After the Good Day’s Work

After the Good Day’s Work, 2025. Acrylic latex on stucco, 12’H x 41’L In partnership with the Department of Cultural Affairs - Los Angeles and Los Angeles City Employees’ Retirement System (LACERS)
Location: LACERS, 977 N Broadway, Chinatown, Los Angeles, CA 90012 [process]

Dedicated to the ones whose life work is to build for future generations 

With their eyes set on the future, the American robin and red-crowned crane secure their nest eggs. Together, they create a place of security and comfort, a soft place to rest after the day’s good work is complete. They nest with a hope for good things to come.

The red-crowned crane is a migratory bird found in China and throughout East Asia. It is among the rarest cranes, and also one of the longest-living species of birds in the world. In eastern culture, the crane is a symbol of longevity, fidelity, and noble morality.

The American robin, a native of Los Angeles, joins the crane in a grove of white plum blossoms, China’s national flower. Because its nature is to bloom persistently during the cold winter months before flowering abundantly into the warmth of spring, it carries a symbol of resilience, perseverance, and the promise of a fruitful season. In this way, these blossoms represent we who have traversed from distant lands, carrying with us the vigor upon which we have built upon this promise. We have taken root here, offering the beauty and the richness of culture and tradition into our communities.

Some of the many things that I loved most about this project:

- Taking my time as I stood eyeing the selection of red color swatches at Sherwin Williams, only to choose a strong, warm red whose name happens to be Chinese Red. Lately, God has confirmed many things for me through color. So much fun, God.

- All of the elders, most of whom walked by daily to check on my progress. They give me their thumbs up, and I gesture with arms extended and both palms up as to say, This is for you. The language barrier did not prevent us from communicating. During a day in which I was unable to get much work done, one of the elders stood still, studying the mural for some time before uttering, That’s it? This seemed to be the most Asian elder thing he could have said to me. It made me miss my Bà Ngoại whom I know would have shared in the sentiment.

- Baked goods delivered almost daily through the generosity of our beautiful sister Michelle from next door’s Phoenix Bakery. [Please go try their strawberry cake. And then thank me by sharing another slice with someone. You may find yourself scraping their hand-whipped cream from the box to savor every morsel. Please know that this is absolutely the right way to eat it.]

- Meeting Elder Chinese Historian Eugene Moy (again). After chatting for a bit, we learned that he had attended two of my shows within twelve years, so apparently, we were appointed to cross paths again. We spoke about our surnames—my name Mai, the precious little yellow blossoms that bloom during the Lunar New Year, and his Cantonese name Moy which translates to plum blossom—these very flowers that now bloom in painterly fashion upon these Chinatown walls. We now call each other Cousin.

- Friday afternoon walks with Vanessa as we discuss our creative+life paths, how we stay true to work (and to ourselves in the work), and the ways in which we work on heightening our recognition of, and response to, God’s voice.

- Painting in the rain for the first time. I would like to do more of this. Glorious.

- Building patience. For everyone who does not think of it (neither did I until just a couple years ago), the process of being able to offer a mural to any neighborhood on a city-owned wall is a long-winded and laborious process that requires wading through rivers of paperwork and meetings and approvals before even beginning to throw paint around. This process has a way of heightening my patience, hunger, and anticipation that trains me for these kind of marathons—215 hours over 27 days of on-site mural work. It was a joy to work with Pau who thoroughly walked me through the entire process, moving swiftly with the City—like a swift, actually.

- The openness of strangers who become neighbors. Some of them engaged in such personal conversations with me, sharing with me their histories, their current heartaches, and fears of the unknown, and their hopes for the future. What a peculiar kind of love this is.

- The kindness of the incredibly generous crew with whom I had the privilege of working—the men and women of the security team who were ready to fight crime so that I could paint with peace of mind and heart all throughout the night; the staff who constantly provided me with everything that I needed to do my best work on this project (also constantly feeding me); and the many encouraging conversations that lifted my heels daily. And Tod, who is gifted with a great ability to resolve all things all of the time.

- Finishing this mural just 5 days before Christmas. Last year, I finished a mural 4 days before Christmas. A tradition in the making, perhaps? What a blessèd thing to be able to offer this to our neighbors at the year's end!