In his early twenties, Chris Aguirre was a boot designer for Tony Lama, a blue jeans designer for Jordache, and a political cartoonist at his hometown El Paso Times. But a major life shift moved him to San Jose, where he decided to chase his childhood dream. Back when he was a kid he had loved watching cartoons, and at the end of each show, he read the credits. When he saw a Spanish surname like his—Peter Alvarado, Bill Melendez—he would think: There’s hope!
One day, unemployed, drawing cartoons in the family garage, he read in the San Jose Mercury that Joe Hanna and William Barbera were going to be at a gallery in San Francisco signing books. “I thought, man, I’m gonna go there and show them my work,” Aguirre recalls. Standing in front of the two animation legends, he asked, “What does it take to be in animation?”
Barbera replied, “Well, you just gotta draw good. Use your imagination.”
Aguirre told Barbera that he had a portfolio, and could he show it to him? Barbera rolled his eyes but said, “Okay, go ahead kid, go get it. I’ll take a look.” Aguirre raced outside to the parking garage up the street. It was pouring rain, and when he returned he was soaking wet. Looking as if he felt sorry for Aguirre, Barbera said, “I gotta go kid. I’m sorry. Why don’t you just show me your first drawing?”
But instead of leaving, Barbera ended up calling for Hanna and they examined Aguirre’s entire portfolio, laughing at the cartoons. “In the end, Mr. Barbera took out his wallet and gave me his card. He said, you give me a call when you’re in town, kid,” Aguirre says.
Aguirre moved down to the L.A. area, and Barbera connected him to Bob Singer who became his mentor. “I was in awe. The way he drew, so beautiful,” Aguirre says. “Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm. Tom and Jerry. All the great characters.” When Singer felt Aguirre was ready, he sent him to Art Leonardi at Warner Bros. The very day Aguirre went in and drew a few practice sketches from Tiny Toon model sheets, Leonardi introduced Aguirre to a group of artists, saying: “Chris, welcome to the crew. These people are now your teachers. These are journeymen, and you’re going to learn from each and every one of them.”
Aguirre did just that, studying background, tonals, layout, mechanics, storyboarding, and more from some of the best artists in the industry. He went on to work with Friz Freeling and Virgil Ross. “It was a blessing,” Aguirre says of this journey. But it was not the only journey he was on. Running parallel to his pursuit of animation was his search for his roots.
“All [my mom] said once was, yes, we’re Indian, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Because it was shameful. Very shameful,” Aguirre explains.
Growing up Aguirre had identified with his Hispanic origins, but he wanted to know more about his Native American background. He started researching his ancestry. But just when he thought he was on the right path, he would discover he was following the wrong family line. A stroke of luck came when a man contacted him through Ancestry.com. He turned out to be a cousin and informed Aguirre that on his paternal grandmother’s side he is Chiricahua Apache, a tribe whose ancestral lands stretch from New Mexico to Chihuahua, Mexico. From there, Aguirre was able to make the connections he needed, eventually tracing a part of his family back to 1765 in a tribe that includes such legends as Geronimo and Cochise. “I wanted to tell the world, I was so excited about it,” he says.
In 2019, Aguirre enrolled in his tribe. To express the pride he felt, he turned to his art. Using a reference photo of Geronimo during his last years in captivity in Oklahoma, he painted the shaman looking out toward the silhouette of a red-tail hawk “because I was imagining that was his last wish,” he says. “To be free. To be like that hawk flying through the sky in the desert.” The Last Wish reflects the influence of his two favorite fine artists, Claude Monet and Vincent Van Gogh, and contains traces of his vocation, as well. Along with chalk pastels and colored pencils, he used a type of gouache. “It’s a cel paint, actually,” he says. Years ago, DreamWorks was getting rid of it. Aguirre rescued it and eventually incorporated it into his own art.
These days, Aguirre’s passions merge in a more substantial way. He is doing visual development and background design on Spirit Rangers, a forthcoming Netflix show for preschoolers about three Native American siblings. He also helps with historical accuracy and loves the opportunity to learn about other tribes.
Currently he’s pitching his own Native American show in the hope of giving back to his community, and he continues to follow the philosophy set out for him by his first mentor, Bob Singer. “Keep a humble heart and an open mind, and the doors will open,” Singer told him. “The day you think you know everything; the doors will close. And whatever you do, pass it on.”
