Vincent Valdez’s Just a Dream…, currently on view at the Contemporary Arts Museum Houston, is an unflinching reckoning with America’s past and present.
Valdez is the first artist to take over the entire CAMH, filling its space with 25 years of work.
It is a rare and immersive experience that not only showcases his monumental paintings, but also traces his evolution as an artist, from childhood sketches to fully realized masterworks.

As a Black American, I found myself deeply moved by his art.
The struggles of Latinos and Hispanics in this country mirror what we, as Black Americans, have endured for generations.
His work addresses the systems of oppression that persist in American society such as mass incarceration, for-profit prisons, the war on drugs, hyper-nationalism, and the criminalization of poverty.
The Strangest Fruit

One of the most haunting series in the exhibition is The Strangest Fruit (2013), a collection of paintings depicting lynched bodies suspended in midair. The imagery is suffocating and visceral.
Inspired by Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit, Valdez extends the legacy of the song, shifting the focus to Latino men who, though dressed in contemporary clothing, appear to share the same tragic fate as the past’s victims of racial terror.
The absence of ropes is deliberate, forcing us to confront the reality that racial violence has not disappeared. Instead, it has evolved.
Lynching may no longer be commonplace in the way history books describe it, but we still hear stories of Black and brown bodies found hanging from trees, in abandoned buildings, or of nooses strategically placed in workplaces and public spaces to intimidate and threaten.
Valdez makes it clear that history is not a closed chapter but an active force that manifests in mass incarceration, for-profit prisons, the war on drugs, the war on terror, hyper-nationalism, and the criminalization of poverty.
These oppressive systems function like modern-day nooses, tightening around marginalized communities the more they struggle to break free.
A Haunting Reminder

Another striking work, The City I (2015-16), is a massive 30-foot-long black-and-white painting featuring fourteen hooded Ku Klux Klan members staring directly at the viewer.
This piece immediately transported me back to one of the most terrifying moments of my life. Years ago, while working in Ghent, Kentucky, I encountered Klan members in broad daylight.
People in the community openly displayed KKK stickers on their clothes and vehicles, wearing their hate like a badge of honor. It wasn’t subtle. It was meant to intimidate.
But my first encounter with racism happened much earlier.
I was in third grade when protesters marched outside my school because my classmates and I were the first Black children to be bussed into an all-white school. It was 1979.
I didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time, but I knew that people hated me for simply existing. That fear has never left me, and The City I brought it flooding back.
The Zoot Suit Riots: Revisiting a Forgotten Chapter of American History

Another unforgettable piece in the exhibition is Kill the Pachuco Bastard! (2001), a portrayal of the 1943 Zoot Suit Riots.
During this violent period, Mexican-American youth wearing oversized zoot suits became targets of white servicemen who saw their fashion as unpatriotic.
But Valdez makes it clear that these attacks weren’t about style—they were about race.
The media stoked fear, the police enabled the violence, and the government justified it. LAPD officers stood by and watched as servicemen stripped and beat young Latinos in the streets. No soldiers were arrested; instead, the victims were blamed.
There was something about Kill the Pachuco Bastard! that reminded me of Ernie Barnes’ The Sugar Shack (1976).
On the surface, the two paintings couldn’t be more different. Barnes’ piece radiates joy, while Valdez’s is charged with tension and brutality. But they share a certain energy, a rhythm, an undeniable movement that connects them.
The Hole/In Memory (For Joe Campos Torres): A Houston Story

As a Houstonian, I felt a particular connection to The Hole/In Memory (For Joe Campos Torres) (2024), a new multimedia piece created in collaboration with artist Adriana Corral.
This tribute to Joe Campos Torres, a young Latino Vietnam veteran murdered by Houston police in 1977, is a chilling reminder of the city’s history of police brutality.
Campos Torres’ death ignited protests and became a rallying cry for the Chicano movement.
But even decades later, his story feels painfully relevant. I’ve had my own terrifying encounters with the police when officers drew their guns on me more than once. I survived. I was lucky. But how many Black and Latino men haven’t been?
This piece, like much of Valdez’s work, refuses to let these stories be forgotten.
Art as a Weapon Against Forgetting

Just a Dream… is a profound look at Vincent Valdez’s artistic evolution, seamlessly intertwining personal history with social critique.
From his earliest childhood sketches to his monumental, politically charged paintings, the exhibition offers an intimate reflection of his journey, highlighting his unwavering commitment to themes of history, power, and resistance.

Standing before these works, I found myself revisiting memories long buried—moments of fear, injustice, and survival that still resonate today.
Vincent Valdez: Just A Dream … runs through March 23, 2025.
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Frederick J. Goodall is the Editor-in-Chief of Mocha Man Style, media spokesperson, event host, photographer, and a top social media influencer in Houston, TX. He likes to write about fashion, cars, travel, and health.