My story begins in the heart of San Antonio's West side, where I would learn the value of hard work. You see, my father had a strong work ethic, but the man I would model myself after was none other than my Grandfather, Juan Bravo Garcia, known to family and friends simply as "Guayo".
He was a Native of Seguin, Texas. He was born in 1909, in a time when there were no asphalt paved roads, simply dirt roads carved out of the farmland known today as County Roads and Farm to Market roads. He was a genuine rancher and had extensive knowledge in agriculture, farm animals, and cattle rides; as well as working the chuck wagon. But his passion was breaking horses.
He would often share stories, but he would light up when he spoke about horses in particular. He spoke of their majestic beauty, strength, gracefulness and of course their stubbornness. He once told me about a stubborn Paint named "Queenie" and how she eventually warmed up to him. He had a reputation for breaking horses that others had given up on.
He moved to San Antonio in his early 30's and worked as a general contractor. He was an avid dancer. Ironically, he would meet my Grandmother, Theodora Vigil, at a popular ballroom on W. Zarzamora Street, and after a short courtship they married and started a family.
This is where I come into the picture. I was born to Dolores Garcia and Juan Santillan Sr. and grew up in a humble tight knit family. We visited my grandparent's almost daily, and as soon as I was able to hold a paint brush he took me along to the job sites where, due to my size, my first official job was base board painter.
On the side he collected old tools and repaired appliances. He was known to pass one along if someone had an urgent need. The others would make it onto the bed of his old Ford pick-up, and on the weekends he and I would head to the flea-market to sell them for extra cash. However, I am convinced that he did not do it for the money, since he spent most of the time visiting and trading with the other vendors. Not to mention the fact that we always returned home with more tools than we had packed.
This was the man I called "Abuelo".
The life lessons and skills I learned from my Grandfather have not only shaped me, they have propelled me to love deeper, value family, work smarter and to always be a student and a teacher.
In honor of my Grandfather, I have passionately pursued capturing images that reflect a simpler time, and while on this journey, I have met some extraordinary people that share the same core values.
My hope is that through my lens, I can preserve what may be gone tommorrow, much like the many photos I recall seeing in his home. The photos of a time where families, although humble farm workers, dressed up and took pride in their appearance. Almost as if they knew, that somewhere in the future, a young boy would be mesmerized at the stories they could tell, if he would only listen.
Sincerely,
