Two years after the closure of J&R Tacos, one of its former co-owners is blazing a new path as a multi-faceted local artist.
In the years since the restaurant shut its doors in 2023, Oscar Torres released two short films and a bilingual graphic novel.
To those who remember the restaurant as a downtown cultural hub — known for hosting bohemian art nights called “Conjuntos” — Torres’ full-time foray into art may not come as a surprise.
Much of his recent work draws from his past, including his journey across the border and his longtime battle with addiction. Those personal experiences now fuel his creativity and his recovery.
“I feel it’s therapeutic,” Torres said. “Art helps me express myself in many ways, emotionally and spiritually. My idea is to continue exploring art and dedicate myself more to it. It helped me get out of the depression.”
As one chapter ends, another begins
In 2023, Torres and his business partner Janna Glaze, closed J&R Tacos after struggling to recover from COVID-19-related financial downturns. This, along with ongoing health issues, left Torres in a period of uncertainty.
Torres’ affair with the arts grew over the years with the encouragement of friends such as Ruben Sanchez, who met Torres nearly two decades ago while setting up a Día de los Muertos altar at his eatery.
The two bonded over their shared love of culture and expression. Sanchez quickly recognized Torres’ creative potential.
“We began to realize, ‘wow, this guy can draw,’” said Sanchez. “The more he drew and showed his work, the more we were surprised. I think it even surprised him because … he said he never thought of himself as an artist.”
As Torres continued sharing his artwork, Sanchez said his raw talent was undeniable — something that seemed surprising and effortless.
“It comes easily to him,” said Sanchez. “He can do things that a lot of people would take forever to try to master. And he just does it. That’s his great talent – his great hidden talent that he has.”
When Torres hesitated to apply for the Heartland Creative Corps grant, it was Sanchez who encouraged him to go for it.
“I think I did remind him,” Sanchez said. “Sometimes, you do or say something, and you don’t realize you’re affecting the person’s attitude.”
The grant supported by $4.2 million from the California Arts Council to support local storytelling and community resilience in overlooked Central Valley towns, became a turning point that allowed Torres to create Mi Abuelo Genaro,” a deeply personal graphic novel that he says helped lift him out of depression.
As part of his healing process, Torres also enrolled at the UC Merced Global Arts Studies Program, where he found renewed creative energy through a class taught by filmmaker and professor Yehuda Sharim — someone Torres had admired for years.
“I teach introduction to media, but I’m really teaching about radical thinking and the role of imagination and reimagination in reclaiming our voices either as immigrants or the tribe of the displaced because so many of us cross borders,” Sharim said.
Taking the class was one of his best decisions, Torres said.
“The class is very powerful along with the social and political issues and the reality of life,” he said
Rehab and recovery
Before “Mi Abuelo Genaro,” J&R Tacos, and even Merced, Torres stepped out of a rehab center in Mexico City in 1996 with nothing but a one-way ticket to Tijuana and a fragile hope for a second chance.
“Sali de un anexo en la Ciudad de Mexico y me estaba esperando un boleto para Tijuana – I left a rehab center in Mexico and a ticket for Tijuana was waiting for me,” Torres said. “(My brothers) paid for it so I could try to change my life and seek the American dream.”
Torres spoke candidly about his addiction with The Merced FOCUS, tracing its roots back to a single drink at 13.
“When I started drinking, I simply didn’t know that coming into contact with alcohol would make me react differently than others,” he said. “I drank for the first time and started wanting to drink more and more.”
He checked himself into rehab and began the long road to recovery. At first, sobriety lasted a year. Then came a nine-year relapse. Eventually, he found his footing and has been sober for over two decades.
“For me, that part of my life is very important because it has determined something that was difficult to accept: saying I’m an alcoholic, I’m a drug addict,” Torres said. “Even now that I’ve been sober for 21 years, I can still tell you that I’m an alcoholic – I’m a drug addict, that is. I don’t use it, but if I come into contact with it again, I’ll be in the same situation I was in when I used it.”
He said his recovery is something he recommits to every single day.
“So I am aware that my sobriety is just for today. Just for these 24 hours, I won’t make contact with alcohol or drugs,” said Torres. “My sobriety depends on my relationship with my creator and the practice of the steps for my continued recovery.”
Addiction, he said, nearly consumed everything.
“I often didn’t even feel the effects (of drugs and alcohol) anymore,” Torres said. “I was practically living on the streets. I didn’t have good relationships with the people around me. Many people, especially my family, suffered a lot from seeing me in that situation.”
One day, he had enough.
“I felt empty,” said Torres. “I felt like I had a deep emptiness inside me, an existential emptiness, a very deep emptiness.”
Four months into sobriety, he crossed the border through Tecate Peak, a mountain in San Diego County, with the help of a smuggler. The grueling, long journey nearly cost him his life.
“There were a lot of rocks. It was nighttime,” said Torres. “The landscape was beautiful. I had never seen the sky. I have never seen it like that again.”
But beauty quickly turned to danger. “I started to have very blurry vision,” he said. “I saw everything in red. I remember I fainted. I saw another group pass by. No one stopped to help.”
Everything went black — until the smuggler slapped his face.
“Despiértate, pollo, que los coyotes te van a comer — wake up, baby chicken, cause the coyotes are going to eat you,” Torres remembered the smuggler said.
He was carried the rest of the way to a van that took him north, where he finally reunited with his brothers in Los Angeles, unsure of how much time had passed.
“I felt a lot of relief,” he said.
Finding a home
Torres began rebuilding his life in Merced County.
He took over a tortilla delivery route from his brother and eventually crossed paths with Glaze, who purchased the route after his brother left. Torres and Glaze formed a connection that later led to a business partnership.
“She really wanted another type of business, a stable business,” Torres said.
That business became J&R Tacos, which opened in 2006.
“We opened without announcing it,” he said. “We had a ton of people. At first, we only had meats, but little by little, people started asking for vegetarian options, and we started working on some recipes.”
Beyond the food, the restaurant became a gathering place, largely thanks to its monthly art night, Conjuntos, which means “together with” in Spanish
“In Conjuntos, we invited poets, musicians and people we knew,” Torres said. “It wasn’t really planned. It was all more organic.”
Mi Abuelo Genaro
His graphic novel, “Mi Abuelo Genaro,” is printed in both English and Spanish and follows a grandfather and grandson’s journey through the desert in search of a better life.
“These characters are a little representation of myself,” Torres said.
Each character carries a part of him — from the grandfather nearly abandoned by a coyote, to the grandson’s struggle with drugs and alcohol, to a fictional restaurant that mirrors the real J&R Tacos.
“They have a conversation, and they speak from their heart,” Torres said. “They speak the language of their heart.”
Ruben Sanchez introduced Torres at the March 5 launch of the graphic novel at the Merced Multicultural Arts Center. He was struck by the novel’s detail and feeling.
“I was enthralled,” Sanchez said. “When you read it as an artist, you begin to see different things. I was fascinated. It was not your regular graphic novel. There was a lot of reflection in what he did.”
For Sanchez, Torres represents something deeply rooted in identity.
“People make the mistake that they say Mexican and Chicano are the same,” Sanchez said. “They’re not. We grew up different. Our children’s stories, our cartoons, everything was different. I’m always fascinated to see his aspect on things. We encourage each other a lot.”
Highlighting talent through film
Torres showcased his filmmaking skills during last spring’s Todo Cambia Human Rights Film Festival, where he presented two short films: “Best Mom Ever,” a documentary about his sister’s journey to the U.S., and “This Is Not a Lotería Game,” a surreal take on a high-stakes round of Mexican Bingo, where his daughter Jasper Torres and his wife Heather Gonzales play integral characters.
“Each one of them pushes you to a different space,” Sharim, the filmmaker and professor, said. “One is about the lotería. It’s absurd and surreal. His documentary piece about his sister is more grounded. Oscar obviously has a unique talent, just like so many in the Valley.”
Though he’s now deeply focused on art, Torres doesn’t rule out returning to food service someday.
“You get a lot of satisfaction from being in contact with people,” he said. “What I miss most is having that connection with the community, with the people that I’ve seen for many years.”
For Torres, art is more than personal expression; it is a way to educate, raise awareness, and even demand change.
“For me, art is not something that is created to be appreciated, but rather to have a personal exploration about yourself,” he said.
To obtain a free copy of Mi Abuelo Genaro contact Torres through his Instagram or email him at oscalexx74@hotmail.com.