THE NIGHT PAINTER: Conversations with Juan Castañeda

According to his birth certificate, Arnulfo Castañeda was born in 1942 in the city of Aguascalientes. At some uncertain point afterward, he became known as Juan Castañeda, a result of the nickname he received in childhood, which became his identity forever. Today, at least in the artistic circles of Aguascalientes, when someone says "Juan," it is clear who they are referring to. Few people know that Castañeda's parents named him Arnulfo, and even if they did, no one would call him that—he is simply Juan, one of the most common names in the Spanish language. The ordinary part of him is in his name, not in his work, for he possesses two qualities that, in this fast-paced era, make him extraordinary: conversation and sharing.

If we consider the figures in national culture who have transformed art and its understanding within their localities, Juan Castañeda is one of the key figures in Mexican art, at least for two reasons. First, as the director of the Aguascalientes Center for Visual Arts, he successfully disseminated the traditions of Mexican visual arts among his students and encouraged dialogue with contemporary art. Second, he ensured that contemporary art in Aguascalientes had a space for its realization. In short, Castañeda revitalized a way of making the present felt by an artistic community deeply tied to its past. If there are similar figures in every region of the country, one could say that in this many-headed entity, Castañeda is one of the 32 heads that propelled contemporary Mexican art forward. If someone shares my opinion, they will know that the proof lies not in the fruits—the works we see today—but in the roots, which are the ideas or, as Castañeda likes to call them, provocations.

The intention here has been to explore the different stages of Juan Castañeda’s career as an artist and cultural promoter, though much more of the latter than the former. All of this can be read in chronological order in the following chapters. However, I would like to briefly outline what can be found in each. In the first chapter, Castañeda makes it clear that the heart of his life is in his eyes—or rather, in his sight. Lacking a precise term to describe this, one might call him a seer.

The second chapter presents Castañeda at his most enthusiastic. Though he does not explicitly say it, he suggests it: he is in love with La Esmeralda and with what his time at that institution meant—meeting his teacher Messeguer; the artist Elva Garma, who would later become his wife; many of his friends; and, above all, the art that he would have otherwise found difficult to encounter in Aguascalientes.

The third conversation spans from his graduation from La Esmeralda to the invitation he received in 1977 from Víctor Sandoval, through Hilda Campillo, to direct the Center for Visual Arts (CAV). La Esmeralda produced a group of graduates known as "nocturnal painters." I say "produced" because, strictly speaking, La Esmeralda did not grant official degrees recognized by the Secretariat of Public Education at the bachelor's level. That would only come in 1984. Thus, for La Esmeralda, Castañeda was a nocturnal painter who eventually became a daytime professor, replicating what Messeguer did with his students: sharing cultural knowledge, critiquing art, staying informed about the artistic present, and encouraging visits to galleries and museums.

On a journey, the destination is a decision; the origin, an accident. Yet the opposite is equally true: the destination is an accident; the origin, a decision. In any case, between origin and destination lies a path shaped by both impostors—chance. Chance dictated that Juan Castañeda would return to Aguascalientes in 1977 to lead a new project by the author of Fraguas: the Center for Visual Arts (CAV).