People With No Names - The Undocumented #57

This is a little study done on cardboard in oil.   Same subject as last one only I've put the people closer together...as they actually were when I saw them.  They are close to each other and close to us...both geographically, socially, historically, and psychologically.  As Franklin D. Roosevelt reminded a convention of the Daughters of the American Revolution,
   "Remember, remember always, that all of us, and you and I especially, are descended                            from immigrants and revolutionaries".   
Everywhere immigrants have enriched and strengthened the fabric of American life. As Walt
Whitman said,
   "These States are the amplest poem,
    Here is not merely a nation but
    a teeming Nation of nations."
These two quotes are lifted directly from "A NATION OF IMMIGRANTS" by John F. Kennedy.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #56

This painting is Oil on linen 8"x 16". The immigrants are painted with space between them to visually hint at their alone-ness and the winter jackets are for their protection against the cold and a metaphor for their need for protection against the cold reception awaiting them...even as they seek to come to the United States to provide us with produce and meat.  I stood in my local grocery store produce section last night and wondered how all that food got to me.

why i paint what i paint #13

I am reading a book titled "A Nation of Immigrants" by John F. Kennedy. It begins with the story of Alexis de Tocqueville (a young French aristocrat) coming to America in 1831 to attempt to understand the new experiment in democracy. On returning to France, he wrote his opinion about the American experiment in his great work, "Democracy in America". He identified a central factor in the American democratic faith: "It may be said that on leaving the mother country the emigrants had, in general, no notion of superiority one over another. The happy and powerful do not go into exile, and there are no surer guarantees of equality among men than poverty and misfortune"

People With No Names - The Undocumented #55

This 11'x14" oil on canvas depicts a father who I met at the Comedor in Nogales, Mexico. He was picked up walking across the desert at night (in below freezing temperatures), and deported. He is wrapped in a large moving van sort of blanket as he shows me a photo of his toddler daughter who lives in the U.S. with his wife. Both his wife and daughter are U.S. citizens and the small family has been living and working productively in the U.S for years. Because he was unsuccessful returning to his wife, she has been forced to move in with her mother in California. He does not know when he will see his family again.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #54

This oil on canvas 20"x 22"depicts a family that was recently re-united at the Comedor (a place where deportees are fed and given clothing and medical attention just a few hundred yards south of the U.S./Mexico border). The family had been living and working for years in Phoenix, AZ. when the parents (not U.S. citizens) went to a funeral in Mexico. When they tried to return to their children (U.S. citizens) in Phoenix, they were caught by border patrol and deported to Mexico. The "Samaritans", a group in Southern Arizona who are committed to protecting the welfare and even the lives of immigrants in the region, managed to re-unite the family in Nogales. I found it interesting to observe the various postures of the family members...the mother holding them all together, the father who needs to stay in the shadows to go undetected by authorities as he seeks to care for his family, the child in repose against her father's breast, the central child who looks like she is dancing or holding the world in her arms, and the son, looking outward...knowing that he will have to go out and help care for his family all too soon. I am re-reading Anne LaMott's TRAVELING MERCIES, and something that her preacher said seems to apply to this situation perfectly: "This is life's nature: that lives and hearts get broken---those of people we love, those of people we'll never meet. The world sometimes feels like the waiting room of the emergency ward and that we who are more or less OK for now need to take the tenderest possible care of the more wounded people in the waiting room, until the healer comes." Bravo Samaritans!

People With No Names - The Undocumented #53

This image is oil on board, 6"x 18". The title is "The Price of Strawberries". Quoting The Economist (Dec. 18, 2010), "There is no clearing house for jobs in the fields, so the migrants follow tips and rumours. Often, they end up in the right places at the wrong times. Felix Vega and his wife were dropped off in Oxnard (California), famous for its strawberries. But they arrived out of season, so they slept on the streets, then in a doghouse, then in somebody's car. For two months they did not bathe and barely ate. Finally, they found jobs picking strawberries and made their first money in America. And thus they joined the vast undocumented workforce that under-girds America's food supply...Rob Williams, the director of the Migrant Farm-worker Justice Project (which represents farm-workers in court) estimates that 90% of farm-workers are sin papeles (without papers), just as the Vegas are. Strawberries, the crop the Vegas couple started out with, are nicknamed 'la fruta del diablo' (the devil's fruit) because pickers have to bend over all day. "Hot weather is bad," says Felix Vega, but "cold is worse" because it makes the back pain unbearable. Even worse is sleet or rain, which turns the field into a lake of mud. The worst is picking when you have the flu."

People With No Names - The Undocumented #52

This is and oil on masonite 8"x12". This little girl was at the 'Comedor' in Nogales, Mexico. It was a cold January day but she was bundled up in a jacket, scarf, and hat and she was smiling. One sees few women and even fewer children in the deportee/refugee/immigrant population. Part of this is due to the dangers and hardships that all immigrants are subjected to, and part is due to the fact that many immigrants choose to leave more tender and vulnerable family members behind in order to 'go ahead and prepare a place for them'. It is a re-enactment every day of service and sacrifice, (recall Jesus going ahead of us to prepare a place for us, and then gathering us to himself.) Also, I am reading about the Chinese immigration to the U.S. in the 1930s and how the laws had provisions for men to come and enter the work force, but made it particularly difficult to bring in women and children. Women carried within their bodies the threat of increasing numbers of American born Chinese children. So, I can't help but look at this little girl and think, "Is she the next Vera Wang?" In the 30s, we certainly did not want Vera Wang's relatives in this country. Today, we are thrilled to call this very talented, hard-working, creative woman our fellow American!

People With No Names - The Undocumented #52

This oil on canvas is two side by side panels that measure 12" x 36" each.  These two men were picked up in Palo Verde, AZ and sent to a Federal Corrections Center. Their clothing, (including underwear) IDs and money was taken. Then, with no hearing, they were taken to the border at night (25 deg. F.) and left with no clothing (except the orange prison garb), no ID, and no money.  They showed up at the open-air shelter of the Comedor (which is a few hundred yard walk from the border, but only open a few hours per day) where they were fed and given money to call their families (in the U.S.) to tell them they were alright. They spoke English very well and had been living and working in Calif., Tenn., and Az. for 10 and 15 years, respectively.  I found it interesting as I painted the image, that the men are standing in front of a fence that is very suggestive of the jail from which they had recently been released.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #51

This oil on cardboard is 9"x18". The paintings shows three deportees who are cheerfully washing the dishes after one of the twice a day meals that are served at the "Comedor". The man in the front is scrubbing out a big pot. It reminded me that America is often referred to as a big 'melting pot'...and I just wondered how we decide that our pot is full...and we don't want anyone else in our pot.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #50

This painting is 8"x12" oil on canvas. I went to Nogales, to the Comedor (a metal roof and tarp sheltered kitchen/dining facility within walking distance of the Mexico U.S. border on the Mexico side) with my husband and two college kids. We reasoned that we were driving an hour south to get there, so thought it would be warmer than Tucson. In fact it is higher in altitude and a LOT colder. We only took sweaters. We spent the morning helping with one of the two daily meals that the Jesuit Kino Border Initiative provides. We talked with the recent deportees, dressing a very infected finger (that the man may lose), and interfaced with the wonderful Samaritan volunteers who come to Nogales regularly with donated clothing and medical supplies for people who have nothing to go 'back' to and no clear way forward. Notice that the people in the painting are in jackets, scarves, and gloves. Fortunately, the Samaritans had collected some warm winter clothing to distribute to them. We were cold, really cold. But after a few hours, we walked back across the border, got in our warm car, and drove home to our warm house.

why i paint what i paint #12

I just read a really good article in The Economist, a news magazine from London that gives me a larger perspective. The article starts with the story of a couple in Oaxaca who cannot take their sick two year old to the doctor because they cannot afford to pay him. They watch their son die. They make a decision to come north to the United States. After multiple attempts and humiliations at the hands of La Migra (America's Immigration and Border Officials); they succeed on their fourth attempt. It has been so grueling trying to eke out an existence working in fields, avoiding La Migra, enduring racial slurs, that the family hesitates when asked if they would do it all over again. "They think we're criminals, but we came here to do good and we're all children of God," says Felix Vega. The article concludes, "People like the Vegas will always keep coming no matter the fences that go up on the border and the helcopters that circle above. For they are like the Joads in John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. As Steinbeck wrote: How can you frighten a man whose hunger is not only in his own cramped stomach but in the wretched bellies of his children? You can't scare him--he has known a fear beyond every other."

People With No Names - The Undocumented #49

This is another small study (8"x12" oil on canvas) of the Guatemalan woman who received asylum in the United States. I am reading a wonderful book, "Cutting For Stone" and it has a wonderful passage about what it is like to be a brand new immigrant in America. "What human language captures the dislocation, the acute insufficiency of being in the presence of the superorganism, the sinking, shrinking feeling at this display of industrial steel and light and might?...I saw no animal, no humans except in cars...You there! Listen! Independence and resilience. This is what the new immigrant needs. Don't get fooled by all this activity...No, no. One functions alone in America."

People With No Names - The Undocumented #49

It is Christmas time.  The story of Christmas is the story of a journey...both before and after the birth of Jesus.  First the trip to Bethlehem...then the flight into Egypt because Herod is seeking to "destroy the child".  The Christmas story continues to be acted out today. There is birth, there is human need for safety, flight to find a safe place to live; and above all the need for 'angels' to say, "Be not afraid".

People With No Names - The Undocumented #49

This Guatemalan refugee is the proud owner of a modest cafe in Tucson.  She, along with 1-1.5 million Central American people were driven from their homes by violence and civil war. (A war that we have since learned was aided and abetted by the United States.)  Hundreds of thousands of these people made their way north into Mexico and on into the United States.  The New York Times called their flight one of "the most determined and concentrated migrations of any national group to the United States in recent history".   The official U.S. government response was to greet the migrants as criminals, imprison them and return them to the death squads, guerrillas, and military sweeps. Fortunately, ordinary citizens listened to their stories, saw their scars and thus began an official "Sanctuary" movement and a new underground railroad. The Arizona Daily Star, a daily newspaper that was sympathetic with the underground railroad, commented, "America at its greatest has always been an America as a refuge from persecution, as a protector of the helpless, and a voice for justice." Amen. I am getting a lot of information and quoting liberally from a book titled 'Sanctuary- A Story of American Conscience and Law in Collision' written by N.Y. Times reporter Ann Crittenden.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #46

Recently, while on the radio I was asked the question, "What do the undocumented do for work in this country?" I have been thinking a lot about that question. It is always work that is fairly hidden, tucked away from view. I think this serves several purposes: 1) they are less likely to come to someone's attention and be deported, 2) it is not necessary to use a new and difficult language and 3) a lot of necessary life work is either unpleasant (in the case of slaughter-houses), domestic (therefore confined to homes or kitchens), or agricultural. In short, it is work that quite literally keeps our society fed and functioning. This painting, oil on board 8" x 12" is a recent domestic scene where two undocumented women are making dirty things clean and chaotic things orderly. God Bless them!

People With No Names - The Undocumented #45

This wonderful community leader, teacher, Public Radio volunteer for the last quarter century was undocumented for the first 10 years that he was in the U.S. He is not only a gem but he and his wife have contributed two lovely, hardworking and talented children to our society. As a family, they go to hospitals to help translate for patients, they aid in voter registration, and assist their father on his radio program every Sunday night. We would all be poorer, indeed, without this family's constant giving back to our community.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #44

This wonderful Brazilian woman is a lighting designer. She has been bestowing her gift on America for 18 years (and won a prestigious home design award in New York recently) but now she and her husband are moving to France. France is getting two wonderful immigrants.

why i paint what i paint #11

On Sunday night I had the opportunity to go on my local Public Radio Spanish Language program to talk about my work and why I am doing it. It is two days later and I realize that I entered into (in a very small way), the immigrant experience. Oh, and I was a lucky immigrant because I got to take my very supportive husband and my very supportive Cuban friend with me! Anyway, we traveled through the darkness, to the radio station at 10 P.M. and entered into an alien land, a land where everyone but us seemed to really know the customs and procedures. They were speaking a rapid-fire language, where I could catch only a word or two...here and there. It was all very foreign, frightening and disorienting. I could tell that the interviewer was most interested in talking to my Cuban friend because she spoke his language and was easier to talk to. I didn't blame him at all because I understood the desire to feel comfortable, included, and at home. Afterward, my husband pointed out that, not only was I trying to function in a foreign environment, but I that I naturally prefer a private work environment to a public arena. How many new arrivals in a foreign country would prefer to remain in their own countries, with their own/known customs, languages, food and family? How incredibly brave of them to venture forth into unknown (often hostile and dangerous) territory because they need to help their loved ones. I was a lucky immigrant. I was chaperoned, welcomed, and safe. I lived to tell my story. And my journey was, mercifully, oh so brief.

Monk Librarian #6

I was listening to NPR while I painted a few days ago and the discussion was about 'bullies'. The story explored the typical bully profile as well as the effect of said behavior on victims...both immediate and long-term. In general, boys more often employed physical threats, while girls used verbal, "mean-girl" tactics. Of course there were exceptions to the gender stereotypes and as we have seen recently at Rutgers University, the internet introduces a whole new way to torment anyone who is different, foreign, weaker, or vulnerable. There was a general consensus that bullying is very bad indeed. Hmmm. It made me think about immigrants. They are often easily identifiable as different and foreign. They are very often linguistically and economically vulnerable. They are the classic target of bullies. They are the 'low-hanging fruit' of victims. But remember, the defining mark of a great society is how it cares for its most weak and vulnerable people.

People With No Names - The Undocumented #43

This handsome immigrant is from Brazil. He is a "green" aviation developer-i.e. "Environmentally Responsible Aviation". He and his wonderful wife (a lighting designer) are taking their talents and moving to France. See, we are all immigrants.