MOMENTS OF
TRUTH
This project spotlights people in Texas who experienced turning points that reshaped the course of their lives.
ILLUSTRATION BY LAUREN IBAÑEZ
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Click here for audio transcript
CHRISTOPHER CARDOZA: Once upon a time, you know, I was a bad guy 14 and a half years ago. I lived a whole different life. My name is Christopher Paul Cardoza. I am a photographer, uh, documentarian. I photograph mainly in the city of San Marcos and at my age, which I won’t disclose, I’m still very obsessed with it, like a little 13-year-old kid.
My first camera was an Olympus OM 10. It never left my side. I come from Southern California and I worked in the film industry for about 15 years. You work in the film industry, you’re hanging out with some cool people hanging around, some real popular Oscar winning people. You know, you go into nightclubs where they’re hanging out, you know, and then things start falling away, you know?
My dreams were no longer dreams of what I was gonna be when I grew up.
My dreams were, how was I gonna pick up another bottle of booze the next morning with no money? And before you know it, it takes you by surprise. Like a storm, like a Texas storm, you know? And then you’re sitting there going, what just happened?
You know? Where’s the car? Where’s the kids? They say you don’t seek help until you hit rock bottom. I don’t believe in that. I believe the bottom is endless. As long as you have a shovel, you’re gonna keep digging.
Then you come to that moment of truth. My uh, man, I, I told myself I wasn’t gonna get emotional.
And there was this one simple moment. You know, I, it was midnight, May 1st, 2011. I remember I opened a bottle of booze and I grabbed that bag of whatever I had, that white stuff, and I just stared at it. And I remember I just looked up and I said, dear God, I can’t do this anymore.
This is my 14 year coin.
And right here was an anonymous gift. I get one every year from California.
In California there’s an icy barrier between people and each other, but when you come to a place like Texas here, the music scene was so different. It was alive.
This particular town was weird. Because everyone had this bubbly energy, but watching the people playing the music, watching the people create art, inspired me to want to create something.
I fell in love with the town, you know, uh, it prompted me to buy a camera here, although I played with some cameras during my sobriety, but it wasn’t until I bought the camera here that the bug hit me again.
MAN: You photographed me a couple times.
CHRISTOPHER CARDOZA: Yeah, I remember
MAN: I just moved to San Marcos. Like I saw you and recognized you. I just wanted to say what’s up. I don’t wanna get in your way, but I just wanted to say hello and good to see you.
CHRISTOPHER CARDOZA: Good to see you again.
MAN: Yeah, I’m here so hopefully I’ll see you around, man.
CHRISTOPHER CARDOZA: For sure, man.
I wanted to capture moments. I wanted to capture that imagery that I saw. That no one else would see. It’s sort of like, I’m seeing your joy, I’m seeing your pain.
I see the fake smiles, I see the, the true smiles, but what I’m seeing is a person and having built the reputation that I built around here, it’s a privilege that you allow me into your life.
You know, when I’m not taking pictures, I’m sitting somewhere back here or over here listening to music, and there’s always someone coming up putting their arm around me and like, Hey man, what’s going on?
This place is called Tantra. Tantra Coffee House has been here since I first moved here, and it was here long before that. It’s a place unlike any other place in town. You don’t have that us and them mentality. This is the whole community right here.
This is a community, all ages. Uh, this is the only place where you’re gonna find everyone kind of unifying. I go through pictures these days and I, and I go, I was there that night, you know, so I’ll go, who, who took that? And I go, you did. Yet it’s become part of their stories too, uh, as far as the future. But you could say, I’m living it day by day, and that’s all I got.
One day at a time.
Capturing San Marcos: How photography helped him heal
On a blistering summer day in Texas, Christopher Cardoza sat at a picnic bench overlooking a spread of the photos he’s taken over the years. Photos of the Mermaid Capital of Texas Fest, moshing crowds from the legendary Triple Crown and of Willie Nelson, the pride of Texas.
On a typical night, he can be found at Tantra coffeehouse, a place where everyone knows his name, with a Nikon camera in hand capturing the energy of the crowd and the strums of the band.
Cardoza is a local photographer who moved to San Marcos from California in 2011 after he was arrested.
Christopher Cardoza’s photographs are spread out on a picnic table outside of Tantra coffeehouse on Monday, Aug. 25, 2025. He took many of the photos at several events in San Marcos.
FELICITY GUAJARDO / NEXTGENRADIO
Christopher Cardoza, a local photographer, poses for a portrait outside Tantra coffeehouse. Cardoza photographs at Tantra during live music events.
FELICITY GUAJARDO / NEXTGENRADIO
“A cop pulled up, ran a check on me. I had warrants, and they took me to jail. And for some bizarre reason, I felt that was an answer to my prayer,” he said.
Cardoza felt that his moment of truth came after the arrest. An old friend reached out with an enticement to leave California: a construction job in San Marcos. When he got to Texas, the southern charm and the energy of San Marcos swept him away.
“ This particular town was weird because everyone had this bubbly energy. They had these art markets everywhere,” he said. “ My photography kind of came from the fact that you guys inspired me because I watched you guys creating art.”
San Marcos is a college town, but it’s not just students roaming around. With the mighty San Marcos River going straight through the parks, many people drawn to the area find inspiration from the native Texas wild-rice, a grass that’s only found in Hays County, or the Texas blind salamander, a rare amphibian native to San Marcos. Around the city, there are colorful murals and a collection of 7-foot-tall mermaid sculptures representing the variety of local flora and fauna.
Cardoza believes San Marcos helped guide him out of a dark place in his life.
He pointed to a photo of an unhoused man lying on a bus bench and explained that it’s a photo he took in his hometown of San Bernardino, Calif. He wiped a tear from behind his dark circular sunglasses, struggling to get the words out.
“ This bus stop, I used to do the same thing he did. Same spot,” he said. “In a way, you know, it was kind of like seeing me all over again.”
This photo is a painful reminder of who he used to be before he took the steps to leave his chaotic life in Hollywood and get sober.
“When I was in California, … I was still in survival mode,” he said. “You come from a certain lifestyle, you get used to it. You know, you get used to that park bench.”
A photo Cardoza took while visiting his hometown of San Bernardino, California. Cardoza was once lying in the same spot as the man in the photo.
PHOTO COURTESY OF CHRISTOPHER CARDOZA
In eighth grade, Cardoza received an Olympus OM-10, his first camera. From then on he was obsessed with taking photos everywhere he went, any chance he had. He worked at the school newspaper, then did some freelancing for newspapers like the Los Angeles Times, and he shifted to the film industry. Cardoza always had a love for the arts.
“ My dad always had National Geographic and Life Magazine, you know. And then my brother had this photo in his room, this long-haired blonde man with his shirt open and this long-haired, dark-haired man playing a guitar,” he said. “And I was just so mesmerized and terrified all at once. But it was a, it was a powerful picture, you know. It was Led Zeppelin.”
Cardoza holds out his 14-year sobriety coin while viewing photographs of San Marcos at Tantra coffeehouse. Cardoza uses photography as a tool to maintain his sobriety.
FELICITY GUAJARDO / NEXTGENRADIO
They say you don’t seek help until you hit rock bottom. I don’t believe in that. I believe the bottom is endless as long as you have a shovel.
He worked in the Hollywood film industry as a production assistant for 15 years which gave him an inside look at how music videos were made, but the environment of Hollywood swept him away.
”You work in the film industry, you’re hanging out with some cool people, hanging around some real popular Oscar-winning people,” he said. “You know, you go into nightclubs where they’re hanging out, you know, and then things start falling away.”
In the spiral of addiction, Cardoza lost the spark he felt when taking photos.
”They say you don’t seek help until you hit rock bottom. I don’t believe in that. I believe the bottom is endless as long as you have a shovel,” he said.
Christopher Cardoza sits on a picnic bench outside of Tantra Coffeehouse and holds up a photo he took at River Appreciation Day in Martindale, TX.
FELICITY GUAJARDO / NEXTGENRADIO
Cardoza found a life he loves in San Marcos where he can connect with people through his lens.
But since Cardoza came here, he’s seen changes in the bustling college town. He explains as broader and taller student apartments were built, more cultural venues shut their doors.
“The town was kind of getting swallowed and I, like everyone at one point, had an us-and-them mentality,” he said.
He saw his beloved Triple Crown, a music venue where he took many of his most memorable photos, close alongside other community and cultural staples. At first Cardoza thought he lost what made him fall in love with San Marcos, but then he realized the people at these shows are what made these venues memorable.
”You know, we, we can’t bring back that bar.We can’t bring back that era of music, but we can bring each other together and continue to inspire,” he said. “And if you’re from that side of the street, if you’re a Mexican, if you’re a white person, if you’re a black person, … the fact is, we are like a very dysfunctional family.”
Cardoza poses for a portrait at Tantra Coffeehouse. When Cardoza is not taking photos, he sits with the crowd at Tantra listening to the live music.
FELICITY GUAJARDO / NEXTGENRADIO
As sun rays beat down, Cardoza pointed to a photo of people in a mosh pit at Triple Crown. One thing was clear: each photo he takes is another reason why he left the bus bench behind and revisited the haunting San Bernardino photo.
“It was kind of a moment where I wanted to face … my ghost,” he said. “Because I was going back to the scene of the crime, I didn’t wanna be afraid of it anymore. You know, I didn’t want to have any more fear of where I came from. I wanted to be proud and look back at the good and not the bad, and I accomplished that.”