I met Aaron Garcia one day outside an Allsup’s gas station and convenience store near my home in Santa Fe. I would hang out at this particular Allsup’s for hours at a time, multiple days a week, and introduce myself to all the people that came by. I found it to be a good exercise on openness and an attempt to connect with people.
Little by little, I became known as the gas station photographer, but it was Aaron who really invited me to become part of this community. Aaron also asked me what I was doing standing around at the Allsup’s, and told me he sensed a lack of home within myself. Aaron taught me many things about myself that were kept hidden and brought them to the surface, all while bringing a smile to my face.
During our first encounter at Allsup’s, I asked Aaron if he wanted to embark on a project with me and, together, we started making a visual record of his life, along with his younger brother, Russell Garcia, and other men who lived with Aaron and wanted to participate in sharing a part of themselves without fear of shame or judgment. I would visit Aaron every day, and would learn more about him, which only drew me closer to him. I learned that Aaron’s nickname was Pillar. In fact, he was given this name for his leadership and protection regarding many travelers, drifters and people without houses. Aaron cooked for people, provided shelter for many during harsh weather and drastic changes in temperature, helped some find work, and brought relief to many through laughter and joy. I remember asking Aaron why he chose to live outside when he had a home in Kewa Pueblo (Santo Domingo Pueblo), and he told me stories of his experiences at a place called Camp Tule in California where he got to live his Native beliefs and traditions in a deeper way. When the retreat was over, Aaron remained dedicated to living in nature, choosing a spiritual victory against the social expectations surrounding living standards.
No More Mud in Our Eyes
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Aaron Garcia (Pillar) -
This image was made in 2023 and it was the last image I made with Aaron before he was killed. At around 9 p.m. on Sept. 22, 2023, Octavia, Dustin’s girlfriend, texted me to say that a body had been found under the overpass near Aaron’s campsite. Dustin was Aaron's nephew, and was living with Aaron at the time. He had told Octavia, but he didn’t know what had happened. Detectives stopped me as I arrived on the scene to ask me questions. After physically describing Aaron to them, they told me the probability was high that the body was him. For the next two days, I received calls from detectives asking me questions; and then suddenly, I heard nothing at all. It was like it had all disappeared and been forgotten about. The last time I reached out to ask about the case, the detective’s response was “Who’s Aaron?” After jogging her memory, I was told the case had been transferred to another detective.
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Aaron and Russell Garcia -
If Aaron could see himself in everyone, why couldn’t we see ourselves in Aaron? He told me once that all people want to do is smile and feel good about themselves, and that we all belong to love. Regardless of age or gender, occupation, or any kind of trouble you might be in, Aaron spoke to you, looked at you, and ate with you like you were his best friend. You’re given an opportunity to reaffirm someone’s life, as well as your own, every time you or a stranger asks the question: “How are you doing today?”
© Andrés Mario de Varona
White Medicine
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Touching of the Earth - Jeffery Aguilar sits outside by Aaron's home and carves him a walking stick for his hip pain.
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Pillar's Arm (one year later) -
Besides Aaron's hips, another discomfort in his life was the bursitis on his left arm. A great deal of my time with Aaron and Russell was spent navigating authority figures and institutions, and learning the hard way that you constantly have to fight and pressure people for answers or some sense of acknowledgement. Whenever I went with Aaron to the hospital to get his physical pain checked out, or gave him a ride to the grocery store, to Walmart, or to the laundromat, it was the same kind of dismissible inferior treatment. A lack of humanity.
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Keeper of Threshold (Jeffrey Aguilar)
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Our Own Roof -
Pictured here is Aaron with his cousin Jeffrey Aguilar. We were in the middle of helping Aaron move camp when it began to rain heavily. While we waited under the overpass for the rain to stop, Jeffrey began to play Joe Tohonnie Jr.'s music out loud from a speaker. We laughed, danced, cried, and shared stories while cars zoomed above us.
© Andrés Mario de Varona
My Signature (Jeffrey Aguilar)
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Russell Garcia -
In 2020, a few days after meeting Aaron, I met his younger brother Russell who is pictured here. Russell was a father, a jewelry and pot maker, and he had a deep love for music. In 2022, Russell passed away from a respiratory problem overnight while he was staying with Aaron. I remember picking up Aaron the next day and having him stay with me for the next few weeks. That's when things began to change and get more difficult.
© Andrés Mario de Varona
Rocks, Feathers, and Ash
This image was made in 2020, when I first met Aaron. There was an instant connection between us, and before I knew it, we were talking about rocks and feathers, jewelry, ashes and how intense New Mexico can be.