This won’t be a story about the history of Cuba. I can’t tell you about the politics or the socialist government. I won’t suggest that I have any answers to mend the relationship with our small southern neighbor or to solve their deepening economic crisis. However, there is one thing that I heard over and over during my brief stay in Cuba with Film School Road Trip. An earnest plea that my heart will never forget.

“When you go home, tell them we’re good people”

There is blatant suffering in Havana unlike anything I’ve seen in the US. Locals sort through rubble to find any useable remnants. In the US, we equate scenes like this (wrongfully most of the time) with crime and danger. The story in Cuba is much different. There is an underlying thread of resilience everywhere you look.

We met Esteban, a local who had inherited a large format camera and taught himself to shoot and process film. Each day Esteban walks five miles from his home to Faro Castillo del Morro to create portraits and support his family. Jon Canlas, Film School Road Trip organizer, met Esteban on a previous trip and facilitated donations to help support his work and family. Every Cuban we met was quick to share their passion, eager to connect, but humble with their challenges. Many of their struggles incomprehensible to us, but their pride prevented them from sharing even basic needs or requests.

Eddy and his team from Eddy’s Classic Car Tours were our lifeline on the trip. They did more than safely transport us from point A to point B. They shared the grief, history, and heart of Cuba in a way that only a local could do. They also helped us navigate the complicated currency exchange system and black market. Eddy and his team helped us understand what we were seeing around us.

Eddy’s team took us out to Viñales where we toured a tobacco farm and road horseback through a lush valley dotted with agricultural fields. As we drove through the small streets of this rural area, grandparents rocked sleeping babies and children ran on the sidewalks alongside our car. The people were warm and welcoming to our tourist group. Over and over, I wondered, “how could they not be cynical after everything they’ve been through?” When they sensed we might be low on money at lunch, they were quick to suggest we could send the rest of the money with our driver on his next visit. On the three hour drive back to Havana, I couldn’t shake the thought, “how do you continue to trust when you’ve been deceived over and over?”

Cuba is filled with public art. From large bronze sculptures to smaller temporary installations. We toured Fusterlandia which started as the private residence of artist, José Fuster, and expanded to take over a whole neighborhood with his unique tile mosaics inspired by artists like Gaudi and Brancusi.

Art is resistance. Art is a voice of support or dissent. With all that is going on in the world, the public art in Cuba inspired me to think about my voice and create with intention. Whether you’re a painter or a sculptor; whether you’re a photographer whose works are displayed in museums or in family photo albums, what are you saying? I would love to return to Cuba and spend more time exploring the art and understanding the messages.

If you get the chance, go to Cuba. Hear the story, feel the heart of the Cuban people, and be inspired by their perseverance. Forget what you’ve heard in the news and be willing to question what you were taught in school.

When your trip is done, go home and tell everyone that they are good people.

Images shot on Ilford hp5+ and Kodak portra400. Developed and scanned by The Find Lab. To see more images, connect with me on Instagram.