A vintage Cuban government-owned
crop-dusting plane seized by U.S. court order in a rare judgment against
Fidel Castro's regime will finally get some use -- as a work of art.
The Russian-made Antonov An-2 'Colt' in
which a pilot and his family made a mad dash to freedom will be on display
later this month as part of an installation intended to symbolize the mass
flight from the island.
After the eight Cubans landed in Key West
in November 2002, the plane was seized to satisfy a $27 million judgment
won in 2001 by the ex-wife of a Cuban spy.
But the plane, which the new owner had
hoped would bring $30,000 to $60,000, failed to sell at auction.
''We always envisioned something special
for the plane,'' said Scott Leeds, the attorney who represented Ana
Margarita Martinez and later bought the plane from her.
''You can't fly it. The FAA would never
allow that,'' he said.
So it sat in storage in Key West for about
18 months until a conversation with a local artist generated the idea of
turning the plane, with its patchwork of old parts, into art.
Last week, a pair of volunteers
disassembled the yellow plane and brought it to the Elizabeth Virrick
hangar in Coconut Grove, loaned to the project by the city of Miami, where
they put the pieces back together.
THE GRAND DESIGN
Xavier Cortada, an artist renowned for
public murals, began painting the plane Friday. He told The Herald he
envisions painting open mouths to signify the lack of freedom of
expression.
He will also surround the plane with 45
painted trunks numbered 1959 to 2004 for the years of the Fidel Castro
regime. They will be filled with letters from exiles about their personal
experiences leaving Cuba. Cortada is soliciting letters now and will
invite visitors to the exhibit to write letters, too.
''As an artist, my job is to look at my
world and express it for others to see,'' Cortada said. 'But with this
project, I thought, `Maybe it's not just my expression that is
important here. Maybe it's their expression that is of utmost value.' ''
So he and Leeds are asking Cuban exiles to
contribute to what they are calling the Cuban Monument of Freedom. The
letters should state what one left behind and what one found upon arriving
in exile -- whether in the United States or elsewhere.
He is eager to see the similarities and
differences between the different waves.
''Because, of course, what my dad found
here when he came in '62 is a lot different than what the rafters found,''
Cortada said. 'He found signs that said `No Dogs. No Cubans.' ''
''When my cousin got here [more recently],
he found a place that had signage all over the place in Spanish,'' he
said.
''But I think they both left the same
things behind: a broken family, your homeland, your hopes and dreams. And
that's what this is about,'' the artist said, ``so I can make a case, if
you will, why 45 years of exiles have left that island.''
He and others supporting the monument's
creation say they expect it to be a powerful symbol capable of delivering
an important message to a world that grew cynical toward Cuban exiles
during the Elián González saga.
''Every time we saw one of those Chevrolet
rafts in the news and it was sunk by the Coast Guard,'' Leeds said, 'it
was our reaction and the community's reaction to be outraged. `Why are
they sinking that monument?' What they were sinking was a symbol of the
struggle for freedom that these people are so desperate for, they are
willing to risk their lives.''
The plane signifies that, too, he said.
''We didn't want it to just fall idle or
go quietly into the night,'' Leeds said. ``We really wanted it to be a
living monument to freedom.''
After it's unveiled May 19, on the eve of
Cuban Independence Day, Leeds and Cortada hope it will find a permanent
home at a museum in South Florida or the Smithsonian Institute, which has
already expressed an interest in acquiring the letters.
A DUE FATE
It is a fitting use of the plane, said
Martínez, who won it as a partial settlement of her lawsuit against Cuba
in which she claimed it was government-sanctioned rape when her spy
husband, Juan Pablo Roque, had sexual relations with her. She didn't know
she was married to a Cuban agent until he returned to the island one day
before Cuban MiGs shot down two Brothers to the Rescue planes, she said.
Now, she says, she is thrilled with her
prize's fate.
''It's ideal,'' she told The Herald.
``It's something that involves both the cultural world and the cause. It's
something that can create awareness outside of Miami.
``It's very innovative and something the
entire community can participate in.''
