La Playa Centro Comunitario is located in Comunidad La Playa, located in Baja California Sur, home to approximatly 1,500 people. The area surrounding the community has become increasingly popular in recent years, with the development of high-end hotels, golf courses, restaurants, businesses, and expat communities. Despite this, many residents and close neighbours still struggle in difficult living conditions and some families are especially vulnerable. We believe local communities should thrive in tandem wth the region’s growth and we work relentlessly to create favorable conditions and opportunities to empower them to build a better future for their families.We believe in the transformative power of art to foster creativity, personal growth and community. Our programs are designed to nurture imagination and self-expression, offering opportunities for our participants to explore their artistic talents, while building confidence and resilience.

Back in 2017, the community center had just opened. We only met twice a week, and we rarely thought about long-term projects—there was no plan, no budget, no roadmap. What we did have was the reality of kids walking through the door, and that reality often turned out to be more creative, more surprising, than anything we could have imagined. One Wednesday around 4:30 p.m., one of the first teenagers came in. He told me his mind was running overtime, overloaded. I suggested that maybe the cure was to paint, to draw, to write it all out of his head. He looked at me with a doubtful smile, probably thinking I didn’t really understand his Spanish. On my desk was a book of Jean-Michel Basquiat’s works. I opened it, and there, on the very first page, was one of his most large iconic paintings. That image planted the seed: why not take a big canvas and let the kids fill it with whatever they carried inside—their thoughts, feelings, stress, or dreams. At first, the size of the canvas scared them. So we agreed each kid could start small, sketching on paper, and later we’d transfer their drawings. We made two rules: the project would last six weeks, and once the painting began, if someone missed a day, others could add to their work, commitment—and also freedom. Only one boy skipped the second day. He had painted a giant boat across a large part of the canvas. When he returned and saw it transformed, he was upset. But I reminded him of his commitment: and the boat was still there, just reshaped to leave space for others. He never missed a day again. If you look closely, you can still see the front of his boat, mid-top right. The group was mixed—boys and girls from ages seven to seventeen. Some worked carefully, others freely. A few, like Sofia and Regina, helped polish rough edges. At the beginning, everyone was terrified of making a mistake on the prepared background. To break the fear, I grabbed a sheet of paper, drew a heavy, primitive crown—a tribute to Basquiat—and smashed it onto the canvas. In that instant, the kids understood: art is freedom. Almost all of them ended up including a crown. That’s how the piece found its name: The Crowns. Those six weeks left an imprint. The kids learned to share space, to trust the process, and to see their voices matter on a large scale. For me, their words and energy completely shifted the direction of my own work. We unveiled the painting first at the Thursday Art Walk in San José, then later at the Organic Market. To surprise the kids, we printed posters—only 100 in total—so each participant could take one home, their work published and celebrated. The funds collected all went back to support the center. Today, The Crowns hangs permanently at El Ganzo, a tribute to Pablo’s legacy. I know many of the kids are still proud of what they created, and I am proud to have witnessed it. What began as an unplanned experiment grew into something lasting—for the children, for the community, and for me. FP