03/12/2025
By Kate Stone Lombardi
Published on Substack
The first English words he learned were “I got it” and “Dime.”
Hector “Bori” Rodriguez was seven years old, and working for his uncle, the man who had brought him to the U.S. from his native Puerto Rico. Clients would slide money through a mail slot in an apartment building and Hector would run the cash up the stairs to his uncle, who would send him back down with a “dime bag” (drugs).
I still remember that story from a memoir piece Hector wrote years ago in a class I co-taught with my friend Linda at a maximum security prison.
Last week, I went to a crowded art opening. No, I didn’t just suddenly switch subjects. Hector Rodriguez is the artist, and after 27 years of incarceration (“Twenty seven years and two months,” he emphasizes), is now creating intensely colorful, sometimes dream-like, and always beautiful paintings. I had my eye on one particularly gorgeous piece called “Floating In Stillness,” but alas, there was already a red dot next to it, signaling that it had been sold. This wasn’t Hector’s first art show and I’m confident it won’t be his last.
I met Hector about seven years ago, when he signed up for the writing class. I’d already heard about his artistic talent. But in his writing, I could see how the two art forms complimented each other.
The themes of his early visual art were often powerful women, particularly mothers. The paintings were enchanting – women appeared as trees, lush vibrant flowers and beautifully feathered birds. His written memoir work was similar – scenes of his early childhood in Puerto Rico, longing for his mother, sometimes interspersed with the harshness of what was then his current life.
“My art embodies survival, transformation, and the profound power of self expression,” says Hector. “Growing up amidst hardship and instability, I faced a world often overshadowed by violence. But through art, I found a language to process my experiences and envision a brighter future.”
While he was incarcerated, Hector says that art work helped to release some of his stress. It was also a way to reconnect with his humanity. Art, he says, helps him to express long-suppressed emotions of love and connection.
“Each piece mirrors life’s emotional dance,” Hector says. “Like a hummingbird pollinating a flower or freshwater nourishing a tree, representing tenderness and renewal.”
But Hector’s art also has a political message. In his paintings, watercolors and mixed media works, he wants to shine a light on the crisis of mental illness and mass incarceration. I haven’t included images of those here (because I don’t have them) but some of his work explicitly shows the anguish of people behind bars.
It had been awhile since I’d last seen him. The Hector I remember was stressed, hunched over a table in a baggy prison uniform. He bore little resemblance to the man standing on a step addressing the crowd who’d come to his opening. Tall and soft-spoken, Hector looked professorial: he was sporting studious-looking glasses and his clothes were beautifully fitted.
It’s not surprising Hector looks like an academic. He was taking college courses while he was incarcerated. (Note to readers – taxpayers do not pay for college for incarcerated people. It is privately funded.) For the last two years, he’s been attending the Yale Prison Education Initiative College to Career Fellowship at Yale University. This fall, he’ll be enrolled in a dual MA/MFA program at a state university.
I am so incredibly happy for Hector and very pleased to be able to showcase his artwork here. He hopes to become more involved in the art community. Of course, Hector gave me permission to share his story and use his name.
“Art is my sanctuary, my voice, and a bridge to the world,” Hector says. “Through it, I hope to inspire joy, reflection and a deeper understanding of our shared humanity.”
