I don't remember what I was searching for when I found the work of Lotte Reiniger. Maybe I was doing some research on Chinese shadow puppets or paper cuttings? But it was one of those "I LOVE THE INTERNET" moments.
She's a pioneer and a genius, the grandmother of animation. More about her.
This is a great documentary about her life and work. (part 1)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Clay & Fiber in Philly!
Clay + Fiber
February 19 – March 14, 2010
Reed Smith Gallery at The Clay Studio
139 N. Second Street
Philadelphia, PA 19106
Clay + Fiber is a group exhibition that explores work that combines these
two seemingly disparate media. Each artist represented in the exhibition,
uses both materials in vastly different ways. Participating artists include:
Stephanie Lanter
Julie Tesser
Janice Jakielski
and me :)
Sorry for this delayed notice... It's been crazy busy and the gardening bug has bitten! Spring waits for no one!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Sojourn in Chicago
I'm very excited to have a solo show at the Packer Gallery in Chicago! If you're in town please stop by. For those farther away you can see all of the work HERE
SOJOURN
February 19th - March 27th
Packer Schopf Gallery
942 W. Lake
Chicago, IL 60607
312.226.8984
I will have 40 embroideries as well as the Zodiac crayons in the show.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
By A Thread in San Jose
By A Thread
San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art
560 South First Street San Jose, CA 95113
Exhibition: February 6 - May 15, 2010
Opening Reception: First Friday, February 5 from 5 - 9pm
The San Jose Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) is pleased to present, By A Thread, an exhibition of artwork by emerging and mid-career Bay Area artists who create unexpectedly nostalgic, and poetic works using thread as their primary medium.
Sample of artwork in the show
By A Thread will be exhibited in the ICA’s Main Gallery from February 6 through May 15, 2010. The show includes work from artists Jody Alexander, Susan Taber Avila, Diem Chau, Lauren DiCioccio, Robin Hill, Nina Katchadourian, Lisa Kokin, Beili Liu, Katie Lewis, Emil Lukas, Victoria May, Ali Naschke-Messing, Lisa Solomon, Hadi Tabatabai, Nicola Vruwink, and Allison Watkins. An opening reception will be held at the ICA on Friday, February 5, from 6pm to 8pm. A panel discussion with the artists will take place at the ICA on Thursday, February 11, from 7pm to 9pm.
“By a Thread is not an exhibition about precise or technically proficient sewing, embroidery or any other form of needlework,” says Cathy Kimball, ICA Executive Director. “Rather, it is an exhibition featuring contemporary art that uses thread as a medium to communicate the ideas, visions, and conceptual explorations of the participating artists. In many cases, the artists included in the exhibition have found that the ubiquitous and centuries-old process of stitching can be used in innovative ways to create something new,” explains Kimball. Thus, the exhibition will feature the work of artists who give fresh consideration to the value and function of traditional handiwork. The show will include small two-dimensional pieces and large-scale installations, as well as a wide variety of sculptural works.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Farewell in Seattle
FAREWELL - Curated by Byron Au Yong
Opening Reception Sat. January 23rd 5pm-8pm
January 20th - March 7th
Columbia City Gallery - 4864 Rainier Avenue South - Seattle, WA 98118
Passing Down 2010
Paper & white thread
26"W X 20"H
Byron invited me to be apart of this show, when I read about his ideas on Farewell I was immediately connected with what he had to say. When my family (me, mom, dad and grandma) immigrated to the US we had to say a lot of goodbyes, some of those were permanent goodbyes.
We flew from Vietnam to a camp in Thailand for our physical and mental evaluations. The US government didn't want to bring people with TB or other diseases into the country... they also wanted to know that we were mentally stable and not communists. I have to say, looking back it's a really absurd thing and the process was very dehumanizing. There were very few translators and almost none one spoke English. There was a mix of Thai, Laotian, Chinese, Vietnamese and Cambodians refugees at the camp in Thailand. To speed up the processing we were all given numbers and an ID card, sometimes they were pinned to our clothing. I remember a lot of lines and doctors and nurses. We were given shots. I know now that this was done for our benefit, but at the time it just felt like you were poked, prodded and herded like cattle. The experience of being processed is unforgettable, there is a great deal of fear and vulnerability involved.
We stayed in the camp in Thailand for about a week. My grandmother had received the OK to fly directly to Seattle, but my parents and I were routed to the Philippines for further testing. Our family was once again further separated. My mother had taken care of an aunt with TB when she was younger and tested positive for TB antibodies... We were sent to live in the Philippines Refugee Processing Center for about 8 or 10 months until they can conclude that we weren't contagious. It was incredibly hard for a 6 year old to say goodbye to her grandmother. As depressing as that might sound I had some of the best experiences in my life at the PRPC in Bataan. But that's a story for another time...
Me and dad walking along one of the main roads at the camp. I was 6 or 7 here... dad's carrying a bag of biscuit tins. He wanted to show our family in the US that we were well fed and had lots to eat. But the tins were empty. It was a very large place with many "villages", each village had about a dozen long houses. These houses were essentially long metal shelters/sheds that divided into 10 living units. Each unit was about 10' or 12' wide by 15' long??? Inside the living unit was a large main room and a ladder to a smaller loft space. Depending on how big your family was you can occupy a single unit or share a unit with another family. We were a small family and always shared our space. There were no doors, just curtains and the washing/bathroom facility was in a separate building. The lights/power was shut off at around 8pm and there was no running water in the living quarters. You had to fetch your water in the morning from the washing/bathroom building. Each unit had a stove, a large wooden slat bed and tables and chairs. It was intimate and not having a door wasn't a big problem since there wasn't anything to steal! LOL
*edit*
I recently found this photo on Alan Dejecacion's Flickr stream. Thanks for uploading Alan!
Our unit looked 99% like the one in the photo. It's amazing to see a bit of your past you thought you'd lost. Alan was there in 1989 visiting a friend. He told me he was on site only for a few hours, but got to meet a few family and residents.
A part of you never leaves.
My mother and I returned to Vietnam in 2001, our first time back since 1986. It was an amazing trip and I wish we can make that trip more often. The maroon shirt above belonged to me when I was a baby. I believe my mother made it. When we left all of our things were given away or sold. This was passed on to one of my aunts (mom's sister). My aunt showed this to me when we were visiting along with a few of my baby photos. She said after I wore it all of my girl cousins wore it too. The shirt traveled from family to family until now. She said because of the "One Child" law, something similar to what China has, no one will be having children anytime soon. I asked for the shirt back and she gladly handed it back to me. This shirt has become the symbol of our bond.
For the show I recreated the shirt with white embroidery on white paper (photo at top). I feel it's a gesture that captures ideas behind Farewell. Although we are far apart and travel in different paths our bond remains. It might be unseen, but it is enduring.
Below are Byron's thoughts, read more about it here: http://hearbyron.com/farewell.aspx
"A farewell is necessary before you can meet again."
Richard Bach
Thinking about personal moments of leave-taking, I invite six artists + an artist duo to reflect with me on the meanings of good-bye. How do sounds and objects represent farewell? What are the everyday and magical feelings associated with departure? Where does imagination meet reality when we embark on a journey?
The elegant and playful works of MalPina Chan, Diem Chau, Paul Kikuchi, Annie Han + Daniel Mihalyo: LEAD PENCIL STUDIO, Tiffany Lin, June Sekiguchi, and Ying Zhou surprise and comfort me as I feel Winter become Spring. Go ahead. Linger here awhile before you depart, knowing you can always return.
Byron Au Yong
Guest Curator
January 2010
Opening Reception Sat. January 23rd 5pm-8pm
January 20th - March 7th
Columbia City Gallery - 4864 Rainier Avenue South - Seattle, WA 98118
Passing Down 2010
Paper & white thread
26"W X 20"H
Byron invited me to be apart of this show, when I read about his ideas on Farewell I was immediately connected with what he had to say. When my family (me, mom, dad and grandma) immigrated to the US we had to say a lot of goodbyes, some of those were permanent goodbyes.
We flew from Vietnam to a camp in Thailand for our physical and mental evaluations. The US government didn't want to bring people with TB or other diseases into the country... they also wanted to know that we were mentally stable and not communists. I have to say, looking back it's a really absurd thing and the process was very dehumanizing. There were very few translators and almost none one spoke English. There was a mix of Thai, Laotian, Chinese, Vietnamese and Cambodians refugees at the camp in Thailand. To speed up the processing we were all given numbers and an ID card, sometimes they were pinned to our clothing. I remember a lot of lines and doctors and nurses. We were given shots. I know now that this was done for our benefit, but at the time it just felt like you were poked, prodded and herded like cattle. The experience of being processed is unforgettable, there is a great deal of fear and vulnerability involved.
We stayed in the camp in Thailand for about a week. My grandmother had received the OK to fly directly to Seattle, but my parents and I were routed to the Philippines for further testing. Our family was once again further separated. My mother had taken care of an aunt with TB when she was younger and tested positive for TB antibodies... We were sent to live in the Philippines Refugee Processing Center for about 8 or 10 months until they can conclude that we weren't contagious. It was incredibly hard for a 6 year old to say goodbye to her grandmother. As depressing as that might sound I had some of the best experiences in my life at the PRPC in Bataan. But that's a story for another time...
Me and dad walking along one of the main roads at the camp. I was 6 or 7 here... dad's carrying a bag of biscuit tins. He wanted to show our family in the US that we were well fed and had lots to eat. But the tins were empty. It was a very large place with many "villages", each village had about a dozen long houses. These houses were essentially long metal shelters/sheds that divided into 10 living units. Each unit was about 10' or 12' wide by 15' long??? Inside the living unit was a large main room and a ladder to a smaller loft space. Depending on how big your family was you can occupy a single unit or share a unit with another family. We were a small family and always shared our space. There were no doors, just curtains and the washing/bathroom facility was in a separate building. The lights/power was shut off at around 8pm and there was no running water in the living quarters. You had to fetch your water in the morning from the washing/bathroom building. Each unit had a stove, a large wooden slat bed and tables and chairs. It was intimate and not having a door wasn't a big problem since there wasn't anything to steal! LOL
*edit*
I recently found this photo on Alan Dejecacion's Flickr stream. Thanks for uploading Alan!
Our unit looked 99% like the one in the photo. It's amazing to see a bit of your past you thought you'd lost. Alan was there in 1989 visiting a friend. He told me he was on site only for a few hours, but got to meet a few family and residents.
A part of you never leaves.
My mother and I returned to Vietnam in 2001, our first time back since 1986. It was an amazing trip and I wish we can make that trip more often. The maroon shirt above belonged to me when I was a baby. I believe my mother made it. When we left all of our things were given away or sold. This was passed on to one of my aunts (mom's sister). My aunt showed this to me when we were visiting along with a few of my baby photos. She said after I wore it all of my girl cousins wore it too. The shirt traveled from family to family until now. She said because of the "One Child" law, something similar to what China has, no one will be having children anytime soon. I asked for the shirt back and she gladly handed it back to me. This shirt has become the symbol of our bond.
For the show I recreated the shirt with white embroidery on white paper (photo at top). I feel it's a gesture that captures ideas behind Farewell. Although we are far apart and travel in different paths our bond remains. It might be unseen, but it is enduring.
Below are Byron's thoughts, read more about it here: http://hearbyron.com/farewell.aspx
"A farewell is necessary before you can meet again."
Richard Bach
Thinking about personal moments of leave-taking, I invite six artists + an artist duo to reflect with me on the meanings of good-bye. How do sounds and objects represent farewell? What are the everyday and magical feelings associated with departure? Where does imagination meet reality when we embark on a journey?
The elegant and playful works of MalPina Chan, Diem Chau, Paul Kikuchi, Annie Han + Daniel Mihalyo: LEAD PENCIL STUDIO, Tiffany Lin, June Sekiguchi, and Ying Zhou surprise and comfort me as I feel Winter become Spring. Go ahead. Linger here awhile before you depart, knowing you can always return.
Byron Au Yong
Guest Curator
January 2010
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Recent Commissions
I had a rush of commissions in December. All I have to say is, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! LOL The images below are 4 of 5 pieces commissioned by Margo along with some thoughts on my work.
I have to do a lot of thinking about the meaning of my work. It's never clear to me at the beginning. There is certainly intended symbolism, but much of it is just about creating snip-its of narrative. Imagine tearing a page out of a book and tearing that page into many pieces. Individually my work is like a scrap from that page, offering fragments of text. It doesn't quite give you the full story, just a hint or feeling.
I recall a phone conversation with one of my uncles. We're not terribly close, but we have moments of great understanding. He and I are both very open people and honest about our feelings, see-through like panes of glass... He said to me, "We're the last ones, the last generation of our kind." There was a sorrowful tone in his voice. We were talking about how the generations revolve, as the older generation passes the younger one come to take their place. He feels his children would not understand or be able to connect with his past. They were both born in the US and have never needed to go through what he went through, hopefully they never will. As a teenager he smuggled out of Vietnam after the war, leaving behind family, friends... everything. I was born in '79, long after the Vietnam War (or the American War) had ended and things had stabilized. But at least I was able to understand the experience of having to leave behind the only world you know for the chance at making a better life. We were the ones to make that leap. We have the privilege of knowing both worlds, our American life and our Vietnamese life. By being able to compare these two worlds we also have the great misfortune of seeing our cultural identity slowly erode. Gestures to uphold tradition are made on special occasions like wedding, birthdays and holidays, but it's never the same as how you remembered it. Reading and writing (Chinese) is a fleeting skill and as each older generation passes more is forgotten until the past is no longer recognizable.
This isn't just a cultural thing... it's the dilemma of changing identities. You miss who you were, but you know that's not who you are.
In Chinese culture the giving and receiving of tea with both hands is a show of respect and appreciation. It's also a sign of hospitality and an extension of your goodwill. I love that such a simple gesture can mean so much.
An offering to connect. The red thread dangles, waiting to be picked up. It is a passive gesture in that you can't force connections, the other side has to take hold of it too. All you can do is be there when they're ready. There are knots in the thread, I like to think of them as markers for significant events that define our lives.
Their bond is like the thread, precariously thin, but unbreakable.
I have to do a lot of thinking about the meaning of my work. It's never clear to me at the beginning. There is certainly intended symbolism, but much of it is just about creating snip-its of narrative. Imagine tearing a page out of a book and tearing that page into many pieces. Individually my work is like a scrap from that page, offering fragments of text. It doesn't quite give you the full story, just a hint or feeling.
I recall a phone conversation with one of my uncles. We're not terribly close, but we have moments of great understanding. He and I are both very open people and honest about our feelings, see-through like panes of glass... He said to me, "We're the last ones, the last generation of our kind." There was a sorrowful tone in his voice. We were talking about how the generations revolve, as the older generation passes the younger one come to take their place. He feels his children would not understand or be able to connect with his past. They were both born in the US and have never needed to go through what he went through, hopefully they never will. As a teenager he smuggled out of Vietnam after the war, leaving behind family, friends... everything. I was born in '79, long after the Vietnam War (or the American War) had ended and things had stabilized. But at least I was able to understand the experience of having to leave behind the only world you know for the chance at making a better life. We were the ones to make that leap. We have the privilege of knowing both worlds, our American life and our Vietnamese life. By being able to compare these two worlds we also have the great misfortune of seeing our cultural identity slowly erode. Gestures to uphold tradition are made on special occasions like wedding, birthdays and holidays, but it's never the same as how you remembered it. Reading and writing (Chinese) is a fleeting skill and as each older generation passes more is forgotten until the past is no longer recognizable.
This isn't just a cultural thing... it's the dilemma of changing identities. You miss who you were, but you know that's not who you are.
In Chinese culture the giving and receiving of tea with both hands is a show of respect and appreciation. It's also a sign of hospitality and an extension of your goodwill. I love that such a simple gesture can mean so much.
An offering to connect. The red thread dangles, waiting to be picked up. It is a passive gesture in that you can't force connections, the other side has to take hold of it too. All you can do is be there when they're ready. There are knots in the thread, I like to think of them as markers for significant events that define our lives.
Their bond is like the thread, precariously thin, but unbreakable.
Makin' It Our Own
At the opening of MiMi Gelato someone asked us for a gift certificate. We didn't have any so I drew one up on a piece of paper. Honestly having gift certificates never crossed my mind, but it's a great idea. I made these stamps today. They're made from soft-cut or safety-cut... it's like linoleum, but much easier to work with. I'll post a tutorial once I find the time. It's really easy! The small round one is our cup stamp and the large slice-of-toast shaped stamp is for making the gift certificates.
A close up of the gift certificate stamp. This is my first time carving lots of text. It's hard to get the curves and fine lines, but I really like the results.
Each certificate is printed by hand on 100% cotton paper. I love the gelato spoon on the side :)
I just wanted to thank everyone who came out to see us and blog or forwarded info about the shop. We were pleasantly surprised by a few folks who came from West Seattle after getting Kelly Lyles' email! You rawk Kelly!
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