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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
36” x 48
Plywood
Acrylic | Marker | Pencil
As a kid growing up Puerto Rican, you were certain to have a baseball and a glove in your hands as soon as you were able to walk. Not by force, at least in my case, I was just always exposed to the sport; it was always around us growing up. I remember summer softball leagues my dad and uncles were in at Humboldt Park. Many summers spent running around Humboldt Park playing baseball in the diamonds when their games were done. I never pursued baseball outside of Little League and occasional pickup games, and to the best of my knowledge, that was okay with my dad. That doesn't mean I don't have fond memories of baseball; my favorite one is my dad telling me about the humanitarian work Clemente did and was doing when he died. That one sticks out to me the most. I love the heart he had for people and the work he did off the diamond, which I was only able to learn about at a young age because of baseball.
36” x 48
Plywood
Acrylic | Marker | Pencil
As a kid growing up Puerto Rican, you were certain to have a baseball and a glove in your hands as soon as you were able to walk. Not by force, at least in my case, I was just always exposed to the sport; it was always around us growing up. I remember summer softball leagues my dad and uncles were in at Humboldt Park. Many summers spent running around Humboldt Park playing baseball in the diamonds when their games were done. I never pursued baseball outside of Little League and occasional pickup games, and to the best of my knowledge, that was okay with my dad. That doesn't mean I don't have fond memories of baseball; my favorite one is my dad telling me about the humanitarian work Clemente did and was doing when he died. That one sticks out to me the most. I love the heart he had for people and the work he did off the diamond, which I was only able to learn about at a young age because of baseball.