Streetwise and ready for life

Moises Gonzales finds focus through art and music

Staci Matlock | The New Mexican

5/26/2008 - 5/24/08

Many of Victoriano Moises Bryne Gonzales' friends are in gangs. He knows people often assume he's a gang member. "That's the vibe I give off. It's the way I dress, the way I talk," he says.

Eighteen-year-old Moises wears his T-shirt long, his cap sideways and his jeans baggy. He saunters a little when he walks, like his gang friends. But the Santa Fe High School senior's eyes are liquid obsidian. And he has a smile that is quick and warm.

He learned about gang life in Española, where he lived with his mom and went to school for a while. His gang friends never pressured him to join, but hanging out with tough kids taught him to think on his feet. It's a skill that "really prepared me for life," he says.

Moises admits some gang members are bad folks. But others, he says, "are the nicest people. You can't profile or judge someone. Once you get to know them, they can be a completely different person."

One day, he says, he was driving around Española with his mother looking for Sparky, their lost dog. His mother pulled up next to three low-riders carrying gang members and told them about the missing dog. The gang members quickly began cruising the town's streets, hanging out the windows calling, "Sparky, Sparky."

Some of Moises' friends have dropped out of school. One was a gangster who aced standardized tests but could find no good reason to remain in school. Another couldn't sit still in a classroom. Some sold drugs, making more money than people working full time.

Moises had plenty of reasons to drop out. But, he says, "I always had it in my head I was going to finish." On Thursday, he will receive his high-school diploma.


Moises is unconsciously shaking his right leg a mile a minute under one of the battered tables in Room 103 at the high school's Visual Art annex. Only a few days of school remain.

Canvases and paper painted with vibrant landscapes, geometric shapes and human figures cram the art room's walls. Baroque music plays softly in the background.

Moises stops shaking his leg briefly and concentrates on drawing the lines of a fierce dragon. His gray sweat shirt is pushed up to his elbows, and a diamond stud earring flashes in his left ear.

His mind, he says, is always racing, complicated — reminiscent, if it could be drawn, of a painting by his favorite artist, M.C. Escher. Drawing helps Moises focus as does drumming, which he's done since he was in the fourth grade. He finds peace, he says, in art and music.

Moises largely taught himself to draw. He tried reading step-by-step art books. But he always skipped to the last step. Pretty much anything he sees, he can draw, he says.

His art teacher, Lori Andrews, says he's patient and warm-hearted, a lovebug. She recommended him to the O'Keeffe Museum recently for a summer internship, teaching children art.

Across the table from Moises, Mary Ferguson dips a brush in purple paint and works on the outline of a folk-art style female figure. Dylan Jarvis plops his tall frame on a metal stool beside Moises. He pulls out a copy of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and starts drawing a portrait of the story's domineering Nurse Ratchet.

Mary says she's been a big-time slacker this year. A bad case of senioritis, she says. Moises flashes a grin, nods his head.

She says her cousins are having babies one after the other. A lot of babies have been born this year.

A lot of people I know have died this year, Dylan comments.

Someone dies. Someone is born. A balance.

Kind of like art, Moises says, his pencil pausing briefly.

Around them, their classmates are painting, drawing, talking about jobs and graduation, making strange noises that elicit laughs.

"I can't believe we're almost done with high school," Mary says.

Moises listens quietly.

He works in the summer and on weekends with Sanchez Landscapes, his uncle's business. He earns money for his own needs and to help his parents. They split up when he was 2. He grew up between households, living for a time in Española, Santa Fe, Corrales and now Nambé.

Moises has been accepted at Northwest College of Art in Poulsbo, Wash., near Seattle. He would like to double major in art and computer animation at the school. He thinks he could use his art to make a good living and help his friends and his family. "If I'm going to make it big, I want to take as many of my friends with me as I can," he says.

But he's decided not to go yet. He'll take some classes at Santa Fe Community College and help his parents; his older sister, Amelia; and her two young children, especially 2-year-old Javon.


Moises, clad in a T-shirt and a black knit cap turned sideways, lifts up the park swing and holds it, suspended, for a second. Little Javon, who says his name is actually Spiderman, squeals with glee. Moises lets the swing slide gently from his hands, and Spiderman swoops into the air.

Moises says he feels like a father to the boy. Javon reminds him of himself. Some afternoons while Moises' sister works, he takes the boy to the park or picks him up from school. "I've always loved my nephew," Moises says.

The toddler's biological father is in jail.

Moises lifts the child from the swing. As the high-school senior talks, Javon buries his head in his uncle's shoulder and hugs him. Then the child places his small brown hands on either side of Moises' face. "Do you love me?" Moises asks.

"Yes," Javon answers in a tiny voice, his almond eyes gleaming. He hugs his uncle tighter.

Despite his friendship with gang members, Moises says he'll do everything he can to keep Javon from joining a gang. He'll encourage him to stay in school. He'll tell him about the other things the world offers.

"¡Tío!" Javon, calls out, reaching his hand toward his uncle. The toddler can't get his little legs from one rung of the playground ladder to another. Moises reaches out, grasps Javon's hand and holds on tight.

Contact Staci Matlock at 470-9843 or smatlock@sfnewmexican.com.