Story Frame 9 – The House of Many Colors: on location in San Antonio

Another day, another rental van.

This time it was just Martin, Tim the cameraman, and me – driving through a humble neighborhood in West San Antonio, tracking down my first idea for a storyline for the documentary, Creativity: Touching the Divine.

We were here to interview Enedina Cásarez Vasquez, a Mexican American folk artist who, along with her husband Arturo, created hand-crafted, hand painted nichos – charming three-dimensional shadow boxes used as portable altars or shrines to a diety or loved one. Adapted from Roman Catholic retablos – paintings of a patron saint on wood or tin – these nichos often also featured little hinged doors which opened to reveal a meaningful image or tableau inside.

Enedina and Arturo’s folk art, a synthesis of their Catholic faith and Native American/Chicano culture, was displayed and sold in art galleries and museum gift shops throughout the US. I was looking forward to meeting them at their home studio, hoping their story might fit nicely into a documentary about faith and creativity.

But there was silence in the van as we drove into their neighborhood, getting our first look at the tumbledown, pieced-together modest little houses hovering between despair and optimism that scrolled past our windows like faded footage from the wrong film.

Here was another new lesson for me: the thrill of thinking up ideas for possible inclusion in a documentary can so easily be offset by the consequences of wasted time and the very real costs of making a bad choice. It’s one thing to pick an interview with Madeleine L’Engle (really, what could go wrong?) but it’s quite another, I realized, to track down a possible story with unknown characters in another part of the country.

With mounting anxiety, I calculated the cost to fly the three of us – with our film gear – to Texas for this interview.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be fine,” Martin said as he scanned the street looking for the right address. He eventually spotted the number on an old mailbox and turned the van into the driveway.

“This is it,” he said quietly.

It can’t be… I thought, taking in the jumble of small buildings scattered in and amongst overgrown trees and scrawny shrubbery, the yard filled with discarded odds and ends. Whatever I’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this.

Martin got out of the van, telling us to wait inside. Tim and I watched anxiously as he walked over to the door and knocked on it as A moment later, the door opened to reveal an older Mexican American man with a broad smile of welcome on his face. After they exchanged greetings, Martin turned and gestured for us to join him. Tim and I got out of the van and made our way to the front door and into the house.

To my great surprise, we walked into a multi-roomed, dazzling jewel box. We followed Arturo through a jumble of rooms in vibrant colors, each filled with exuberant blazes of art. It was like walking into a life-size series of nichos, each room more fascinating than the previous one. We were walking into the eyes, heart and soul of the artist herself.

I’d never seen anything like it. Everything, everywhere was color. Every inch of wall space in each of the small rooms was covered with art – hanging from, nailed to, or painted directly onto the walls which were themselves painted in various bright colors. In the spaces left between the pieces of art, there were writings in script painted on the walls. Strands of Christmas lights, prayer flags and still more art hung from the ceilings.

In the middle of it all, there was Enedina herself, beaming at us. She hugged me, welcoming me to her home. I’m not sure what I said in response, buzzed as I was by the crazy abundance of color and happiness that surrounded me.

We quickly set up for the interview in the only space available that could accommodate the lights, the camera and tripod, and the three of us. Once camera was rolling, Martin began his questions, asking her how she came to express herself, and her faith, through art.

“I was born with a paintbrush in my hand,” Enedina said. Her English was softly accented with a slight Spanish accent. “Before speech, before walking, before everything! I work with paint and canvas and with a pen. I paint with words.”

She gave a belly laugh. “Art is who I am, and I am what art is!”

While painting or writing poetry, she said, she carries on a conversation with God, calling what she does ‘prayer art.’

At first, she told us, she painted family portraits and moments she recalled from her experiences as a migrant worker.

“I wanted to capture the beauty of family, of working in the fields. My paintings were colorful, none were sad or depressing.”

She then went on to paint what she called her “Mujer Grande” paintings series – colorful paintings depicting large women that seem to break out of the boundaries of the canvas.

Dazzled and distracted, I listened to her. Looking around me, I didn’t need her words. Everything she thought and felt, everything she loved and believed in – it was all there right on the walls around us.

Afterwards, Arturo took us out back to his woodworking shop to show us where and how he crafts the little wooden nichos his wife will paint in many colors. I bought one for Zoë and Leif, to watch over them, I told Enedina.

I had also seen a small hand-painted wooden cross in bright colors that completely charmed me. I pointed it out to her, but Enedina said it had already been sold to someone else. She told me she would make a similar one – one that she would paint especially for me.

Before parting ways, Enedina told me she could feel I was una mujer grande – a big woman. I must have had a puzzled expression on my face, for she laughed, her whole broad friendly face lighting up, and told me she meant big in a very positive way. Too big for my own canvas, I guessed.

On our way out, Arturo and Enedina took us through yet another little room in their home. Here, the walls were covered with outlines of hands. Each visitor to their home had left a message inside the shape of their own hand – an impossibly charming idea that revealed a lot about this artist couple. Enedina wanted ours there, too. She brought out a sharpie, somehow found some space on the wall, and traced the outline of our fingers and palms onto the wall. Then she asked us to write her a message to them inside our hands, which we did.

On the way back to the airport, I looked down at my hands clutching the carefully wrapped little nicho for my children. There were a few smudges of Sharpie still on my fingers, but I made no effort to rub them off.

A few weeks later, a small package arrived for me at the workspace. Inside, I found the brightly colored, hand-painted cross I’d ordered from Enedina – a charming, simple vine with green leaves and little red and pink embellishments against the aqua background I’d found so irresistible. A hand-illustrated letter was enclosed:

Dear Mujer Grande Kristin, It was such a treat to meet you and share some time together, even for just a while. I do hope that you will return to San Antonio one of these days so you can come home for a visit... Enclosed is the cross, it was a pleasure working on it and thinking of you as I worked – all my thoughts, wishes and prayers travel with it to your home.

Regards to all and know you have friends and a home here in beautiful San Antonio!
Enedina & Arturo

[photo by me, Baltimore Museum of Art 2018]

Kristin Fellows is a published writer, world traveler, and a well-seasoned documentary film consultant. When not writing, Kristin can often be found listening to someone’s story or behind the lens of one of her cameras.

More about Kristin @ kristinfellowswriter.com