Guess who's coming to dinner (or the last supper). Alma Leiva. February 2019. Elsewhere Museum, greensboro, NC. Video documentation of curated dinner in collaboration with Jennida Chase and Hassan Pitts. 9 min 2 secs. Inkjet prints, embroidery, and poetry on museum collection fabric; ongoing collection of stories. 264” x 138” in. Live music performance in collaboration with Joshua Marquez.
Embroidery process
Embroidery process
QR code detail.
Embroidery process
Interactive Greensboro, NC. Map image.2019.
Guess who’s coming to dinner (or the last supper) is a research-based interdisciplinary project that includes interactive, performance, and sensory elements. Inspired by Leiva’s grandmother who worked in a Florida tomato field in the 1980’s, this project is a response to the rising deportations of food industry workers in North Carolina. The project activates Elsewhere’s dining space through a tablecloth, web platform, poetry, a dinner event, and experimental sound performance. Guess Who encourages awareness about migration and labor through personal stories, pertinent statistics, and poetry that humanize this vulnerable demographic.
Through public engagement, Leiva facilitates a platform to bring this difficult conversation to the “table:” A concept she recalls in the title after Stanley Kramer’s 1967 film. Also recalling the table in Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper painting, the project includes a hand-made tablecloth that pairs traditional “women crafts,” or the embroidery using inherited thread, with QR code technology. In the center, a printed, embroidered Greensboro map that resembles a living organism offers interactivity that takes participants to relevant information. On both ends, the tablecloth presents a split North Carolina state map with a poem by Leiva (translated by Walter Krochmal), dedicated to the workers in Spanish and English. In collaboration with local immigrant organization FaithAction, Leiva expands the conversation beyond the event’s inauguration by incorporating an expanding web platform that continuously features regional migrant workers’ personal stories.
In order to encourage engagement and critical thought, the artist served dishes during her opening exhibition using locally grown produce in collaboration with local artist Jennida Chase and videographer Hassan Pitts. The resulting food stains on the tablecloth become a growing archive of use. To add another layer, a responsive live experimental sound performance by composer Joshua Marquez played throughout the project’s inauguration. As a take-away memento, the artist handed custom printed napkins to the public.
Anonimous Stories / Historias Anónimas
"The biggest present gifted to me as a latinx immigrant is that I consider all Latin Americans to be my people. Leaving the country of my origin at 8 years old and never returning, I crave to hear accents, smell foods, and to culturally engage in ways that remind me of my childhood. I take a lot of pride in knowing that I come from a long line of undocumented immigrants, including my mother, who have fought fear and beat it. My ancestors and elders have taught me that with enough effort, dreams can become realities, even when the current president and an alarming portion of the American population don't care if I'm safe or dead.
I'm not the religious type of latinx, but I do pray. Some days, the biggest challenge seems to be driving without a license; with my fingers crossed and heart in my throat, I pray often that I don't get pulled over. Other days, the biggest challenge is knowing that there are so many of my elders and siblings who are less privileged than me yet live with more fear. I pray for them, too. If I ever were to get deported, I probably wouldn't even want to come back. Who would want to come back to a nation that's been turning its back on them since they were a child?
I find a lot of humor and restlessness working in the restaurant industry. Guests often can't pronounce my name or ask me: "No, but where are you reallyfrom?" I serve them food with a smile while they commodify my identity. If only they would stop for a second to consider who cooks their food and washes their plates. Also, my boss at the restaurant doesn't know that I'm undocumented. I'm quite embarrassed by this last confession: I fear getting fired, but honestly, I don't want him to find out because I don't want to disappoint him— I don't know where I'd be without the opportunities that he's given me."
-G
***
"El regalo más importante que se he recibido como inmigrante latinx es que considero que todos los latinoamericanos son mi gente. Desde que dejé mi país de mi origen a los 8 años de edad y sin poder volver nunca más, ansío escuchar acentos, oler alimentos y participar culturalmente de maneras que me recuerdan mi infancia. Me enorgullece saber que provengo de una larga lista de inmigrantes indocumentados, incluida mi madre, que lucharon contra el miedo y lo superaron. Mis ancestr(o/a)s y ancian(o/a)s me han enseñado eso con suficiente esfuerzo, los sueños pueden convertirse en realidades, incluso cuando al presidente actual y una parte alarmante de la población estadounidense no les importa si estoy a salvo o muerto.
No soy del tipo latinx religios(o/a), pero sí rezo. Algunos días, el mayor desafío parece ser conducir sin licencia; Con los dedos cruzados y el corazón en la garganta, rezo a menudo para que no me detengan. Otros días, el mayor desafío es saber que hay una gran parte de mis hermanos y hermanas que tienen menos privilegios que yo y que viven con más miedo. Yo también oro por ell(o/a)s. Si alguna vez me deportaran, probablemente no querría volver. ¿Quién querría volver a una nación que les ha estado dando la espalda desde que eran niñ(o/a)s?
Encuentro mucho humor e inquietud al trabajar en la industria restaurantera. Los invitad(o/a)s a menudo no pueden pronunciar mi nombre o preguntarme: "No, pero ¿de dónde es realmente?" Les sirvo comida con una sonrisa mientras mercantilizan mi identidad. Si tan solo se detuvieran por un segundo para considerar quién cocina su comida y lava sus platos. Además, mi jefe en el restaurante no sabe que estoy indocumentade. Siento mucha verguenza por esta última confesión: temo que me despidan, pero, sinceramente, no quiero que se entere porque no quiero decepcionarlo, no sé dónde estaría sin las oportunidades que me ha dado "
-G
***
"Being an undocumented immigrant at this time is very sad because of the things that are happening right now. Fear. A lot of fear for my children. My children were born here ... Did you see that they separate families? They do not have a father here. They only have me, and that scares me. I am distressed by everything President [Trump] says and does. The immigrants come here to work. Nothing more. Selling food is more than a business - it's something very personal for me."
"Ser inmigrante indocumentada en este momento es algo muy triste por las cosas que estan pasando ahorita. Miedo. Mucho miedo por mis hijos. Mis hijos nacieron aqui... Vio que separan a las familias? No tienen padre aqui— solo me tienen a mi, y eso me da miedo. Estoy angustiada por todo lo que el Presidente [Trump] dice y hace. Los inmigrantes vienen aqui para trabajar. Nada mas.
Vender comida es mas que un negocio— es algo muy personal para mi."
-M
***
