Lorena Molina

This work was supported and was the result of my artist residency at Artpace 2025

A smaller version of the garden is currently on view at RootDivision SF from 8/13-9/20

Cuando el regreso es la cosecha is an invitation to participate in a shared space which celebrates agency and belonging. For many individuals who have experienced forced migration, the concept of “return” extends far beyond a geographical location. It is tied to identity, memory, and a yearning for wholeness.

This contemplation centers on my homeland, El Salvador. I question what it might have looked like without US intervention. I imagine a reality in which families could remain united, fighting for our future and enjoying the land without fear. This vision of return is rooted not only in the land itself but in the harvest, in a version of myself and a life that was never fully realized.

In today’s socio-political climate, where mass deportations and policies target marginalized communities, my work touches on the politics of agency and the right to choose where one belongs. For some, returning to their homeland is an impossibility, while for others, the place they long for may no longer exist, or perhaps it never truly did. Regardless, this longing persists, not as a desire to return to a past that can never be reclaimed, but as a way to imagine a more joyous future. It is a dream of belonging, a yearning to feel safe in our homes. For a place where we can exist wholly, without the need to assimilate or diminish ourselves.

The ecologies in the exhibition—corn, beans, coffee, banana, medicinal plants, and wild Texas flowers carry deep political, historical, and cultural weight. Corn, beans, and coffee have long been central to resistance, survival, and colonization in El Salvador and throughout Latin America. Coffee, a commodity tied to exploitative labor and land dispossession, underscores how agriculture has been weaponized against communities. In contrast, the wildflowers provide nourishment for butterflies along their migration route, offering sustenance to those in transit.

Alongside the plants, barrels collect water, echoing those in my home in El Salvador used to harvest rainwater. This practice, both practical and symbolic, reflects an act of foresight -caring for the land and the future. Within the space, the echoes of my family’s whistling and humming create an auditory landscape of waiting and longing. These quotidian sounds that have also been used historically as secret codes in times of war, carry the weight of both patience and resistance. In my work, they visualize time: waiting to return, waiting to belong, and existing as a quiet/potent sign of joy and longing.

Jars of curtido, fermented in my aunt’s home, serve as time capsules—preserving the bacteria of my family’s space while safeguarding food for the future. Like the plants, water, and sound, they embody endurance, transformation, a form of waiting, and the unseen ways migration lingers within the body and across generations.

Cuando el regreso es la cosecha is both a prayer and a communal act. Visitors are encouraged to engage with the space by contributing personal objects or planting seeds in the space- allowing the exhibition to evolve as a living, breathing entity.

The Garden will be activated by various groups, organizations, and artists who will use the space to host conversations that are both challenging and necessary. These gatherings will create room for dialogue around migration, identity, resistance, and care—conversations that can be difficult, but also hold the potential for healing, action, and solidarity. By offering the space to communities across Texas, the garden becomes more than an installation, it becomes a living site for reflection, connection, and support. It is a place where stories can be shared and where community can be nurtured.

Events held at the garden:

On March 16, Diana Lizzette Rodriguez and I held a
poetry writing workshop and conversation. Participants were invited to connect with their senses and ground themselves in the space, exploring themes of home, longing, and return. The concept of the body as both a map and a border, a site of memory, movement, and limitations was central to this exploration. The installation served as a container and a catalyst for these exchanges.

For the opening night, I collaborated with Juan Alfredo Rios, Henna Chou, Aila Farfan, and Alex Cosmico on a live cumbia performance featuring five songs. Each song was carefully chosen to evoke the sensorial elements of return—sounds, rhythms, and emotions that live in my body and memory. Cumbia has always been part of my world. My family regularly hosts house parties where music plays late into the night and we dance until 4 a.m. These gatherings are full of joy, movement, and connection—they’re spaces of healing as much as celebration. I believe that my family returns every time they dance.

Photos by Elena Peña, Chloe Walker and myself.