LA Woman
For the 9th edition of “Back in the Days” in Paris, after many Jamel Shabazz, Martha Cooper, Ricky Powell, and many other icons of hiphop culture, organiser Nadim Makhlouf had invited Estevan Oriol to exhibit his pics. West Coast attitude, gangsta shit everywhere, hand signs, biatches, tattoos, low riding, Estevan Oriol is the ambassador for pictures of Latino culture, an ultra codified subculture where nothing is done by chance.
Now, I’ll admit that for a long time I used to envy gays and their Sunday afternoon “tea dance” –hey- don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing sexual to it, just that I thought it was awesome to have fun on such a god-awful boring day. At last I can enjoy Sundays thanks to Nadim’s “Back in the Day” afternoons, an event that brings back to life the best of hip-hop culture through dancing, old discs, rare trainers and awesome photos.
Estevan Oriol in Paris! Lucky for me, as for the last month or so, I have been glued to his photos in the 10 years of Upper Playground book, from the gallery in San Francisco with which he collaborated on a regular basis, through his most famous prints emblazoned on tee-shirts. When I shook his hand on the Saturday preceding the event, I got the impression he was at least two metres tall; my mates then called me a liar when they saw him the next day. So ok, he isn’t two metres tall, but to give you an idea of his size, he began as a bouncer for a club in L.A.; job he gave up pretty quickly, because couldn’t stand being called an asshole by drunken assholes.
To define his style in photography, always in black and white and always in silver film (about 10000 shots since he began his career), I suggest “gangsta pictures”: nah. “Ghetto pictures”? Nah. “Street life photography? Yeah, that’s right! It all began with backstage pictures when he was touring manager for House of Pain and Cypress Hill. He would shoot all the time, but would never develop them. It was his mates who would convince him to reveal his first rolls of film... The rest is history.
So, why so much black, and so much white, under California’s forever blue skies? Because, even in clothing, West Coast Gangsta style is mainly about black and white. He tells me that black and white is classical, the best in elegance. Look at George Clooney all in black, he’s cool, or Puff Daddy all in white, he’s cool. Few people look good dressed in yellow! Colour is good for women and pimps. Yeah, I answer, but check out Don Magic Juan, the king of Pimps and his colour code of green and yellow, green for the money, gold for the honey; he finishes the saying with me, and laughs to hear a little frenchie reciting the old classics. He tells me that nowadays, too many guys create their brands out of a packet of Skittles. For his own brand, Joker, created with his homie tattooist Mister Cartoon, there’s a little exception with a little navy blue and some grey.
I start on his tattoos and ask him if they were all done by Cartoon. They aren’t, as he started getting inked before Cartoon came along. He tells me he was his guinea pig for all of his first letterings and shows me the name of his grandmother he has on his ankle. If we are talking about the Estevan family, tell me if you are married, and if you have kids. Yes on both counts, and suddenly he grabs my new bible, the 10 years of Upper Ground book that I had brought along for him to comment on a few pics. He dives into it. And then stops on one of his most famous pictures; a nice big ass with “west” tattooed on the left butt-cheek, and “Coast” on the right. He points to it and laughs: “my daughter”. Oh fuck! A killing joke. Even at my wildest I wouldn’t have dared, and he’s just done it. A little more seriously, he carries on searching until he stops on what I consider to be the most gangsta of his female portraits, to announce that this is his wife. Angel is her name. Holy gangsta shit, it’s Mrs Oriol there, with a fucking gun in her hands. So Estevan, are you really what they call a G. or not? His answer; guilty by association, as they say. When you’re part of a gang it’s for life, and even if you’re not active, if one of your homies is in trouble, it’s your duty to be there for him.
Whatever, the guy is an absolute visual criminal as said by Nadim’s blog, a killer photographer. Beyond the pics of gang members and of low riding, he has taken photos of loads of movie stars, from Dennis Hopper to Danny Trejo (From Dusk till Dawn), many rap stars (with a preference for his mates from Boo-Yaa T.r.i.b.e) and hundreds of girls, hence his book “L.A Women” that he is promoting in Europe for the next 2 weeks, so thanks girls.
I ask him what “Back in the Days” means to him. He tells me that he’s disappointed that kids who are really into rap don’t know Bambaataa and don’t care. I tell him that it’s not the case here in France, that he will enjoy the Sunday event, that here everyone remembers the 4th commandment of the prophet, the famous “having fun”.
Which was the case when over 1200 hip-hop lovers came to check his hand the next day. It was pure Gangsta, gangsta love.
Olivier Schmitt
From "Cream Magazine"