When Art Brings Us Home

The Story Behind Taína, Hija del Sol y La Brisa

From the Artist

One of the greatest rewards of being an artist is learning how a work of art becomes part of someone else’s life.

Shortly after receiving Taína, Hija del Sol y La Brisa as a birthday gift from her three sons, Leticia shared the following story with me. With her permission, I am honored to present her words as a reminder that art can reconnect us with the people, places, and memories that have shaped our lives.

Leticia’s Story

The following is shared in Leticia’s own words, with her gracious permission.

Hola George,

Yes, I would love to tell you my story.

I am a Nuyorican Latina from Manhattan. I was born in Manhattan, lived in Puerto Rico for a couple of years, and then moved back to the Bronx. Around 1970, we moved to New Jersey. At the moment, I live in Pennsylvania, in the Poconos, where I have lived for 37 years and raised my children.

Even though I was born in New York, I always felt like I came from Puerto Rico at heart. My mother took me to Puerto Rico almost every single summer of my childhood and into adulthood. Later, as a mother, I did the same with my own children so they would learn about their culture and love their land as much as I did.

My grandparents had a finca with every tropical fruit you can think of and all the farm animals they could have. I enjoyed every minute of it, from getting up at sunrise and watching my grandmother do her chores, to seeing my grandfather get ready to go out into the finca — whether he was picking coffee, gathering plantains, or cutting sugar cane. To me, I did not know it at the time because I was so young, but that was literally my Eden, my paradise.

We had mango trees, passion fruit trees, lemon trees, orange trees, tamarind trees, and manzanilla bananas. I loved when my grandmother would pick the coffee beans, roast them, and then grind them in this cast-iron grinder she had mounted on a piece of wood between two tree trunks in one of our tamarind trees.

The smells and sounds were so beautiful to me. Whenever I went to Puerto Rico, that was the most present I ever felt in my life.

My grandparents’ finca was in a deep valley surrounded by mountains. One day, I was sitting under one of the mango trees near the edge of a cliff-like area on my grandparents’ property. I closed my eyes, and for the first time, all my senses felt in tune with one another. I became one with all my surroundings — the ground I was sitting on, the space I was taking up, the air I was breathing, the wind I was feeling, the sun on my face, and the dirt beneath my feet.

I was always barefoot, and my grandmother always said that if she did not know better, she would say I was a pure Puerto Rican because I was always barefoot and climbing the trees.

When I saw your painting, Taína, Hija del Sol y La Brisa, it reminded me of that moment. You have the casita surrounded by mountains, and then you have that body of water, which reminded me of the river on my grandparents’ property. The wind blowing and the roses represented the roses my grandmother also had in her garden.

My nickname was also Taína, given to me by a lady who used to watch a novela called Cristina Bazán. There was a character named Taína, and she gave me that name when I was little because she said I looked like her. The name stayed with me throughout my teenage years.

When I saw the painting, it literally, mindfully, and physically took me back to that moment in my life, and I actually cried. I remembered that when I was having all those feelings at that moment, I also knew that it was the happiest I had ever felt in my life.

That is my story about your beautiful painting.

Shared with the gracious permission of collector Leticia Vega.

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