THERE’S A CERTAIN SKILL—a vibe—to driving a lowrider. “You’ve got to lean back, turn on your radio, and just cruise it,” Arthur Angelo Medina says. Known to most as LowLow, Medina and his wife, Joan, live in the Española Valley, where they sell his original artwork and her handmade sage bundles and soaps next to the famous Santuario de Chimayó. They’ve been into lowriders since they were kids, drawn to the flashy paint jobs and signature hydraulic bounce. For more than 40 years, they’ve been working on a museum to showcase their seven cars. Their rides have been featured in National Geographic, 60 Minutes, and in the Corazón y vida: Lowriding Culture exhibition, currently on view at the Smithsonian Institution and traveling to the Farmington Museum this spring. “Lowriders are a rolling expression of yourself,” adds Joan, who met LowLow as a teenager at the local roller disco. They’ve been together ever since, building their family, their cars, and their community.
LOWLOW MEDINA
Growing up, my uncles, my cousins, and my dad’s friends would park their lowriders in the grass by the river, behind the Santuario. They would wash their cars, because we didn’t have a car wash.
I loved the way the cars looked on the river. When it got dark, people would build a bonfire and play guitar.
A lowrider is a piece of art, guaranteed. These old-school guys had the paint jobs looking glittery, all patterned out. Every single car looked different.
My dad’s 1967 Pontiac became mine. I painted it with spray cans—I patterned it out. The paint would peel, so I would paint it again. That’s where I got my practice.
All my cars are my favorite. I have a ’49 Chrysler New Yorker that we call Zoot Suit. I’m building up a lowrider ice-cream truck. We build up lowrider bikes as well.
To have a lowrider, you can’t be having it original. You lower that car.
It doesn’t matter how it looks. You build it up. Like a woman—she puts on lipstick, she puts on earrings. She puts on her nice shoes.
The grandchildren always want to start painting when we’re working on a car. So we get a canvas and tell them to draw, and they start getting the hang of it.
You have to be a good light for the youth. We don’t want to lead them in the wrong direction. We want them to learn how to do the right things.
JOAN MEDINA
When you’re a car enthusiast, you never stick with one car. You buy, sell, trade. We always have different cars, mostly Chevys.
The first thing [LowLow] does is put on rims. Then he’s like a santero. They look at the shape of the wood before they carve it out. He looks at the car and starts laying out the paint job in his brain.
I’m the taper. My one daughter helps stenciling for the murals, and my other daughter does lettering.
Murals represent who you are. LowLow likes religious icons. I’m a silhouette person, and roses and butterflies.
We collect clothing for the homeless. We do a toy drive in the parking lot of the Dandy Burger in November, where we put farolitos around the cars.
We cruise lighted-up cars at the Española Electric Light Parade in December, and we pass out the toys at a booth we call the Norte Pole.
Lowriders are nuestra fe y cultura, our faith and culture.
SEE FOR YOURSELF
Follow LowLow Medina’s artwork at nmmag.us/lowlow. Check out the Medinas’ lowriders and toy booth during the Española Electric Light Parade on December 13.