California artist J. Peralta did not choose her subject matter, it chose her. After stumbling upon and deciding to paint a scene of field workers near her home, the artist not only found inspiration for her artwork but also discovered a new respect for both her heritage and the legacy her beloved grandmother left behind.

by J. Peralta

Orange Break 2006, oil, 35 x 26. Private collection.

It is often said that in order to know where you’re going in life, you have to know where you come from. Unfortunately, this lesson is often not learned until we’re older, when maturity finally forces us to recognize those who have shaped our past and helped pave our future. I am thankful that I have had the chance to learn about my heritage—particularly the price my immigrant grandmother paid for my family’s freedom—early in life, while I still have the time to honor it. And I am even more thankful that this revelation came through my art, an instrument that continues to allow me to pay homage to the woman who is so much a part of who I am today.

I was in high school when my grandmother, Anita Peralta, came to live with my family. She was old, very sick, and spoke little English, and yet I was able to connect and communicate with her as I strove to understand her life story. Descended from a Spanish family, my grandmother moved to Mexico when she was a young girl and later migrated to California when she married my grandfather. Embracing her new country, she applied for legal American citizenship so she could find work to provide for her family. On her journey to find a trade, she and my grandfather worked in the fields picking walnuts, fruits, and vegetables. It wasn’t easy work, but because they had no other trained skills and did not speak English, they did it willingly.

Padre 2004, oil, 15 x 11. Private collection.

I, on the other hand, grew up quite differently from my grandmother. Raised in a middle-class family in a predominantly white suburban neighborhood, I spoke English, went to a good public school, and dressed like everyone else. I had all the privileges being an American afforded and never gave much thought to my Spanish-Mexican heritage, mostly because I never had to. As I got older, however, I began to realize that although my ethnicity wasn’t an issue for me, it was for other people. Every now and again I was reminded that I didn’t have the typical “California-girl” look, and I began feeling ashamed of my Spanish-Mexican appearance. I learned the meaning of the word “prejudice,” and it hurt.

Many years later, after training in illustration and working professionally in the field, I decided to become a fine artist. It was a very liberating decision, as I was finally able to paint what I wanted instead of being told what to paint. As I progressed through my fine-art career, I experimented with different subject matter but was unable to find something I was very passionate about—everything left me cold, emotionless, and feeling disconnected to my subject. Then one day, as my husband, artist Morgan Weistling, and I were driving home from a camping trip with our daughter Brittany, we happened upon a scene of itinerant farm workers picking vegetables in the fields. The sun was setting behind them as they worked, and I was awestruck by their endless parade up and down the aisles, carrying loads and loads of bell peppers in their baskets to empty into a big bin. As I stood there watching them, I had a vision of my grandmother as a young woman when she first immigrated here, working in the fields to make what money she could to provide for her family. At that moment I knew what my subject matter would be.

Grandmother's Shawl 2004, oil, 30 x 20. Private collection.

As I began working on various paintings incorporating field workers, noticing their beauty and strength, something was changing in me: the embarrassment I once harbored for my heritage was now being replaced with a newfound respect. I began to realize that being American is not only about being part of a single identity but also about the unique individuals that contribute to that greater whole. I thought about how much courage it must have taken for my grandmother to come here and endure the hardship and struggle she did. My grandmother never gave into feelings of inferiority or prejudice--she knew that other people looked down on her and yet she persisted for the sake of her family. I now realize that without her sacrifice I wouldn’t be who I am today.

Farm Girl 2007, oil, 12 x 16. Private collection.

In many ways I feel I have come full circle: It’s almost as if I had to go into my past to heal the present—and my art was the vehicle that led me there. As I’ve continued to grow as painter, I’ve pursued many aspects of the Hispanic lifestyle and regularly paint Latin subjects: some with varying skin hues, some field workers, some not. As I try to capture my subjects just as they are—with their unique coloring and strong work ethnic—I’m realizing that the beauty these people exude stems from an inner strength and an acceptance of how God made them. Through this journey, I have also learned to accept how God made me.

Jo Ann Peralta is an artist who lives in California with her husband, fellow artist Morgan Weistling, and their two daughters, Brittany and Sienna. She is represented by Trailside Galleries, in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. For more information on J. Peralta, visit her website at www.jperalta.com, or e-mail her at believeit@socal.rr.com.

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