James De La Vega said he would be happy with 10 votes.

“I know that we’ve changed the game,” he said on election night, as he anticipated losing his state senate bid. “And I know that the game has changed us. I’m disappointed in seeing how ugly the game is.”

In a fedora and shades, he was quieter and more demure than the Afro-wigged persona he has played up in the past.

“There’s no loyalty in these streets,” he said. People would tell him, “We’re going to vote for you,” and then he would see them handing out fliers for other candidates, he said.

From his shop on Lexington Avenue near East 104th Street, the former schoolteacher and Cornell graduate launched a write-in campaign for the State Senate seat held by Olga Mendez, R-East Harlem. She lost the seat to Bronx Democrat Jose Serrano, Jr. last night.

De La Vega, 32, is best-known as an artist who is equal parts Keith Haring and Francisco de Goya, mixing a quiet idealism with searing social commentary.

His murals, with adages such as “Sometimes the King is a Woman” and “Become Your Dream,” dot East Harlem’s landscape, sometimes spanning half a block. His iconic motif is two lovelorn fish gazing at each other from separate fishbowls. In some murals, one fish takes a leap into the other’s bowl. It is nearly impossible to walk in the neighborhood without spotting someone wearing one of De La Vega’s T-shirts.

He knew he was not going to win the State Senate seat. But he paid for full-color fliers and “De La Vega for Senator” T-shirts out of his own pocket.

East Harlem’s residents feel disenfranchised and disconnected from politics, he said. They are concerned about rising rents and their own poverty. He aimed to listen to them and speak on their behalf.

A week before the election, he tried to connect elderly residents concerned about their rent vouchers with then-candidate Serrano. When Serrano was unable to meet with them because his schedule was crowded, De La Vega promised the residents he would follow up with Serrano.

He started his campaign while awaiting sentencing for an arrest in the Bronx, where he had been caught painting a white fish jumping into a cup on the side of a Bruckner Boulevard medical supply company. On Oct. 25, he was sentenced to 50 hours of community service at a Bronx center that does commercial graffiti.

De La Vega was not a conventional candidate. He refused to say negative things about his fellow candidates.

He was unusually magnanimous to the candidates running against him. During the summer, he stood at subway stops with former Assemblyman Nelson Denis to hand out campaign fliers for Denis’ bid to win the Democratic State Senate primary, which Denis later lost to Serrano. De La Vega stopped by Serrano’s East Harlem headquarters with juice and cookies. He spray-painted Olga Mendez’s portrait (wearing a Vote De La Vega button) on the metal grate that covers his shop at night. He then invited her over, and a Polaroid photo of the two of them in front of the painting is tacked to his already-crowded photo wall.

Even though his own campaign has been called little more than performance art, he refused to partake in what he calls the theater of politics. He denied newspapers’ requests to be photographed as he voted. “It’s not a spectacle to me,” he said. “I could be theatrical about this, but I won’t. This is not theater, you know. This is real stuff out here.”

Had he, a non-politician, won, “I would have been the most powerful message to send the world,” he said. “It’s about sending messages.”

“I’m voicing something … that is a reflection of so many people in this neighborhood,” he said.

In Latin America, political candidates are not always lawyers as they usually are in the United States, he said. Candidates are sometimes artists, like the poet Luis Munoz Marin, the first governor of Puerto Rico, and the Chilean poet and senator Pablo Neruda.

Artists “make interesting candidates because they stand for issues and don’t back down,” De La Vega said.

De La Vega pointed to a picture of Fidel Castro on his wall, which shared space with John Kennedy and other leaders. He was careful to say to he does not agree with all of Castro’s policies.

But, he said, “I understand the example of a man who stands up to America and says, ‘No.’ ”

In August, De La Vega trolled East Harlem with a bullhorn, an Afro wig and a black SUV. Leaning out of the window, he genially addressed residents with wisecracks and requests for votes.

“You look great in purple, miss. Please vote De La Vega for senator.”

“Miguel! De La Vega par el senador!” he said.

Recognizing a woman who helps strays, he told her, “Keep feeding the cats! Good job!”

Parked outside his mother’s apartment, he turned the bullhorn up toward her window until she appeared.

“Ma! Vote De La Vega for senator!”

East Harlem residents were frequently warm to his campaigning. “You got my vote!” said a driver of a silver Jaguar that pulled up alongside him.

“De La Vega par senador!” an elderly man standing on a corner yelled back at the SUV.

De La Vega hoped that his write-in campaign would inspire the community. “We need to be passionate about life,” he said. “People are like the walking dead.”

Most evenings he sat outside his store in a black canvas director’s chair hand-painted with “El Senador.” He would bring out folding chairs for his friends and whoever cared to stop by. Passersby waved to him and drivers slowed to greet him, often calling him simply, the Senator.

His crowded little store, overflowing with stacked canvases, postcards, T-shirts and photographs, feels crowded with just three people. The wood floors inside and the sidewalk outside are spray-painted and stenciled. He often gives away as much merchandise as he sells, handing out hats and shirts to French tourists, the local homeless, passing newspapermen and struggling musicians.

De La Vega was invited to an Oct. 27 candidates’ debate at the Church of the Resurrection in the Bronx. About 10 minutes into the debate, De La Vega stormed out.

The Rev. Eddie Lopez, who helped organize the debate, said that he had submitted a list of prepared questions a week and a half in advance to all the candidates so that they had time to prepare. The five questions focused on broad topics such as housing, employment and education.

“All the questions had the interest of the community at heart,” Lopez said.

De La Vega was asked the second question of the night, regarding what he as senator would do to combat the high rates of asthma and the impact of electrical plants and garbage upon the community’s health, Lopez said.

De La Vega complained about the questions. “He said they were stupid questions, they were putting people to sleep,” Lopez recalled.

On election night, De La Vega explained his objection: “There are bigger issues, like poverty.” He said that the questions asked things like, Are you going to remove power plants? Are you going to fight against the Rockefeller drug laws?

“Who’s going to say no?” De La Vega asked. “All the questions are answered.”

Lopez reminded the audience of approximately 200 that De La Vega had agreed to the format. De La Vega told Lopez that he was not going to answer the questions the way Lopez wanted him to.

“He was being disruptive so I asked him to leave,” Lopez said.

De La Vega said, “They didn’t like my antagonism.” He said he chastised Lopez on the way out, telling him he should be ashamed of himself. “I told him that if Jesus were alive, he’d be pissed at you.”

“He said I should know better as a clergyman,” Lopez said.

De La Vega left, telling the audience that if they continued to listen to the politicians, they “would end up poor anyway.”

“It was a great exit,” he said.

De La Vega is already planning his next campaign.

“The mayor’s race interests me,” he said, “because so many poor people are so disconnected from the world of local and global politics. By me running, I can engage a whole world that is disconnected.”