Homelessness, Migrants, and Refuge |
Group exhibition at Regis College, University of Toronto, 2016
As a first generation immigrant, I have found myself floating between different places, exploring new identities, and struggling with cultural conflict. We may migrate, we may estrange from the familiar, and we may adapt to the new. At the end of the day, we come to realize that the love, losses, and fights all connect us together in some way. I have learned that no matter how different we may be, we can find refuge in each other, and a sense of home in places that once seemed so foreign.
For full descriptions of each piece, click here.
As a first generation immigrant, I have found myself floating between different places, exploring new identities, and struggling with cultural conflict. We may migrate, we may estrange from the familiar, and we may adapt to the new. At the end of the day, we come to realize that the love, losses, and fights all connect us together in some way. I have learned that no matter how different we may be, we can find refuge in each other, and a sense of home in places that once seemed so foreign.
For full descriptions of each piece, click here.
Dresscape: An ode to my mother
2014-2015, Oil and acrylic on canvas
These images tell the stories of my mother and my aunts. Women all over the world stand “tall” in the keeping of their family duties and obligations. Often their dreams are sacrificed in the process. My mother, 陳薛麗珠(Chen Li Ju-Shueh), died in 2004; this was my first chance to fully mourn her loss. I came to understand that she lived her dreams through making beautiful clothes. It was perhaps the only aspect of her life over which she had control. In my memory, I would sit beside her while she sang and the sewing machine hummed. This was something we often did together, just the two of us.
Dressmaking was a way for my mother to stitch away loneliness.
Dressmaking was a way for my mother to stitch together a better life.
Art making is a way for me to communicate with my mother.
These paintings stitch together stories that my mother and aunts told me about the traditional Taiwanese-Chinese culture of their generation, where women carried heavy burdens in their hearts through woeful marriages while preserving a happiness through suffering, and a sweetness through loneliness. (Did I mention that my mother was beautiful and her dresses were divine?)
For my poems on each piece, click here (Chinese only).
These images tell the stories of my mother and my aunts. Women all over the world stand “tall” in the keeping of their family duties and obligations. Often their dreams are sacrificed in the process. My mother, 陳薛麗珠(Chen Li Ju-Shueh), died in 2004; this was my first chance to fully mourn her loss. I came to understand that she lived her dreams through making beautiful clothes. It was perhaps the only aspect of her life over which she had control. In my memory, I would sit beside her while she sang and the sewing machine hummed. This was something we often did together, just the two of us.
Dressmaking was a way for my mother to stitch away loneliness.
Dressmaking was a way for my mother to stitch together a better life.
Art making is a way for me to communicate with my mother.
These paintings stitch together stories that my mother and aunts told me about the traditional Taiwanese-Chinese culture of their generation, where women carried heavy burdens in their hearts through woeful marriages while preserving a happiness through suffering, and a sweetness through loneliness. (Did I mention that my mother was beautiful and her dresses were divine?)
For my poems on each piece, click here (Chinese only).
Four Seasons in Studio
2016-Present, Acrylic on canvas board, 6"x8"–11"x14"
These are small practice paintings that I started summer 2016. I call them "practice" because there were no plans or set purpose behind them, but were rather relaxing and freeing. They are still life paintings, some with a bit of my own imagination added in.
These are small practice paintings that I started summer 2016. I call them "practice" because there were no plans or set purpose behind them, but were rather relaxing and freeing. They are still life paintings, some with a bit of my own imagination added in.
Heart to Papers: A spiritual journey through art
Conversation
2012-2014, Chinese ink on rice paper
Conversation is a personal project that began in 2012 when I visited Taiwan to take care of my father, with whom I had a broken relationship from a lifetime of painful struggles. Using the simplest method of depiction – black ink on white rice paper – I drew the objects around my father’s apartment. What appear to be simple ink drawings in fact started with nothing but a simple goal: to break the silence between us. Every day, in the short span of ten minutes, my father and I would sit face-to-face at a small table, and I would look at the object and draw. My father would look at the object and talk about it. Our eyes do not meet, but we have a conversation. It’s a good start.
To view more, click here.
2012-2014, Chinese ink on rice paper
Conversation is a personal project that began in 2012 when I visited Taiwan to take care of my father, with whom I had a broken relationship from a lifetime of painful struggles. Using the simplest method of depiction – black ink on white rice paper – I drew the objects around my father’s apartment. What appear to be simple ink drawings in fact started with nothing but a simple goal: to break the silence between us. Every day, in the short span of ten minutes, my father and I would sit face-to-face at a small table, and I would look at the object and draw. My father would look at the object and talk about it. Our eyes do not meet, but we have a conversation. It’s a good start.
To view more, click here.
Conversation in Silence
2014-2015, Chinese ink and watercolour on rice paper
Life isn't getting any better for my father since he had a stroke three years ago. After he lost his elder son – my elder brother – my father seemed to have lost interest in life. Staying with him under the same roof was harder than ever. The day I arrived at his place in Taiwan, I started drawing objects around me again. This time I also wrote down what they meant to me. It was a conversation in silence. When I returned to my Toronto home, I continued this conversation by myself.
To view the whole series, click here.
2014-2015, Chinese ink and watercolour on rice paper
Life isn't getting any better for my father since he had a stroke three years ago. After he lost his elder son – my elder brother – my father seemed to have lost interest in life. Staying with him under the same roof was harder than ever. The day I arrived at his place in Taiwan, I started drawing objects around me again. This time I also wrote down what they meant to me. It was a conversation in silence. When I returned to my Toronto home, I continued this conversation by myself.
To view the whole series, click here.
Farewell
2015, Chinese ink and watercolour on rice paper
Seventeen months after his elder son died, father decided to join him in a happier place. He used to ask me as I took out the paper and paint brush: What's next? He always said he drew like a little kid. So this time I drew like a kid, as he did. Farewell, dad. You must be so happy to see mom and brother.
To view the whole series, click here.
2015, Chinese ink and watercolour on rice paper
Seventeen months after his elder son died, father decided to join him in a happier place. He used to ask me as I took out the paper and paint brush: What's next? He always said he drew like a little kid. So this time I drew like a kid, as he did. Farewell, dad. You must be so happy to see mom and brother.
To view the whole series, click here.
One Day at a Time
2015-2016, Colour pencil on rice paper
It's been five years of this heaviness in my heart, five years turned into fatigue. With what feels like a hint of stamina left, I desire for no more than a simple life. The leftover rice papers on my table, the salvaged colour pencils from my shelves, the plants that greet me from my yard. This formula – free from contemplation for composition and colour mixing, free from complexities. Just the few strands and pieces of my plants that keep me company - how simple, how delightful! My good friend Dorothy said to me, "One day at a time...and be good to yourself." It was just what I had needed to hear.
To view the whole series, click here.
2015-2016, Colour pencil on rice paper
It's been five years of this heaviness in my heart, five years turned into fatigue. With what feels like a hint of stamina left, I desire for no more than a simple life. The leftover rice papers on my table, the salvaged colour pencils from my shelves, the plants that greet me from my yard. This formula – free from contemplation for composition and colour mixing, free from complexities. Just the few strands and pieces of my plants that keep me company - how simple, how delightful! My good friend Dorothy said to me, "One day at a time...and be good to yourself." It was just what I had needed to hear.
To view the whole series, click here.
One-on-One: Creative Meditations
Group exhibition at Regis College, University of Toronto, 2013, Acrylic and rice paper on canvas
For full descriptions of each piece, click here.
For full descriptions of each piece, click here.
Abstract Paintings
The Years Without Memory
2014-2015, Oil and acrylic on canvas
2014 and 2015 were two very tense years for me. I often found myself sitting in front of my easel – painting, doodling, scraping – and sometimes it seemed to last forever. These abstract paintings were made without any predetermined themes or clear purpose, but I've come to see that they show my realization of the impermanence of life.
2014-2015, Oil and acrylic on canvas
2014 and 2015 were two very tense years for me. I often found myself sitting in front of my easel – painting, doodling, scraping – and sometimes it seemed to last forever. These abstract paintings were made without any predetermined themes or clear purpose, but I've come to see that they show my realization of the impermanence of life.
2012-2014, Oil and acrylic on canvas
Synthesis
2013, Acrylic on canvas
Printmaking
2008-2016, etching, Japanese woodblock print, lithographic print
For my earlier work, click here.