Acknowledging the work of farmworkers through art

Narsiso Martinez was born in Oaxaca, Mexico, in 1977 and came to the United States when he was 20 years old. He received a master of fine arts degree in drawing and painting from California State University, Long Beach. His work has been exhibited both locally and internationally and is in the collections of major institutions, including the Hammer Museum, Amon Carter Museum of American Art, the University of Arizona Museum of Art, Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art at the University of Oregon and the Santa Barbara Museum of Art. Martinez spoke to High Country News and FERN from Long Beach, California, where he lives and works. This conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

When did you start making art with discarded produce packing materials? 

I started back in 2017, maybe the end of 2016. 

What were your inspirations to start doing that?

I was doing oil paintings on cardboard, and then I spent three years between undergrad and graduate school working in the fields in Washington state and living with my sister. I used produce boxes that my sister would bring from Costco. I would draw on them, do little studies on them — sketches — but it didn’t occur to me to use the labels. I would just use the bottom of the box — the “good” part. 

I went back to drawing on cardboard when I went back to graduate school in 2015 and couldn’t do oil painting on canvas anymore. I collected a banana box at a Costco here in LA, and I drew a banana man on the banana box. It wasn’t a school assignment; it was just something that I wanted to do. Eventually, I took it to my class and, with the help of my classmates and my faculty committee, we arrived at the conclusion that I was trying to paint the working class. But because of the boxes, it got narrowed down to agribusiness and farmworkers. That’s how it all began. 

HOLLYWOOD & VINE
Ink, charcoal, gouache, and zcrylic on produce boxes, 97.5 x 63.5 Inches, 2022.
Photo by Yubo Dong

So, you were working in the fields? That must have influenced the evolution of your work.

I’ve always been a little shy. That’s why I do art. And when I discovered that through art, we can say things, and people can see things, I thought that I could use art to bring awareness about people in the fields, about my community and my own experiences. 

I started working in the agricultural fields in 2009, right after I finished community college and transferred to Cal State Long Beach. I couldn’t pay my tuition anymore, so my family, who were already working in the fields at that time, suggested I go work alongside them, and they would help me out with food and a place to stay. I would literally save my paychecks. I worked every season during my undergrad and then the whole year for three years, and then every summer again throughout my graduate studies. So, in total, I was working in the fields for about nine years. Whenever school would end, I would take the bus to Washington and then come back — literally right before classes would start, so I would make the most of the time there.

What were you picking? 

The first thing I picked was asparagus. It was really difficult. Asparagus is hard because the picker has to be bent over all of the time, and there’s no shade. I also picked cherries, and different varieties of apples, like Gala, Red, Golden, Fuji. I also picked peaches and blueberries. 

What does this body of work say to the public?

NM: For me, it’s important to tell the public who is behind our food production. I want to highlight the farmworkers. I want to raise awareness of their presence, of their contributions, of their humanity. I feel like farmworkers have been neglected throughout history, here in the United States and abroad. Dignify farmworkers: That’s the goal.

How have your farmworker subjects responded to the work?

When I was in the fields, I got to meet a lot of farmworkers. Eventually they would know me, because I would carry my sketchbook around. And they would say, “When are you gonna draw me?” I feel like whenever we’re taken into account, it makes us feel like we are somebody, like we are contributing, like we are part of a community — like when I first got my ID and felt like I was somebody. I have had a few exhibitions where the main audience was farmworkers. The response is amazing: The stories we get to tell each other. I hope they can see themselves in the art, and the importance that they bring to the country. We need to be seen. We need to be taken into account.

SUN FED
Ink, gouache, and charcoal on produce cardboard, 16 x 31.25 inches, 2021.
Photo by Yubo Dong

The art definitely carries that power for me. And the theme of this issue of High Country News is power in the food system, so I want to ask how you think about the power farmworkers have over our food supply, and the power that our economic and political systems in the U.S. have over the lives of farmworkers.

When I came to the United States, I came with no education. And from what little I’ve learned it seems like the system was designed to keep oppressing farmworkers. Historically, the more vulnerable communities have been working the fields, picking the food that we consume. It’s amazing to me that this group of people has been denied a dignified life, when they are the ones who are actually picking the food that sustains us. I feel like farmworkers have been used politically as a scapegoat. I don’t find a time throughout history when farmworkers lived a dignified life. It’s just kind of sad. I hope that the public can support legislation that can lead to a better and fairer life for farmworkers.

What would you like for the public to know about farmworkers — something that may be misunderstood?

Farmworkers are human beings. Besides our contributions, farmworkers are human beings with goals, dreams, aspirations, struggles. We go through sadness, happiness, just like anybody else. I feel like it’s about time to recognize that, no? 

How do you see your work in the context of the present moment, with agricultural workers being targeted by the Trump administration?

I feel like it’s unfair what’s happening right now. I can’t believe people who are in the fields, picking the food, are being persecuted. That’s unacceptable, no? Things have to be done in order to start change. I know a little about the United Farm Workers Movement, which was started by the Filipino Larry Itliong and by Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta — those leaders who created change in the system so that farmworkers can have a more dignified life. I’m grateful for the organizations that are supporting farmworkers, educating people how to defend themselves against deportations or kidnappings. I’ve seen crazy images of the Army in the fields. It’s unbelievable. But it is the reality that we are living in nowadays. And for what? For political gain. 

Has there been anything that has surprised you about the response to your work?

When I started, I didn’t know where I was going to go with this. I didn’t know that it was going to get this far. I’m really grateful, because the art is not only (addressing) the inclusivity of farmworkers as a subject matter, but is being included in (the collections of) big museums. That’s really a surprise to me. I think it’s great that something that has been created by an artist who is an immigrant, an Indigenous immigrant, can be appreciated by different audiences — not only people who are in the art, like the farmworkers, but also academicians, researchers or people who work in the museums.

GOOD FARMS
Ink, gouache, charcoal and matte gel on found produce box, 20.75 x 19.75 inches, 2020.
Photo by Michael Underwood

You came to the U.S. as a young adult. What were your initial impressions of this country, and how has that influenced your art?

I grew up in a small village, so when I first came to the U.S. everything to me was culture shock — like the big buildings and so many cars and the freeways and the differences of culture. And I still appreciate that. The fact that you can see people from different parts of the world, eat different kinds of food, I think it’s amazing. But it took me some time to adjust. 

I was lucky to realize that (the way) to navigate all the different cultures was to learn the language. So I went to an adult school, and I learned English. And as soon as I was able to have a conversation with my teachers, they made me believe that I could actually have an education. So I pursued an education, and I’m happy I did, because now I can see the whole picture. 

When I came, I had no education. I was basically blind. I didn’t understand even my own culture. Through continuing my education, I realized that we are part of this land. Once, this was Mexico. This place was colonized, and my own country was colonized. And a whole system was instilled in us by force. So it’s this constant battle for equity. I feel like as Indigenous people, we’re kind of left out. It’s a struggle to try to be included. It is a struggle, but it is possible.  

You come from a country with a long and rich tradition of art addressing sociopolitical and labor issues — the muralist movement, for example. Do you see the work you are doing here in the U.S. as being connected to that tradition?

I would say yes. Luckily, I did learn about the art of Mexico in the United States. I did get to know the muralists. And whenever I create larger pieces, this idea of the mural comes in, because I have to collage different images from different sources, and I feel like that’s part of muralism: how to connect things on a larger scale. Siqueiros really impacted me when I was in school. His América Tropicale mural is very powerful, especially coming from a Zapoteca community. Just seeing the struggle in the painting. … I wish I could do that. I wish to create images that can make people feel and think.

How do you see your work continuing to evolve?

The more I learn, I realize that farmworkers are struggling everywhere in the world. I grew up in fields back in Oaxaca, and it was a struggle: We were producing to just barely feed ourselves. And now that commerce has been globalized, big companies are taking over lands around the world. Companies have orchards in different countries. I feel like the struggle is continuing in a different way. But it’s a struggle nonetheless. 

For the future, my plan is to visit these orchards and have conversations — or actually work in these orchards — and start to include farmworkers in other parts of the world. That would be interesting, to see the connection between the struggles of farmworkers here in the United States and the struggles of the banana pickers in Nicaragua or the coffee bean pickers in Colombia. What is the common denominator that keeps us struggling? 

EASY GRAPE
Ink, gouache, collage, charcoal, and matte gel on recycled produce box, 27 x 30 Inches, 2019.
Photo by Michael Underwood

FRUIT CATCHER
Ink, charcoal and gold leaf on produce cardboard box, 20 x 15.50 inches, 2021. Photo by Yubo Dong.
All artwork courtesy of the artist and Charlie James Gallery, Los Angeles.