Almendrones is a collaborative project with ten Cuban printmakers I have met while working in six different print shops in Havana. Their work reflects their reality of living in Cuba, where recycling materials is a necessity of life and a creative art form. They offer a reflection of their experiences with pre- revolution American cars.

Almendrones numbers 25 books. Each edition has two hand bound books housed in a linen clamshell box published in 2006. The first book contains an original print by each of the artists. The prints are woodcut, lithography, silkscreen, and intaglio printed at the Taller Nelson Domingo, Taller Experimenta De Grafic, and private tallers in Havana. The second is a letterpress printed book of observations of living with these American cars by each artist and the publisher.

Alemendrones

Almendrones are the backbone of transportation, held together with pride, ingenuity and desperation. Stuck in the past, working in the present, hoping for a chance at prosperity. Given a different economic opportunity these cacharros would disappear in a flash, replaced by comfortable air conditioning, fuel efficiency, and sleek contemporary design.

We go out every day and it is almost unbearable to wait, amidst the heat, the strong sunshine, and the thirst, for something that can take us to our destination. After a long and desperate wait, at last we decide to make the signal and stop the taxi, an American cacharro (a jaloppy on wheels), as we usually call them, or, sometimes, a beautiful model that seems to have been dug up directly from the past, and we simply refuse to believe our eyes. They are always there, running from one place to another, following any route, full of passengers traveling in the discomfort of the lack of space, but with the peacefulness of a safe arrival. Seeing these cars still running in throughout the city is, for me, a manifestation of an epoch of opulence, elegance, and power. It would seem that they were destined for eternity, destined for a mission that not even their owners, or their sons, ever imagined. It is the perpetuity of the American symbol in a stopped present.

— Laura Hidalgo Cabrer