In the 1970s, a group of women called Las Mujeres Muralistas painted a large, colorful mural at what was then Paco’s Tacos, a beloved local taqueria at South Van Ness Avenue and 24th Street. The taqueria was facing new competition: A McDonald’s had just opened up a block away, and the local eatery worried it would go out of business at the hands of the fast food chain.
So it commissioned the mural, which depicted a lively food marketplace. The art was meant to give Paco’s Tacos “a competitive edge,” wrote one of the muralists, Patricia Rodriguez. The collective of women artists “no longer feel that art should be kept in a gallery,” she added in a 2010 video produced by Mission Local with original footage from the time.
But, the taqueria closed in the early 1980s. The McDonald’s is still there today.
That story, and many others, are now on display in the upstairs gallery of the Mission Cultural Center for Latino Arts at 2868 Mission St. as part of “Our Mision Statement,” a new art show for the community, by the community.
Curated by MCCLA and the Mission Arts Coalition, the show explores the art and lowriding, the violence and gentrification of the 1970s, ’80s and ’90s that shaped the neighborhood.
The exhibit opened Aug. 3 and will close with a fashion show and reception from 5 to 9 p.m. this Saturday, Aug. 17. Online tickets have sold out, but remaining tickets will be available at the box office this Saturday, according to the MCCLA website.
Martina Ayala, executive director of MCCLA, said she hopes people feel “proud of the contributions they’ve made to this community” as they experience the exhibit. The people of the Mission have been “strong and resilient” in the face of street violence and police brutality, Ayala said: “This show is a testament to that.”
The Paco’s Tacos installation pays homage to that fight; a poster in front of the historical photos and cardboard cutouts calls the restaurant a “popular hangout for locals where food, art, entertainment, community engagement and civil rights education would meet.”

Another installation pays tribute to Gary Edson Arlington, who owned the San Francisco Comic Book Company on 23rd Street. Ayala said Arlington would send magazines and books to incarcerated community members, calling him “instrumental” in connecting families in the Mission with loved ones in prison. Arlington died in 2014; a New York Times obituary called him a “force in underground comic books.”

“Our Mision Statement” highlights resilience amid violence and incarceration. At one installation, photocards hang from a wire fence, and the floor is decorated with picture frames and roses, tributes to community members who lost their lives on the streets.
A poster for the installation describes “violence perpetrated by poor government policies.” But it also tells stories of the community’s resistance in the form of civil rights marches in the ’60s and ’70s, and protests in the ’90s against Proposition 187, a ballot measure intended to bar undocumented immigrants from accessing state-run public services.

The opposite wall of the gallery is plastered with art that was created by those serving time, using pen, paper and any other materials available to them. In a description for the installation on a nearby poster, lead curator Adan Gonzalez writes: “We can see through these original drawings how raw and talented not only our incarcerated artists are, but how influential the style is on outside artists, tattoo work, and street art.”


A Muni bus stop installation showcases how art shaped the trajectory of Mission youth. Buses became a canvas for burgeoning local artists in the ’80s, and graffiti an alternative to drugs and gang violence, according to a nearby description. Graffiti “saved many lives,” the description reads. But the ’80s and ’90s brought crackdowns on graffiti by then-Mayor Dianne Feinstein, Muni and the San Francisco Police Department, according to the description.

And there’s a corner of the gallery dedicated to the Tiny Locas, a group of girls who hung out at parks, parties and community events in the Mission during the ’80s, all in a distinctive style. A nearby poster describes this style as “bell-bottoms, derby jackets, half shirts, Ben Davis shirts and pants, Pendleton shirts, and Chuck Taylor shoes with custom Tiny Locas tags on the toes.” The Tiny Locas were captured on film by Sandy Cuadra, a group member and beloved community figure who died in 2013.

It wouldn’t be an exhibit about Mission culture without an homage to lowriders, and “Our Mision Statement” dedicates an entire corner to the cars and clubs. For decades, lowriders drew harassment from the police, and for decades, they fought to loosen restrictions on cruising. A law decriminalizing lowriding finally went into effect earlier this year. This weekend, lowriders will celebrate by cruising from the Palace of Fine Arts to the Mission.




This is a brilliant exhibit of the legacies of the Mission community, but now filtered through the eyes of Millennial/Gen Z artists and curators. The installations evoke a wide range of emotions, but I left feeling happy and hopeful. The spirit of Rene Yanez lives on.
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