José Chávez Morado, Autorretrato con Nana (1948)
Sofia Ortega-Guerrero
On a dirt road, a young boy cocks his hip slightly beneath the weight of a loaded holster that tugs on his small frame and sends ripples through his overalls. The sleeves of his powder-pink shirt stop short of his dimpled hands, which grip a rifle. Though the barrel’s height rivals his own, the boy looks out with a chilling sense of normalcy, his dark, doe eyes tinged with maturity.