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Text and Photo by Bruce Berman
No telling what and who will come over the Cordoba bridge that links El Paso, Texas with its sister city Juárez, Chihuahua.
In this case, crossing from south to north, was Spencer.
Pipe, a hat that said “F___ Off,” aged Doc Marten’s, punk rock labels every where, he is as ecclectic as the border. In a strange way he, is the border: neither this or that, neither Mexican or American, neither barrier nor passageway.
A friend once called the border a metaphor for a person who has “an undefined personality.”
Looking at Spencer -and some others (in my mirror!)- I’m thinking it’s a place for very defined personalities.
The problem is that it’s really difficult to say exactly what they are.
Which brings us back to “undefined.”
Last block of America. Or is it the first?
Fifth Street and El Paso Street, El Paso, Texas.
This used to be happy street. It’s still a busy street. It’s the street where the downtown bridge from Juarez exits or, conversely, it is the street where you leave the United States and enter the bridge to Juarez.
There’s a strange urgency on this block now, on this border now, if you’re looking and listening these days. People try to get back to Juarez before dark. Dark is when the heavy killing begins. At least that’s the way it’s been for the last year. Lately, things are getting even crazier in Juarez. Burrito ladies shot in the middle of the street in broad daylight, children executed in plain sight, house invasions and retaliations. Hard to know when a “safe” time to be in Juarez anymore.
Cartel War?
It was.

The Megabandera (giant flag) in the Chamizal Park in Juarez is usually the place for joy and pleasure, a meeting place for families, lovers and tourists.
That was before la catástrofe.
The catastrophe.
Before the Cartel War.
Space. Glorious space. Wonk yer brain but we all need more space. Maybe because we wonk our brains so much. This is from the funklands of southern New Mexico. It looks right across at the slim tip of West Texas that is El Paso. Juarez, Chihuahua is the horizon.
Space. This is the Tender Mercy of No Man’s Land.
First block of America (FBA).
El Paso Street. La Frontera. I’d call it Texas but it ain’t. Everyone knows it if they’re from here. Texans hold their arms out, full length. Americans think it’s part of Mexico…or hell. New Mexicans…furgidaboutit! It’s all they have to really feel superior to.
El Paso, the nation-state of nowhere.
Someone observed, generally, that in so-called third world countries, poor people have to live on top of hills and mountains (where it is more difficult to get water and where roads are rough and barely existent), but in first world countries the rich like to live on top of hills and mountains, for the “views.”
And the status.
About Bruce Berman
Bruce Berman has been a professional photographer for over four decades. He works in what some have called, “The Concerned Photographer,” style of photography, but brings a poets vibe to his images. His initial documentary projects were in Chicago where he photographed Appalachian migrants to the big city, Black Panthers during the tumultuous 1960’s and the gritty street life of Chicago in its Rust Belt years.
His main work for the past forty years has concentrated on the United States/Mexico border, particularly the narrow stretch of land that encompasses El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico. He also “plows” the southern New Mexico landscape, its people and the vast mysterious lands of West Texas.
After coming back from one of his earliest forays on Alameda Street on El Paso’ south side, in 1980, Berman wrote in his journal, “…I have seen a new world. It is both physical fact and mythical idea. It is a place with a line drawn through it and on each side of that line there are metaphoric mirrors that are reflecting back at each other, perhaps distorting each other, perhaps magnifying each other. It is the US/Mexican border. I will make my stand here. I will try to ‘give face,’ to this place so others can know it, perhaps, even, so those who live in it will know it more deeply.”
The aggregate result of that effort resides in two main bodies of work: The Border Project: 1985-2007, and Juárez: Cartel War Years (2007-2011) .
Additionally -concurrently- he is a chronicler of the disappearing lands beyond cities. He calls this series The Funklands, and notes, “Nothing is just laying around anymore. It’s scooped up, trucked away, rebuilt and becomes a mega buck treasure. My treasure has been the texture of the land and the stuff laying around that attests to who was on that land before… well.. before the homogenization of America.”
Berman lives and works deep in the borderlands of El Paso and Juárez, three blocks from the international bridge that connects Juarez and El Paso, surrounded by and isolated in the the vast lands of West Texas and northern Chihuahua. He refers to this as the “City-State of No Man’s Land.”
Berman continues to cover his “beat,” for major publications throughout the world and for his own book publishing enterprise. The Border Blog Press. His recent book, Walking Juárez is a compilation of photographs and stories covering the years 1975-2018.
Since 2008, Berman has added “Professor” to his name. He now teaches photojournalism at New Mexico State University (NMSU), 50 miles north of the El Paso/ Juárez ports of entry, in Las Cruces, NM. His teaching concentration is on Documentary Photojournalism and multimedia reporting. He still does occasional assignments and personal documentary work but spends equal time “Passing the torch,” he says.
Lately Berman has concentrated on doing books: Walking Juárez, 2017, Cutting the wire, 2019 and his newest, BACKLAND, 2022.
Many of his students don’t know about the border too much, but for the most part are of it. The G Generation, he says, “… are the hope of photojournalism, and maybe the world.”
He thinks working with them is his best project ever.
About the Website
The Border Blog covers the news, opinions and culture of the 2000 mile border of Mexico and the United States, concentrating on the epicenter of El Paso and Juarez. The Border Blog is not meant to be a news source as much as it is meant to be a news “feel.”
Another “border,” of interest to Berman is less obvious, the border between The Grid (his descriptor) and and those on the margins, unwilling or unable to keep up with “development,” and “progress.”
The site is a collaborative project. Besides Bruce Berman, who acts as editor and photographer and sometimes writer, the staff includes writer and painter, Juarez native and resident, Nathan Zarate, and, Beatriz Andino Zamora, a poet and writer from Zacatecas, Mexico. Zarate and Zamora post occasional articles concerning the politics and history of Mexico, in general and La Frontera, in particular. The site is always appreciative of the creative inspiration, brilliant chutzpah and deep goodwill -as well as extensive Web skills- of Manuel Rivera, a fronterizo “to the bone.”
Contributions to the site are welcome. Diverse viewpoints will be cherished. The site’s point of view and orientation will be no mystery to its readers, however, there will always be plenty of room and appreciation for other voices as long as they are informed, well articulated and sincere and fueled by passion tempered by reason.

End of a semester. End of an era. My smiling mask of self confidence, of confidence-projecting, of being reassuring has wound down to a needle tip. Sat at this desk for 14 months, rising to the occasion of teaching remotely. Three semesters of little grey rectangles talking with me and me with them.
They rose to the challenge and so have I.
And I’m fried!
Opinion/Observation
by Co-Editor Bruce Berman
___________________
I drive my old routes. Camera on the passenger seat or my lap. As always, these days it usually stays there, untouched. There are things along the way that spark memories. Object that aren’t there anymore. Gorgeous commercial signs constructed by craftsmen in the 1950s and 60s (not the least of which from the Jimenez Sign Company) were carted off to other cities that were twenty years ahead of El Paso in their bourgeoisie ambitions.You can drink under some of El Paso’s “Motel, Vacancies,” signs in various bars from Austin to Houston to Baton Rouge. There’s a withering away now, aging and weathered, but mostly not endearing anymore, not worth stopping for (to make images). There came a year, a month, a day when the treasures of El Paso were either gone, carted off or just left to rot.
There are whole swaths of this incredible and authentic city that are gone, at least for the long gaze of a photograph: Alameda. El Centro (downtown). Segundo is shrinking fast, bordered by El Paso Street on the west (with nasty tentacles of them all over it) and Cotton on the far east, with old residents living out their days, youth getting out fast and them with their bulging eyes all over it. Off of Delta there are condominiums and some revamped industrial buildings, residents living an almost urban lifestyle (sans humanity). Even the Gay Bars have fled, a sure sign of urban renewal/removal.
It’s not my job to do anything about any of this. My job, as I saw it, at the beginning, in 1980, was to give face to a face that was not known and I have tried. As The Grid lays out its future in the city with two hearts, it’s clear to me that my mission isn’t to pick sides in land rights, power exchanges, or to watch -or judge- the inevitable blandification. But blandification has come. Oh happy day. Some loudly exhale and go, finally! The city is becoming presentable to visitors again. It’s cleaner. It’s newer. There’s baseball. Soccer is coming (watch out Chamizal! The final blow that started in the mid 1960s is finally here). There are restaurants with the preface Le with Foo Fo thing-a-ma-jig dishes with little portions of things that look like they squiggle -vegetables- on top of things it’d be hard to identify below. Fancy. Plates of Foo Foo. There are young people downtown again, well, the kind of young people that look like they’d also be comfortable up in Kern Place on Cincinnati and the upper Westside.
Finally, there’s a Starbucks downtown near the Plaza and the Westin. The kids from the ‘hood can serve the hipsters that come in from outer Zaragosa Road and beyond.

Boring? Not to everyone and I wish them the best. I am not part of this. I left this scene in three other places I lived before this very long stretch here. It’s the same message: you’re in the gentry or you’re equitied out of the gentry.
Murder schmurder! It’s Prom Night in El Paso.
Those buildings in the background are downtown El Paso. The space behind, the mountain, that’s Juarez. That girl there, in the foreground, the one with the whimsy and the joy and the hopes and the fragility, she’s a million miles away from this borderland desert, that stupid and brutal war (Juarez), that trying parking lot monotony (El Paso), at least for this night.
What is the news anyway? Is it what “they (in my case, us)” say it is? Or is it the dreams of a young girl (or boy) on one of the most remembered nights of one’s life?
I’m thinking the news, the significant events of our world are days and evenings, like this. Viewpoint. Remember that (!) as we become addicted to trouble and stress and our live’s of “quiet desperation (you wouldn’t know it if you looked at TV commercials would you?).”
One can hope it’s that way.
There are a lot of viejos in the Sagundo barrio. They get around.
There are a lot of kids too.
Like it always was but just fewer. It’s the heart of this isolated town.
Ciudad Acuna, Mexico
A Mexican border city has begun fining U.S. drivers who cross the border to fill extra drums, tanks or barrels with government-subsidized Mexican fuel.
El Paso’s El Centro, the downtown, is packed with people at Christmastime. Unlike most cities of the southwest and of the rest of the United States, El Paso’s downtown is alive and bustling at all times of year, but especially during this season.
Sixth and El Paso Street is the first street in “America,” after crossing over the Paso del Norte Bridge from Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico into El Paso, Texas. This is the crossroads.
A man stands in the last light of the day at the corner of 6th and El Paso Street in El Paso, Texas. This is the first street of the United States after entering the U.S. from Mexico from the Paso Del Norte International Bridge. The bridge links Ciudad Juarez with El Paso and 6th and El Paso streets could be considered the crossroads of the northern part of the Western Hemisphere from south to north.
A lot of old folks (viejos) grew up in this barrio and are still there. They are the dignity of the barrio.
Imagine how people felt when a picture of an old viejo was used, by City planners, to show what was wrong with El Paso?
Los Viejos are what’s right with El Segundo.
The Border(PBS) | About the Show
Produced by Matthew Sneddon, KNME-TV, Albuquerque, New Mexico 
The economies of Juarez, Mexico and its sister city, El Paso, Texas are driven by a system of assembly plants known as maquiladoras. There are more than 600 maquiladoras in Juarez, two-thirds of them owned by U.S. companies. Since the first maquiladora was built in Juarez in 1976, the population of the city has increased nearly five-fold to more than 1.25 million, making it the largest Mexican city on the border. The Rio Grande fuels Juarez and El Paso’s water supply.
However, the more than 10 million people who live in these desert communities have begun to exhaust the Rio Grande’s capacity to support them.
This segment focuses on one Rancho Anapra family faced with the realities of living in a desert community with no running water. It examines the factors that contributed to growth of this particular border region: the Rio Grande, the maquiladoras and the promise of a better life.