Blessèd be the Peacemakers (Current)
Blessèd be the Peacemakers, 2025. Acrylic latex on stone and wood, 120’L x 25’H Location: The Vault Warehouse, Long Beach, CA
Commencement date: Summer 2025
Dedicated to the innocent and to their protectors
The Vault Warehouse is nestled in Cambodia Town, wherein many of our Khmer, Hispanic, and Black neighbors’ lives interweave with their neighbors from all walks of life. While sauntering through the neighborhood, one discovers abundant tropical fruit gardens, Baptist churches, and the Spanish murmurings of students walking home from school.
Blessèd be the Peacemakers pays homage to the ones who have landed here and continue tilling the soil, while foraging for nourishment. They sow the seed that bears the good fruit that sustains our communities, and water the crop that replenishes us. This piece pays respect to the ones who labor to cultivate peace within themselves—a peace that then stirs about in our homes, and bleeds out into our neighborhoods, our cities, our nation, our world—this peace that promotes the growth that is necessary in building healthy communities. A Khmer child has inherited wars but chooses to gather peace. He holds the scales upon his steady shoulders as a dedicated servant of justice.
These children are our very own. Here, they wade in rice patties with their trusted African jacana and Asian water buffalo, as pools of living waters graze their ankles, and the land is restored under generous skies from which an enduring שָׁלוֹם, or peace, pours upon the innocent. Together, they have been made to be stewards of earth, carrying on the work of their ancestors, a responsibility that has been bestowed upon them by our Maker. They spread the seeds of peace upon the land. Assisting them in this essential task are their passerine companions who thrive in this freedom—the Vietnamese greenfinch perches in communion with the verditer flycatcher who has arrived from Cambodia; the Eurasian hoopoe, indigenous to the Holy Land, whose resilience has enabled it to fly from the West Bank to the high altitudes of the Himalayas; and the American Robin, whose roots extend to Mexico.
Together, they gather in a song that is a plea for, and an offering of peace.
Some of the things I have loved about the early process:
- Setting up the scissor lift and organizing it into an efficient workspace and prayerspace.
- The first pass of sketch when the lines are seeking, and shadows are fresh and raw. Sometimes it’s difficult to move past this phase. There’s something so pure about it that it’s makes it hard to touch.
- Gridding the wall. I appreciate the order and rhythm that it sets for the painting, and I also love the idea that I am carrying on a technique (both grid method and chalk line) that dates back to Ancient Egypt. That’s wild.
- Painting with my heart sister Kelsey. There’s a unrestrained confidence in the way that she pushes paint around. As we Sài Gòn squat before a thirsty wall with eager paint brushes, we speak life, examine long-held questions, discuss how we can faithfully await answers, and share in our revelations and our hopes. This is nourishment to my soul.
- Chatting with our neighbors. I love reminding them that this mural is for them, for us. The most common question I am asked: Are you going to be adding some color? Yes, all of the colors. Among them: Peace Yellow and Refuge.
- Meeting Ms. Diana, an elder who raises parakeets in her Eden of an apartment (walls blanketed in thriving pothos and lush plants sprouting from every corner!) Once the parakeets fledge, she gifts them to the people she loves. She has only kept one—the only one whom she has named—Heaven. Heaven happens to be the same color as the blue that I’m using to paint the sky. This color is called Celestial.
- Hearing mothers say to their children, Look, Mija/Mijo, that looks like you. I hear this often and it fully warms my heart.