Our surprise November guest is Karisa Keasey.

Award winning artist, Karisa Keasey, has been using her paintings to raise awareness and funds for the most marginalized people in the world for over 6 years. After visiting an orphanage in India during college, she could no longer paint without a purpose. After earning a degree in studio arts from George Fox University in 2013, she began her philanthropic journey of creativity by giving a percentage of all her proceeds to charitable organizations. Karisa currently lives in the greater Seattle area where she paints and speaks full time.

If you would like to purchase Karisa Keasey’s book, When You Can’t Go Home, you can find a copy here.

Tell us a little about your writing journey. Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Before this book, I never considered myself a writer. I’ve always struggled with grammar and conventions, so the idea of others reading my writing was a huge fear of mine. I feel more comfortable telling stories through my paintings. However, when I came up with the idea for When You Can’t Go Home, I decided it would be most powerful with both the paintings and the written story. I had to overcome some of my fears to write it, but I am very pleased with how it turned out in the end.

Was there a certain point you remember where you felt empowered to call yourself a writer? Or have you always felt like you were a writer?

I would still say I am more of a story-teller than a writer. I have always endeavored to tell stories through my paintings and writing became another medium to tell people’s stories. The shift for me was that I saw a need to spread empathy for my refugee neighbors and meeting that need was more important than my own comfort zone. Sometimes it just takes finding purpose greater than your fear to write.

Sometimes it just takes finding purpose greater than your fear to write.

What was the process of writing the refugee’s stories in your book, When You Can’t Go Home? Did they help you with the descriptions when you were writing as if they were still in the moment, or was that more of your own creative writing take on their story?

Throughout the entire process of writing, I checked with the families on each draft to make sure I was telling their story in a way THEY were comfortable with. I combined my extensive research with their story to give context to the situation. The point of the book, and this project, is to amplify their stories, not mine.

It made the writing process longer and more tedious, but it was a humbling and an emotionally intimate process with each of the book participants. I wanted to make the stories as beautiful and expressive as I could, while maintaining the reality of the stories. I am so thankful that each participant trusted me with their story and allowed me the liberty to bring it to life.

Along with writing these stories, you also painted pictures of each of the refugees. How do you think that changed your experience with them overall? Did it pull you deeper into their lives/stories and/or connect you with them more?

I’ve been painting professionally for ten years, and every time I paint a portrait I feel an empathetic connection to that person. I often use that time to pray for them, think about how they impact my life and the world around us. Art has the power to generate empathy both in the maker and the viewer, and that is my goal— to humanize the refugee experience.

How has your experience talking with refugees impacted you as a writer and artist?

I initially started this project with a hope to correct other peoples’ misconceptions of refugees. However, I quickly realized that I had my own misconceptions that needed to be addressed. I had unconsciously developed an expectation that I would somehow “save” them.

As a writer and artist, I think it is important to keep my expectations in check and humbly listen and not speak on anyone’s behalf.

It was tempting to force a particular narrative or lead it in a way that I thought would work better. The truth is, I only play a small role in the lives they are building for themselves. As a writer and artist, I think it is important to keep my expectations in check and humbly listen and not speak on anyone’s behalf.

“Kadijah & Umair” - A painting from When You Can’t Go Home — “Kadijah & Umair” - A painting from *When You Can’t Go Home*

Describe your writing and/or creative process.

Relationship is important to me and is at the center of all that I do. It was a priority of mine to get to know each participant as a person and friend before I wrote about them. We met multiple times over tea, picnics, and even musical jams before I jumped into the writing and painting process. It took me two years to complete the 30 paintings and 10 stories. We brought my talented friend, Natlie Malis, with us to take photos as we talked with the participants. I directed the photo shoots while I interviewed the book participants.

Once we had finished the initial interviews, I started painting. I love watercolor and playing with the contrast between hyper realism and impressionism on the same piece, creating a focal point on the faces. I work slowly, using many layers to create a sense of depth. The writing process was definitely the hardest part, as I had never done it professionally before. I wanted to give each family the honor and respect they deserve. I had to do many drafts and had friends, family, and the participants read them over and give me feedback as I wrote.

What was the research process like for your book? How did you find the people whose stories you told?

A few years ago, I became aware of a massive disconnect between how refugees are often portrayed and who they actually are. The media often portrays refugees as villains, saints, or victims. They are none of these. They are everyday people just like anyone else. I contacted World Relief, a nationwide non-profit that helps refugees resettle in the US.

The media often portrays refugees as villains, saints, or victims. They are none of these. They are everyday people just like anyone else.

Everyone in the book came through World Relief to resettle and jumped at the opportunity to share their story in a way that would help other refugees like themselves. I made sure to choose participants from various countries, religions, and experiences to show how broad the refugee experience can be. I learned that no two are identical and we can’t put them in a box. I spent a lot of time reading articles from many different sources and watching documentaries to get a fuller sense of the circumstances many refugees are facing.

What was your biggest writing obstacle and how did you overcome it?

I wanted to make sure that there are as many cultures and religions represented as possible in When You Can’t Go Home. Experiencing and learning about other cultures was one of the most enriching and humbling parts of the whole process, and also one of the biggest challenges. Lingual and cultural barriers made it difficult to communicate at times and forced me out of my comfort zone.

I remember the feeling I had before my first interview with Taghreed. Even though she was the most welcoming host one could ask for, I was painfully nervous. I didn’t know much about her culture and I didn’t want to say or do something that would offend her. After our visit, my husband and I climbed back into our car. I told him that I didn’t think I could do this project. I felt like I was too awkward, uninformed, and unequipped. Were my resources and gifts adequate enough to take on this challenge? Suddenly, I realized the hypocrisy of my words—what I felt for those two short hours is only a sliver of what refugees feel every day.

Suddenly, I realized the hypocrisy of my words—what I felt for those two short hours is only a sliver of what refugees feel every day.

Refugees are forced from their homes and placed in a drastically new country. What side of the street do cars drive on? How do they enroll their children in school? Go grocery shopping? Pay taxes? Rent? And for some, they may not even know how to use running water. Refugees don’t get the privilege of wondering if their resources and abilities are enough. They have to use whatever they have to survive. I made blundering mistakes. Multiple times I had to take a necessary piece of humble pie to realize that this project was not about me. It was, and always has been, about amplifying the voices of refugees.

Karisa with paintings from When You Can’t Go Home — Karisa with paintings from *When You Can’t Go Home*

What is the part of your published work or writing process you are most proud of?

Merhawi, another one of the book participants, thanked me tearfully when I finally got to hand him the finished book. He told me how meaningful it would be to share his story with his children someday as they flip through the pages. Another participant was able to use the book as part of his application for a college scholarship that he earned. These and many other moments like these make me feel so privileged to have been able to work on this project. These are the people I want in my community and I am so proud to help other people see them that way too.

What motivates you to keep writing?

Relationships. The most important moments of this project are the conversations I have had with strangers and change their hostile views of refugees to compassionate ones. As long as I can hold a paint brush and form words I can be a conduit for justice and empathy in my community and world. Art, both writing and painting, generates empathy and empathy is the weapon of social justice.

What is the biggest piece of advice you would give to aspiring writers?

When I first came to World Relief with the idea of writing this book, I was met with a bit of skepticism. I was expecting them to be as excited as I was about the project, but they did not seem to be. I later learned that many people come to them offering up grand, exciting ideas, only to abandon them before they are finished. People are often quick to pitch ideas, but rarely execute on them.

My biggest advice to aspiring artists and writers would be to be the kind of person that shows up, and keeps showing up, even when it gets hard.

I slowly gained their trust over the two years that it took to finish When You Can’t Go Home by working through the struggles and showing up regularly. My biggest advice to aspiring artists and writers would be to be the kind of person that shows up, and keeps showing up, even when it gets hard. A finished book is better than a perfect book that never gets finished.