This is a ceramic tile that shows three lawn chairs in a rose garden. As the title and inscription on the piece says, “rest,” the tile invites a pause, and invitation to sit. Over the winter I couldn’t stop thinking of these plastic lawn chairs. I had no idea why, they were unremarkable in design, utterly plain. I wrote out my conceptions of them through some free verse poetry (featured below). This poem made the new symbol of these chairs apparent: they represent family members who have passed on. In this image, the chairs represent Josue, Catalina, and Jonathan…perpetually resting in a rose garden.
Plastic chairs/Birthdays/Catalina/ Death???
I don't know the meaning of all this.
Sometimes I miss those birthday parties at my dad’s house, with the plastic chairs out in the yard. My gaggle of drunk uncles, on the roof pulling the pinata strings. The birthday cake I wore and the tears that streaked my cheeks, hot with embarrassment. Praying for RED lipstick in one of those wrapped bags. But for now, I'm all pink and purple pastel ribbons, and barbies- Craving womanhood. Innocently unaware of my gravity at the center of the universe. I don't even like cake, I say.
Maybe what I miss most are all my tias and abuelas in those plastic chairs, in their shade with their gossip and coca-colas. Walking up to my great-grandma, like approaching a throne- Her hands flow like rivers of vein and knuckle softly over my cherub hands. We don’t speak the same language. I was born in the states, and her, in Mexico. I kiss the sun tanned meat of her cheek. In our silent choreography,
for perhaps one of the few times in my brief life, I am unconditionally loved.
Beyond words. Beyond borders. In the backyard.
It’s a shame children don’t realize these things.
I don’t know the meaning of this. But I only learned her name when she was dead. I saw it on her obituary. I stood beside her casket. She was wearing a DEEP purple. Her hands looked the same, but they laid on top of each other, inflated with some kind of emptiness only the lifeless possess.
Adriana's Art Studio 