I was born and raised in the South Bronx during the 1970s, when it was “burning,” when people spoke abusively about the place. But my memories are rich and indelible—the sound of congas echoing off the project walls late into the summer evenings; the extravagant graffiti on subway cars, ever evolving, truly portable art galleries; the delicious scents of our “comidas creoles de Puerto Rico” in the hallways.  I loved the rich Puerto Rican and African American culture of my neighborhood; it brought excitement into my young imagination, and it influenced the way I paint today, giving me papyri of never-ending subject matter, filled with affection and storytelling, captured with an abundant use of light, darkness, and refracted colors.

Ernesto Camacho