An earth-toned cactus, lightly touched with green brushstrokes, stretches its arms toward the Arizona sky beneath two clouds outlined in deep blue. The cactus is Rosa, a 9-year-old Colombian girl who chose to paint herself this way before she and her family decided to self-deport. She titled the piece “Adiós Tucson.”
Next to the cactus appears the figure of a man with long, gray, dark arms the color of asphalt. He is the father of a 9-year-old boy who was deported and driven away from his family. His arms stretch like endless roads, and in his stomach he carries an excavator — the job that supported the family. The boy titled it “Me quiero ir.”
“That’s what his father did, and it symbolizes the visceral pain of losing him,” said Rosa in Spanish, a psychologist and curator of the exhibition Arte de la Resistencia. She asked that her last name be withheld for safety reasons. The exhibit ran from May 13 to May 17.
Tucked in an alley behind the commercial corridor of Fourth Avenue, Free Associates — a small building converted into a gallery with a pistachio-green door and a window air-conditioning unit — housed an art exhibit that held the pain of deportations and portrayed the wounds of migrant life.
“The children and youth who participate have all been in workshops processing emotional conflicts, family situations related to migration issues, or are affected by ICE,” Rosa said softly.
The artists range from 7 to 19 years old and convey difficult stories and emotional journeys through their work. Their identities remain hidden because Rosa wants to preserve their anonymity, although some original pieces and prints are for sale to directly benefit their families.
“Their names aren’t included — we’re protecting them. That’s why it’s art of resistance,” she said.
Rosa works with immigrant children in the city through an emotional support group called La Ristra, using art therapy to help them navigate some of the most difficult moments of their lives.
As she walks through the gallery lit by the evening sun, she points to a colorful painting of a bearded man. The painting, titled “My papá,” shows a smiling, colorful man with blue eyes and orange skin on a background of rainbow scribbles.
“He painted his dad. His dad has already passed on and is no longer here. So it was also a grieving process — very, very meaningful and beautiful,” Rosa said.
In the two-room gallery, white walls and mismatched frames hold canvases and paper. Dark tones, vibrant colors and collages form a mosaic of the children’s minds and healing processes.
At the entrance, a large-scale piece painted by Rosa, “El Sueño de Coyolxauhqui,” inspired by her own experience in a domestic violence shelter, greets dozens of people who attended the exhibition’s opening on Wednesday.
Rosa said one of her favorite pieces is by a 19-year-old girl and titled “Silencio,” a nearly featureless silhouette with spines around the throat.
“They symbolize how painful it is to speak,” she said. Rosa asked the artist to incorporate a butterfly as a symbol of transformation.
The main room showcases a trio of paintings, including “Silencio,” dominated by black tones and themes related to the loss of innocence.
“Being migrants, sometimes there’s no support beyond the young children. They grow up very quickly, and that was her theme — and yes, she cried while she was working,” Rosa said, pointing to the middle painting.
The stories of these children are part of the millions of immigrants affected by the Trump administration’s broader and more aggressive immigration policies. The Department of Homeland Security has claimed more than 400,000 deportations and approximately 1.6 million self-deportations.
PolitiFact has questioned that figure, noting that it “relied on a government survey with a small sample size and a large margin of error.”
Graham Downing owns the space and donated it for the event. He said the spirit of the exhibition aligns with the mission of Free Associates.
“My vision has always been for it to be very, very accessible,” he said. “There are multiple fine art pieces by Rosa, who organized the exhibition, and there are also works created through art therapy by younger immigrant children — and that is very beautiful as well.”
As the afternoon progressed, more people continued arriving at the small space.
Although Rosa notified the artists and their families that their work was on display, she wasn’t sure whether they would attend.
“They might want to check if it’s true that their work is on display. It’s a surprise, but also a source of motivation,” Rosa said.
Outside, the noise of Fourth Avenue. Inside, dozens of paintings by migrant children, visible, at last.
Republish our articles for free, online or in print.
