Star Montana @starmontanaphoto - Tumblr Blog

MFA Year one Completed today. ❤️

I am so proud, happy, and like way so many other emotions that The LA Times published my interview with Carolina Miranda and my exhibition I Dream of Los Angeles as the Cover Story for the Sunday edition of the Arts and Books Section. I bought so many copies today and the one person I wish I could give it to show off to was my Grandma. My grandma worked as a clerk in the Dtla Veterans methdone clinic and many summers I volunteered with her helping give slips to vets, a lot of those vets were homeless in downtown and they always encouraged me to read, go to school, and dream. They had told me many stories about their dreams while they waited endless hours for their counselors and caseworkers. I remember when they saw I drew and loved art they would encourage me to read the la times and go to library even though they got chased away from a lot of those buildings. I just think if she was still around how she would take the paper tomorrow and show them that the little girl they saw every summer and encouraged made "it" and never forgot how they taught me how to rethink how to see the world and the forgotten people of Los Angeles from a very young age and gave me a humanity I carry with me. Thank you. And thanks to everyone who helps me make this work every day since day one. (at The Main Museum)

Image:Flash back to my first show. Yesterday I did my walk through for my Show I Dream of Los Angeles and today when I woke up Facebook reminded me a year ago I did my walk through my first solo museum exhibition Tear Drops and Three Dots @vpam_arts. I don't know why but that hit me really hard in the soul. Like I I am super proud of myself for achieving these two shows in a year span and that is super big deal because I would never say that openly but I am. Because I know what I go through on a day to day struggle to maintain my existence as an Artist and an openly Poor woman of Color Artist that has an immaculate education and will continue to get more educated so she won't be held back by white supremacy🖕🏽🖕🏽and the patriarchy 🖕🏽🖕🏽. Like two weeks ago before my walk through I was back at the welfare office on Friday afternoon going through the metal detector and waiting for my caseworker because they almost messed up my Medi-cal and that would fuck up my mental health journey because I take psych meds for my ptsd and depression. Those days are fucking rough. So a year ago was amazing. Yesterday was amazing and an honor to tell the stories of the people I was able to photograph for I dream of Los Angeles. So I am celebrate with with making rest and making my own ice coffee and humble brag post ❤ (at Vincent Price Art Museum)

Install day is here! I am felling all kind of emotions but the emotion I can speak on the most of gratitude. Gratitude for every person who allowed me to photograph them for the last 4 years starting with Mayra. She was the jump for this new direction in my work and style even though I photographed Felipe first. I will always have a special love for this portrait and not many people know this but this image hangs above bed. And gratitude for the museum and the amazing museum staff for getting me and the show to opening day! I cannot wait for you all the see this show (at The Main Museum)

I dream of Los Angeles, I just photographed this beautiful young woman as the final person for this part of the project. I have dreamed of this image for years. (at Boyle Heights, Los Angeles)

Autumn Rain, February 2017. (Looking to photograph new people read info) Creating new work for my residency throughout Los Angeles. Looking for people of color (with specific interest in the east side and south side). DM or email me at [email protected]

Frankie, East Los Angeles, 2013.

Marina, 2014.

Adrian, 2014. Rockaway's Beach, New York.

Wishing on a Star November 19, 1987. I always think of my Mama and her dreams and aspirations for me around this time. 29 years ago I started to terrorize my mom via 20 hours of contractions and labor. My mama was thee Princess and she could not believe this baby in her would not let her lie comfortably, eat, and made her constantly vomit and mess up her make up throughout her 20 hours of labor. She told me how she rub her belly throughout the labor and say "STAR, stop it, your driving your mama, CRAZY! You need to come out now! And I refused. ( the precursor to our relationship having a strong minded self determined, stubborn daughter) A nurse finally got frustrated with my mom and hearing her say the name Star, so much. And said "how do you even know the baby is a girl." The baby might be a boy! My mom rubbed her belly and said "Oh, no! This baby is my Star, when I was a little girl I would pray to god to send me one of his stars from the sky, and I always knew my first baby would be my Star, because I prayed for her so much" My mom said she looked at the nurse and said You'll see, my star will come." I would always ask my mom did you really believe that? She would say oh yes, I knew you were in me from the minute I got my first morning sickness and I knew you were my Star. And she carried me through heroin detox, a quick parole violation sting in prison, an immigrant drug dealing father who left and could never be found, again by the time she got out of prison at 8 months pregnant. I would be puzzled as I got older "like damn, mom I don't know if I would have had that baby, things didn't seem the best for you at the time" She would shake her head and give me annoyed eyes, with all seriousness tell me "No I had a choice. I could have had an abortion,I had that option. But I chose you because I knew you were my Star. You were born to be a Star! I would roll my eyes and be like MOM, cause if you knew my mom. You knew she was sentimental and emotional, and I was like way too punk for that. But on days like today, the day before my birthday, I think of her and thank her for leaving me with happy memories of my existence. (at Boyle Heights, Los Angeles)

Minjares Family (1931-1956) My altar to my grandmother, her siblings and their parents. The first Minjares to embark on a journey to their American Dream from El Paso Texas to Boyle Heights. They were so hopeful on their journey and along the way they lost so much. We all lost so much it's often the most painful to do this type of art work. I procrastinate, I cry, i get extremely frustrated, and then I just do it. I pushed myself beyond my discomfort and came back to finish the piece in time for Dia De Los Muertos tomorrow! I wish they could all see how proud I am to be a Minjares. (at Self Help Graphics & Art)

All my Soto's installing my Minjares installation. (at Self Help Graphics & Art)

Friday Family Photo Class. Turning the tables on me. ❤️Love is transformational.

Self Portrait (in a segregated Mexican-American Cemetery) . Mexican-American. Xicana, LatinX, Boyle heights native via El Paso TX, via a border that cross us through land wars. I had heard of this cemetery when I first came to Marfa, but on this trip me and my love came and experience it. I don't even have the words to articulate the pain I feel towards why the living feel such a need to segregate the dead. Our bodies will decompose to nothingness, yet this town and the white supremacy that had reigned and still reigns through their sheriff felt the need and terrors that did not even want the same worms to share corpses. It's the grotesque but real. What angered me the most from the walk through the cemetery was the barbed wired fence that keeps the two cemeteries segregated in moderns times. The barbed wired fence is for the living and is punishment if we dare try to cross through segregated lines. I loved my time in Marfa, the Mexican-Americans and the young people were so nice to me but I also knew to be a more subdue me because it's still Texas as my dad says because he was born and raised there in the times before the civil rights movement (at Marfa, Texas)

Grandma Paula, 2014. Though my Grandma is alive, I have not talk to her in a year. The last words she whispered to me before the phone was taken by her “keeper” at a hospital somewhere in central California was “Forgive me for what I have done to you.” I do forgive her, even when my brain condemns her for denying too many family secrets. I love my Grandma, I am an artist because of her. I am a photographer because of her. She was the family photographer and she taught me to embrace my weirdness. When my mom wanted a Princess, my Grandma allowed me to secretly be a Weirdo. She told me I was smart and men were evil. Don’t be anyones Fool. She told me she was a fool one too many times because she was ugly, but yet all her daughters and granddaughter get called Beautiful and we look just like her. My Grandma is the only person in my family that understands my pain, no matter what the others say they still have mothers. She lost her Mother at 16 years old suddenly and I think her brain never really ever grew or recovered from that loss. She just accepted life was meant to be hard. I could go on and on about my grandma, but I miss her and I forgive her. Even though she didn't understand why I would want to photograph “such an ugly old lady” she sat there allowed me to photograph her raw, unmasked, in Condemning light. I am free thanks to the imprisoned women in my family telling me to reach for more than they knew.

Michael, South Central. 2015 Los Angeles, I Dream of... (Preview: New body of Work.)

Chuca, 2015 Barrio Boogie, Boyle Heights. #scannedfilm #boyleheights #barrioboogie (at Mariachi Plaza)

#boyleheights #barrioboogie #scannedfilm

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