Manuel López

In a parking lot of a Citibank, on a hill that overlooks the rolling mountainous terrain of East Los Angeles looking north toward El Sereno, Manuel López starts talking about David Hockney. This is, in a way, a circular moment for López, as we have returned to the spot where lightning struck him after a two year rut and he began to draw with purpose once again. I wanted him to take me here because he had explained that, as a child, he would wait for his dad at this bank, overlooking this view, drawing on deposit account slips to pass the time. It was a carefree action, just a kid drawing with instinct and joy. Then, after López had returned from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, he was zapped of inspiration. Was he just supposed to make big paintings that didn’t quite speak to his inner passion? Was he going to be a teacher and mentor for other students trying to find his way? With a degree from one of the most prestigious art schools in America, there was something missing in his life. So he drove to this bank, and just started to draw what he saw in front of him: the memories, the wonder, the innocence. But also, the beauty of the neighborhood and the landscape he grew up in. And then, something clicked. 

The solo shows with Charlie James Gallery and the immersive site-specific installation at the Benton Museum of Art at Pomona College would come later, but this realization, over a decade ago, has propelled López into becoming one of the leading artists in the contemporary surge of Los Angeles-based painters. Drawing is the center of his practice, but his still lifes, landscape and urban paintings, and now his new evolution of deconstructing drawing, painting and memory into his new body of work have him excited, if not reflective of the years where he was stuck in a creative rut. This happens often with songwriters and writers, who often talk of an infamous “writer’s block” where inspiration feels distant. What was so important about revisiting this location with López (who still lives down the street in East L.A.) and the surrounding neighborhood where he would spend time with his family as a kid, is that he practices observation like a religion. He notices subtle shifts in the landscape, can see colors on the horizon, and thinks of the city almost like an anthropologist.