I've had the pleasure of being published in magazines, literary websites, galleries, and digital art residencies. Below are samples from these published works.
Black Lives Matter Vigil
Chiang Mai, Thailand
June 7, 2020
A selection of these photos have been published in: "Black Lives Mattering" by Chiang Mai City Life.
Slow Train Residency (Jan. 2020)
In Octobober 2019 I took a solo trip to Guangzhou, Nanning, and Shanghai. Nanning is my origin city and I wanted to explore it as an adult. I documented beautiful things I saw and everything I was feeling at the time to process later.
Due to poor planning & low funds and also because I love taking trains, I took a 26 hour train ride from Nanning to Shanghai. The relentless cigarette smoke was torture but the breathtaking sights were a balm to the discomfort. China Residencies selected me as their 10th artist-in-residence to takeover their instagram and post my photos and writing. This is a selection of the entire residency, which you can see in its entirety here.
it's bizzarre to me
i was a pregnancy
housed in a body
a baby crying
cradled in arms
i can only place blank faces
on the altar of my ancestors
i am the start of this line now
i spend late hours
googling as many different versions of
'zhuang . ethnic. minority. women'
to see my face in potential mothers
the older i get
the more zhuang i see in my face
do you believe in blood memory?
if trauma can be passed down through dna
can crafts? skills? habits?
for every person involved
adoption is a fantasy
of a better life (birth family)
of dreams realized (adoptive family)
of how my existence was made
between two cultures (me)
I hold my sweet angel Little Brother from the train
in our selfie pic
and fondly fantasize about what he is doing,
wherever his home is in large Nanning,
appreciate whoever raised him so kind
laugh about the coincidence that my Guangzhou hostel roommate #2 was from Nanning.
I see someone I could have been,
a friend from a paralell possibility
Hostel roommate #1 was meek and sweet,
a poorly concealed bruise the size of a lime on her pale cheek
She spoke in only whispers
I wanted to ask who or what she was running from
but it's not fair to ask questions you can't ask yourself
Is my little brother somewhere in this city on the subway thinking of me too?
Does he even know about me?
When the One Child act changed, did my parents whisper about me?
can they feel me here? have we already met?
Just how much does it cost to give up a child?
I ponder on my subway rides
inability to enjoy a meal
the frequency of smiles, laughter, joy
absence of pain
your child's mother tongue
everyday a heaviness
pushed down with every sleep
sun rises as my plane sets (in Wuhan)
thought about catching my flight back to cnx
travel fatigued from so much movement
missed my connection anyway,
the ghosts of my past had other plans
singing my return
thought I'd feel such excitement, happiness,
wandering the motherland
deep grief pools in my heart instead
I promptly leave a dim sum spot
terrified by the old ladies
who refuse to look away
I'm convinced Adoptee is a loneliness
that can be seen or smelled
I may not belong
But I am here,