Know Your Neighbors: Meet Indio Resident Bill Schinsky, an Artist, Teacher, Gallery Owner and Vietnam Veteran

William “Bill” Schinsky’s family is part of Southern California history.

Schinsky’s maternal grandfather was part of the Marquez family, who settled Santa Monica as a Mexican land-grant family. They actually lived in a town just south of Santa Monica, called Westchester. That’s where Schinsky, who was born in 1946, went to Catholic high school.

“As a child, I had a pretty hefty case of asthma. I couldn’t run around like other kids, because as soon as I did, I couldn’t breathe,” he said. “I had a quiet and sickly childhood.”

Schinsky had three siblings: an older sister and two younger brothers. One traumatic incident helped shaped Schinsky’s outlook on life.

“Because I was such a sickly child, my father, who was not an easy man, considered me a real sissy,” he said. “One day, when I was 7 years old, we were home alone. My father grabbed me and said, ‘If you want to act like a girl, then you can dress like one.’ He put me in one of my sister’s dresses and locked me out of the house on the front porch. There I was, for all the world to see. I became an adult that day. I realized: If you can’t trust your parents, then you can trust no one.”

Schinsky originally planned to be a history teacher. In 1968, he was studying history in college when he got drafted and was sent to Vietnam. He spent 420 days there, and confirms that, yes, war is terrible, but surprisingly, “it can be pretty boring.”

“Much of the time, you just sit around waiting for something to happen,” he said. “I was in the 105 Howitzer unit, which is the smallest of the cannons. We were stationed near the DMZ (demilitarized zone). I was closer to Hanoi than I was to Saigon, but we could feel the ground shake at night from the bombing.

“The Vietnam experience did change me. It reinforced the conviction I already had that I had to take care of myself, because no one else was going to.”

Schinsky became protective of one buddy in Vietnam who was absolutely terrified when there was mortar fire. Schinsky would put him in a foxhole, light him a cigarette, and say, “Stay here; I’ll be back when it’s over.” Another soldier asked Schinsky to write letters to his mother, and to read the ones she sent back out loud, because he was totally illiterate.

Schinsky said he has some PTSD. He gets very anxious in crowds, and the sound of a helicopter makes him shudder.

When Schinsky came home and went back to school, he took a required “Art 101” class. It changed his life.

“I liked painting, but I knew pretty early on that I was not going to be a great at it. But I had a knack for design and placement and selection,” he said. “After undergraduate school, I took a museum-studies class at Cal State Fullerton. It was clear my path was to work in a museum or open a gallery.”

Schinsky relocated to the desert in 2003.

“My husband grew up in Coachella, where his stepfather was the mayor,” he said. “He has lots of family here, and we used to come out in the ’70s to visit his folks. He didn’t really want to come back, but I’ve always loved the desert, so we made the move.”

Once settled in the Coachella Valley, Schinsky applied to be a substitute teacher, but instead was asked to work one-on-one with a troubled sixth-grader. What initially was supposed to be a three-week stint turned into three years.

“I was the only person who listened to him,” he said.

Schinsky eventually took over the Coachella Valley Arts Alliance, which evolved into the Coachella Valley Art Center. In 2011, he submitted a proposal to create a gallery in Indio that would offer affordable studio space for artists to work, as well as classes. It was accepted, and the Coachella Valley Art Center was born.

Schinsky was also the curator of the Rancho Mirage Art Affaire for two decades, and taught an introductory art class for College of the Desert at their satellite locations in Indio and Mecca.

When COVID-19 hit, Schinsky tried something a bit different. “I just started picking up objects—creating collages or just putting them together in more sculpture form,” he said. “I’ve been very fortunate to have known and been influenced by some very famous artists, including Lenore Tawney for textiles, and Sol LeWitt, who some thought of as the father of minimalism. Lewitt told me not to worry about what other people think of my work, but just to do what I need to do.”

In 2023, after the city of Indio accused Schinsky of not doing enough community-oriented projects—a claim Schinsky said is unfounded—the Coachella Valley Art Center’s lease was terminated. He has been running a community art gallery on Perez Road in Cathedral City.

Schinsky said that although he has a reputation for being grumpy (he calls it being direct), he tries to always be kind and helpful. So what’s on his bucket list?

“I’ve sent a proposal to the Cheech Marin (Center for Chicano Art and Culture) in Riverside, which has a huge collection of Hispanic art,” he said. “I’d like to repeat an exhibition I did in Indio dealing with the lynching of Mexican-Americans in California from 1848 to 1895. It’s called 149, because that’s the number of Mexicans who were lynched.”

Perhaps the most surprising thing about Bill Schinsky is that he loves sumo wrestling. Why?

“It’s traditional,” he said. “It has fabulous history, and I love the movement and ceremony involved—plus, I just love anything Japanese.”

Learn more at instagram.com/schinskywilliam.

Bonnie Gilgallon has written theater reviews for the Independent since 2013. She hosts a digital interview show, The Desert Scene, which can be heard on www.thedesertscene.com and viewed on Mutual Broadcasting’s YouTube channel. Learn more at bonnie-g.com.