Lorenzo was born number six, in a ten-child family, where he grew into a quietly pensive child, teaching himself the skills of two-dimensional paintings and an uncanny ability to avoid parental controls.
His mother gave him his first real lessons, garnered from her love of the arts and a desire in her youth to attend classes at university in Mexico City. Sadly, that never materialized for her as she was kept away by a father that said it would be better to marry and have children instead of exposing herself to the world of dastardly artists. It was the dashing of her dreams that never left her and never left Lorenzo’s grief of her.
His father taught him what dedication to craft could bring with his mind-numbing hours of attention to detail, as a renowned engraver and his creative use of the written word.
Art history and technique were taught in High School and Commercial Art schools. Through the misguidance of teachers and counselors, he was warned that the fine arts were an unwise career choice. This led to a personal rebellion and his standing up one day in mid-class and with a final pronouncement, he walked out of school to wander the country in search of those distant sirens that beckoned him onward. Determined to teach himself all he needed to pursue his creative expression; he began his long journey to find all the things that made that possible. He learned that a passion for life was the best gift he could give himself and ever impart to another.
With interest in figure painting, he started his own gallery and developed a plan that might end finding him in New York at the time of Warhol and Basquiat. Once more he was discouraged by others, those in the gallery world, that New York was a dying art scene, and he should avoid the place. Moving instead to Los Angeles on his way to New York, he found himself becoming a father and needing a way to support a family and all that, that might mean.
With the fading of the New York dream, he took a decade’s long detour, secretly keeping his hand in the mix of his passion, far away from prying eyes.
There were whole years he didn’t paint a single piece. Eventually, he found himself once again painting the human figure. With each piece, he was determined to tell a story with the simplicity of a Zen Garden, or an elaborate narrative of human nature.
Over time, he left the business world and moved into what it means to be a creative person, hearing his own voice with a sense of adventure and his studied observations, to continue his evolution as a self-constructed painter.