This is my grandmother's paintbrush. As an Irish immigrant, she deeply enjoyed to express her emotion in art. While moving to the Americas in hopes of a better life, art was more than a hobby for her. Art was a means of expressing her views on life itself. How she perceived every tree within the Massachusetts forest, how she viewed every hateful action shown on the news, and how she understood every expression from her children. Even as a grandchild, my favorite part of going to my grandmother's house was looking through the many watercolor paintings she created and seeing which one I found interesting. As a result, I managed to form a deep connection with my grandmother. While skimming through these various paintings and drawings, I also was skimming through the many memories that my grandmother held dear. I remember a specific day when me and my grandmother spent hours on end just staring out the window, viewing the many birds and trees as we talked about life. My family was out shopping so I had time to vent, talk and laugh with my Grandma. As the woodpeckers kept chipping the surrounding trees, I truly understood how much art and life meant to my grandmother. Due to her living in Massachusetts, my family often failed to see her more than a few times a year. As a result, we deeply cherished all the time we spent with her. I guarantee that she is painting the clouds up above as we speak. 

– JW

Relationship:  Grandchild of im/migrant Grandchild of im/migrant