Here's where to celebrate Cinco de Mayo 2025 in Pueblo, Colorado
May 5 may fall on a Monday in 2025, but that's not stopping El Movimiento Sigue from celebrating Cinco de Mayo that day.
The local organization is hosting the 55th annual Pueblo Cinco de Mayo celebration at Ray Aguilera Park, 843 W. Northern Ave., from noon to 7 p.m. with guest speakers, a food drive, food trucks, a low rider show, musical performances, resource booths, vendors and more.
In addition to being a longstanding celebration of Chicano culture, the Cinco de Mayo celebration hosted by El Movimiento Sigue is well attended. Last year's event attracted almost 6,000 attendees, according to El Movimiento Sigue's website.
"We do celebrate Cinco de Mayo on the day every single year," said José Ortega, executive director of El Movimiento Sigue. "It's never the day before or after. It's never the weekend before. That's just to make sure that we do have our day of culture, and that it's consistent every year."
Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence Day. It is an annual celebration of Mexico's victory in the Battle of Puebla. On May 5, 1862, Mexican General Ignacio Zaragoza led his army to defeat much larger, occupying French forces. For Ortega and many others, Cinco de Mayo is a celebration of victory over oppression.
Fighting against oppression is central to the mission of El Movimiento Sigue — an organization that emerged from the Chicano Movement for civil rights.
"We want to make sure that El Movimiento Sigue is not only in the community, but also has a seat at the table where decisions are being made for the city of Pueblo and for our Chicano people," Ortega told the Chieftain.
Los Mocochetes, a five-member band from Denver, will visit Pueblo to perform at the annual Cinco de Mayo celebration. Joshua Abeyta, a vocalist and multi-instrumentalist in the band, told the Chieftain that Los Mocochetes has coined the term "Chicano Funk" to describe their sound.
"We're not limited to funk music or what they call Latin grooves but its a nice mix of rock, cumbias, we play some rancheras, we play a little bit of reggae, there's some hip hop elements to it and all five of the members are all songwriters and vocalists," he said.
With his bandmates Diego Florez, Jozer Guerrero, Jon Rubio and Elias Garcia, Abeyta writes and performs songs that address topics like the plight of undocumented immigrants, colonization, gentrification and racism.
"You can kind of think of anything in terms of a human rights perspective, it's something that we support, and we support all people being able to live and love freely as long as they're not harming anyone," Abeyta told the Chieftain.
Outdoor Recreation: Want to explore the outdoors? Check out these summer recreation opportunities in Pueblo
Pueblo Chieftain reporter James Bartolo can be reached at JBartolo@gannett.com. Support local news, subscribe to the Pueblo Chieftain at subscribe.chieftain.com.
This article originally appeared on The Pueblo Chieftain: Why do we celebrate Cinco de Mayo? Here's what to know
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6 days ago
- Yahoo
These Latino restaurateurs in unlikely places are nominated for a prestigious culinary prize
Before moving to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, two decades ago, Oscar Ortega had left Mexico City at a young age and spent many years in several European countries, where he studied gastronomy with what he calls incredible teachers. But he never forgot 'where my roots came from, my origins,' he said in an interview with Noticias Telemundo. Cacao originated in Mexico, he explained, which was one of the reasons Ortega decided to dedicate himself to becoming a chocolatier, gelato maker and baker. This year, his Jackson Hole establishment, Atelier Ortega, is one of five finalists for the outstanding bakery prize of the prestigious James Beard Awards, which will be announced June 16 and are considered the Oscars of the culinary world. Ortega, whose desserts have won international competitions and who's been featured on numerous television programs, is one of almost 20 Latinos who are finalists across different categories, recognized for making their mark in the culinary and beverage arenas — including in states with smaller Latino populations. One of them is Wyoming, a state where 10% of the population is Hispanic and that many people might associate more with 'cowboy country' than with chocolate making, Ortega said with a laugh. 'But I said, 'Let's see, let's try,'' and he opened a chocolate and pastry shop in 2004. There were days when he didn't sell anything, he said, but then everything started selling out. To keep honing his skills, he began entering international culinary competitions. Initially, he represented Mexico, his native country, but after winning several times, he was invited to join the official U.S. team with which he has won several prestigious international awards. 'And after I made the desserts for the competitions, I would serve them in my bakery when I got back. And that's how it began to establish itself' to the point of getting James Beard recognition, Ortega said. Like Wyoming, Idaho and Alabama are not states with the largest Latino populations. But in Caldwell, Idaho, people of Hispanic descent make up almost 40% of the population compared to 13% in the rest of the state. In this city, Salvador Alamilla's dishes at his restaurant, Amano, have earned him a nomination for 2025 James Beard best chef: mountain, where he's competing against four other chefs in nearby states. The restaurant's website touts a dedication 'to uplifting the food and beverages of the Mexican diaspora through ancestral cooking methods.' From the beginning, Alamilla said, his restaurant sought to be a place that offered 'the dream of eating like you did at home, with food like your grandpa or mom used to make it.' That's why regardless of whether he wins the James Beard Award or not, he said he's already been rewarded by 'seeing how people react to this food, saying, 'That's how my dad made it,' or 'Wow, it tastes just like my grandma's.'' That's behind one of this season's signature dishes at Amano: seasoned goat meat that's slow-cooked in an underground pit, or birria en hoyo, as it's known in Spanish. He's been making it with input from everyone who works at the restaurant, based on how they remember their own older relatives did it using the ancient technique. Along with his wife, Becca Alamilla — who's also the restaurant's manager — the chef's mother, aunts, brother and cousin also work there. 'It's a family project that has become a community cornerstone here in Caldwell,' Alamilla said. For the family, that includes advocating for community initiatives, such as raising funds so local teachers can purchase more books by diverse authors. 'We can be a place that offers a connection to this beautiful culture that exists here because we're here,' Becca Alamillo said. 'I think it can help carry people back to a place that they had forgotten and then it brings back really special memories.' In Birmingham, Alabama, José Medina Camacho has been nominated for outstanding professional in beverage service as co-owner of the bar Adiõs. Medina Camacho told Noticias Telemundo that, at first, he didn't want to be involved in the food industry because his mother and stepfather worked in kitchens, and he saw how long and tiring their days would be. But once he decided to do it, 'I worked my way up the ladder in every aspect of a restaurant,' he said, 'dishwasher, line cook, busboy, server, and then manager in one place, bartender in another, putting together the wine list in yet another... everything.' During the pandemic, he considered moving to another industry, until his partner in what is now Adiõs suggested opening a bar. He said he was initially afraid to make that step, but then he thought it over. "I saw and went to bars all over the city and said, 'Yeah, something's missing here. Where are my people?'' he said. While people in the area knew about Southern hospitality, 'Mexican hospitality is on another level, and I wanted to show them that," he said. At first, people who came to his stylish bar didn't know what to expect; they asked for 'chips and salsa,' he said, because they didn't necessarily know that Latin American culinary establishments can offer so many other things. 'Now they love music in Spanish, they ask me about epazote (a Central American herb), they want to know all the differences between the types of mezcal or tequila,' Medina Camacho said. In that vein, one of the bar's current favorites is a martini made with aged tequila, pickled watermelon and campari. 'We want to attract the entire Birmingham community, whether Latin or American, and show them our culture ... I'm excited about the future, whatever the outcome is' regarding the nomination, he said. Back in Wyoming, Ortega believes his own career's advancements reflect how 'the influence of Mexican and Latin American cuisine has been incredibly significant' in the American culinary world over the last 10 years. 'And in part, it's because, from New York to San Diego, there's no kitchen without Latinos, whether they're chefs, those working alongside them or those financing them, and regardless of whether they're Michelin-starred restaurants or small establishments,' he said. Ortega would be the first Wyoming chef to win the James Beard Award. But he said that regardless of whether he wins, being considered a finalist is a boost after years of work, tireless hours in the kitchen and coaching a team. 'My priority, regardless of the outcome, remains having the opportunity to grow as a pastry chef, chocolatier and ice cream maker, internationally,' Ortega said. He still has one goal, however: re-creating his favorite dessert, which is a flan (custard) that tastes just like the one his late mother used to make. 'Imagine that: after so many years of working at this, I haven't been able to copy her recipe, which she took with her,' Ortega said with a sigh. 'But you have to keep trying.' An earlier version of this story was first published in Noticias Telemundo. This article was originally published on
Yahoo
04-06-2025
- Yahoo
Luis Valdez to appear at El Paso's Plaza Classic Film Festival with 2 film screenings
Legendary writer and director Luis Valdez is the first guest announced for the 2025 Plaza Classic Film Festival. This will be the 18th year for the El Paso Community Foundation's film series, which will run from July 17-27 in and around the Plaza Theatre. Valdez will appear for on-stage interviews before two of his classic movies — 1987's "La Bamba", about Mexican American rocker Ritchie Valens, at 7 p.m. Friday, July 18, and "Zoot Suit" (1981), considered the first major Chicano feature film, at 3 p.m. Saturday, July 19. Both events will take place at the Plaza Theatre. Tickets for each program will be $10 and will go on sale with the rest of the Plaza Classic Film Festival schedule, starting Tuesday, June 10, at the Plaza Theatre box office (no service fees) and (with service fees). Valdez is one of the most important American playwrights and filmmakers living today. He has been successful in theater, television and film. He wrote "Zoot Suit," which explored Los Angeles' racially motivated Sleepy Lagoon murder trial of 1942 and 'Zoot Suit Riots' of 1943, debuted in Los Angeles in 1978 and became the first Chicano play on Broadway a year later. La Bamba was written for the screen and starred Lou Diamond Phillips. Both films are preserved in the National Film Registry. Valdez founded the Obie Award-winning theater company El Teatro Campesino in 1965 in California's Central Valley, joining César Chávez in his United Farm Workers' rights movement. It is the longest-running Chicano theater in the United States, according to a news release. The prolific 84-year-old debuted his latest play, "Adiós Mamá Carlota," on May 10 at El Teatro Campesino Playhouse. Valdez's honors include the Presidential Medal of Arts, Mexico's Aguila Azteca Award, and the Peabody Award for his 1987 PBS documentary, Corridos: Tales of Passion and Revolution. The 18th Annual Plaza Classic Film Festival will take place from July 17 to 27. This year's Plaza Classic Film Festival will feature 100 movies over 11 days, including "Cabaret," "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade", "The Godfather Part II", "Notting Hill", "Saving Private Ryan", "Toy Story", "Schindler's List", "Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back", and many more. Festival passes are on sale for $200 now and include access to almost all ticketed festival movies, reservations for Philanthropy Theatre movies, special events, and discounts at nearby eateries. Festival tickets go on sale June 10 at the Plaza Theatre box office and Ticketmaster. More: Free summer concert series in El Paso: Your guide to outdoor music María Cortés González may be reached at 915-546-6150; mcortes@ @ on Bluesky, and @eptmariacg on TikTok. This article originally appeared on El Paso Times: 'La Bamba' director Luis Valdez joins Plaza Classic Film fest lineup
Yahoo
03-06-2025
- Yahoo
Jenna Ortega Is Not Asking Permission
"Hearst Magazines and Yahoo may earn commission or revenue on some items through these links." Had it been up to Jenna Ortega, she would have spent the summer after Wednesday's debut season chilling on an Icelandic farm—learning to fish, making dinner, helping care for the spring lambs. She hatched this pastoral escape plan online, on a rural work-exchange site, soon after the show became a global hit in late 2022. 'I was so stunned that I didn't really process it,' Ortega says of her overnight megafame. 'I still haven't.' She'd been acting for a decade, but this was a new level. It was so overwhelming, it felt like it was happening to someone else and so unnatural that it was something human beings weren't designed to go through. 'We used to live in villages and meet maybe 300 people in our lifetimes, and now we can travel all over the world and meet way too many people, and way too many people can be familiar with you.' She tried different things to reduce her exposure. She bought a flip phone. ('I had a really hard time with social media,' she says. 'It was really turning me off.') She booked the farm stay and planned to travel on her own after that. But then Tim Burton asked her to do Beetlejuice Beetlejuice and she spent the summer shooting in London instead. Ortega is telling me this over iced teas on the patio of a popular cafe in the Los Feliz neighborhood of L.A., where we're meeting an hour later than planned. Earlier, she'd been trying to humanely evict a wasp's nest from her balcony and locked herself out of her apartment in the process. A friend came over with spare keys, but they were the wrong ones—so she shimmied down a nearby palm tree to freedom. ('Mercury retrograde,' she says. She doesn't believe in it, but she also concedes that it explains a lot.) Ortega is in town to promote Alex Scharfman's horror comedy Death of a Unicorn, with Paul Rudd, in which she plays the surly teen daughter of the lawyer for an evil pharmaceutical family, and Trey Edward Shults's experimental drama Hurry Up Tomorrow, with Abel Tesfaye, a.k.a. the Weeknd, in which she plays 'the feminine part of Abel's brain.' She recently got back from Paris, where she shot Cathy Yan's comedy thriller The Gallerist, about an art dealer, played by Natalie Portman, who tries to sell a corpse at Art Basel. (Ortega plays her high-strung assistant.) Last year, she filmed Taika Waititi's adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro's novel Klara and the Sun in New Zealand, then headed to Dublin afterward to shoot the long-awaited second season of Wednesday, which premieres in August. Tomorrow, she leaves for London to begin work on J.J. Abrams's new film, a project so deeply under wraps that the script was transmitted to her under fake names via different accounts. Nonstop work schedule and wasp's nest notwithstanding, Ortega looks calm and unruffled. She's dressed comfortably in a white tank top, plaid jacket, thrifted jeans, and Thom Browne loafers. In person, she's warm, thoughtful, and down-to-earth, almost preternaturally composed for a 22-year-old who has struggled with anxiety, to the point that she once chewed through her Invisalign from grinding her teeth at night. Between her freckles and self-possession, her tiny stature and intelligent eyes, she looks simultaneously very young and wise beyond her years. She radiates the quiet confidence of someone who's no longer asking permission to be herself. 'I was always very existential as a kid,' says Ortega. 'The world was always ending. I was worrying about things way earlier than I needed to.' Disappearing into characters offered an escape from the pressure she put on herself. 'My work felt like the safe place. When I wasn't on set, I had a really, really hard time.' She remembers her teen years being 'full of tension and fear.' She was terrified of messing up. When she sees old videos of the happy, bubbly kid she was on TV, 'I can see clearly that something is wrong, because she doesn't want to say or do the wrong thing.' For a moment, after Wednesday blew up, a familiar narrative seemed to coalesce around Ortega—the kind reserved for young women who stick up for themselves and don't calibrate their words for public consumption. She felt 'incredibly misunderstood.' She gets that the internet rewards controversy, but she tries not to pay attention. 'I feel like being a bully is very popular right now,' she says. 'Having been on the wrong side of the rumor mill was incredibly eye-opening.' It's easy to hide on social media, which makes it even easier to say hurtful things. 'We're incredibly desensitized and disconnected from real interaction,' Ortega says. 'I mean, God, if you could speak to everybody like Wednesday—just say what you truly mean—it would be amazing!' In real life, most people try not to upset other people. Nobody wants to let anyone down. But Wednesday isn't burdened by any of that. 'She doesn't care,' Ortega says. 'It's pretty funny, when you think about it. She's an outsider, but now she's on these mugs, cereal boxes, and T-shirts. You're just thinking, Oh, man, she would hate this!' Ortega—who grew up in the Coachella Valley, the fourth of six siblings—booked her first acting job when she was nine. But it wasn't until recently that she started to feel a sense of control over her life and career. From the beginning, she chafed at being told what she could and couldn't do. She always knew that films were what she wanted, but because she was doing well in commercials and TV, she felt pressured to 'stay in that lane.' One of the pitfalls of being a child star, especially one shaped by the Disney Channel machine—at 13, Ortega was cast as Harley Diaz, the middle child in Stuck in the Middle—is that professionalism is often mistaken for maturity. Looking back, she can see how much she didn't understand, but thought she did, because of how she was treated. 'There are certain things that you're only going to learn from experience,' she says. 'It's hard for me to accept that people didn't respect that more.' In recent years, Ortega has befriended other actresses who survived the treacherous transition from child star to A-list actress—people like Natalie Portman, Winona Ryder, and Natasha Lyonne. 'It's been so beneficial and so cozy,' she says. 'They've seen it all, and, honestly, during a much darker time in Hollywood. We've all got this jaded way about us that I don't think we'd have if we hadn't started so young and had so many brutal realizations and experiences.' She pauses, then deadpans, 'But they turned out all right.' On the phone a few days later, Portman tells me that she and Ortega discovered on the set that they both like to crouch in between scenes. 'We don't sit in a chair; we just kind of squat in the corner,' she tells me. 'Catherine Zeta-Jones, who was also a child actress, said she did it too—that it's a way of grounding yourself. There'd be all these chairs, but we'd just squat and look at each other and be like, 'Wow, this is weird.' ' Portman agrees that child actors are often treated like tiny adults. But with her and Ortega, there is also the matter of their size. 'We're both physically tiny, so people will often treat you like a child forever,' she says. 'I'm 43 now, and people kind of pat me on the head. I don't look like a child, but I often feel like I'm treated like a kid. Child actors often cultivate a serious persona because otherwise they'll get treated like kids forever. When you start working as a kid, you kind of always feel like a kid in the workplace. Having some of that seriousness helps remind people, 'I'm a grown-up.' ' Ortega believes wisdom isn't something that is automatically conferred with age. 'It really irks me when people say, 'Oh, you don't understand. You're so young.' Because if you're not open to the experiences that you're having and you're not willing to learn from your mistakes or reflect on your decisions, you're not going to grow at all. You're choosing to be a bystander.' When Wednesday first came along, Ortega hesitated. She'd spent five seasons as young Jane on the CW's Jane the Virgin and three on Disney's Stuck in the Middle. Eager for a change, she lobbied for a role in the second season of Netflix's psychological thriller You—and got it. In 2022, Ortega starred as Tara Carpenter in Scream, the first in a string of horror films—Studio 666, X, and American Carnage—that showcased her dry, acerbic exterior over her vulnerable core and earned her a solid reputation as her generation's scream queen. 'I was getting to this point in my career where I was doing movies and getting in the rooms,' she says. She knew that starring in a show would prevent her from taking on more films. 'So I kept telling everyone no. I almost didn't want to hear what Tim [Burton] had to say, and really like it, and feel like I needed to do it—which is kind of what happened.' Ortega was in New Zealand shooting X when she met with Burton over Zoom. She was wearing a prosthetic—her character's head had just been blown off—but Burton didn't even acknowledge it. One of the scenes she did for him involved catching Thing spying on her and threatening to lock him in a drawer forever. She'd been up for 24 hours and was supposed to go to sleep, but instead she went into her bathroom and filmed a second take. 'I didn't want Tim to have that be his last impression of me,' she says. 'The next day, I was killing time in my hotel room and I found myself thinking about her—like, maybe she moves like this. And then I realized, Oh, man, I think I'm stuck, because I really love this girl.' Burton would go on to direct half of the first season and half of the second of Wednesday.'When I read this thing, I went, like, Oh my God, this is written for a 16-year-old girl, but I can relate. People have said I act like that sometimes,' Burton tells me over the phone from London. 'But it all hinged upon finding somebody to play Wednesday. It had to be somebody who just had it in her soul, and when we saw Jenna, there was just no question.' Ortega was 18 when production began on the first season of Wednesday. She was on her own in a foreign country (the first season taped in Romania), feeling lost and confused. 'In TV, everything moves fast. They're writing scripts, and you're shooting episodes; everything's mixed around. It's very easy to feel like a puppet. You just feel very vulnerable,' she says. 'I've been a series regular for multiple shows. I know what it's like to feel in the dark as an actor.' At times, she's felt like she couldn't speak up if she was uncomfortable: 'I didn't really have a place.' Burton, however, welcomed her input. 'She's playing the character, and I always felt her instincts were right,' he tells me. He went on to cast Ortega as Astrid Deetz, Lydia's (Ryder) teenage daughter in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.'When I first met Winona, I had such a strong feeling about her,' he says. 'I had a similar reaction when I first met Jenna. They both have an internal strength that you can't put into words.' Ortega wasn't in a great place after the first season of Wednesday. 'To be quite frank, after the show and trying to figure everything out, I was an unhappy person,' she admits. 'After the pressure, the attention—as somebody who's quite introverted, that was so intense and so scary.' But things are different now. She's a producer on the show, which felt like a natural progression. 'I sit in on meetings and listen and learn,' she says. 'I'm still finding my footing in that area.' She also tries to make sure other young cast members feel heard. 'Season 2 is bigger, bolder, gorier, and a bit darker,' she says. 'It's sillier in the best way possible.' The show's move from Bucharest to Dublin may have influenced the shift as well, at least for her. 'Dublin was incredible,' she says. 'I loved everything about that experience, the cast, the crew. It was so sweet and so awesome. That island is so beautiful.' On days when they weren't filming, Ortega explored Ireland with her hair and makeup artist, Nirvana, and her assistant, Lizzie. 'On weekends, we'd go down to Kerry and Cork and Donegal and swim in thunderstorms,' she says. Normally, when traveling for work, she would find her café and her bookshop and that was that. But her friends pushed her to get out more. 'I spent a lot of time laying in fields, going on hikes with my dog. I was raising chinchillas, and I'd read books with my chinchillas in my lap. Maybe I'd go to a karaoke bar one night or host a dinner at my place—things like that. I tried to make it feel as family-like as possible.' There are ways in which Wednesday has felt like a double-edged sword for Ortega. The role rubbed off on her in good ways. 'I definitely feel like I have a bit more Gothic taste than I did when I was a teenager,' she says. 'I've always been into dark things or been fascinated by them, but I was a Disney kid, and the whole thing is being bubbly and kind and overly sweet.' She plays the cello now—as well as the synth. She knows how to fence. But if Wednesday helped change people's perception, Ortega once again finds herself in a tricky spot in her career: 'I'm doing a show I'm going to be doing for years where I play a schoolgirl,' she says. 'But I'm also a young woman.' When I check in with Ortega a week later over Zoom, I relay Portman's sympathetic frustrations over being a child star who grew into a not-so-tall adult star. 'I relate to that so immensely, and it's always been really annoying, because you just don't feel like you're being taken seriously,' she says. 'You know, it's like how you're dressed in the schoolgirl costume. … There's just something about it that's very patronizing. Also, when you're short, people are already physically looking down on you.' Boys get away with more. 'But girls,' she says, 'if they don't stay as this perfect image of how they were first introduced to you, then it's 'Ah, something's wrong. She's changed. She sold her soul.' But you're watching these women at the most pivotal times in their lives; they're experimenting because that's what you do.' Sometimes that's about throwing yourself into a new role and giving yourself another chance to stretch and subvert expectations. For Ortega, that comes with another chance to dive into research and watch movies, which is one of her favorite things to do. (While preparing for her role as a robot in Waititi's adaptation of Klara and the Sun, Ortega studied Buster Keaton's films. 'If I'm only paying attention to what's coming out now, then everyone's getting their inspiration from the same place,' she says.) Sometimes that's about escaping—to a farm in Iceland (one day) or an animal sanctuary in Ireland. Sometimes, it's just about caring for something else. Which brings us back to the chinchillas. Because, what? When I ask Ortega about them, she launches into a story. 'I'd always wanted to pet a cow,' she says. Her eyes are wide and animated, and she seems in high spirits. She tells me how Nirvana and Lizzie surprised her with a visit to an animal sanctuary. 'I got to spend the day with cows, and I was thrilled,' she says. Then Eddie, the guy in charge of the sanctuary, introduced her to a family of neglected chinchillas in need of care. 'They had these bald patches,' she says. 'They were clearly struggling—just going through a really rough time. Eddie asked us if we wanted to hold them, and that's a very dangerous position to put a young woman in, because you give her a small furry animal, she will take it home with her.' Ortega returned to the sanctuary the next day to pick up the family of chinchillas: a mother and two sons. 'Like, baby baby. Sons that were smaller than my palm,' she says. 'And I watched them grow into men.' The mother's name was Alma, 'a traditional, beautiful name from The Phantom Thread. There was a brother, Domhnall—which, you know, Irish name, had to do it, I was in Ireland. And the youngest one, kind of the favorite among castmates, was Basil. He was named after Basil Gogos, who was Tim Burton's favorite illustrator as a kid.' (Gogos was famed for his renderings of horror-movie characters for Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine.) 'It was so exciting,' she says of caring for them. 'Their hair grew back. They took dust baths. I gave them a little swing.' They returned to the sanctuary when filming was over, but she did come home with a dog. 'She was the runt of her litter and had something weird going on with her eye. Apparently she was sick all the time. I was like, 'Don't worry, guys, I will take care of this dog.' No one asked, but she automatically became our mascot. I guess I just really like nursing things.' It's easy to forget, especially when a character becomes a cultural touchstone so quickly, like Wednesday did, that Ortega is a 22-year-old trying to figure out who she wants to be in the world (and not, you know, Wednesday Addams). 'What's so strange about a character like Wednesday is that Wednesday is an outcast and an outsider—but she's also a pop-culture icon,' says Ortega. 'So, in a strange way, I feel like I've become a pop actor—if that makes sense. And that's something I never saw for myself.' Taking on so many other films in a row allowed Ortega to 'feel like an actor again.' When she's not working, which these days is rare, Ortega is trying on different hats, different modes of creative expression ('I just tried painting a couple days ago; that was exciting and really scary'), and new ways of coping with the stress and anxiety of all of it. 'I've gotten into Transcendental Meditation, which is usually how I like to start my morning,' she says. 'I think I maybe handle my stress better, or I'm really indecisive, so maybe I'm just putting less pressure on those things.' 'I'm very grateful for my audience, ' Ortega says. 'And I want to be able to give back to them. But I also want to do things that are creatively fulfilling to me. So it's finding that balance of doing movies that they might be interested in and then doing movies that I'm interested in.' Right now, she's looking forward to roles that are 'older and bolder and different,' she says. 'And then I want to be able to line up all of my girls and see something different in all of them.' Hair: Ward; makeup: Dick Page; manicure: Yoko Sakakura for OPI; production: One Thirty-Eight Productions; set design: BG Porter You Might Also Like 4 Investment-Worthy Skincare Finds From Sephora The 17 Best Retinol Creams Worth Adding to Your Skin Care Routine
