Biển, Biến, Biên

Biển, Biến, Biên (The Ocean, to Vanish, to Note/the Border), 2013. Charcoal, acrylic, and joss paper on stone, coconut shells, burlap, tree bark, tree branches and rice sacks from Bà Ngoại’s (Grandmother’s) fabric collection, approximately 8 ½”h x 5”w x 3 ¾”d each 

I mourn the loss of those who sought freedom, but did not live to experience it in the new land. These portraits, of individuals who had passed during the time of war and migration, have been drawn upon joss paper, a paper which is burned in prayer for the ancestors in Buddhist tradition, the tradition in which Ba, Father, was raised. The stones illustrate the idea that all will become part of the earth as the cycle continues, the way these bodies sank like stones in deep waters. The title Biển, Biến, Biên translates to the ocean, which attempted to carry the refugees across seas, to vanish, which hundreds of thousands did during this tumultuous time, and to note, as my artwork strives to document the stories of our history. The word bien also translates to border, as in crossing the border—or vượt biên—a phrase often heard by Vietnamese refugees as they recollect memories of escape.

Memorializing these individuals has been part of my process to move forward with my People. By trying to understand their journey through visual art practice, I continue on my own journey with great gratitude, as I live this life of promise for which they themselves had hoped, had fought, and had died.