From El Paso to Philly, Vicky Díaz-Camacho chases the joy of creative expression

My grandfather played guitar and sang boleros every day, serenading my grandmother. He took my sister and me to operas like Zarzuela and Viva El Paso—Latine-focused cultural celebrations on the big stage with beautiful dance numbers and flouncy, intricately-laced dresses. My grandmother’s desert-landscape paintings hung in our living room, her university sketchbook lived by the coffee table, and her 1960s faux-floral arrangements from Germany decorated the house.

When my mom visited my sister and me, she packed lunchboxes with her famous picadillo (ground beef with potato and peppers) burritos along with a hand-drawn horse cartoon. I became the arts editor at my college newspaper. In young adulthood, I sang and played in a band with my sister, and met my husband while trying out as a backup vocalist.

A journalist’s journey

My minor in art history taught me to be fair, critical, and imaginative, introducing me to contemporary works and analysis on artists such as Walid Raad, Eva Hesse, and Ana Mendietta. Journalism school taught me the value of rigor, facts, and human narrative. My foray into professional journalism used a different part of my voice.

I interned at NPR in 2016, which gave me a chance to do research for artist profiles, like this one about Henri Matisse and Richard Diebenkorn, by the late Susan Stamberg. The following year I worked as a data journalist at Kansas City Business Journal, honing my craft in data analysis and visualizations. For five years, I worked at Kansas City PBS as a community journalist and editor, winning my first Emmy but more importantly making lifelong friendships. Leaving them was difficult, but it was time for something new. So, sight unseen, I moved to Philly in 2023 to work at WHYY as a multiplatform producer.

Leaning into my Latine heritage

But as my career evolved, I grew hesitant about delving into cultural journalism. Then, one conversation with a mentor and fellow Latina transformed my thinking. Fearful that a tendency to cover Latine communities would pigeonhole me, I asked her if I should stop.

“No. Lean in,” she answered. She encouraged me to see that being part of both the Mexican and Puerto Rican diasporas is a superpower. When I embraced that, my work, be it about homelessness or art or history, folded in themes of Latine identity and culture organically.

I found myself weaving art and culture throughout my work. Some of these stories stuck with me, like a piece about the Mexican community along the Kansas-Missouri border. I highlighted almost-forgotten histories around the ice-transporting industry, makeshift neighborhoods made of railroad box cars, and the people who lived there. I also wrote a profile on the Puerto Rican artist Angel Otero, whose site-specific work Diario at the Kemper Museum of Art in Kansas City, Missouri resonated deeply with me.

I learned that Otero was deeply bonded with his grandmother, who was from Santurce—in the same neighborhood where my grandfather was raised. His grandma, a trinket lover, supported his artist dreams when others didn’t. She was his muse. I shared the same sentiment, but with my grandpa, whom I call my hero, and whose archives I keep close.

Philly’s gusto for creation

So this is me leaning in. Artists and communities I’ve worked with over the years have sparked something in me, something I will carry forward to BSR. Arts journalism taps into cultural stories with unique depth and nuance. In times of social unrest, the arts interrogate. They engage. I trust my creative instincts now, thanks to editors Juleyka Lantigua and Noel Algarin, who poured so much care into me the last two years. My lovely community of friends, particularly my spouse Polo Camacho and sister Felicia Diaz, have kept me grounded. As I dive into the Philly arts scene, I am leaning fully into who I am and the voice I quieted for far too long.

As BSR’s new associate editor, my starting goal is to amplify new voices in Philly’s cultural scene, continuing the ethos I’ve had since I was a college arts editor. I’m looking for off-the-beaten-path projects, and want to make space to highlight new artists and voices from all walks of life and cultures. Philly is full of under-explored creative spaces and artists who have something to say about the state of the world, democracy, identity, and so much more.

The energy I feel when I’m at community film screenings and makeshift galleries reminds me of what I felt in El Paso: an unrelenting gusto for creation. I want to give emerging, ambitious people a spotlight. I want BSR to discover their stories and connect readers to independent artists and cultural changemakers. But I need the community’s input.

Do you know artists who have yet to receive their flowers? What sort of stories are important to you as a Philadelphian? I’d love to know. You can get the conversation going by emailing me at [email protected].

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