Where are you From?

Where Are You From? My Painted Plea for American Compassion

By Suzon Lucore

For seven intense weeks, I've found myself in my studio before dawn and long after dusk, working on what has become the most personal painting of my career. The 9-by-6-foot canvas that now stands completed before me represents not just months of artistic labor, but a deeply held conviction about who we are as Americans.

I call it simply, "Where Are You From?"

The painting depicts 21

individuals—diverse in age, ethnicity, religion, and circumstance—their bodies forming the recognizable silhouette of the United States. Behind them looms a gathering storm, both metaphorical and all too real for many of our neighbors across this nation.

I began this work during a particularly divisive news cycle. Each morning I would wake to headlines about families being separated, about people who've built entire lives here suddenly being told they don't belong. I couldn't stop thinking about the human cost of our politics, about the disconnect between our national mythology and our current reality.

As I mixed colors and layered paint, I found myself wondering about my own family's journey to America. Like most Americans, my ancestors came from somewhere else. Some by choice, some by necessity, all seeking something they couldn't find in the places they left behind. This shared history of movement and hope—isn't this the thread that binds our national tapestry?

Each figure in my painting tells a distinct story. There's an elderly woman with weathered hands who might remind you of your grandmother who came through Ellis Island. A young professional clutching engineering plans represents the immigrants who have fueled American innovation for generations. A farm worker stands alongside a doctor, a teacher beside a factory worker—all forming our nation's body.

I deliberately painted their faces with complex expressions: a mixture of hope, determination, fear, and dignity. None are portrayed as victims or heroes—just human beings caught in the currents of history and policy. People with names, dreams, and families. People like us.

The technical aspects of the painting evolved organically. I found myself drawn to a palette that shifts subtly across the canvas, suggesting both unity and diversity. The gathering storm in the background—rendered in turbulent grays and midnight blues—creates a sense of urgency without melodrama. This wasn't a conscious political statement when I began, but art has a way of revealing our deepest concerns.

During the creation process, I invited several friends to view the work in progress. Their reactions confirmed what I had hoped: the painting prompted personal reflection rather than political posturing. "I found myself looking for my own family's story among these faces," one visitor told me. Another said quietly, "It makes you ask what kind of country we want to be."

That's exactly the conversation I hope to inspire. In our current political climate, we've become adept at dehumanizing those whose stories differ from our own. We've forgotten how to see ourselves in one another. This painting is my small effort to rebuild those bridges of empathy.

I'm currently seeking a gallery or public venue to host "Where Are You From?" My dream is that it might travel to communities across the country, particularly those most affected by immigration policies and debates about national identity. Not because I have solutions to offer, but because I believe that truly seeing one another must precede any meaningful dialogue.

Some might question whether art can matter in times like these. Can a painting change hearts or influence policy? Perhaps not directly. But throughout history, art has served as a mirror, reflecting not just who we are but who we aspire to be. If my work can create even a moment of recognition or reflection—a single instant when someone sees themselves in a stranger's face—then it will have served its purpose.

As Americans, we've always been better at becoming than being. Our identity isn't fixed but constantly evolving, shaped by each new arrival who contributes to our collective story. "Where Are You From?" is my reminder—and perhaps yours—that our strength lies not in walls but in our willingness to see ourselves in one another.

Let's hold space for stories that matter. Let's choose compassion over division. Let's remember who we are—and where we came from.

Suzon Lucore holds dual BFAs from CCAC in painting and interdisciplinary arts, plus AAs in Journalism and Advertising. Currently, she serves as CEO of Connected Now Marketing Agency in Orangevale, California, 24 miles from the State Capitol.