focus on caretaking for her family. Now, not enough people know about her work and history.
Born in 1947 in New York, the Puerto Rican artist rose to prominence with her abstract paintings. With her famous The Scarab (1975)—which features her signature saturated colors, geometric shapes, and playfully shaped canvases—converted into a print, her work reached audiences far and wide. But despite her still making work from her studio in West Virginia, where she now lives on her own after her husband’s passing, she doesn’t have the same name recognition she once had.
To learn more about where this inventive artist is now in her practice, I ventured to her home to discuss her use of textiles, the significance of color in her work, and the trajectory of her career. Here’s what she had to say in her own words.
When I first started exhibiting, a critic in one of the newspapers attributed my use of color to being a “hot Latina.” I don’t necessarily agree with this but yes, I come from a culture filled with colors and movement, so I guess it is in my genes.
I use color and textiles to express myself, and my colors are very vibrant and pulsating. When I paint, my forms, shapes, and colors must interact with each other or challenge each other. The viewer’s eyes must be challenged to look around the entire surface—to be pulled into the canvas and to feel the energy and to force you to conjure some memory or emotion.
Color is a language of its own. It’s about movement and evoking feelings. I don’t think that color should just sit on a canvas. It has to be constantly working. But I think because of my use of vibrant colors, folks tend to cite my Hispanic heritage as my inspiration, mostly because of my last name “López.”
“We didn’t live in a Hispanic community, so no one ever identified us as being Latino or Puerto Rican. But I was raised to know that we were Puerto Rican and to be proud of it. ”
We didn’t live in a Hispanic community, so no one ever identified us as being Latino or Puerto Rican. But I was raised to know that we were Puerto Rican and to be proud of it. When I was a kid, somebody called me a “spic,” and I didn’t know what that meant but knew it sounded bad. I went to my father and said, “Pop, I was just told I was a spic. What does that mean?” And he got very angry and told me what it was. He said, “If somebody ever says that to you, answer back, ‘And I’m a proud spic.’” He explained it was a derogatory term that we shouldn’t use.
He taught us to always be proud of where our ancestors came from. I’ve tried to live up to that—whether it be language or the way we celebrate our holidays.
At Hunter College in the 1970s, though, there was no one to exchange any ethnic or background ideas. I don’t recall any Latinas in my graduate art classes. But I was surrounded by many abstract instructors like Helen Frankenthaler, Ralph Humphrey, Robert Longo, Robert Huot, Robert Motherwell to name a few. They provided me with freedom to explore the use of shapes and forms and color. We were encouraged to work out our inner selves.
My graduate advisor was Ray Parker. It was a challenging environment due to Ray’s personal challenges that would at times affect his creativity and student leadership. Ray was an Abstract Expressionist Color field painter. He encouraged me to be free with the use of colors and free forms. One had to be very careful because we were being “advised” by very established artists who were challenged by the creativity of their students, and they were often copying our work. A fellow graduate student warned me to cover my work when I would leave the studios because one of the instructors was copying my work—an uncommon, painful situation.
Works by Evelyn López de Guzmán. Photo by Arlene Dávila.
But I think I grew a great deal during those years. Women were breaking into the abstract scene then, but it was still a “macho” scene. In my last year of graduate school, I was recognized by my artist professors and given solo graduate school shows, where I was fortunate to meet Frank Stella. He had been invited by one of my instructors to come see my work. He was very encouraging.
I was more prolific in the 1980s and 1990s. I was being approached by many to show and with no responsibilities other than my outside employment, all my free time was given over to painting in my studio in Brooklyn and to explore things that conjured mental images.
I joined the art co-op known as NOHO in Manhattan. I spent several years with them, and I began to be better exposed. I was recognized by Latin art organizers like Jack Agüeros and had my work shown in multiple shows around NYC and New Jersey.
Jack Agueros had seen my work, and he asked if I would consider showing in this new beautiful gallery and in SoHo. I said it was a privilege.
Domingo García was the first to exhibit at Cayman Gallery. Domingo was a real macho man, and he was upset that I was going to exhibit after him because he had all this following internationally and everything. And who was I? And I was a woman showing after him. He gets to see my work, and I guess he was impressed because we became good friends.
That gallery was fantastic and enormous. I don't know how, but they got ABC News to come in and cover my opening. And it wasn't just a blurb. It was like real coverage. I was interviewed on air. I promoted the gallery as well as my work. I became the “first Hispanic woman” or the “first woman” to show in SoHo. The new art mecca. I was a Hispanic first!
During this time, I was presented with several opportunities to further advance my art career under the famous feminist Louise Bourgeois. Later, Jack Agüeros asked me to assume the curatorship of Cayman Gallery, which later became the Museo del Barrio. Jack had lots of faith in me, but in this case, I encouraged him to give the position to his promising assistant, Luis Cancel. I was helping to support my family and afraid to give up my government-salary position.
All these were not the greatest decisions to make.
My family responsibilities grew during that time. My husband was offered an important position in Washington, D.C., that would be helpful to us both, and we decided to move to Virginia. I was old-school Latina and raised to believe that the family came first. It was not a regrettable time, but nevertheless, it was a very tough time because my art was still part of my life that was put on hold.
Through my husband’s new connections, I was able to have several shows in the D.C. metro area. So for a period, I was making some headway here in the D.C. area, but NYC was unaware of it.
“So for a period, I was making some headway here in the D.C. area, but NYC was unaware of it. ”
But life deals us a deck of cards to work with. I continued to work in a very demanding position, requiring long hours. And then family responsibilities compounded themselves, with the need to care for my elderly parents, a grandson, and later a very elderly mother-in-law.
My husband, who was my biggest promoter, felt very guilty that I was pulled away from my art due to our move from NYC and family and financial responsibilities. He was always pushing me to paint or produce prints. But every time I thought “I'm washing my hands of my art,” people came out of nowhere to ask for it. It’s a calling. I just feel that I have a responsibility because God gave me that gift. I was aware of it since I was a child, drawing pictures of clowns for my school principal when I was in kindergarten and continuing throughout my youth.
I would have aspired to be a sculptor, but I didn’t have the time to venture into this area. Instead, I work with textures. I love to apply some type of texture to my work. Whether using stones, sand, yarn, rocks, or mother of pearl pieces, I get great satisfaction seeing and feeling the materials in my hands while I'm applying them on the canvas.
I love giving my work a sense of three-dimensionality. I love using all sorts of textiles and modeling paste because it gives the canvas depth and movement. I combine the shape of my canvases and these materials to force the eye of the viewer to explore and follow motion or to evoke a feeling or emotion.
I begin by looking at the shape of the canvas I am using. I put down a light line drawing that I enhance by using thin masking tape as someone would a pencil. The design does not have to be preplanned. It can be developed spontaneously by blocking areas. Then my inner eye takes over dictating the materials and colors used.
Evelyn López de Guzmán. Photo by Arlene Dávila.
The painting selected for The Latinx Project’s show is part of a triptych. All three are circular but each features a different use of brush strokes, colors, textiles, and modeling paste. I enjoy using circular canvases because they pose a challenge. The canvas shape itself challenges you as to what you put on it. The forms must flow and integrate with each other or challenge each other with how they show on the surface.
I prefer not to give my paintings names because my aim is to have the viewer find their own meaning to what they are seeing. I also don’t sign most of my work on the surface but on the back of the canvas so as not to interfere with how the owner/viewer wishes to hang the piece.
I tell my buyers they are welcome to hang my work as they wish or how they feel at that time. Most of my paintings will visually change and create a different image and emotion as they are moved around.
Evelyn López de Guzmán’s work will be on view at RicanVisions: Global Ancestralities and Embodied Futures exhibition. Learn more here.