Solo Exhibition

October - December 2016

Gallery 901, Evanston, IL

inbetween space
This exhibition began as a personal journey that involved revisiting past experiences growing up as a mixed race Asian American girl in the Midwest. I reflected on not only my own journey but those of my parents who fought to come to the US to ensure a better life for my sister, brother, and I. I explored where my ancestors came from and where their descendants are scattered on different continents throughout the world. Most importantly I celebrated how far we’ve come as a culture, as my own experiences of immigration, mixed race families, and blended cultures seemed to become the norm over the years. My work serves as witness to the processing of some of my most difficult experiences of racism and misogyny from childhood through adulthood. It archives the multigenerational journey that marks my path to this moment in time. The exhibit as a whole reflects the sense of peace and empowerment that resulted from self-acceptance and embracing my history and culture due to the lessening of painful experiences over recent decades; it embodies the hope that I have for my children and future generations of young people who can own their histories, take pride in who they are and where they come from without shame and fear, and can break down barriers and walls in doing so.

art and action
As an art therapist I encourage young people to utilize art to find their voice, to be seen and heard, to grow and heal, and to take an active role in not only their own personal change, but to recognize how they can effect change in the community around them. The impetus for this exhibit was a simple matter of “practice what you preach.” It was a personal challenge to put myself out there, just as I encourage others to do. Art offers a non-threatening vehicle through which we can share our stories, our experiences, in a way that can elicit dialogue, reflection, communication, connection and change. I’ve come to view my work as an understated form of social action. It’s not of the in your face, force people to acknowledge and react, genre of art that I’m personally drawn to myself. That’s just not the way I process or communicate. I strive for my work to be inviting so that the message is not met with immediate defense but perhaps curiosity, empathy and ultimately connection. I try to portray the beauty within the pain, the hope amidst the hurt, and the love above all. I use natural materials because I find them comforting and grounding. There’s an innate connection to the earth and its resilience over time. Wood, wax, fibers, pigment, and metals embody a universality and serve as a connecting force with others and the world around us. The materials I use, each object I incorporate, every piece I assemble, is done with the intention of creating a personal story that is woven into the larger cultural narrative. As I hung the last piece I felt I accomplished what I set out to do, completely unaware that just a few weeks later the exhibit would take on a whole new meaning for me. That it would become a source of anxiety and apprehension, and yet become my lifeline at a time when my world and the world around me shifted.

a moment in time
In the weeks between the installation of this show and the evening of the artist reception, our country held one of the most contentious, divisive presidential elections in recent history and the minute I was made aware of the results the immediate emotional impact was not only devastating but I was completely unprepared for it. To say that I was heartbroken after the election is an understatement. I am still processing what it means for our society that so many were not only willing to overlook intentions, actions, and words rooted in hate and fear, but that just as many now feel freed to unleash a deep seated racism, misogeny, ableism, gender bias and sexual prejudice that they have felt suppressed for so long. I have only scratched the surface of my own disappointment and disillusionment, and have yet to understand what this means for me and my children. I struggle to process how the act of electing a president had the power to instantaneously transport me back 25 years to feeling like the little brown girl who gave up her dreams to become a dancer when she was asked to withdraw from the dance troupe she had been with for twelve years because her looks threw off the ‘gestalt’ for the judges and might take away from the overall performance in competition… to the dinner party 15 years ago when the wife of a childhood friend said she’d love to adopt an Asian baby because they’re “so adorable,” but she’d want to give them back when they got older… to the moment just 2 years ago in my own home where the foreman of our remodel project treated me like shit as I prepared school lunches for my boys, and then apologized when my husband introduced me and said “sorry, I thought you were the help.” In these instances, there seemed to at least be a moment of embarrassment on their parts, a sense that even if they were thinking it maybe they shouldn’t say it out loud, an understanding that it just isn’t right to say things that make people feel less than and when we do it chips away at our souls. Because maybe, just maybe we were learning from history and experiences of generations past. But as of November 9th, 2016 we live in a country where these types of attitudes, actions, and words are encouraged, applauded and rewarded.

here and now
So given the nature of this exhibit, I began to question its merits, I feared its repercussions, I lost faith in its intention. I also began to reflect on the word safety because if anything was clear to me following the election it was that I felt physically and emotionally unsafe and feared for the safety of my boys and the young people I work with; for the safety of the people in my life who are marginalized and now find themselves on the ever-growing list of groups under scrutiny and attack. I began to ask myself is it safe to speak up? To put yourself out there? To be seen and heard? Maybe not, but it is brave. So I sit with this. I have no answers, but in the same space of my brain that is being re-invaded by deep-seated fears and insecurities the hope is still there. I know that my boys live in a much better society than the one I grew up in. Because they look around and see people who look just like them. Their experiences with overt racism is minuscule and the microaggressions are far fewer than I had been exposed to by their ages. I believe in the good that surrounds us, in the community that embraces us. I’m aware of the bubble we live in and that we have much work to do within and beyond our community, but I also revel in it because it means that my sons are just a little bit safer, a little more sheltered, and I’ll figure out how to help them understand what that means and how to fight so that everyone is able to feel that way. I’ll be honest, in the wake of the election I’m still seeking refuge in my comfy pants, wrapped in blankets of down and denial, with my kids’ Halloween candy and a glass of wine. But I’m slowly processing what these resurfacing feelings of disappointment, paranoia and fear mean and I know I’ll find a way through it because I truly believe deep down that the work I do as an artist, as an art therapist, as a community activist, as an educator, as a mother, as a woman of color are that much more important today than they were yesterday. And I am inspired by the incredible people around me - especially the strong, unstoppable women in my life - and I draw from them the courage to continuing doing my part to make sure my children, all of our young people, will feel what I felt while hanging this show… pride in my own story, hope that it will resonate with others, and gratitude for how far we’ve come.