Ba Ơi (Dear Father)
Ba Ơi (Dear Father), 2017. Gouache, living plants, papyrus, rainwater from Việt Nam, copies of Bác Phơưl’s release papers from re-education camp, scripture from the book of James, tears shed in mourning for his suffering, textile, and tree bark on digital image printed on Arches watercolor paper, 44 x 60”
From 1975 to 1979, my father-in-law, Phơưl Vân Thạch, a soldier of the South Vietnamese Army, was imprisoned in one of the many re-education camps in Việt Nam. This photo was taken during his capture. Gaunt and marred, his gentle hands still carry the eminent strength that upholds his loyalty and his name. From 1979-1982, he and his family escaped on foot from Việt Nam, through Kampuchea (present-day Cambodia), and into Thailand, where they arrived at the refugee camp before stepping foot onto American soil.
I marvel at the profound love that ignited our predecessors with the courage to fight for a generation that did not yet exist. Inspired by the 17 bullet wounds that he survived during the war in, I’ve recreated Bác Phơưl’s war wounds by rubbing rainwater, tears, and the natural oils of my fingertips into the paper with my fingers as an anointing, expressing the immense gratitude for all he has done for our people, for our generation, and for those who will go on to inherit these freedoms.
The words Dear Father are repeatedly hand-painted in Sanskrit as a cloak that calls out to our Fathers.
Cynthia Occelli said, “For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn't understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.” Although these afflictions set out to maim, they’ve only broken open the fissures that have made space for seeds to nestle and for new growth to occur.
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Like Oil into His Bones, 2022. Crude oil and thread on sea stones, resting in a bed of rice
My father-in-law served as governor of the Bạc Liêu province in the Mekong Delta region in southern Việt Nam, where he and his family were the stewards of rice farms. During the war, he fought alongside his countrymen in the South Vietnamese Army, and was imprisoned by the communist regime. Oftentimes, as a form of further punishment, he was detained in an underground cell whose ceiling was lower than his height. This caused immense pressure upon his spine, which subsequently led to the removal of two crushed intervertebral discs.
Thirty-three sea stones, collected with my husband from the Pacific Coast, represent the human spine which comprises our thirty-three vertebrae. They recline side by side with a lifeline running through them. While collecting stones, we found that some were smeared with crude oil, which further tells of Bác Phơưl’s time toiling in the oil fields of the Central Valley once arriving in America with his family, also speaking on the extensive labor that refugees experience as they begin anew, building new lives for themselves and for the ones they love.
Throughout history, anointing with oil was traditionally practiced among the Arab and Hebrew nations in honoring guests as an act of hospitality, in the recovery of the sick, and in preparation for battle. The title of the piece derives from Psalm 109, a prayer for deliverance from oppressive enemies. Today, it serves as a continual prayer for the people of Ukraine and victims of war all over the world.