Maricón, Marico, Mariconsón.

"Only those who can be, are Marica; not just those who want to be,"said Paco Vidarte in his book Marica Ethics. At 17 I was not a Marica, I was a teenager whom a close relative called Maricón. Then I grew up and I still couldn't be a Marica. I was a Marico, Pargo, Pato, Bitch and again Maricón.
   Years went by and I was a Pasiva, Sleepless Diva, Drama Queen, Mariconsón and Maricón again, but I still couldn't be a Marica. Over the years I have been all that and more, but the most painful insult came from a loved one, and that was Maricon.
  I kept growing. I drew, sewed, embroidered and painted triangles, words, insults, flags, rainbows, Malhembras, drag queens, drag kings, transsexuals, Pajaritas, Tigras Mariposas and the odd Maricón. And I read and traveled and discovered Lemebel, Arenas and Felix Gonzalez Torres. I moved and saw, with my own eyes, that In New York the Maricas kiss in the street.
   I decided to stay, not to return, to continue with my paintings and my flags. One day, on Grindr, a man named Felix wrote to me and I found a new form of love. Some time later we got married surrounded by friends, affection, my mother (who taught me to sew), and people dear to us – but not by the one who called me Maricón. Although almost twenty years have passed, the word, the insult, resonates every day with greater intensity, with a capital M of Maricón.
   When I was an art student, a dear teacher and now friend asked me if I wanted to be an LGBTI rights activist. I didn't know what to answer because fear paralyzes and also cuts my voice, it doesn't let you scream: I'm Maricón! Today I live in a country where I can and I want to be a Marica, Maricón, Marico, or Mariconsón.
I am going to be the queerest queer in the world I read once in a poem. And I went back to New York and, in front of Stonewall, we kissed and I saw other Maricas kissing, celebrating Marsha and Silvia and it didn't hurt so much when they called me Maricón.
    I do not think I am an activist nor do I know if my work contributes or will contribute something to this wonderful community full of Oddities. I only wish that no child be singled out or get called out for his possible or future sexual orientation, much less be called Maricón. That is why my insistence on the six stripes of Gilbert Baker, in the pink triangle mutated in Pajaritas, in the power of the word.
    Let Tamara be Tamara and not Tomás, let no more Zamudios die! Long live the feathers, the glitter, the sequins and the goldleaf! I will continue painting, embroidering, drawing and speaking for my difference. Screaming to the world: I am Maricón, Marico and Mariconsón!

José Rafael Perozo
Miami, August 14, 2019

Artist Statement.

First of all, it´s about leaving a mark of my existence: I was here. I was hungry. I was beaten. I was happy. I was sad. I fell in love.  I was afraid. I had hope. I had an idea and a good purpose and that´s why I made art.

Felix González Torres.

My work can balance between intimacy and “militancy”.  It´s very hard to isolate myself of what´s happening in the world or of my own emotions; the context in my work is a very important factor. I learned to sew through my mother. Coming from a humble family, sewing has been more than a technique; it has been a way of survival. Perhaps that´s why I hang to a thread, to the comings and goings of a sewing machine, to fabric: surviving. The same happens with drawing or painting, they are not mere techniques but the way my expressions run free. Even though words occupy an important place in my work, my true language only comes out when I sew, paint or draw.

I have always said that there are three things I could not choose in this life: being born in Maracaibo (Venezuela, 1982), being gay and being an artist. And this are the  three things that had marked my life, my work and my journey. “Some place better than this”, “No place better than this”. Like the work of Félix González Torres, I try the best I can to adapt myself to what comes my way. The last years in my country have been turbulent: family departing, exile, political crisis, economic and even identity crisis. Sometimes one finds himself in a place without knowing who or what one is, we make people up, we create masks… “Masks and self portraits for expressing drive and my surroundings”, it´s like that, my work is full of autobiographic references. Without much digging, the intimate and my experiences show clearly in my work—more than “works” they are my life´s work.

Sewing, drawing, painting, collages, poems, books, journeys, men, loves, failures, sex, vices, absence, solitude, freedom, fears, costumes, country and life. Identity and sexual orientation are two constants. The way I perceive and I am perceived by the world is very tied to my work. The homophobic insult is something I´ve had to deal with: strangers, family and even my country´s president have offended me because of my sexual preference. That makes it a recurrent subject in my work. I don’t pretend to do activism, is just my vision, my experience. These are my emotions, my relationship with the world.

José Rafael Perozo
Miami, 2014.