Nicholas Herrera, El Rito Santero
When I heard Nick Herrera was having a 40th retrospective exhibition at the Harwood Museum in Taos, I immediately thought about Celia's tamales.
Celia is Nick's mother and she would make tamales for Nick and I prior to her death. When I first met Nick in 1986, he took me in to introduce me to his mother and she immediately told Nick and I that she had a new batch of tamales and wanted to know if we wanted to sit down and have some for lunch.
Tamales were never the same after that.
I'd stop by the house and Celia would ask Nick and I, “Would you like some tamales?” and he and I would look at each other and our glances said, “I hope she made a big batch.”
In addition to Celia's tamales, I thought about Nick visiting our house across the street from Northern New Mexico College to see our two-day-old daughter Serena and his ongoing fascination with cars.
At that time he was also doing some carving, but mostly small animals and a few santos. The style at the time would be considered primitive.
He showed his work in our front yard on a table and I remember him coming in and telling me one woman said his work was ugly. I tried to explain to him that if he was going to show his work, there were going to be people who would like it and those that didn't, so the woman's comments didn't mean a whole lot in the overall scheme of things.
His father had recently died and Herrera was going through some tough times. He showed some early bultos and some small animal carvings.
He was volatile and troubled at the time, but you could tell he had a lot of potential if he could harness the energy and put it into a positive stream. He'd call me late at night and we'd talk about life in general.
The hard time morphed into drinking and fights and what I will refer to as “the accident.”
In 1990 Nick was involved in a serious car accident that changed his life. The accident put him in a coma, during which he saw a muerte (death figure) by his great-uncle José Inés Herrera at the end of a tunnel of light. He believes this image brought him out of the coma and that God intended for him to become a saint maker.
There were some pieces that Nick wanted to do because, “I had things that were burning up inside of me, like alcoholism and drugs and the whole death scene that I felt I experienced when I was in the hospital.”
He said of the death scene in the hospital, “I had the whole death scene with the Devil and naked women and the priest on one side and Saint Peter on the other,” ala Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch. “I'm just lucky there was an angel taking care of me and here I am.”
Nick received a New Mexico Governor's Arts Awarsd in 2016 and The Governor’s office press release said of Herrera,
Nicholas Herrera is one of the most important folk artists in the United States, who has pioneered a folk art form with his more personal interpretations of traditional bultos and retablos, using wood and recycled metal, including salvaged automobile parts.
“These artworks are edgy, comic, satirical and powerful,” said nominator Jack Parsons, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 2006. “He is a treasure for our community.”
“He chose a life of art,” said Carmella Padilla, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 2009 and Luis Tapia, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 1996, in a joint statement.
Herrera is an old soul with a modern outlook, Padilla and Tapia said.
“Even with widespread exposure and acclaim, he has stayed true to his artistic history and his home state, while staying true to himself.”
Herrera himself has said, “Sometimes, I feel like I should have been born in the 1800s. I’ve got this feeling of the old days in me, like I’m feeling my ancestors, like I want to live like they did.”
In an NPR 2016 story, Nicolasa Chavez, a curator at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe said, "Nicholas Herrera is a wonderful example of a traditional santero who also incorporates modern-day life into his work and expresses what's going on in the here and now."
Chavez said that Herrera belongs to a small group of contemporary santeros. "He will draw saints in modern-day clothing; he'll have them riding in a lowrider."
A timeline of sorts
In the early 1990s he then was accepted into the Spanish Market, even though a lot of people thought his work inappropriate. He concedes that connections and people he met along the way had a big influence in his career path and success. In terms of the Spanish Market, he says his acceptance was due to the influence of Roberta Brazo.
“Roberta Brazo was a friend of mine and had some strong connections to the Market. A lot of people said I wouldn't get in because my work was too different. It wasn't all traditional. But Roberta talked with some people and got me in,” Herrera explained. And now they want to do more contemporary pieces.”
So now he would fit in now more than he did back then.
“I was in the Market for eight years. I was showing more traditional pieces. I wasn't supposed to show my political pieces and such,” He explained.
More fortuitous connections followed.
“Then I saw a show of Luis Tapia's work. And Carmella Padilla. She's a writer and all of a sudden I had a show with Luis at the Folk Art Museum (in the '90s),” Herrera said. “Then I met up with Leslie Muth, and she was connected with Outsider Folk art all over the world. She took me to New York and Chicago and my work started going to Paris… it was like crazy man!”
Herrera says, “Encouragement and connections. I think a lot of those people wanted me to do 'something.' Like Big.”
But it’s not just encouragement and connections, an artist has to have talent and drive — an inner drive. If that drive isn’t there, then no amount of encouragement or any number of connections will make a go of a career.
“I think that comes from the way I grew up, from my mom and my dad,” Nick explained. “We all had a garden. Everybody worked, but we were used to it. My brother Pat taught me how to hunt and fish. (Back in the day it was, 'If you are going to do something, do it seriously. If you are going to get drunk, get drunk.” And he laughed ironically since drinking actually turned his life around via the horrible accident.
His first politically themed piece was “The 'Los Alamos Death Truck.”
“It was one of the first political pieces I did,” he said. “It wasn't WIPP, although it was that, too. But I was working up in Los Alamos and I saw a lot of shit going on. I saw one of those decorated Indonesian trucks and I thought I'd take that kind of idea and turn it into a radiation truck.”
Do you still do political pieces?
“I did one about police shootings a while back, about the neighbor's kid. That got some national attention. That piece went to a buyer in North Carolina,” he said.
“I feel I have to express myself with what's going on now. It's like a lot of the old santeros did what was going on in their lives,” Herrera said.
The Smithsonian piece
“There were pieces that I didn't think would be special and then all of a sudden one ends up in the Smithsonian,” Nick explained. “It was one of the craziest pieces I did, with Jesus in the back of the cop car,” Herrera says of the piece that eventually ended up in the Smithsonian. “There was a traveling exhibit with the folk art society of America and they put that in the exhibit. There were some museums that didn't want it. They said it was sacrilegious. They just didn't realize the idea behind it.”
The idea being that Jesus probably would be persecuted now, just as he was in his lifetime. The Smithsonian noticed it because of the negative publicity. This was one of many political themed pieces that Herrera became well-known for.
“I didn't think it was anything special. It was just something that I wanted to do and I did it,” Nick admired. ““When they put me there in that glass case, well, I’m there with Patroncello Barello and Jackson Pollack and Andy Warhol, and I’m thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”
Nick considers the Smithsonian piece important for another reason: that when people see the piece that is at the Smithsonian, it is something of an “open door” for him to do what he wants — which is good, because as you talk with him you realize that this is an artist who does, indeed, do what he wants and doesn’t worry too much about the consequences.
There is a history that Herrera has infused into the piece via the old implements.
“Imagine how much work they performed,” Herrera says in a reverential tone. “There was a lot of soul, and you can feel it in tools. When I see an old piece of machinery that is all worn out — you can feel the life in it. It's like an old car in an arroyo. When you bring it back to life, like that truck (the old delivery truck in the front yard) it's like, wow!”
Herrera travels between traditional and contemporary, almost seamlessly it seems. You ask about this.
“I think I've moved from traditional to something new. I can do a real traditional piece if I want,” Herrera said as he held up a three muerte figure piece. “Look at this. My great uncle, Jose Inez Herrera, he did some powerful pieces. He was a santero and did muertes, but this is new. They are scoping it out. I put some old, recycled tin on it. My uncle did the muerte, too, but he did a lot for personal reasons. Did you see the one hanging in the morada in Abiquiú? He used to have one there but it burned in the fire. So I replaced it with one of mine. This will be in the show. It's like they are coming out (looming toward you, as if to take you across the river) for people, but this one is doing a blessing. The idea came from all the people dying lately.”
This is actually carrying on the tradition like his great uncle, even if it is more contemporary — three figures of the apocalypse, they have a real haunting look to them.
“I never met my great uncle,” Nick said. “It was just stories I heard and from museums. The Denver Art Museum has one of his big pieces. The Colorado Museum has one, the Taylor, and their is one at the Folk Art Museum. He was my great grandfather's brother. They started the homestead up in Potrero.”
Celia is Nick's mother and she would make tamales for Nick and I prior to her death. When I first met Nick in 1986, he took me in to introduce me to his mother and she immediately told Nick and I that she had a new batch of tamales and wanted to know if we wanted to sit down and have some for lunch.
Tamales were never the same after that.
I'd stop by the house and Celia would ask Nick and I, “Would you like some tamales?” and he and I would look at each other and our glances said, “I hope she made a big batch.”
In addition to Celia's tamales, I thought about Nick visiting our house across the street from Northern New Mexico College to see our two-day-old daughter Serena and his ongoing fascination with cars.
At that time he was also doing some carving, but mostly small animals and a few santos. The style at the time would be considered primitive.
He showed his work in our front yard on a table and I remember him coming in and telling me one woman said his work was ugly. I tried to explain to him that if he was going to show his work, there were going to be people who would like it and those that didn't, so the woman's comments didn't mean a whole lot in the overall scheme of things.
His father had recently died and Herrera was going through some tough times. He showed some early bultos and some small animal carvings.
He was volatile and troubled at the time, but you could tell he had a lot of potential if he could harness the energy and put it into a positive stream. He'd call me late at night and we'd talk about life in general.
The hard time morphed into drinking and fights and what I will refer to as “the accident.”
In 1990 Nick was involved in a serious car accident that changed his life. The accident put him in a coma, during which he saw a muerte (death figure) by his great-uncle José Inés Herrera at the end of a tunnel of light. He believes this image brought him out of the coma and that God intended for him to become a saint maker.
There were some pieces that Nick wanted to do because, “I had things that were burning up inside of me, like alcoholism and drugs and the whole death scene that I felt I experienced when I was in the hospital.”
He said of the death scene in the hospital, “I had the whole death scene with the Devil and naked women and the priest on one side and Saint Peter on the other,” ala Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch. “I'm just lucky there was an angel taking care of me and here I am.”
Nick received a New Mexico Governor's Arts Awarsd in 2016 and The Governor’s office press release said of Herrera,
Nicholas Herrera is one of the most important folk artists in the United States, who has pioneered a folk art form with his more personal interpretations of traditional bultos and retablos, using wood and recycled metal, including salvaged automobile parts.
“These artworks are edgy, comic, satirical and powerful,” said nominator Jack Parsons, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 2006. “He is a treasure for our community.”
“He chose a life of art,” said Carmella Padilla, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 2009 and Luis Tapia, who received a Governor’s Arts Award in 1996, in a joint statement.
Herrera is an old soul with a modern outlook, Padilla and Tapia said.
“Even with widespread exposure and acclaim, he has stayed true to his artistic history and his home state, while staying true to himself.”
Herrera himself has said, “Sometimes, I feel like I should have been born in the 1800s. I’ve got this feeling of the old days in me, like I’m feeling my ancestors, like I want to live like they did.”
In an NPR 2016 story, Nicolasa Chavez, a curator at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe said, "Nicholas Herrera is a wonderful example of a traditional santero who also incorporates modern-day life into his work and expresses what's going on in the here and now."
Chavez said that Herrera belongs to a small group of contemporary santeros. "He will draw saints in modern-day clothing; he'll have them riding in a lowrider."
A timeline of sorts
In the early 1990s he then was accepted into the Spanish Market, even though a lot of people thought his work inappropriate. He concedes that connections and people he met along the way had a big influence in his career path and success. In terms of the Spanish Market, he says his acceptance was due to the influence of Roberta Brazo.
“Roberta Brazo was a friend of mine and had some strong connections to the Market. A lot of people said I wouldn't get in because my work was too different. It wasn't all traditional. But Roberta talked with some people and got me in,” Herrera explained. And now they want to do more contemporary pieces.”
So now he would fit in now more than he did back then.
“I was in the Market for eight years. I was showing more traditional pieces. I wasn't supposed to show my political pieces and such,” He explained.
More fortuitous connections followed.
“Then I saw a show of Luis Tapia's work. And Carmella Padilla. She's a writer and all of a sudden I had a show with Luis at the Folk Art Museum (in the '90s),” Herrera said. “Then I met up with Leslie Muth, and she was connected with Outsider Folk art all over the world. She took me to New York and Chicago and my work started going to Paris… it was like crazy man!”
Herrera says, “Encouragement and connections. I think a lot of those people wanted me to do 'something.' Like Big.”
But it’s not just encouragement and connections, an artist has to have talent and drive — an inner drive. If that drive isn’t there, then no amount of encouragement or any number of connections will make a go of a career.
“I think that comes from the way I grew up, from my mom and my dad,” Nick explained. “We all had a garden. Everybody worked, but we were used to it. My brother Pat taught me how to hunt and fish. (Back in the day it was, 'If you are going to do something, do it seriously. If you are going to get drunk, get drunk.” And he laughed ironically since drinking actually turned his life around via the horrible accident.
His first politically themed piece was “The 'Los Alamos Death Truck.”
“It was one of the first political pieces I did,” he said. “It wasn't WIPP, although it was that, too. But I was working up in Los Alamos and I saw a lot of shit going on. I saw one of those decorated Indonesian trucks and I thought I'd take that kind of idea and turn it into a radiation truck.”
Do you still do political pieces?
“I did one about police shootings a while back, about the neighbor's kid. That got some national attention. That piece went to a buyer in North Carolina,” he said.
“I feel I have to express myself with what's going on now. It's like a lot of the old santeros did what was going on in their lives,” Herrera said.
The Smithsonian piece
“There were pieces that I didn't think would be special and then all of a sudden one ends up in the Smithsonian,” Nick explained. “It was one of the craziest pieces I did, with Jesus in the back of the cop car,” Herrera says of the piece that eventually ended up in the Smithsonian. “There was a traveling exhibit with the folk art society of America and they put that in the exhibit. There were some museums that didn't want it. They said it was sacrilegious. They just didn't realize the idea behind it.”
The idea being that Jesus probably would be persecuted now, just as he was in his lifetime. The Smithsonian noticed it because of the negative publicity. This was one of many political themed pieces that Herrera became well-known for.
“I didn't think it was anything special. It was just something that I wanted to do and I did it,” Nick admired. ““When they put me there in that glass case, well, I’m there with Patroncello Barello and Jackson Pollack and Andy Warhol, and I’m thinking, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”
Nick considers the Smithsonian piece important for another reason: that when people see the piece that is at the Smithsonian, it is something of an “open door” for him to do what he wants — which is good, because as you talk with him you realize that this is an artist who does, indeed, do what he wants and doesn’t worry too much about the consequences.
There is a history that Herrera has infused into the piece via the old implements.
“Imagine how much work they performed,” Herrera says in a reverential tone. “There was a lot of soul, and you can feel it in tools. When I see an old piece of machinery that is all worn out — you can feel the life in it. It's like an old car in an arroyo. When you bring it back to life, like that truck (the old delivery truck in the front yard) it's like, wow!”
Herrera travels between traditional and contemporary, almost seamlessly it seems. You ask about this.
“I think I've moved from traditional to something new. I can do a real traditional piece if I want,” Herrera said as he held up a three muerte figure piece. “Look at this. My great uncle, Jose Inez Herrera, he did some powerful pieces. He was a santero and did muertes, but this is new. They are scoping it out. I put some old, recycled tin on it. My uncle did the muerte, too, but he did a lot for personal reasons. Did you see the one hanging in the morada in Abiquiú? He used to have one there but it burned in the fire. So I replaced it with one of mine. This will be in the show. It's like they are coming out (looming toward you, as if to take you across the river) for people, but this one is doing a blessing. The idea came from all the people dying lately.”
This is actually carrying on the tradition like his great uncle, even if it is more contemporary — three figures of the apocalypse, they have a real haunting look to them.
“I never met my great uncle,” Nick said. “It was just stories I heard and from museums. The Denver Art Museum has one of his big pieces. The Colorado Museum has one, the Taylor, and their is one at the Folk Art Museum. He was my great grandfather's brother. They started the homestead up in Potrero.”
Back to his mother
There is an interesting story Nick tells of his mother’s burial shrine erected next to the courtyard at his home. It reflects his philosophy — unofficial if you will — of going his own way and doing his own thing. This is reflected in his artwork and also the way he lives his life.
“She deserved a good place and she wanted to be by me,” Herrera says as he stands outside her shrine/mausoleum. “I was back in the courtyard. She had a brain tumor and they told her that she only had a year left. We sat on the rock steps and I asked her what she wanted to do. She got her cane and she pointed, 'I want you to bury me right there.' 'And you make me a chapel of Saint Anthony.' So that's what I did. She's buried there. I grabbed a shovel and started digging and she said, 'I'm not dead yet, asshole!' We joked until the end. There was a big connection between me and my mom.”
I asked Nick if there was some state or county prohibition to burying someone on your own property.
“They told me I wasn't supposed to,” he explained. “Some guy from the county told me one day that I wasn't supposed to bury her there. I was like, ‘Well, you guys can come and get her out if you want.'” And he laughed.
Tey Marianna Nunn, director and chief curator at the National Hispanic Cultural Center’s Art Museum and Visual Arts Program, called Herrera “a trailblazing artist whose works are informed by the Traditional Colonial Santero practice of New Mexico, yet he has developed a style all his own – a style that while rooted in the past, directly addresses contemporary cultural issues.”
Nicole Dial-Kay, Harwood Curator of Exhibitions and Collections, collaborated closely with the artist to curate Nicholas Herrera: El Rito Santero. The two have been planning the exhibition since 2021 when Herrera’s work was shown as part of Harwood’s Santo Lowride: Norteño Car Culture and the Santos Tradition exhibition.
Herrera's work is in the lineage of the broader tradition of santeros or devotional art,” says Dial-Kay. “This art form has deep roots in Hispanic culture and has evolved over centuries, blending Indigenous artistic techniques with European religious iconography. Herrera's contemporary take on santero art infuses this sacred tradition with modern perspectives and personal narratives while remaining grounded in the spiritual heritage of his ancestors. Herrera's exploration of mestizo identity, cultural heritage, and socio-political themes aligns closely with the ethos of the Chicano art movement, highlighting the resilience and creativity of Hispano/Latinx communities in the face of adversity.”
One of the refreshing things about Nick is he doesn't resort to “Artist Speak.” He is himself and pretty much lets his work speak for itself. When you talk with him you are speaking with a real person, not someone sounding like a New York art critic or a gallery press release. This honesty might make some people a bit uneasy, but it is the way he is and as he grows older, he has mellowed, probably because he has accepted himself.
“I think the older you get you realize you are who you are. Like now, people can say negative things about my work and I won't react poorly, it's not like when I was younger,” Herrera mused.
As I got ready to leave on my recent visit, Nick left me with a final thought, ““Some people say I’m an outsider artist.” Nick said. “Some people say I’m a folk artists. Some say I’m a santero. I’m just an artist.
“I like doing stuff that nobody's done,” he continued. “That's my thing. The main thing for me is I want these kids to know that they can be whatever they want if they have talent and drive.”
Essentials
What: Nicholas Herrera: El Rito Santero Exhibition Surveys Herrera’s Art of Identity, Place, Devotion, and Politics in Artist’s First Solo Exhibition
Where: Harwood Museum, Taos, in the Museums’s Peter and Madeleine Martin and Hispanic Traditions galleries.
When: From September 21, 2024 through June 1, 2025
Info:
There is an interesting story Nick tells of his mother’s burial shrine erected next to the courtyard at his home. It reflects his philosophy — unofficial if you will — of going his own way and doing his own thing. This is reflected in his artwork and also the way he lives his life.
“She deserved a good place and she wanted to be by me,” Herrera says as he stands outside her shrine/mausoleum. “I was back in the courtyard. She had a brain tumor and they told her that she only had a year left. We sat on the rock steps and I asked her what she wanted to do. She got her cane and she pointed, 'I want you to bury me right there.' 'And you make me a chapel of Saint Anthony.' So that's what I did. She's buried there. I grabbed a shovel and started digging and she said, 'I'm not dead yet, asshole!' We joked until the end. There was a big connection between me and my mom.”
I asked Nick if there was some state or county prohibition to burying someone on your own property.
“They told me I wasn't supposed to,” he explained. “Some guy from the county told me one day that I wasn't supposed to bury her there. I was like, ‘Well, you guys can come and get her out if you want.'” And he laughed.
Tey Marianna Nunn, director and chief curator at the National Hispanic Cultural Center’s Art Museum and Visual Arts Program, called Herrera “a trailblazing artist whose works are informed by the Traditional Colonial Santero practice of New Mexico, yet he has developed a style all his own – a style that while rooted in the past, directly addresses contemporary cultural issues.”
Nicole Dial-Kay, Harwood Curator of Exhibitions and Collections, collaborated closely with the artist to curate Nicholas Herrera: El Rito Santero. The two have been planning the exhibition since 2021 when Herrera’s work was shown as part of Harwood’s Santo Lowride: Norteño Car Culture and the Santos Tradition exhibition.
Herrera's work is in the lineage of the broader tradition of santeros or devotional art,” says Dial-Kay. “This art form has deep roots in Hispanic culture and has evolved over centuries, blending Indigenous artistic techniques with European religious iconography. Herrera's contemporary take on santero art infuses this sacred tradition with modern perspectives and personal narratives while remaining grounded in the spiritual heritage of his ancestors. Herrera's exploration of mestizo identity, cultural heritage, and socio-political themes aligns closely with the ethos of the Chicano art movement, highlighting the resilience and creativity of Hispano/Latinx communities in the face of adversity.”
One of the refreshing things about Nick is he doesn't resort to “Artist Speak.” He is himself and pretty much lets his work speak for itself. When you talk with him you are speaking with a real person, not someone sounding like a New York art critic or a gallery press release. This honesty might make some people a bit uneasy, but it is the way he is and as he grows older, he has mellowed, probably because he has accepted himself.
“I think the older you get you realize you are who you are. Like now, people can say negative things about my work and I won't react poorly, it's not like when I was younger,” Herrera mused.
As I got ready to leave on my recent visit, Nick left me with a final thought, ““Some people say I’m an outsider artist.” Nick said. “Some people say I’m a folk artists. Some say I’m a santero. I’m just an artist.
“I like doing stuff that nobody's done,” he continued. “That's my thing. The main thing for me is I want these kids to know that they can be whatever they want if they have talent and drive.”
Essentials
What: Nicholas Herrera: El Rito Santero Exhibition Surveys Herrera’s Art of Identity, Place, Devotion, and Politics in Artist’s First Solo Exhibition
Where: Harwood Museum, Taos, in the Museums’s Peter and Madeleine Martin and Hispanic Traditions galleries.
When: From September 21, 2024 through June 1, 2025
Info: