JOUR 2050: Migration and Exile in Cuba
March 2017
During the week of Spring Break in my last year at UC, I traveled abroad to Havana, Cuba, with a journalism class led by Prof. Jenny Wohlfarth and Prof. Sean Hughes. The experience was a life-changing one, and my sentiments from the trip are encapsulated in the final project seen below:
The Haze of Cuba: An Impressionist Look at Shared Identity Across Diversity
The early morning in Havana is a special time. The soft, light sounds of a safe urban center are accompanied by the deep rumblings of diesel engines. In the background, the sea plays an ever-changing melody. As the sun rises over the horizon, it brings the city into an orange glow, enveloping the wide variety of buildings that dot the many neighborhoods in the same pure, warm luminescence. The early morning air is clear and sweet, but retains a certain weight which seems to mimic the heavy eyelids of early-rising Habaneros.
As the day begins, Cubans in different parts of the city ready themselves for the day’s work ahead. In Havana Vieja, newly-minted restauranteurs unshutter the windows of their eateries and crack open doors – inviting in the many tourists that will visit with the same warmth that every one of their countrymen seems to have been born with. Elsewhere, in Vedado, straggling university students leap up the set of stairs that lead upwards to the University of Havana as their more prompt peers meander through the dense greenery that enshrouds the central courtyard of the school. Across the bay, in Regla, a jazz musician who has played late into the night stirs in his sleep as light peeks through even the dark mop of curtains that he has draped in front of his window. In Central Havana, along the fringe of the touristic epicenter of the city and the places where (at least for now) real Cubans still reside, a painter walks his dog to the small front of his shared workspace – which serves as both a studio and a gallery for those wandering tourists who can manage to find him.
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With different people and different lives, there are many constants. One, for example, is the famous Malecón that snakes down the city’s side. Though the early morning only sees the remnants of it, this winding road is an epicenter of nocturnal celebration. Also a fixture is the endless ocean that surrounds Havana – which is adept at dousing the Malecón at irregular intervals as it tumbles over the sea wall. The raucous, beautiful crash of water onto the cracked pavement of the road’s wide sidewalk is variable in its timing, but constant in that at least somewhere along its stretch, the Malecón is always damp with the waters of the Caribbean. As máquinas cruise down the street, their newly fitted stereos blasting pop hits like Hasta que se seque el Malecón prove discordant from the sleek exteriors of these 1950s American cars. And yet, for the many tourists who will slowly make their way into the city each day, these rather pricey taxis will prove an unforgettable means of transport.
To say that Havana is a sum of many different parts with a few interlinking threads, though, is to be very reductionist. Like the mist that crashes off the sea walls, or indeed the slightly fuzzy, almost fog-like air of the early morning, Havana also seems to be metaphorically covered in a dense haze. This is to say that each part of the city, though distinct, loses some of its clarity as it blends into a larger picture of life in Havana.
At first, I thought this perception to be a product of the brevity of my stay in Cuba. As a transient part of life in the country, perhaps my groggy eyes were never fully able to open and see it as it was. My sentiments were corroborated, though, when I was one of the lucky few to stroll into a small shop that hid amongst the buildings on Calle Emperado.
To say that Havana is a sum of many different parts with a few interlinking threads, though, is to be very reductionist. Like the mist that crashes off the sea walls, or indeed the slightly fuzzy, almost fog-like air of the early morning, Havana also seems to be metaphorically covered in a dense haze. This is to say that each part of the city, though distinct, loses some of its clarity as it blends into a larger picture of life in Havana.
At first, I thought this perception to be a product of the brevity of my stay in Cuba. As a transient part of life in the country, perhaps my groggy eyes were never fully able to open and see it as it was. My sentiments were corroborated, though, when I was one of the lucky few to stroll into a small shop that hid amongst the buildings on Calle Emperado.
Drawn in by the pastel colors of impressionist art, I soon found myself standing amongst some of the most beautiful paintings that I had ever seen. Upon entering, I became lost in a reverie fueled by astonishment and the immense regret of not having taken more money with me on my trip about town. Almost immediately, I was spellbound by the smooth and yet disjointed brushstrokes that made up the paintings – and how they perfectly captured scenes of Cuba as I had perceived it.
It was some time before my eyes wandered off the paintings and onto their creator – a middle aged man named Nelson. With lightly tanned skin and prominent laugh lines creasing alongside his eyes, Nelson looks like he belongs to the island – or perhaps to the sea which he is so fond of painting. As we begin talking, I notice that the deep timbre of his voice and his slow, melodic manner of speaking are much more regal than his unassuming posture and rather ordinary clothes. Perhaps one of many great painters never to be recognized in their lifetime, Nelson is a true master with the brush, and it is clear that there is something special in his work. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that he will become renowned even after he is gone – if only because of the nation that he calls home.
It was some time before my eyes wandered off the paintings and onto their creator – a middle aged man named Nelson. With lightly tanned skin and prominent laugh lines creasing alongside his eyes, Nelson looks like he belongs to the island – or perhaps to the sea which he is so fond of painting. As we begin talking, I notice that the deep timbre of his voice and his slow, melodic manner of speaking are much more regal than his unassuming posture and rather ordinary clothes. Perhaps one of many great painters never to be recognized in their lifetime, Nelson is a true master with the brush, and it is clear that there is something special in his work. Unfortunately, it is highly unlikely that he will become renowned even after he is gone – if only because of the nation that he calls home.
As we talk, he reaffirms what his paintings have already confirmed for me: Cuba is indeed a blended, hazy nation of mixed cultures and peoples. From his local perspective, this small island nation is influenced by different eras in history and populated by Cubanos from a diverse array of origins. In every neighborhood, with the story of every individual Habanero, a new piece of Cuba’s intricate and multi-faceted puzzle emerges. And yet, each of the pieces of the Cuban puzzle amount, like the strokes of an impressionist’s brush on canvas, to a larger picture that is unique, beautiful, and captures the essence of the place. Like an impressionist painting, the haze of Cuba is a beautiful thing – not an indicator of a lack of consistency, but rather the product of a certain beauty to capturing sentiments and moments in time and unifying them in a common theme.
It is not only his words which open my eyes to this, but the way that he expresses his vision of the island in his work. Though he begrudgingly paints images of old máquinas to cater to tourists, his true passions are painting life around Havana, and around the island. Originally from a small fishing village in the eastern part of Cuba, Nelson has been fascinated by the sea and its omnipresent role in the Cuban saga. He paints pictures of the water often, and in doing so, each of his rough, acrylic marks on the canvas tells a different story in its color and the weight with which it was made. Much like Cubans, who come in different sizes, shapes, and colors, each of his strokes is unique – but summatively, a critical part in capturing either the stirring motions of the water or the fascinating blend that makes Cuba such a wondrous place to visit.
It is not only his words which open my eyes to this, but the way that he expresses his vision of the island in his work. Though he begrudgingly paints images of old máquinas to cater to tourists, his true passions are painting life around Havana, and around the island. Originally from a small fishing village in the eastern part of Cuba, Nelson has been fascinated by the sea and its omnipresent role in the Cuban saga. He paints pictures of the water often, and in doing so, each of his rough, acrylic marks on the canvas tells a different story in its color and the weight with which it was made. Much like Cubans, who come in different sizes, shapes, and colors, each of his strokes is unique – but summatively, a critical part in capturing either the stirring motions of the water or the fascinating blend that makes Cuba such a wondrous place to visit.
Perhaps even more impressive than his paintings of the ocean are those that he does of people. This is because it is in his portraits that Nelson truly integrates his vision for a hazy, non-descript, and yet immensely meaningful and nuanced appreciation for the diversity and integration in Cuban culture with his profound artistic talent. As I stand in his shop, listening to the small barks of his black lab and the stories that he spins about life in Cuba, he turns suddenly to show me one of the paintings of which he is proudest. Prominently above his easel hangs a picture of an old farmer smoking a cigar. The man is racially ambiguous, and wearing a shirt that features the same pastels that first drew me into his shout. His look is stern, but inviting – a very robust characterization of the Cuban spirit in a communist state. As I stand transfixed at the farmer’s wrinkled face and shimmering gold straw hat, Nelson pulls out the photo on which the painting is based from his wallet.
“Esto es,” he explains. “¿Ves que el hombre no es lo mismo? Es parte del impresionismo: la interpretación. Los pintores como yo – nosotros podemos añadir emoción y temas que nos gusta a una foto para crear un sentimiento o capturar un momento.”
The man in the real photo is definitively black, and his shirt – rather than being made of pastel fabrics – is a roughhewn, dark blue fabric that looks as warn as his wrinkled face. As Nelson explained to me, though, artistic liberties are a must in impressionist art to capture a broader, more important theme. If he had simply painted the man as is, Nelson would never have been able to use this painting as a broader discussion on what it means to be Cuban.
“Esto es,” he explains. “¿Ves que el hombre no es lo mismo? Es parte del impresionismo: la interpretación. Los pintores como yo – nosotros podemos añadir emoción y temas que nos gusta a una foto para crear un sentimiento o capturar un momento.”
The man in the real photo is definitively black, and his shirt – rather than being made of pastel fabrics – is a roughhewn, dark blue fabric that looks as warn as his wrinkled face. As Nelson explained to me, though, artistic liberties are a must in impressionist art to capture a broader, more important theme. If he had simply painted the man as is, Nelson would never have been able to use this painting as a broader discussion on what it means to be Cuban.
Instead, by highlighting the haze that effervescently floats around Cuba and hovers loosely around Cubans, Nelson provides his insight on how Cubans of different backgrounds come together to celebrate one patria. This idea is one that resonated with me as I stood in Nelson’s small studio. In my experience in Havana, I also saw the immense diversity among Cubans, and the collective identity that they not only share, but celebrate. Perhaps it is a product of communistic influences which have made Cuban society more egalitarian and in doing so, helped to incorporate different narratives into a national story. More likely, though, it is the spirit of the Cuban people which has produced this shared identity and collective support. Warm, welcoming, and kind-hearted, Cubans have lived through many trials and tribulations, colonial oppressors, and dictatorships. And yet, their resilience, their perseverance, and their passion for life shines through always.
This is true for Cubans from all different walks of life. Not only are impressionist painters cognizant of the uplifting beauty of the Cuban spirit, but so, too, are everyday Habaneros. In a small market in Central Havana, I met a man named Noel who went out of his way to be friendly and kind to me as I dazedly looked around the market. His kindness was genuine – at least by his own account. He proceeded to explain to me that the “friendly Cuban” was not a face put on for the foreign visitor, but the result a genuine intrigue and interest in learning more about the world. Characterized by a shared appreciation of those different from themselves, Cubans do truly want to learn more about the world and its many inhabitants, and relish in the chance to speak and meet foreigners.
This is true for Cubans from all different walks of life. Not only are impressionist painters cognizant of the uplifting beauty of the Cuban spirit, but so, too, are everyday Habaneros. In a small market in Central Havana, I met a man named Noel who went out of his way to be friendly and kind to me as I dazedly looked around the market. His kindness was genuine – at least by his own account. He proceeded to explain to me that the “friendly Cuban” was not a face put on for the foreign visitor, but the result a genuine intrigue and interest in learning more about the world. Characterized by a shared appreciation of those different from themselves, Cubans do truly want to learn more about the world and its many inhabitants, and relish in the chance to speak and meet foreigners.
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This is true even for the youngest generation of Cubans, who – though in many ways different than their older counterparts – are still part of the same whole. The young, hip, and rebellious culture that I learned about from friends met at the University of Havana retains tinges of broader Cuban influence, and though distinctive, has a robust interplay with other facets of Cuban culture. Frank and Roberto, two friends with whom I spent time sitting upon the wall of the Malecón, underscored to me that in a country where internet access is still hard to come by – at least for financial reasons – Cuban youth have developed a novel and unique millennial identity all their own. On the one hand, their love of classic rock music mirrors the love of tourists for the cars from the same era. On the other, their appreciation of comedic videos on YouTube on the rare chances they are able to get online replicate those of teens in most of the rest of the world. Thus, these teens have developed a culture all their own, and fabricated a new brushstroke to add to the ever-growing medley that are painting a new and fuller picture of the Cuban experience each day.
As time passes, the front of globalization advances, and Cuba grows more and more modern, it is clear that the pictures that Nelson and his colleagues paint will develop. As always, Cuba will grow and adapt to its surroundings, taking on new ideas and themes, and incorporating them into its already beautiful culture. Like the music that can be heard playing at the famous jazz club La Zorra y El Cuervo, Cuba is already a mixture of many different cultures and identities. Amalgamating these influences, and shaping them with a distinctively Cuban flare – this is what Cubans do to piece together their hazy sense of self. With each group and individual in Havana contributing to a broader narrative, Cuba has – at least to me – become a sense of wonder and fascination. I know that I will be back one day, not only to experience the sights, sounds, and smells of the Havana morning, but to see how the haze which characterizes it has changed over time. |