Anthony Arroyo and the documentation of formerly neglected spaces

"Taquerias en la University" explores the cultural significance of taco trucks in Des Moines

When Anthony Arroyo tore his Achilles tendon in 2021, his mind first turned to taco trucks.

The Des Moines-based photographer had been considering a project around taco trucks for awhile. He couldn’t walk; he might as well drive to these spaces he’d frequented his entire life and see what he could capture.

Equipped with his camera and a grant from the Iowa Arts Council, he set out to create “Taquerias en la University,” a series of photographs depicting taco trucks on and around University Avenue in Des Moines. The resulting project is a vibrant celebration of the ways these spaces transform our community.

Anthony grew up on the East Side of Des Moines. He went to East High School. He’s long been a patron of the University Avenue taco truck scene, and he understands the relationships built within those spaces.

“My mom used to go to Taqueria Veracruz on Penn and University all of the time, and the woman always knew what she wanted to order,” he said. “They had a relationship that had been ongoing for who knows how many years. Other people can do that, too. You gotta just show up with a smile and not be shy.”

That was Anthony’s goal with this project — getting more people to show up to these spaces he believes are such an integral part of our community. But it’s not just about the relationship of an employee remembering a customer’s order, as much as that fosters a sense of belonging for all involved.

It’s about the way these taco trucks have built a relationship to the spaces themselves that they inhabit. A transformative relationship that brings a familial, energetic spark to otherwise sparkless places. Barren parking lots surrounded by fried grass and pockets of trees hanging on for dear life in an urban sprawl. A piece of concrete next to an Advance Auto Parts. The driveway of a graying house built before the city spread its fingers.

All brought to life with brilliant-colored murals and cold Jarritos and friends and strangers enjoying each other’s company over a plate of Hispanic food.

“Without [these trucks], these would just be empty parking lots and empty plots of land. The art that exists wouldn’t ever be here. Look at the spaces these people make for us,” said Anthony. “You could sense how abandoned these places would look had there not been trucks there.”

These are the types of spaces Des Moines, and the larger urban America, have allowed to disintegrate — “Third Places,” a term coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg that refers to places people spend time that aren’t home or work.

These are places like shopping malls and arcades, where adolescents could hang out without getting into trouble. Outdoor recreation spaces, social clubs, religious gatherings, community centers.

A picnic table next to a taco truck with loved ones and new friends alike.

“It’s not the most glamourous third space, but it’s nice that you could be sitting around with very different kinds of people. I’ve seen people from the State Capital suited up on the corner. You can just enjoy your meal and hang out,” said Anthony.

Creating these third spaces, bringing together community — it’s all a beautiful sentiment, and you can sense the pride the taco truck owners feel from Anthony’s photos on the inside. There’s also an underlying sense of a work ethic borne out of pure necessity.

“These people worked through the pandemic and were feeding our communities. It was not out of, ‘oh, we’re doing this because we want to.’ It’s because of necessity. They had to for their survival, because the government wasn’t going to come save them,” said Anthony.

Part of the stipulations of his grant was to depict communities affected by the pandemic. He knew that immigration statuses meant some of these folks weren’t eligible for federal Covid-19 support. These folks didn’t have the luxury of staying home. The taco trucks are not just a passion, but a means for survival.

Anthony placed a photo on the second page of “Taquerias en la University” that is striking in its juxtaposition to what one might expect in a project about taco trucks.

Snow falls on a winter day. You can tell it hasn’t been snowing terribly long, but it’s been snowing heavily, and it won’t stop any time soon. It gathers on the expansive roof of the building in the center of the photo. The parking lot is covered in a way that your mother would take one look at it and take away your car keys. The sky is blinding, flakes blurring the buildings in the distance.

But the focus of the photo lies on a cerulean taco truck, two double doors splayed wide to reveal a multi-colored, lit up “OPEN” sign and a mural depicting a southern countryside that has certainly never seen the likes of this weather. On the back end, photographs of the truck’s offerings. Towards the front, a snow shovel leaned up against the truck’s hood.

It’s a uniquely Iowan scene, this burst of cultural significance in the midst of a building snowstorm. It’s also the perfect encapsulation of what Anthony hoped to accomplish with this project. The conditions which folks working in taco trucks will withstand to provide themselves a livelihood. The way the presence of these trucks will bring to life an otherwise mundane, and sometimes unpleasant, space.

“My intention was that these trucks should be documented and seen as a very significant part of our city’s culture,” Anthony said.

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