Overview:
Arlette Lucero, a local artist and teacher, speaks with us about her career and how her "Chicanismo" manifests in her work and life.
Growing up in Lakewood, Arlette Lucero was often one of the only Chicana girls in her school and church. For years, she blended in with her peers—sharing the same songs, games and dreams—until one summer program at Escuela Tlatelolco changed everything. Immersed in the Chicano Movement, surrounded by poetry, teatro, music and history, Lucero found a cultural identity that would forever shape her artistic voice.
That awakening carried into the classroom. When she returned to school, Lucero chose to read Corky Gonzales’s “Yo Soy JoaquĂn” aloud to her classmates, delivering the fiery verses in both Spanish and English. It was a moment of defiance from the girl once known for her quietness, and an early glimpse of the bold Chicanismo that would come to define her art.
Over the decades, Lucero has become one of Denver’s most respected Chicana artists, educators and curators. Her paintings draw on deep symbolic traditions, often portraying women as goddesses and weaving together ancestral, spiritual and cultural elements. Trees, butterflies and other natural forms mingle with Chicano icons, reflecting both her sense of rootedness in Colorado and her lifelong curiosity about heritage and history.
Her impact reaches beyond the canvas. As a longtime teacher and mentor, Lucero has guided countless young artists through programs at schools, galleries and nonprofits. In this week’s 5 Questions, Lucero reflects on the experiences that shaped her identity, the symbols that recur in her work and the importance of building spaces where culture and community can thrive.
How did your experiences growing up as one of the few Chicana girls in primarily white communities influence your artistic identity—especially in creating works like “Unapologetic Chicana”?
I grew up in Lakewood, Colorado, and went to a mostly white school and a mostly white church. Therefore, in my earlier years, I was not all that different than my friends. We liked the same things, sang the same songs and dreamed of the usual goals. I was shorter than everybody, so I thought that was the thing that made me different. I was also very shy, so I loved to draw. In fact, I had to stay after school every day to wash the desktops because I would fill mine with drawings. School was boring, and I couldn’t understand why the other kids asked so many questions.
I became familiar with my Chicanismo the summer between fifth and sixth grade when my siblings and I attended a summer program at Escuela Tlaloclelco, which was run by Corky Gonzales and his family. My parents were deeply involved with the La Raza Movimiento, which was also headquartered there. When we walked into the building, we saw children and adults singing songs joyfully and loudly in Spanish. The experience was a total immersion of Chicano culture. We learned about Aztec history and Spanish colonialism. We created indigenous crafts, learned how to play guitar and do Mexican dancing. We watched Teatro about current political events and read radical poetry. We learned from the Master Chicano(a) Muralists of that period.
That next year, I came back equipped with my history and culture. When I had to pick a poem to read to the class, I chose “Yo Soy Juaquin” by Corky Gonzales. I read it in both English and Spanish with a loud, clear voice, practically yelling at times with emotion and anger. I’m not sure my Teacher or classmates enjoyed it as much as I did. They knew me as that quiet girl who didn’t talk much.
My art has always reflected who I am. A large part of that is the curiosity to learn everything I can about the history of my people, my state and my country. My childhood was happy, so I would draw little girl things like beautiful hairdos, fairies, flowers, butterflies and unicorns. I also still have some hippie in me. I want to see peace, love and charity in this world. I want religion to include science and vice versa. My art reflects that in a magical realism kind of way. I often paint women as goddesses, no matter who they are, because I feel God is in every one of us.
Your art often centers on iconic women, trees and deeply symbolic imagery rooted in Chicana/o/x culture. You describe them as “symbolic paintings representing the unification of diversity within a single woman,” melding spiritual, ancestral and cultural icons. How do you choose the symbols and figures that appear in each piece, and what do they personally evoke for you?
I think that last statement came from my painting “Chicana.” I think it also applies to many of my other paintings. Chicano(a)s are Mestizo(a)s meaning that we have mixed blood. We are both Indigenous and a mix of European and Spanish. Most of us have that and other bloods in our lineage. Because of this, we blend the cultures within us to create something new and exciting.
I feel the concept of what I’m about to paint. Mull it over endlessly in my mind. Sketch it out. Sometimes I have to find source material for shadows, facial details, colors and such. The symbols are sometimes obvious to me or sometimes hiding until they reveal themselves at the right time. It’s a process. The Chicanismo shows up in my artwork because I’m as familiar with it as my own family. It comes from deep within me and is a part of my everyday experience.
The tree symbol is overwhelmingly important to me and keeps showing up in many of my paintings. I’m not entirely sure why, but I do know that the tree was one of the first things to be worshiped as a God. My favorite trees are the ones that are twisted from being in the wind. I love playing with those shapes, and the bark becomes even more designs to play with. When my students create trees out of various printed paper, their personalities reveal themselves every time. Maybe the trees are parts of my personality.
As a longtime art educator and volunteer—having taught at Escuela de Guadalupe, ArtReach, Museo de las Américas, CHAC and many more—how has teaching shaped your own creative practice and artistic voice over the decades?
When I was in third grade, my teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. I said I wanted to be a teacher. My Mom wanted me to be an entrepreneur like herself. Instead, I became an artist. She didn’t like that at all, but supported me because she loved me. I remember her saying, “Those who can’t do, teach.” Therefore, I was going to try very hard to be an artist.
Unfortunately, I also needed money. I was married to a full-time artist and had children. My husband was a struggling artist. Most of his money went back to art supplies. I was working various jobs when a friend of ours offered me a teaching/mentor job that employed youth to create art. I had done art workshops for various organizations by then, but they were short-term. This one was for the whole summer.
I couldn’t believe how much I enjoyed that summer. I was smiling and dancing every day. I enjoyed helping the young, creative teens paint a large mural that can be seen today in a very well-traveled space. Every summer for a few years, I returned to that job creating art for new locations around the city. I met some great artists and worked with some bright young minds. Some of them went on to become prominent local artists.
Later, I became the art teacher for Escuela Guadalupe, which is a Catholic school. Teaching the elementary-age children was even more gratifying. The art that they created blew me away every time. I love guiding them year after year and getting to watch their progress from kindergarten to fifth grade.
The most fun we would create together every year was the gigantic altar for Dia de los Muertos. Each grade would create some part of it. All of the students would make sugar skulls and bring pictures of loved ones to add to it. The parents would bring objects from home, like saints or pottery or something from Mexico. I felt such pride being the person who would give them a great foundation for the visual arts. It felt magical.
I put together some great Chicano art programming for CHAC Chicano Humanities and Arts Council, as their Education Director. By then, I already knew what each grade level could have the most fun making.
Your involvement with community-driven Dia de los Muertos exhibits and cultural celebrations—like curating shows for BRDG Project—suggests a deep connection to communal heritage. In 2024, you curated a Dia de los Muertos show featuring 30 Chicanx artists. What does curating bring to your creative process that painting alone doesn’t?
I have been curating art shows for many years with CHAC Gallery as a staff member and also as a volunteer. Currently, I co-curate shows for Art Contained del Sol and other galleries. It comes very easily for me.
Since I have been involved with the Chicano Artist communities in Colorado for 40 years, I personally know all the old-timer artists and all the up-and-coming artists. I know what their first paintings and sculptures looked like and how they have evolved their styles over the years. I have all their emails and phone numbers.
Sometimes the ideas for a show come from me. Sometimes it originates with someone else. The rest of the process is a matter of inviting artists or putting out a call for entries, advertisements such as posters, social media and emails, securing some funding, hanging the show, having an opening with food, drinks and musicians or DJs and making sure the gallery is set when opened.
It is much more fun to curate with a partner or group of like-minded friends. Doing it alone is somewhat of a nightmare. Curating with friends is a blessing. We at Art Contained del Sol meet almost every week. We socialize and argue our points maybe 80% of the time, and get down to the nitty-gritty work the rest of the time. We lost our talking stick, so we kind of talk out of turn. Our openings are the best and are very community-oriented.
Curating the Dia de los Muertos show at BRDG Project was my idea that I pitched to them. I wanted to bring the Dia de los Muertos art show and celebration back to the Northside of Denver, where it all started in Colorado. Brett Matarazzo from BRDG Project was my partner to make it happen. I knew the best local ChicanX artists to invite. I knew their styles would be the best for this show.
We also had a Calaveras Masquerade Ball towards the middle/end of the show. I wanted local Chicano and Indigenous Musicians, DJs and storytellers for the entertainment, a local tamale man and a top-notch local chef from across the street. We were able to fund the ball with all local businesses and a local politician. We had face painters and bartenders. Everybody wore beautiful or outrageous Calaveras outfits.
To me, it was more than successful. It was miraculous. According to my sister, who is psychic, even my parents, who have passed on, were there dancing. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
Looking ahead, are there new cultural or geographic inspirations—perhaps travel to Guatemala, in your bucket list—that you’re exploring to evolve your art and symbolism?
No, I have everything I need here in my community of friends and family. I am so grounded in Colorado. My lineage goes back from both my father and mother many generations to Colorado. I sometimes think I spent a few lifetimes here as well as an Indigenous person and a black girl, among others. I might travel, but only for the fun of it.