If there were a word in the dictionary that meant “resilience,” it might be spelled C-U-B-A. The tiny island off the tip of Florida has been suffering for decades from a U.S. embargo that punishes citizens for Cuban government policies. COVID-19 has made the situation much worse.

People stand in line for hours with ration cards to purchase whatever items might be available by the time they reach a government-sanctioned store — hopefully some rice, maybe a packet of matches. An onion. Or a bit of bread.

Shopping without this libreta de abastecimiento (supplies booklet) is prohibitive for most Cubans, as prices are simply too high — if goods are available at all. Their ration cards keep them alive and, says artist Guillermo Estrada Viera, become a record of daily life: what Cubans eat, how they live, who passed away. So Viera takes these cards and integrates them into his art.

“The ration cards used are given to me by friends, neighbors and sometimes even strangers, knowing that they will be used to represent our reality,” Estrada Viera says.

Art has always been used to make statements — statements of beauty and statements about social justice — and also as a means of revitalization. In Estrada Viera's case, art also documents how Cubans live.

He combines the recycled cards with old wood that he

carves to make woodblock prints. The art is treated with products he can buy: oil, coffee, sugar, kerosene. One image is of a red-faced angel, his gentle gaze downcast, his wings feathered with ration cards.

“The ration cards have been with us for more than 50 years,” he says, “and are of vital importance for the survival of our families.... I intend to leave a record of the times we've had to live.”

Of course, recycling is a part of the process, since resourcefulness is also a Cuban way of life, such as

C-U-B-A

THE TINY ISLAND OFF THE TIP OF FLORIDA HAS BEEN SUFFERING FOR DECADES FROM A U.S. EMBARGO THAT PUNISHES

CITIZENS FOR CUBAN GOVERNMENT POLICIES. COVID-19 HAS MADE THE SITUATION MUCH WORSE.

making mattresses out of plastic bags and beautiful art out of ration cards.

That said, art doesn't have to include a specific statement or image to be political in nature; sometimes the very act of creation is revolutionary.

In Mexico, Florencia Espinal Ramirez believes art can have

power and possibility, showing her community — and the world — that narcotics trafficking should not define Mexico. She works with her husband and three children in a workshop in Olinala, a town in Guerrero that is world renowned for its intricate, lacquered wood vessels. To make her colorful utilitarian items, from boxes to plates and trays, she gathers special stones and grinds them into a fine dust. This is mixed with chia oil and earth pigments to make a paste, which is painstakingly painted into the wood.

The decorative vessels are also meant to inspire the youth of her town. By involving young people in the art's creation, Ramirez shows them the possibilities of making a living with art. “It's important that they see crafts as a means of survival, since it can generate income and at the same time rescue the traditions of our ancestors without losing customs,” she says.

From India, Pachan Premjibhai Siju tells stories of climate change in the motifs of his scarves. The master weaver works with his mother, wife, brothers and brothers' wives weaving the finest wool, cotton and silk into storyboards, with special motifs inserted by hand. Each scarf is accompanied by a detailed description, such as, “In a drought year, people store water. But the cows, goats, dogs and trees don't have any water” on one side and “People have cut all of the trees and now they realize that they caused the drought” on the other.

Drought has devastated many parts of India, and widespread desertification threatens people's livelihoods. Siju says that through his motifs and descriptions, he wants to send a message: “I want them to see my collection and feel the threats to our environment and remember the natural world so they will make an effort to care for it. I focused on water because it is a critical resource, and water conservation is a major problem.”

But negative impact isn't Siju's only message. His art also offers instructions for hope and revitalization, such as “how the environment can become green again when we care for it by conserving water and planting trees.”

Like many international artists, Siju says that the very act of weaving is a statement, especially at a time when traditional crafts are sometimes less valued. This is particularly true as he has gained success in his community and is now in a position to help others. He says, “I am thinking about how one person can help benefit 10 more. I can look beyond myself and think of the community.”

That one person's art can reverberate through and support an entire community is a radical statement indeed.

Zélie Pollon is a journalist and podcast editor. When she’s not writing about New Mexico, she helps families by providing information on how to travel the world.