Haven for Artists in Tijuana : Cross-cultural: Musicians, poets, painters from both sides of the border live and perform at El Nopal, a laid-back oasis in the bustling city.

Just a few blocks from the crowds, clubs and vendor carts of Avenida Revolucion in Tijuana, the turistas thin out and the jumble of activity gives way to quieter residential neighborhoods. Teniente Guerrero Park takes up an entire block with its greenery. On weekend nights, locals stroll the paths in the fragrant night air.

Down a narrow alley not far from the park, a tiny performance space called El Nopal offers an alternative to the rowdy glitz of Revolucion. On a typical Saturday night, Tijuana artist Felipe Almada is behind a bar, brewing a tureen of coffee over a small burner for the 50 or so people in the club audience who come here from both sides of the border.

Almada opened the club on weekends six months ago as an outlet for artists, a small number of whom live in rooms or cottages on the property attached to the club, which his family has owned for

generations.

In El Nopal, Almada has created a spirited, creative atmosphere you don’t often find in San Diego. Not only do the artists appear to be thriving, but the club brings together a cross-cultural blend of people who mix easily in the magical atmosphere. After the performances, visitors--many of them artists--mingle with the performers and among themselves, more open than usual to introducing themselves to total strangers.

These gatherings began informally in 1989, with musicians and artists from both sides of the border performing in the space, at a time when Almada was still using it as his studio.

Among the first to play there was San Diego jazz saxophonist Turiya, who was invited to Almada’s by a mutual friend.

“We went in and played, and it was great,” she said. “A lot of people showed up. We went back a few more times and kept talking about doing more. About six or seven months ago, I sat down with Felipe and said, ‘When you get ready, let me know, I’ll work with you to convince people up here to come down, so we can have an exchange.’

“My primary feeling was that when you’re dealing with the kind of racism we have here (in San Diego), the onus is on the people with the power and privileges (Americans) to make the moves. If you’re trying to build a relationship with somebody, and they keep coming to your house, and you don’t go to theirs, it’s not a relationship. The Tijuana artists always come here (to the U.S.), but we don’t go there.

“I’m trying to tell people, ‘Get over your stereotypes, get over your prejudices and come down, meet these people.’ Every time people do that, it changes their lives.”

Turiya and Mexican writer Maria Erana, who lives in Almada’s compound, line up the talent for the weekend shows. The June and July “Encuentros” (Encounters) festival, which ends this weekend, has featured performances by Mexican multi-instrumentalist Arturo Cipriano, Mexican versions of two Tennessee Williams plays and an evening with Musicolapso, a Tijuana-based free jazz ensemble.

Almada said more than 100 people have jammed into the space on occasion. “I’m very interested in this exchange. We are getting to know each other on different cultural levels,” said Almada, who lives on the property in the sprawling house built by his grandparents.

“We have about half Mexican artists, half U.S. We’ve been able to keep that encounter of cultures, all learning from each other about our craft, our art, but also views in general of life, art, politics.

“I’m very surprised that Anglo, Chicano, Puerto Rican and San Diego artists all enjoy the space,” Almada said. “This was basically an idea to support local artists, but it has become an international affair.”

A clan of jazz musicians, painters, photographers, poets and other artists also pay $120 to $250 a month to live on the grounds. Free from heavy financial burden, they spend their days mingling in the compound’s lush courtyard, exchanging ideas, developing their art. Often they test performance ideas in the club.

Internationally renowned jazz bassist M’Chaka Uba has found comfort in this setting. Uba, well known in serious jazz circles for his work with the Art Ensemble of Chicago, and others, fled San Diego a year ago for the relative calm of Almada’s commune.

“They called it paradise, but San Diego was hell for me,” said Uba, recalling so-called “artists’ lofts” downtown that rent for $900 or more a month.

“I just needed to be around people who were like me--artists, photographers, painters. The environment here is good.

“First of all, I’m not around drugs. In San Diego, drugs were constant. If you’re in that environment, it will affect you--shootings, robberies. Here, nobody’s on drugs. In Mexico, they give you 20 years if they catch you with a joint.

“I don’t have a TV, radio or record player. All I have is a piano, bass and my sketch pads.”

In Tijuana, Uba has been collaborating with Puerto Rican poet Jesus Papoleto Melendez, his neighbor within the walls of Almada’s property.

On a recent Saturday, the duo performed 11 of Melendez’s poems at El Nopal. Candles cast flickering shadows on the concrete floor, with its painted serpentine patterns in red, yellow and black.

On a stage framed by dangling paper murals, Melendez (“Papo” to his friends) delivered words and phrases--mostly in English--with raw physical power as Uba’s bass drove the rhythms. Melendez doesn’t recite the words so much as hurl them like medicine balls, using body language to emphasize the power of the messages.

The images were haunting, drawn from the seamy underside of life: discarded women in dark alleys, Mercedes-Benzes racing past homeless people, violence between lovers.

There was also a lighter side to the work, as in the Spanish poem “Homenaje a Una Mujer Morena.”

“For those who don’t speak Spanish, Papo just said he wants a dark woman,” Uba explained before he handed the poet a nude woman’s torso carved from wood. Throughout, humor leavened the intensity of Papoleto’s poetry. A few minutes later, Almada handed him a drink in a breast-shaped mug, and the poet nursed a little before launching into his next piece.

Melendez sees the commune as a peaceful paradise, an escape from the craziness of the United States.

“I got tired of San Diego,” he said. “The U.S., I think, is going berserk anyway.”

For Uba, whose numerous contacts in the international jazz world would afford him a viable career in more mainstream jazz circles, Almada’s compound offers a safe harbor where he can explore the furthest reaches of his imagination instead of playing someone else’s music or playing jazz standards in a hotel bar just to earn a living.

“I can be free. I don’t have to do the same thing over and over,” Uba said.

Performances at El Nopal (675 Cinco de Mayo, Tijuana) continue this weekend, with a Friday night collaboration between Turiya and vocalist Valerie McPartland, who will perform a range of jazz standards and blues tunes. Saturday night Turiya, Tijuana dancer and poet Elizabeth Cazessus, and Desiree and the Women’s Percussion Ensemble perform an original piece dealing with women’s lives and spirituality. African percussion ensemble Sundiata performs Aug. 3, with Miguel Angel Chavez scheduled to perform a monologue play on Aug. 9. Performances begin about 9:30; a $2 donation is suggested.