A Line that Birds Cannot See: Building Community Across the Border

“The border is a line that birds cannot see.
The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half.
The border is where flint first met steel, starting a century of fires.
The border is a belt that is too tight, holding things up but making it hard to breathe.
The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend.
The border is the blood clot in the river’s vein.
The border says stop to the wind, but the wind speaks another language, and keeps going.”
– an excerpt from Alberto Ríos’ The Border: A Double Sonnet

I am not from the border and have, admittedly, few experiences in border towns or navigating borders. Through visits to El Paso, I have spoken with many artists and arts professionals who know intimately the realities of the U.S.-Mexico border. The border is many things. It is simultaneously an invisible line with no definitive meaning and, through politics and policy, a firm boundary separating people, places, and cultures that have historically been linked. 

Last month, I spent a long weekend in El Paso. My plan was to see the Judithe Hernández retrospective on view at the El Paso Museum of Art and catch up with the local arts community, because it had been over a year since my previous visit. I dedicated one day to spend in Ciudad Juárez because, like various aspects of the region’s cultures, the arts community flows seamlessly between the two cities. Artists and arts professionals traverse both spaces and work together to support each other. Jess Tolbert, Associate Professor of Art & Head of the Jewelry + Metals Program at the University of Texas at El Paso (UTEP), was generous enough to travel with me across the border, where we toured three emerging community-focused art spaces.

San Luis Contemporáneo

Less than a mile away from the Paso Del Norte bridge, one of three international bridges managed by the City of El Paso, artist and professor in UTEP’s Chicano Studies, Languages, and Linguistics Department Haydee Alonso, her brother Aaron, and her husband Miguel Vargas Gallardo, who is a photographer and architect, transformed the second floor of a three-story family-owned building into an experimental art space.

Alonso’s grandfather purchased the space in the 1940s, but the brick building with an iconic airplane sculpture at its corner entrance, has been a staple in the community since 1884. Over the years, the space has had various identities. Originally a hotel, it later became a bar, a pharmacy, and now, the ground floor is home to a money exchange business, with part of the property used as a restaurant. Added to the edifice in the late-1930s, the replica of Charles Lindbergh’s The Spirit of St. Louis is often used as a landmark for wayfinding.

Since it opened nearly a year and a half ago, San Luis Contemporáneo has hosted a slew of local and regional artists. While generally the venue hosts art exhibitions, they also present workshops and host other creative events, like a recent fashion show. In August 2024, Tolbert exhibited her contemporary jewelry pieces in the space. For the solo exhibition, Turno (Shift), Tolbert displayed her delicate pieces in front of the large windows and hanging from pieces of scaffolding. Alonso noted that artists responding to the unique architectural aspects of the venue is what makes it truly special. The tall windows flood the main rooms with natural light, exposed brick walls reveal the history of the building, and smaller spaces have been built out to present video work.

Alonso reiterated, “Each artist, creative, or presenter, they transform the space into what they want. The first year, we were saying ‘yes’ to everything because we just wanted to activate the space. This year, we are being a little more intentional.”

To date, the gallery hasn’t had an official call for proposals; rather, it works more fluidly with artists interested in showing in the space. Alonso shared, “I think local artists just need a space to experiment. As an artist, I feel like sometimes institutions don’t let you have a solo show unless you have a trajectory, but how do you start getting that? This is a space for that.”

In many ways, the gallery has been a community effort. Though Alonso’s brother is no longer actively involved in the space, he emboldened and supported the artist to take the first steps to open the gallery. Each artist who exhibits at San Luis does so as part of an exchange. Alonso describes it as a “mutual support model,” in which artists are not charged a fee to exhibit, but donate small items that help sustain the space, like pedestals, curtains, and movable walls.

As the space is looking to grow, building out a small room on the third floor into a residency, Alonso and Gallardo are in the process of applying for grants. Funding would help the gallery to undertake some repair work, offer stipends or salaries to those working in the space (all of whom currently volunteer their time), and support programming costs such as artist honorariums.

Most recently, San Luis Contemporaneo debuted Raíces y Colores, an exhibition featuring local artists Daniella Lozano and Esmirna Corder. The show celebrates community, migration, and cultural memory.

Beyond providing a platform for artists and creatives, the gallery is interested in building networks across the country. Earlier this month, Alonso and Gallardo participated in NODOS: Cd. Nezahualcóyotl | Desierto de sal, a national gathering organized by Patronato de Arte Contemporáneo. The event brought together artists, collectives, and cultural workers to reflect on memory, territory, and collaborative art practices. Alonso recounted, “The experience has been deeply inspiring and aligned with our mission of creating intentional, cross-regional dialogue in the arts.”

Edificio de los Sueños

Less than half a mile away Plaza Cervantina, a longstanding cultural hub, has been undergoing revitalization, including the development of Edificio de los Sueños. The adobe and brick building in the northeast corner of the plaza was originally constructed in the 1940s. Though the plaza was a lively cultural center in the 1970s, for nearly 20 years, it was mostly abandoned. In 2019, Rosas Heimpel and García Moreno, with a group of friends, came together to purchase the building and bring a new vision to fruition. The organization’s website sums up the thinking behind the project, noting, “Where some people see ruins, others dream of spaces for self-management, creativity, and solidarity.”

Though the building was in a state of disrepair, the group was undeterred. They began with simple clean-up efforts, removing the trash and remnants from the space, and each contributed money for necessary renovations. Azul Arena, a nearby gallery run by Edgar Picazo Merino, also collaborated with Edificio de los Sueños to fundraise through art sales. In 2023, the organization received a major grant from the Mellon Foundation’s Humanities in Place program, which allowed for a dramatic overhaul of the space. They have also received the foundation’s Frontera Culture Fund Grant, which supports programming costs and general overhead. Additional funding has come from the state of Chihuahua.

Programming and events — like workshops, talks, and community meetings — have been ongoing since 2019, throughout the remodeling process. To keep people safe and work around construction, the collective would host programs outdoors or on a floor that was free of debris. 

When I toured the space, it had come a long way from a previously dilapidated building. The third floor, a future residency space, had been outfitted with a kitchenette, bathroom, and a wall that lowers, covering the stairwell to provide a sense of privacy for future residents. The basement, which is used as a warehouse, is home to Bicis pa la Banda, where people can donate bike parts that are then used to assemble new bicycles. Community members can come and pick up a bicycle for a reasonable cost and can use it as needed or return it when they are done. The ground floor, which was previously a neighborhood convenience shop, functions as a community meeting space. It is here that meals are shared, conversations are had, and ideation takes place. The second floor is a co-working space, where workshops and exhibitions are held.

Recently, Edificio de los Sueños presented Raíces de Miquiztli (Roots of Miquiztli), an exhibition featuring works by Paloma Villaseñor, curated by Diana Ginez. Collaborating artists for the exhibition included Miguel Ángel Moreno, José Galindez, Rocio Palafox, Nohemi Salas, Netzahualcoyotl Rodríguez, Jaime Landa, and Vicente Chavez. Saturday, April 12, the space is hosting a record sale/swap for music and vinyl lovers to gather and share. 

Azul Arena

About a half mile further east is Azul Arena, a nonprofit gallery and project space founded by Edgar Picazo, who serves as the Creative Director. Anaid Fornelli is the organization’s Community Engagement Director. The project was first launched in 2019 as a print publication focused on local art criticism. From 2020 to 2023, the organization refocused its efforts to produce multidisciplinary art projects, collaborating with regional, national, and international artists and organizations. In April 2023, the physical space opened.

Azul Arena hosts three to four exhibitions each year, featuring local artists, as well as an array of programs, including talks and workshops. Last fall, the organization was among the awardees of the Mellon Foundation’s Frontera Culture Fund. At the time, Picazo noted the historic underfunding of arts in the region and that the grant would provide the opportunity for the organization to set a strong foundation to support the local creative community.

When I visited the space, it was the closing day for Sedimento: Variaciones de materia y memoria, a solo exhibition of works by ceramicist Israel Gómez Mares, curated by Tolbert. Last year, leading up to the show, Tolbert made several studio visits with the artist. She noted that all of the work, over 100 pieces, in the show was created between June and November 2024. The works speak to the landscape of the region. Many incorporate sand from the Samalayuca dunes, and the entry wall is lined with a layer of sand that undulates like a terrain. 

The show features six bodies of work, including Los muertitos, small figures arranged on a low wood table, like souls drifting in the River Styx; Paisaje de arena, an abstract landscape made up of wall-mounted suns, moons, clouds, and animal forms; Demonios falsos, large humanoid figures; Samalayuca, cielo nocturno; handcrafted lamps arranged in a darkened room to create the sense of a night sky; and Perdido y encontrado (Fósil), a section centered on a pistol the artist found at one of the sites where he sources clay. Tolbert explained that the animal forms set on pedestals are a part of an ongoing series, in which the creatures represent various places. With this in mind, she began to think of the gallery like a map, which helped guide her curatorial vision.

Gómez Mares isn’t just a ceramicist who displays his work. In his workshop/studio, he creates functional pieces and leads classes to share his knowledge of the craft. Similarly, Azul Arena isn’t just a gallery. It serves as an incubator for local artists and arts professionals. 

While Picazo, Alonso, Tolbert, and I sat around on folding chairs in the main gallery, Olga Guerra, a paper artist and her assistants were making paper in the back area of the space and Alonso Robles and Octavio Castrejón, the founders and curators of another local project Un Dique, were officing upstairs. Camila Abbud, a cultural organizer and arts writer, was also in the space and provided some helpful translations (and insight) throughout our conversations. 

In Closing: The border is a belt that is too tight

Over the last century, border policies have been in flux at the whims of politicians — sometimes the belt is tight, attempting to restrict movement, and other times it is looser, allowing for the easy flow of breath. In the early 1900s, when my ancestors crossed, the border was more open. The 1920s through the 1960s saw the implementation of racist quotas, which prioritized some immigrants over others. From the 1960s to the 1990s, the national-origins quota system was abolished, a pathway to citizenship was created for some undocumented immigrants, and other laws were reformed, increasing access to “the American dream.” In more recent years, the belt has tightened, and we have seen politicians across parties enact large numbers of deportations and engage in inhuman treatment of people seeking a better life.

As we move forward in this new era of a Republican-led U.S., which in the last four months has already seen ramifications of executive orders affecting all aspects of life, including migration, it is easy to imagine that border policies will continue to get more restrictive. Despite this, San Luis Contemporáneo, Edificio de los Sueños, and Azul Arena are beacons in a dark time. They seek to build bridges, not walls; to support communities on both sides of that invisible line; and to amplify the voices of community-minded creatives and artists.