tures meet, clash, and grapple with each other, often in contexts of highly asymmetrical relations of power” (34). While the installations welcome privileged Americans to engage with the stories of undocumented immigrants, the larger-than-life portraits do not shy away from culturally specific markers. Some patrons and passersby might dislike the clash between Mesoamerican geometric patterns and The Roost’s luxury food hall aesthetic. They might avoid the faces looking out from shopfronts near the New York Stock Exchange, thinking the portraits are needlessly political. Other patrons and passersby may be moved by, for example, Mario’s smile to scan the QR code, which leads them to an online repository of oral histories by his relatives. In addition to the installation’s verbal riposte, these stories offer counternarratives to the stereotypes of anti-immigrant rhetoric. A husband and father, born in Morelos, Mexico, Mario brought his family to the U.S. in the hopes of bettering their lives and giving his daughters an education. His three daughters describe him as charismatic, unstoppable, and always eager to learn new skills. Mario was their hero and best friend. When the first case of COVID-19 in NYC was made public, their daughters warned his father to take care of himself: “Daddy you have to stay home. You and mom are the most at risk. You work with a lot of people.” Mario insisted he needed to work. He could not afford to stay home and be unemployed. Mario worked at a laundromat and grocery store and was considered “essential” labor. With gloves on his hands and a mask over his vibrant smile, Mario arrived at work punctually every day. On March 21, 2020, ten days after WHO declared the global COVID-19 pandemic, Mario came home with body aches. He died on April 10, 2020 at St Claire’s Hospital in Denville, NJ at age 59 (Tuttle Funeral Home). Mario’s story counters the idea that undocumented immigrants are parasitic social scroungers, pocketing aid from the government during the COVID-19 pandemic. He worked till his death. Mario was not a pathogen that harmed the U.S. body but helped it continue to function. . . . Importantly, the essential qualities ascribed to undocumented immigrants by the installation do not reduce them to their “usefulness” within the United States: those portrayed are more than “what they do.” Mendoza’s work evokes aspects of their identities that are “essential” to them. The loving accounts of their families and communities do this on a personal level. Her visual aesthetic does so culturally. Mendoza does not shy away from the “foreignness” of her subjects. Rather than assimilate to American expectations, the installation incorporates iconography that draws on the religious, indigenous, and labor aesthetics many immigrants from Latin America have in common. 12
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