Artist Valarie James combines man-made and natural elements into her pieces, drawing on the saga of illegal border crossers struggling across the desert.

james s. wood / arizona daily star

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When Valarie James walks her dogs along the arroyos that crisscross the desert near her Amado home, she finds life in rigid, faded, weathered forms half buried in the sand, partially hidden under mesquite trees, or snared on creosote and cholla.

Many of the items were once held by mothers who crossed the parched desert in search of a bountiful life:

● A baby's bloodied blanket and bottle.

● A child's Tweety Bird backpack, Minnie Mouse T-shirt and school notebook.

● A woman's shoe, cosmetics and wallet.

● A bordado, an embroidered cloth with stitched words of hope and love — Te Amo, Cariño Mío, Amor Mío.

The discoveries are many and varied. But they hold a common bond for James, a mixed-media artist.

"These would be secrets lost in the desert," she said.

The desert holds the secrets and truths of undocumented immigrants who have successfully or unsuccessfully crossed it. But there are few people or ways to tell their hidden narratives.

James does.

She collects some of the border crossers' abandoned belongings, takes them inside her studio and gives them meaning. Along with several other committed artists, James transforms the lifeless objects into pieces of art that speak to her convictions and give voice to people whose identities have been lost.

"If these clothes are not found and brought in, we wouldn't know these people existed," James said.

For the past several years, James has turned her artistic energies toward honoring las madres del desierto, the mothers of the desert.

Incorporating man-made and natural materials found around her home, James creates mother figures. Their stillness hints of the women's living faith and dreams.

Closed eyes.

Crossed arms.

Contemplative faces.

James takes denim jeans punctured by spiney ocotillos and sharp rocks, and cotton clothing containing the wearer's desert saga of blood, sweat and dirt.

The clothing is shredded and turned into a pulp. It is shaped and formed, and held together with natural elements such as prickly pear mucilage, bees-wax, arroyo sand and dark mesquite sap called chucata.

In late 2005 three life-size figures were placed at Pima Community College's East Campus. The installation art is called "Las Madres: No Más Lágrimas, The Mothers: No More Tears."

James' fellow artists include Antonia Gallegos, Cesar Lopez and Deborah McCullough.

Like the real-life defenseless mothers who disappear in Southern Arizona's harsh elements, the unprotected stationary madres are disintegrating from exposure to sun and heat, cold and rain.

James said the items recovered in the desert and the resulting art works challenge her to confront the reality of transborder women who make life-enhancing or life-ending decisions to cross the border on foot.

Las madres are forced to leave their homes because of economic forces that bring poverty and frustration. Yet these same global economic changes are the magnets that attract them to the dangerous journey north.

James grew up in a military family and lived in Puerto Rico, England and Alaska. She worked as an artist in Northern California before moving to the Amado area four years ago.

Three years ago she created an exhibition on her property called the santuario, a shrine to border crossers. It continues to grow with the wide assortment of personal items left behind.

Currently James and fellow artists are creating a new series of madres. They are sculpted upper torsos of women with their hands crossing their chests. Each will be a different color and texture.

There is a sense of urgency and purpose to James and her work.

Las madres are dying in the desert and James wants people to see the despair in their faces.

"This is part of our living history," she said.