Beauty held in the eyes of an orphaned boy

They say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder — and I came to understand the depth of this truth through a poster that hung in my grandfather’s bedroom. Positioned above his restful recliner, it occupied a special place in his life. Though my grandfather has since passed away, those watchful eyes now gaze at me from above my writing desk. 

At first glance, the image is of a somber woman holding a white flower. The title beneath reads, “L’Espérance (Hope). But a closer look reveals the significance etched into its history. In small letters at the bottom of the poster is an inscription:

“Presented to Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States, November 27, 1917, by Mrs. Hovsep Pushman as an expression of thanks for the hope and gratitude his efforts to help suffering Armenia have inspired in the hearts of all Armenian women.”

Beneath this, in smaller print, it reads:

“Seventieth Anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, The National Gathering of the Survivors, April 24 – 28, 1985, Washington, D.C.”

“L’Esperance” (Hope)

In April 1985, my grandfather and his compatriots from the Armenian Men’s Club and local churches traveled from Providence, Rhode Island to Washington, D.C., to join thousands of Armenian Americans in commemorating the 70th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide. This historic gathering united survivors and their descendants to honor the memory of the 1.5 million Armenians who perished between 1915 and 1923. It provided a vital platform for survivors to share their personal testimonies, with many speaking publicly about their experiences for the first time. The event served as a crucial act of remembrance, preserving the history of the genocide while educating the broader public about the atrocities committed. A range of commemorative activities, including memorial services, educational seminars and cultural programs, emphasized the resilience of the Armenian community and its commitment to justice and recognition.

My grandfather carried home his beloved poster of L’Espérance by Hovsep Pushman and medal of honor, tangible reminders of this meaningful occasion. 

L’Espérance graced the White House throughout the end of Wilson’s presidency. When he left office in 1921 and moved to what is now the Woodrow Wilson House in Washington, D.C., the painting was placed above the fireplace in the drawing room, where it still hangs today.

Hovsep Pushman was born in Armenia in 1877, studied art in Istanbul, Paris and Chicago, and was later naturalized as a U.S. citizen. L’Espérance is a deeply symbolic painting, reflecting universal themes of spirituality, resilience and hope. At the same time, it profoundly resonates with the Armenian experience of loss and renewal. With each brushstroke, Pushman captured a serene female figure dressed in traditional Armenian clothing holding a fragile flower — a poignant symbol of hope amid life’s fragility. The muted tones and delicate lighting evoke a calm, contemplative atmosphere that invites introspection.

Created during a time of the Armenian Genocide, L’Espérance reflects themes of survival, justice and cultural endurance. It stands as a tribute to the resilience of the Armenian people, particularly women, while also conveying a universal message of perseverance and renewal.

The flower in her hand is a Mountain Snowdrop. Some cultures see the flower as good luck and protection from evil. Its appearance in Armenia is a sign that winter is ending and that spring is on its way — a sign of hope for better times.  

For viewers, the painting offers an opportunity to behold beauty, serenity, introspection and empathy. But for my grandfather, the beauty he saw went far beyond artistic technique or style. When he gazed into her gentle eyes, he was comforted by what his mother might have looked like before she was taken from him in the Armenian Genocide. She died when he was just four years old, leaving him orphaned.

Although I knew the painting brought him solace and joy, I now wish I had asked him more questions about what he felt when he looked at her. Did he see himself as a child in her loving embrace? What did her compassionate eyes say to him? What emotions did his tear-filled gaze convey to her? If he could have found the words to speak, what would he have said?

For an Armenian orphan like my grandfather, and thousands like him, L’Espérance holds profound meaning. It stands as a symbol of maternal love, cultural pride and a beacon of hope for a brighter, more enduring future. As for me, I am guided by her strong but silent presence, maternal love and encouragement to continue telling their stories and praying for peace.  

As the new year begins, my heartfelt wish for readers resonates with the Mountain Snowdrop bringing good luck, protection from evil and a hope for better times.

Victoria Atamian Waterman

Victoria Atamian Waterman

Victoria Atamian Waterman is a writer born in Rhode Island. Growing up in an immigrant, bilingual, multi-generational home with survivors of the Armenian Genocide has shaped the storyteller she has become. She is a trustee of Soorp Asdvadzadzin Armenian Apostolic Church and chair of the Armenian Heritage Monument in Whitinsville, MA. She is the author of "Who She Left Behind."

2 Comments

  1. A beautiful article and painting! I was privileged to attend the 100th Anniversary Commemoration of the Armenian Genocide in Washington D.C. The displays of the Near East Relief touched my heart, especially the one about Alexandropol: The “Orphan City” where my father was as a young child.

  2. I bought this poster and had it framed as a gift to my mother many years ago. The subject’s eyes and hair reminded me of my mother and struck me as a tribute to all Armenian mothers and grandmothers. Thank you for the back story. The art still hangs in my mother’s living room.

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