Lázaro Batista
Cuban Poet and Painter

By Linette Tobin

Cuban poet and painter, Lázaro Batista, paints to transport himself back to his native Cuba. Born and raised in the Cayo Hueso neighborhood in 1968 in Central Havana, Lázaro's irrepressible desire to paint landed him in trouble with his father early on. His father, a member of the Afro-Cuban religion known as Palo, would hold religious ceremonies at home with five-year-old Lázaro looking on. Lázaro would sketch in chalk the sacred rituals and signs that he had observed and which remained etched in his mind. Scolded for copying secret signs, Lázaro resolved the matter by creating and painting his own signs and symbols, fabricated, yet still based on the religious images he had already seen and would always remember. The influence of these symbols remains evident in his work today.

In Cuba, Lázaro focused on painting abstract modern scenes and landscapes, taking his cues from Cuba's tradition and folklore. Although he never attended a formal art school, he would study paintings from the masters by visiting museums and galleries. He was greatly influenced by the work of Cuban muralist Salvador González from El Callejón de Hamel, in Havana. He studied the work of Latin American and European abstractionists and surrealists, and loved the work of Salvador Dalí. He also felt very influenced by Western films and culture. In 1979, at the age of twelve and with no formal artistic training, Lázaro approached the public relations director of the Latin American Film Festival in Havana and asked whether he could paint a street mural for the Festival. The director acquiesced, and while other artists produced works of homage to popular, current actors, Lázaro painted a black and white image of Charlie Chaplin, his favorite actor at that time. Lázaro explains, "I loved to go to Chaplin movies. I would sit by myself and laugh aloud. Since they were silent films, you could laugh without bothering anyone, and of course, there was no language barrier." The mural was a hit and Lázaro had successfully created his first piece of public art. Lázaro recalls a celebration thrown by his school to acknowledge his success. "Everyone was very surprised by what I had done. At school, I was so quiet and reserved; no one had any clue that I could paint." To this day, Lázaro still have never formally studied art, although he had many opportunities in Cuba. In 1982, he enrolled at Hermanos Almejeira in the Los Pinos neighborhood, Havana to study "technical drawing," under the mistaken belief that "technical drawing" meant the formal study of art. He was dismayed to find himself trapped in a rigorous three-year program devoted to construction design and architecture, which included actual on-site construction, leveling of land, and brick laying. Needless to say, he failed to complete his course of study and dropped out with poor grades after two years. In a continuous search for paints and other artistic supplies, Lázaro made do with whatever was at his disposal. Fortunately, his father worked at a car painting shop. Lázaro was a constant presence there, covering the inner and outer walls with artwork painted from the leftover paint discarded in the bottoms of cans. Lázaro, unsatisfied with painting just the walls, adorned whatever was within his grasp. The day after Lázaro painted the shopÕs aluminum cups with white paint, then placed designs on them with smoke from burning matches, the laborers found themselves without cups at work. The manager, believing the cups were simply too pretty to remain in a garage, took them all home. Lázaro left Cuba in 1994, and after a year in Guantánamo Bay, eventually immigrated to the United States. The move and his subsequent life as an immigrant had a tremendous impact on his art. It was during his time at Guantánamo that he really developed his interest in religious painting. As he describes it: The people at Guantánamo were living without hope. We didnÕt know when or if we would ever leave that place. I started painting pictures of our saints and ancestors, images of our African tradition and religion. I would give them away to whoever was most in need. The people responded with overwhelming gratitude and enthusiasm. They would put the paintings near their beds and pray to them at night. Up until then, I had always painted for myself; but at that point, I discovered the satisfaction that comes from painting for others. I was moved to keep painting religious images and giving them to those in need of inspiration. Throughout Lázaro's first two years in the United States, he was unable to paint at all. He was alone, without friends or family, spoke no English, and found himself living through what felt a bitterly cold New York winter. During this time, he focused on just surviving -- working up to seventeen hours a day selling clothing on a sidewalk in the Bronx. He lived alone in a gray, dimly lit basement; unbearable isolation after having been raised with five sisters. He explains "I had lost the colors of my soul, all the brightness." It was not until 1997, after moving to Washington, D.C. that he was able to stabilize to the point that he could again focus on his art. He started painting again very gradually, but has recently found himself brimming over again with creativity and the desire to paint. He states: I went for more than two years without painting, and now IÕm bursting with fresh ideas that need to be put on paper. When I have a canvas, I fill it in less than two hours. When I donÕt have canvas, I paint whatever I can get my hands on -- wood, drums, maracas, furniture . . . it doesnÕt matter, I just want to let out whatÕs been bottled up for so long. I refuse to linger over the dark periods in my life, though. In Guantánamo, I learned the rewards of painting to spread hope and love. I want to continue using my painting as an instrument to bring joy and inspiration to others. Lázaro, though, still reaps his own rewards from his art. It is his choice of subject matter that gives him satisfaction. I think a lot of Cuba. In every stroke I paint is a memory of Cuba, of my neighborhood, of my land. I am homesick for my people and for my traditions. I paint to express what I have lived. My spiritualism, the rumba of the streets, the mysticism of Cuba's religions, these are my direct experiences. In my head are orishas, the Malecón, the parks, my neighborÕs balcony, the cinemas, the neighborhood girls. I paint to transport myself there again. Painting takes me to my family, and we are together again Ñ smiling. Through my painting, I want people to learn that we all have "color," meaning we all have stories, everyone has a colorful history and colorful experiences to express and share.
Lázaro's work is currently on display at Havana Village, 1834 Columbia Rd NW, Washington, D.C., on the Tropical Lounge (3rd and 4th floor).

Linette Tobin is an immigration attorney and singer, as well as a regular contributor to Clave.