Wisconsin artist uses printmaking to tell the stories of migrant workers

Printmaking is an ancient art form with roots in China, where artists would use wood blocks to transfer images onto silk. Today, one of the premier printmaking programs in the country is housed at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where artists like Christie Tirado are putting their own spin on this long-standing tradition.

Currently, Tirado is working on a new body of work for her solo exhibition at Tandem Press in Madison this spring. She told WPR’s “Wisconsin Today” that she believes printmaking has a special place in the art world because of its long history and ability to tap into both tradition and innovation.

“As printmaking continues to evolve, it still has that historical component to it, which reminds me of its enduring power to make art accessible and amplify voices that otherwise may go unheard,” she said.

Tirado offered insights into her creative process and explained why she wants to share the often overlooked stories of immigrant workers through her art.

Bringing migrant farming labor into view

Before moving to Wisconsin, Tirado spent eight years working as a K-12 art educator in the Yakima Valley in Washington state. She said that the agricultural town where she lived was nearly half Latin American, with many working in farms and fields.

“I realized that there was a lack of visibility within this migrant community and the work that goes into carrying out everyday agricultural labor in regard to picking cherries, the hops that go into our beer, the grapes,” she said.

So, Tirado started going out into the fields to interview the workers and “get a feel for the work that goes into sustaining our economy.” She wanted to “render visibility to these stories that largely go unheard and also unseen” through her art, she said.

Her process was to meet and talk to the workers, then photograph them and use that image as inspiration for a print that she would display in the community.

For Tirado, printmaking is a fitting art form for depicting labor stories because it is “a medium that, in itself, is very labor intensive,” she said.

“The process of carving a relief block or graining a little stone requires immense skill and precision and physical exertion. It can place a strain on the body, from rolling out slabs of ink with heavy rollers to the repetitive motion of inking and running a piece through the press,” she said. “Creating each print mirrors, for me, the physicality and dedication of the work carried out by the people that I seek to honor.”

Honoring family legacy through printmaking

Now in Wisconsin, Tirado finds herself reflecting on her own family history and upbringing.

“Being the daughter of Mexican immigrants, I witnessed my parents work tirelessly, often juggling multiple jobs just trying to make ends meet,” she said.

Though her parents were doing what Tirado called “essential” labor like washing dishes, sewing garments and laying down concrete, she noticed that “they were treated as invisible or insignificant in these different jobs they had.”

Recently, Tirado has been talking to her father, whom she describes as a “stoic man,” and helping him to open up about his experience as a Mexican immigrant sacrificing to provide for his family. From these conversations, Tirado created a block print called “Historias y Granadas,” translated as “histories” or “stories” and pomegranates.

“Historias y Granadas” is a relief block print, a type of printmaking that involves drawing the image on a block and carving away the negative space. For this piece, Tirado used a multistep process of inking the carved linoleum block with one color at a time and applying pressure to transfer it onto all the copies or “editions” in the run — in this case, 10.

Then, she carved away the color that was just printed. After that, she would ink up a new color, transfer it to each copy, and then carve that color off the block. This technique is called “reduction,” and it means that the remaining block (called the “key layer”) won’t be able to reprint the run.

The art of writing

To accompany the block print of her father, Tirado wrote a creative essay, “Las Manos de mi Padre,” translated as “the hands of my father.” She said that focusing on the image of her father’s hands in the visual art and the written piece was a way for her to honor both his individual story and the larger history of migrant labor struggle.

“In this work, I really want to highlight the resilience and dedication and the sacrifices embodied in these hands, which have been weathered with a lifetime of labor going across borders and into different job industries,” Tirado said. “His journey is not just a personal narrative, but it’s also like a collective testament to the struggles and triumphs of immigrant workers who have given their lives to build foundations, both in literal and metaphorical senses, for the next generation.”

Tirado read an excerpt of “Las Manos de mi Padre” on “Wisconsin Today.”  

As the Saturday afternoon sun gently caressed his tejana, el canto de los gallo’s pierced the ambience, blending seamlessly with the comforting aroma of la tierra and burning firewood, weaving a tapestry of all too familiar memories. A soft breeze carried the fallen leaves of the pomegranate tree circling the eucalyptus trunk where he was seated.

As he delicately peeled back the skin of the granada, revealing the tiny garnets within, I watched him as he gently plucked each seed, making sure not to apply too much pressure to prevent them from bursting. Una por una, one by one, some of the semillas found their way into the palm of his hand, while others danced away, falling into the tierra beneath our feet. As I observed his tender precision, memorias escritas en sus manos seemed to sprinkle out. However, unlike the seeds that were falling onto the floor, I was catching these memories, recalling the countless times I’ve witnessed esas mismas manos come home from work, weathered, tired and aching from the countless jobs he’s had to do to live the American dream.