April 2017: Spring Forth

Springtime is here, and everything is alive and thriving. The earth bursts with fields of color-- the sky opens up to a brighter blue, the flowers blossom wide in brilliant hue, and the hills sprout the green carpet where flora and fauna will root and roam. These colors illuminate our eyes, and their luster surely finds its way onto our paintings. There is a pulsating energy that arrives in the spring as the sun shines stronger, coaxing blossoms out of their bulbs and us out of our dens. We’re fueled by this time of year when every living thing feels an urgency to be born, to bloom, to resurface, and to grow. And we, the Village, have spent this lively month presenting our colors to the community.

Joe has been busy at the Heninger Village Art Studio, and seemingly busier at home. He's been studying artists’ videos and has been acquiring different techniques and new approaches for his work. This month, he came into class anxious to experiment with a few of the things he’s discovered.

Joe has discovered “drip art” and demonstrates his technique for the Villagers.

Joe shares with us his own techniques for painting clouds. 

Joe is one of the most enthusiastic, high-energy people I’ve known, and his warmth and zeal for creativity is utterly contagious. His fervor spins wildly through the community, in between the bottles of paint, nudging us all to try something new. Joe is a force of nature that is eager to share the beauty and excitement of life and art. We are an excitable group, easily inspired, and of course we jumped right into his lessons.

Sharonda dives in to experiment with her newly learned techniques.

She was so excited about how the paint moved so organically, that she worked on another piece. Beautiful work, Sharonda! Thanks for the lesson, Joe!

 

Fall Back: Maria roots deeper into her work

Maria is a Frida fanatic. Since class began last February, she’s been painting Frida Kahlo. This month, she excavated deeper down into her Mexican American and Orange County history. She was inspired to help tell Modesta Avila’s story, a Mexican woman activist, who was imprisoned for defying Southern Pacific (formerly known as Union Pacific Railroad) by demanding that they pay her for building their railroad through her land. Maria also brought in a photo of her grandmother’s class portrait to share with the class. We are all looking forward to seeing where this history takes her work …  

Left: Maria working on another one of her Frida portraits. Middle: Maria’s mixed media portrait of Modesta. Here, Maria uses hand-embroidery to illustrate the clothing line that Modesta hung to obstruct Southern Pacific’s path, which led to her imprisonment as Orange County’s first convicted felon. Right: From her own family archive, her grandmother's class photo. With the face that she bequeathed unto her granddaughter, Maria's grandmother sits at center.

SHARING OUR WORK WITH THE COMMUNITY

 

Orange County Fair Art Exhibition

My first ever public art show took place at the Alameda County Fair in 1996. The piece I had on display was of the silhouette of a young girl, perhaps a self portrait. As the sun set, she wore an áo dài and a conical straw hat while holding a red tulip. As I write this, I am just now realizing how even my earliest works paid respect to my heritage. It had been my first attempt at graphic art, so I was happy to come home with a Third Prize Award. 

This month, I was invited to judge artwork for the adult and high school categories for Imaginology, a massive visual arts exhibition presented by the Orange County Fair. After judging, I eagerly scurried through the exhibition walls, tiled with works created by children as young as the age 6, and works by high school students, amateur, established, and professional artists. Young Parker submitted to the competition for the 4th-8th grade category, and brought home not one, but two red ribbons for both of his paintings. He was also recognized for his vibrant artwork in the OC Fair newsletter. We are so proud of our budding artist. You are amazing, Parker! 

Young Parker and his buddy pikachu stand proudly with his paintings that each earned red ribbons at this year's imaginology exhibition at the orange county fairgrounds. (The cherry blossom tree on the left is his favorite painting to date.)

Parker is quite the versatile artist. He is drummer and also a bassist for his band, the Space Noodles. As a student of the School of Rock, he’s performed at multiple venues around town, including Yost Theater, The Boathouse Collective, Original Mike’s, Totally 80’s Bar and Grill, and even the House of Blues. This kid is a true creative, dipping his hands in anything that brings beauty and sound and enjoyment to the world. Keep on, Young Parker. We’re excited to see what beautiful things you’ll bring into the world during your lifetime.

Ribba group show at Coastline Gallery in Newport Beach

In Swedish, the word ribba means “bar”, as in:  Denna ribba maste hojas. The bar must be raised.                                                                                                                                Surely, the bar has been raised as our Villagers debut new works in beautiful Newport Beach. 

The Heninger Villagers stand together among their works on display at the beachfront Coastline gallery in Newport Beach, CA

We caravanned over to their beach front campus in two cars. It was an intimate experience: not just because the three of us crammed into the back seat of a Nissan Sentra, while Sharonda drove shot gun, but because this was the day that Ron shared with us stories from his childhood, his young adulthood, and his adulthood until present day. He spoke of the family and friends. His experiences as a second-generation Mexican American, born and raised in our City of Santa Ana. His childhood memories. His experiences in grade school. How he was able to steer clear of drugs, gangs, and life on the streets. His beloved mother. These stories poured out of him like a spout whose nozzle was finally unkinked, watering our curiosity. From the moment we stepped passed those Heninger poppies, the stories flowed out of him until we arrived at the gallery. Sometimes that’s all it takes for someone to share their story—some time, a small space, while sitting shoulder to shoulder with those we trust, making our way toward the ocean, on a cool spring day.

With works hung salon style in the gallery, it was interesting to see how each individual work of art conversed with the ones neighboring it. We spent hours admiring each other's works, dawdling through, investigating the myriad of works that quilted the gallery walls. We patiently took notice of the span of marks, media, images, symbols, subject matter, and inspiration that resided in the gallery. With natural light spilling into the space, we studied the handwork of each individual artist, and marveled at each one's voice and vision. 

I am so proud to stand among such genuine people, whose expanding love of art has inspired them to share their dreams and hearts with the community. They consistently remind me of the strength found in togetherness. 

Sharonda stares out of the window of her interior landscape

young parker fancied up for the show

Life. Drawing. Life drawing. 

Q Art Salon is a gorgeous gallery and studio space, located in the Artist Village, right across the street from Grand Central Art Center. It’s run by artist Jose Quant and his partner Shelly, one of the warmest and gentlest women I’ve met since my arrival here in Santa Ana. In addition to their regularly rotating exhibitions, they also host life drawing sessions on Tuesday and Thursday evenings in their two-car garage that has been transformed into a cozy little painting and drawing studio. On any given session, there are 5-8 of us that dive deep into studying the nude figure. Some artists stand at their easels with brushes oiling canvas, some straddling their drawing benches with charcoal daintily grazing board with index and thumb, and some with pencil scratching excitedly upon sketchbook.  Sometimes, intermissions commence with Jose gently strumming on his Spanish guitar. Four of us Villagers began attending the Q sessions together, squeezing our way into the studio with about half a dozen other local artists, regulars of Q’s life drawing sessions. Refreshments are offered to guests, and one some days, these include chilled beers. *clink*

Our moSt sincere gratitude to our local arts community for keeping us inspired, and for offering us ample space to practice and to share our work. This art and the togetherness that it brings is what helps us to spring forward into life.

 

March 2017: It is written. And spoken.

It is written that as spring arrives, the sun beams a bit brighter. The living things that roam this earth sense the warming of the air. They emerge from landscape, where they’ve been resting to prepare their bones for the longer, abundant days ahead. Saplings surface above the horizon, soaking in this warmth that will fuel them for their role in this forthcoming verdant season. It is written.

Along with the lines and colors and shades and clippings that move about the pages of the Villagers sketchbooks, rustles their reflections, hopes, and musings that take form in the written word. These introspections flow in an array of compositions: structured poems, hastily jotted down ideas, free-flowing introspections, inspired contemplations that may take shape in visual art form… or not.

Some of these musings meander through the studio in conversation, through text messages that we send to one another, but sometimes, they lie quite within the pages. Only for the owner of the words to hold. Some might be shared, some might not. But they are all important, no matter what path they choose. Perhaps they come to us as quiet reminders. And that is purpose enough for us to keep these words flowing.

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To our delight, LibroMobile invited us to present for their upcoming poetry event as an opening performance for Texas-based writer Kimberly Alidio. So we spent the coming of spring developing and preparing our poetry and musical showcase, taking place at the Grand Central Art Center Theater. We convened to rehearse, again and again, until we felt comfortable with the cadence of our spoken words.

Last month during Black History Month, La Verne had sent me a video of a five-year-old little girl named Promise who read Langston Hughes’ The Negro Mother with such vigor, that it resonated with us long after we had witnessed her performance. So, we decided to include our own rendition of this poem to stand with the black community who have bled from the lacerations of injustice. We stood side by side and read in solidarity, wondering how much longer they will suffer. How much longer we will suffer. Because when one suffers, we all suffer, for we are all connected.

La Verne, Sharonda, and I took turns reading each stanza, while Joe strummed on his guitar. But he didn’t just strum. Joe had carefully composed the chords that aligned with the verses. His fingers plucked D major and accompanying chords when we read about the beautiful black skin that shone like the sun. Then, he dove into A minor when we read of the sweat, the pain, the despair. This thoughtfulness is what makes this Village so unique. They don’t just show up to read feel-good poems and make pretty paintings. They read and write the work that helps them share the stories of life—the good and the bad—and they make the paintings that help share their hopes and histories. These are the residents of Heninger Village. 

Our second rehearsal at the Village

Joey B. strums on his guitar, setting the rhythm to which Trinh, Sharonda, and La Verne read Lanston Hughes’ The Negro Woman

Terri reads her poetry as I help her translate

These folks are a village of Thinkers, Painters, Poets, and Musicians, and I am so very privileged to be working with them to help bring their talents and passions out to the community! I am so proud to know these people. So. Very. Proud.

Our program included this reading, along with original music written and performed by Joe Buffardi (A.K.A. "Joey B."), and original poetry written and performed by Teresa Roehmer. Outside of the theater, collection of original paintings by members of Heninger Village artists were on display to compliment this creative showcase.

[Unfortunately, our youngest Heninger artist, Parker, was not available for a guitar performance at our event, since he was busy at rehearsal, preparing for his upcoming show with his band, The Space Noodles! Go, Parker!]

 

The Negro Mother                                                                        by Langston Hughes

Children, I come back today
To tell you a story of the long dark way
That I had to climb, that I had to know
In order that the race might live and grow. 
Look at my face - dark as the night - 
Yet shining like the sun with love's true light. 
I am the dark girl who crossed the red sea
Carrying in my body the seed of the free. 
I am the woman who worked in the field
Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield. 
I am the one who labored as a slave, 
Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave - 
Children sold away from me, I'm husband sold, too. 
No safety, no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South: 
But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth. 
God put a dream like steel in my soul. 
Now, through my children, I'm reaching the goal. 

Now, through my children, young and free, 
I realized the blessing deed to me. 
I couldn't read then. I couldn't write. 
I had nothing, back there in the night. 
Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears, 
But I kept trudging on through the lonely years. 
Sometimes, the road was hot with the sun, 
But I had to keep on till my work was done: 
I had to keep on! No stopping for me - 
I was the seed of the coming Free. 
I nourished the dream that nothing could smother
Deep in my breast - the Negro mother. 

I had only hope then, but now through you, 
Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true: 
All you dark children in the world out there, 
Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair. 
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow - 
And make of those years a torch for tomorrow. 
Make of my pass a road to the light
Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night. 
Lift high my banner out of the dust. 
Stand like free men supporting my trust. 
Believe in the right, let none push you back. 
Remember the whip and the slaver's track. 
Remember how the strong in struggle and strife
Still bar you the way, and deny you life - 
But march ever forward, breaking down bars. 
Look ever upward at the sun and the stars. 
Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers
Impel you forever up the great stairs - 
For I will be with you till no white brother
Dares keep down the children of the Negro Mother.

Left to right: Sarah Rafael Garcia, Founder of LibroMobile; Joe Buffardi, Artist; Kimberly Alidio, Writer; Trinh Mai, Artist; La Verne Culpepper, Artist; Teresa Rohmer, Poet; Ron Segura, Artist; Sharonda Caldwell, Artist

It is written that our paths crossed so that we could tread together through this journey, with our hands doused in paint and ink, powered with graphite, and our eyes to the sky. I just could not imagine not knowing these people and their hearts and their talents and their openness to new experiences, new ways of thinking, and new ways of seeing the world that was just a little less colorful before art danced her way into it. Together, we clutch onto the brushes and pencils and onto our chests they swell with the inspiration that runneth over so ferociously, that we must do something with it lest we drown. And so we do. In prose. In poetry. In swaths of color and light. In music. In words scribbled and spoken. It streams through our thoughts at such an alarming rate that our hands can’t work fast enough. But we learn to give it time. To sit with it. To commune with it in quiet and in conversation. Because we know that it will present itself in whichever form is fitting at the time. It always does.

February 2017: The Year of the Red Rooster

The rooster. The bird that is known to call when the sun rises to announce to us that a new dawn has arrived. He crows to proclaim that a new beginning has come and that we have been granted a fresh start. As we swing into the Year of the Red Rooster, Heninger Village Art Studio stirs with activity. Our community generous partners, the Pacific Symphony, have invited us to participate in their 2nd Annual Lantern Festival, and the students are decorating their lanterns in preparation for their upcoming display at Segerstrom Center for the Arts.

With Joe’s calming “Ocean Sounds” spinning in the boom box and the coffee pot brewing, we painted our lanterns with various images and motifs as we thought about our hopes for the Lunar New Year. We then painted the Chinese symbols for those things that we wished for. Some of the calligraphic symbols that adorned their lanterns included hope, courage, faith, strength, longevity, love, energy, patience, and fortune. Yes, more of all those things, please!

Young Parker and Peter prepare their lanterns for the Lantern Festival, using traditional Chinese and Vietnamese images of nature. For the upcoming year, Peter hopes for Longevity and paints its Chinese character on his lantern.

The Chinese character for Longevity

Maria, Parker, and I stand proudly under their lanterns at Segerstrom center for the arts

Over 4,300 people came to celebrate the Lunar New Year with us!

The Rooster also has another reason to crow--to congratulate us for a very productive year as we conclude our first year in our Community Engagement + Grand Central Art Center artist-in-residence program! To celebrate a fantastic year of growth and community-building, team members gathered for dinner and an evening of art and togetherness. The room filled with chatter, laughter, and the smell of baked beans and fresh salsa. It was an exhibition opening of sorts; we proudly displayed the Villagers' works for all to appreciate. 

To continue our celebration of Vietnamese/Chinese New Year, we also decorated some beautiful white silk scarves with our own designs.  

Beautiful ms. Rose renders a beautiful rose on her silk scarf

Grand Central Art Center, Community Engagement, and Heninger Village Art Studio artists and team members celebrating a most successful year of community building through the arts! Salud! 

A bit of interesting history about silk:

The history of silk-making dates back 6,000 years. Made from the protein fibers of the silkworm cocoon, the earliest example of silk fabric dates back to 3,630 BC and was discovered in Henan, a province in Central China’s Yellow River Valley that is widely recognized as the place where Chinese civilization originated.

By about 400 BC, silk was exported along the Silk Road routes, but soon after, various kingdoms and imperial dynasties kept the methods of silk production secret for another thousand years. Silk might have been one of the most zealously guarded secrets in history. Its production methods were so secretive, that anyone found smuggling silkworm eggs, cocoons, or mulberry seeds was put to death. 

In Ancient China, the material was so valuable that silk garments were only to be worn by royalty.

And here we are today, drawing on silk scarves with sharpie markers as we feast on tacos. 

Claudia poses with a smile that glows even brighter than the blossoms drawn on her silk scarf

***

The (red) rooster crows. The early bird gets the (silk) worm. Can we keep taking about birds?

Every evening here in Orange County, around 5pm, hundreds upon hundreds of green parrots soar over our neighborhood, squawking wildly as if they’re trying to call back the sun as it sets into the Pacific. When I hear our feathered neighbors cackle overhead on Friday evenings, I know it’s time. I have about one hour to freshen up, brew some coffee, grab my cart, pack up some supplies from the studio, and pick up food for class, before walking two blocks over to the Villagers. I stride past the near-century-old brick, dart across 1st Street's busy intersection, march under the canopies of eucalyptus, and through the friendly poppy-lined sidewalks, arriving at Heninger Village Art Studio were meaningful art and lovely relationships develop. Joe will have his newest mix on repeat—perhaps his own covers of top 40 favorites, or meditative sounds of nature, or some sultry blues or jazz, or sometimes he comes with his guitar to sing us some newly written original song, or perhaps an oldie that he dug up in his files from the 1970's.

With music streaming all around us, we began our work with birds, utilizing an array of media. We began color blocking with tissue paper, and then layered with paint, ink, and whichever materials we were inspired to incorporate. It was magical to watch them come to life. First a square of periwinkle. Then some dapples of blue. Then some stokes of red. And then some lines to define form. They really enjoyed the patient process and made some exquisite pieces! 

Parker works on color-blocking

Joe is notorious for pushing his boundaries. Here, he creates a colorful landscape for his bird who is "enjoying the sunset after a long day". 

And so we pay homage to the birds this month.

These creatures that symbolism of liberation, flight, movement and ascension.

Terri's bird painting with accompanying haiku

 

 

Bird approaches close

Nature knows no division

Tree greets without thought

- Haiku by Terri Rohmer

Sometimes the parrots leave gifts behind for us.

**Take flight, friends. The sky has no limit for us.**

January 2017: Renewal

New year. New growth. New experiences.

There's a nostalgia that comes with wintertime. Growing up the Bay Area, winter was a slowing time. I remember wading through the fog and tread through grass fields to get to school. As the crystalized blades of grass crunched beneath my feet, I’d look back to admire the distance I had walked. Dense footprints followed behind, leaving a trail for the next traveler. I loved the crispness of the Nor Cal wintertimes.

Since I was young, the rains gave me bursts of energy and my restless feet would want to run outside and play. I remember my mother taking me shopping for my first childhood rain jacket. It was turquoise with some quilting on the upper chest and a hood that was hemmed with white fluff that encircled my face. I remember the sound it made when my arms would rub up against my body as I walked. As the neighbors took shelter inside their cozy homes, my friends and I would take advantage of the desolate streets and play under the old oaks as they shed their soggy leaves upon us. Since living in southern California, I’ve been bathing in this eternal sunshine that does not invite this same kind of winter. And how I’ve missed it. Recently, we’ve had a few weeks of healthy, reviving, pelting, abundant, flooding-the-plant-pots, muddying-the-oak-floors rain. My succulents, papaya saplings, and avocado youngster are gulping it all up as am I.

Since the showers occur so infrequently here (we had 80-degree days in the December), my feet become even more agitated when it rains, and I feel the need to douse my footsteps in these streets that are drenched with renewal. But last week, I experienced it differently.

From time to time, La Verne lets me study her sketchbook, and therein I find a plethora of inspiration, words of wisdom, and enough beauty and light to sprinkle upon the entire Heninger Community and beyond. As I strode in the rain, I kept a sliver of La Verne’s musings in mind and in heart. I ruminated on this proposal that she had jotted down into her sketchbook:

I did. And we do.

As I walked hand-in-hand with my Water Warrior through Downtown Santa Ana, I closed my eyes to feel the cold sting from tiniest droplets pelting my forehead. The slight pinch when they absorbed into my eyes. The prickly sensation of flecks upon my lips. For the first time, I felt the weight build upon my eyelashes as they collected raindrops. Surely, they had been thirsty for this cleansing. I marveled at the puddles, scattered across pavement like vibrating sheets of painted glass. They were the windows through which we could observe our silvery moon should the sky let us take a peek. I witnessed one million streetlights reflecting through the droplets before they collected in our hands.

I cherished this experience, and will take note of forthcoming encounters that fall from these violet clouds. Ms. La Verne, your words have shone upon us like a warm light. Even while the sky cries with us. 

I’ve drawn so much inspiration from La Verne’s sketchbook through the years. She and I have had numerous conversations about life. Some of our phone conversations last several hours, one of them even lasting six, because there is so much to share, to learn. We live only live two blocks from one another, but sometimes a quick check-in call becomes a lengthy therapy session/art talk/brainstorm/life examination. These exchanges heighten our energy. We discuss hardship and hope, strife and struggle, history and home, meditation and meaning, and the patience that we sustain under the clouds that sometimes storm heavily upon us. We’ve found shelter in one another’s words when these pelting raindrops have bruised us to the marrow. And while the clouds stirred a blanket around us, I discovered this powerful song that brought me great comfort.

Make it Rain by Foy Vance

When the sins of my father weigh down in my soul                                                        And the pain of my mother will not let me go
Well I know there can come fire from the sky to refine the purest of kings
Even though I know this fire brings me pain, even so, Lord, just the same
Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain
Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain
Every seed needs the water for it grows out of the ground
It just keeps on getting hard, and the hunger more profound
And I know there can't come tears from the eye, for they may as well be in vain
Even though I know these tears will bring me pain, even so, Lord just same
Oh make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain
Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain
Well the sea is filled with water, stops by the shore
Just like the riches of grandeur, never reach the port
Let the clouds fill with thunderous applause, and the lightning be the veins
Fill the sky with all that they can draw, when it's time to make a change
Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain                                                      Make it rain, make it rain, make it rain, make it rain

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      It is an indisputable truth that students bestow as much wisdom upon their instructors as their instructors can bestow upon them. Openness and perception are the patrons that will help us absorb these truths. 

                       To my teachers, past, present, and future, I thank you.                           I will continue building my relationship with Rain. She also has much to teach me. 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      And the flow of water continued to bless us... One of the ways it flowed into our lives was through the rich watercolors that spilled from the hands of artist Joseph Hawa, an alumnus of the American School of Art in Chicago, Illinois. Joseph’s life’s work has been contained in his studio in the Santora Building of the Artist Village and in his apartment at Heninger Village that feels more like a gallery, studio, and art storage space with paintings and blank canvas stacked upon one another. He met us downstairs with his mahogany-stained portfolio, which for 20+ years has helped preserved the paintings that help tell his story. He brought a collection of prints to share with us—colorful works that were rendered in oil, pastel, acrylic, and watercolor tiled the table. We passed them around with enthusiasm, some of the students examining them more closely to try and figure out the methods and mediums he used. Then to our pleasant surprise, he generously gifted a print to each of us, complete with signature.

Joseph's trusty tools in producing his water color paintings include both a brush and a thumbnail. 

after sharing with us only a portion of his extensive collection of work, joseph generously gifts each of us with one of his prints. 

Joseph then launched into a watercolor demonstration. He described his process as he dipped and dripped the chroma upon the paper. He commanded red paint with brush in hand, like Moses summoning the flow of the Red Sea with his staff. We watched as diligent students in astonishment. After painting for a while, he lay down his brush and began using his fingernails to introduce subtle marks into the piece.

During the lesson, Joseph remind us, 

“The most important work of a painting is to capture light.”

And in closing, he encouraged,  

“Paint what you feel, not what you think you should. ”

To kick off the new year, we took some time to write letters to ourselves about what we hope for the year ahead, and how we will go about bringing our hopes into fruition. We decorated glass bottles in which to preserve these notes-to-self, and will open them up in 2018 to see if our aims were met. Perhaps so, perhaps not. Aspirations tend to evolve with time, and it will be interesting to see how we’ve changed, or how we’ve manage to cling on to our wishes and usher them into reality. And if we indeed haven’t loosed our grip on these ambitions, they will surely find their way to us. And even if not in one year’s time, they will arrive on their own time.

They always do. 

December 2016: 'Tis the Season to be Grateful

I love and appreciate these folks. They have brightened my world with their optimism, their willingness to try new things, and their insight that comes from the wisdom that age can bring. We joined together in February of 2016, and already, this year is coming to its end. Luckily for all of us, Community Engagement has given us one of the most valuable Christmas gifts we could have hoped for--more time together. They've extended my residency for another year. This means more beautiful things to be made, more time to nurture these relationships, and more time to share our lives and the imaginative spirit that has brought us together.

Thank you, Community Engagement and the Village for a most fulfilling year…

FOR OUR GIFT EXCHANGE, MANY OF US RECEIVED ART SUPPLIES: TRAVELING ART SETS, TABLE EASELS, ASSORTMENTS OF DRAWING UTENCILS, PICTURE FRAMES, JOURNALS, SKETCHBOOKS, PAINTING KITS, AND SOFT THROWS TO WRAP OURSELVES IN WHEN WE'RE UP LATE DRAWING AT THE KITCHEN TABLE ON A COLD WINTER NIGHT. top row: claudia, joe, and la verne. middle row: maria, pedro y parer, and ron segura. bottom row: ron, sharonda, and terri.

There is something to be celebrated when people sing and come together to sing. Sometimes, it’s to start the day in tune, appreciating the acoustics of the shower before facing the day. Sometimes, it’s to help celebrate someone's life on their birthday. Sometimes it’s a form of praise. Sometimes, it's just for the sake of making pleasant sounds. Sometimes, it’s to share the gift of voice and song. And whether it’s done in rejoice or in despair, either is a necessary way to express the state of the world and the state of our hearts.

JOE THE MUSIC MAN (A.K.A "JOEY B", AS HE WAS CALLED WHILE PERFORMING BACK IN THE 1970'S AND 80'S) PLAYS FOR US A SONG THAT HE HAD JUST WRITTEN EARLIER THAT WEEK. THis SONG WAS A PLEA FOR PEACE IN A WORLD THAT IS DYING FROM VIOLENCE, DRUGS, AND LACK OF SPIRITUALITY.

I grew up in a musical family. Ông Hạnh, my great uncle, was a composer in Vietnam, and to this day, his music can still be heard as hymns are sung by the choir during Vietnamese masses. In 1975, my family arrived as refugees at Fort Indianatown Gap, Pennsylvania, one of the four refugee camps in America. One year later, my grandfather helped found Spirit of Vietnam, an organization that offered social services to the newly-arriving Vietnamese population. Spirit of Vietnam also served as a news outlet. They and broadcasted the American news in Vietnamese tongue, translated by my grandfather. Spirit of Vietnam would organize community events, some of which included concerts put on by the family band. Mother and her siblings took to the stage as she and Bác Ha sang duet, Cậu Hien's agile hands on the keyboard, and Bác Hieu's nimble fingers picked at the guitar. Inspired by both Vietnamese and French music, their performances were both an expression of their new life in America, but also served as a way to share their Vietnamese culture with their new community. Bác Hỷ would set the tempo on his drums. Oh, Bác Hỷ’s drums. They were OFF LIMITS to Chị Tu and me, but we would sneak into the garage where they were stored, just to get a peek and even touch them. Those drum sticks were fun to hold in our small hands.  

From fourth to fifth grade, Mother gave me lessons on our upright piano while we lived in Fremont. Around that same time, Ba Ngoai acquired a piano, and four of my cousins took piano lessons at that Huntington Beach house. The family was determined to pass down their appreciation of music; endless hours at the piano, after school and on summer afternoons, helped develop that appreciation in us. By high school, many of our family members had converted one room of their home into a karaoke lounge. They were equipped with thumping speakers and all kinds of instruments--guitars, keyboards, congas, maracas, and an array woodwinds, just to name some. We would gather to sway, swing, and sing. For some drama, they even hung swaths of drapery from the beams above, deep reds and rich violets velvet hung over our heads to set the stage. They'd pass around the squid jerky and share with us youngsters.

The memories I have of the times that I have sung with other people are mostly fond--practicing the song "Tiny Tim" as I was learning to speak English in preschool, singing favorite songs with childhood friends, singing the school fight song alongside my classmates with fists pumping in the air during football games, singing with Cô Hoài, my youngest auntie, as she drove me around throughout my childhood, singing at church with my mother. While I was growing up, Mother and I sang together often. In kindergarten, to wake me up, she would sing, "Wake up, Little Teeeee, Wake up", to this Everly Brothers' tune. On the ride to school, we would sing in harmony (I would be in charge of the melody and she would harmonize) to The Mamas & The Papas. 

Singing with others evokes a sense of nostalgia for me, and here at Heninger, the sharing of memories is one thing that has surely brought us closer. So it warmed my heart to walk into an improptu karaoke session one evening. Joe sang some Christmas melodies for us before passing the mic around. I joined in and sang a very shaky “Jingle Bell Rock” (singing in front of people makes me nervous) and we swayed along to Joe and Claudia’s duet: 

BABY, IT'S COLD OUTSIDE, BUT WE'RE KEEPING WARM IN HERE. JOE AND CLAUDIA DO A SOUND CHECK BEFORE HENINGER VILLAGE'S RENOWNED ANNUAL CHRISTMAS PARTY. IT'S JOE'S SECOND YEAR LIVING AT THE VILLAGE, AND THIS YEAR HE'S TAKEN ON THE ROLES OF BOTH DJ AND MC. 

On a Saturday evening, I followed the eucalyptus trail to where the poppies bloom in the spring. I do miss them during the wintertime. I strolled through the gates and past the rose bushes, and I stepped into warm murmurs and humming conversation. The studio/community room/Lotería clubhouse/visiting lounge was dappled with knitted reds and woven patterns, and twinkling were the Christmas lights and the Spirit alive in their eyes. After having heard about this event all year, I had finally arrived at Heninger Village’s renowned Christmas party—a celebration of the holidays, the year, the Villagers, and togetherness.    

LA VERNE'S FRIENDS CAME TO CELEBRATE WITH US AND SERVE THE RESIDENTS CHRISTMAS DINNER. WHAT A LOVELY BUNCH!

We feasted and enjoyed the festivities, including Joe’s selection of music, and the holiday raffle. I visited with residents that I’ve gotten to know and met some new residents. One of the highlights of the night was making a new artist friend.

This is Joseph Hawa whom I met as he shuffled through his mail.  Joseph is a fine art graduate of the American Academy of Art in Chicago, also having continued his education at Northwestern University.  He arrived in California in 1975, the same year as my family arrived in America. He has taught at Irvine Fine Arts Center, and employing a variety of media, he continues painting en plein air, abstract, and figurative works, practicing in his studio which is located the Santora Building, whose eyeline gazes across the Promenade at Grand Central Art Center where we are taking up residency. Joseph is also fluent in the art of Japanese calligraphy. He giggled as he shared that with the last name, Hawa, many of his collectors have been surprised to learn that he is actually not Japanese, but rather, of Lebonese descent. Here is some of Joseph's work. 

"I believe the feelings and emotions expressed in my paintings are much more important than the subject matter.
I hope that the viewer will feel my paintings as well as see them."

- Joseph Hawa

MR. JOSEPH HAWA IN HIS MOST FASHIONABLE HOLIDAY ATTIRE. WE DISCUSSED touring each other's STUDIOs AND JOSEPH WILL BE JOINING US FOR OUR FRIDAY NIGHT SESSIONS. MERRY AND BRIGHT, INDEED, NEIGHBOR! WE ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO LEARNING MORE ABOUT YOU, MR. HAWA.

"Merry Christmas, Friends. I realize it's been a rough year of many of us, but there is indeed plenty to be thankful for.
A wish for Peace and more Love (there will always be room for more love!) for you and yours in this forthcoming year.*

November 2016: Our Village

WE HAD THE PRIVILEGE OF SPENDING LA VERNE'S BIRTHDAY WITH HER AND OUR VILLAGE.

La Verne is a beaming light that glimmers softly through the village. Her calm and steady demeanor and encouraging spirit uplifts and warms those who surround her. She is a peacemaker. A lover. A nurturer. La Verne, you are a thoughtful individual whose writings and artwork express the commitment that you have to the peace and harmony that dwells within you. Your gift to us has been in the way you spread this peace to others. 

When the project first struggled to get on its feet, my impatience had disguised itself as failure.  La Verne said confidently,

"Don’t worry. I’ve been asking for an art program. I manifested you. You were brought here to us."

and encourage with,

"Everything works out the way its supposed to. You’ll see. Everything comes together on its own time." 

and remind me,

"Whatever happens, and however it happens, it’s going to be great."

  

Ms. La Verne is a phenomenal force of positive energy, and is generous with her smiles and her laugh. She gives love and because of it, she receives so much of it back from those around her.  *We love you, La Verne. You are an angel whose wing span lifts up this village. *

To express our appreciation for her, we threw her a surprise birthday party, organized by her daughter, Sharonda. Many of the residents came with their family members to feast and celebrate her life. Even with a party going on, this does not stop the residents from continuing their artwork. So, they took it upon themselves to set up a side table so that they could continue working on their projects.

MARIA WORKING ON HER GROWING COLLECTION OF FRIDA kahlo PORTRAITS

A NOTE WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF ONE OF HER PAINTINGS

ONE OF DOZENS OF MARIA'S FRIDA PAINTINGS

Lessons the Village has taught (and continues to teach) me

It really does take a village to conspire and make things whole. It takes the coalescing of different personalities, histories, gifts, and voices to elevate us with the possibilities that abound, to help us practice kindness, to stress for us the importance of support, togetherness, and oneness. 

There is a splendor that is taking place. This is the gathering of a Souls whose desire is to contribute to the beauty in the world by expressing that which lives within them. This is essential to social practice work—recognizing the participants as important, valued, necessary, and active collaborators. 

ron's portrait of frida khalo (in progress)

Whether helping them pick up their medications or an order of menudo, Ron Segura is a resident who finds joy in assisting his neighbors with their daily tasks. In this portrait of Frida Kahlo with flowers in her hair (in progress), Ron experiments with different mediums here--charcoal, color pencil, graphite, and sharpie markers.

How has art brought a change in his life?  Ron describes,

"I notice everything differently now. Colors are brighter. I used to be able to walk past a painting without paying it any attention, but now, I have to stop and look, and try to figure out how the artist made it.

Whenever I walk by a painting, I take the time to stop and look, observe the colors, shapes, and the areas that draw me in.

I’m finding that art is a way for me to share my thoughts. Art is this thing that I’ve found. It's like a new toy. And I want to experience all of it."  

A mural at Angels Community Park in Santa Ana

"I've walked past the Santa Ana murals for years, but they look different to me now. 
Now, I see that they are about the city, the people, and life."

-  Ron Segura

 

This small group allows us ample time to connect closely to each other. The discuss openly as they work their way through the ideas that have become important to them, these ideas that a year ago, might not have existed in their world.  They each move in their own direction. I've inherited the task to support them as they search through their own curiosities, help encourage the mindfulness that goes into work, and I bear witness to more ideas that are discovered during the process. They are growing deeper into the fluid language of art, and it is an utter privilege to watch it flow.

They have consistently shown me, time and time again, this important need to just let go. When Joe comes to class eager with a new idea, we might talk about different ways to approach it. When Claudia has a lucid dream of stars bursting out of a cornucopia while she watches a conversation that the moon has with the sun, and feels compelled to document it in vivid color, we work together on bringing her vision to life. When La Verne feels compelled to spend all evening, conjuring images, words and thoughts in her sketchbook, she tucks herself away into her corner space, with ears still sensitive to the conversation that take place. When Ron wants to practice portraiture, we sit with charcoal-powdered hands and practice the rendering of Frida’s eyes. 

And in their sketchbooks, this inner truth continues expressing itself in earnest:

NOTES FROM LA VERNE'S SKETCHBOOK: CANDID THOUGHTS WITH AN ILLUSTRATION AND A LIST OF THEMES THAT SHE PLANS TO EXPLORE IN HER WORK

HERE IS LA VERNE WITH A FRESH TUBE OF TITANIUM WHITE IN ONE HAND AND A FRESH-BAKED CRANBERRY COOKIE IN THE OTHER. LIFE CAN BE SO GOOD.

I love how the village artists incorporate text with imagery. Some of the writings are phrases. Some are glimmers of thought. Some are quotes absorbed from various sources. Some are poems written to supplement the artwork. And in some cases, the art work arises from the poetry. 

LANDSCAPE and poem BY JOE BUFFARDI

When first starting art class, I was very unsure with myself. But after a few classes, I began feeling more free with my painting. Now, everything I see, I believe that I can paint; I have so much confidence now. I’m so happy that art has come into my life. 

–Joe Buffardi

 

**Stay warm, Friends. The warmth is within you.**

October 2016: Harvest Time

Autumn is when aged leaves wither to make room for the new growth that is to come. Because of this, every fall, along with the bountiful harvest, I especially find myself deep in the hustle to prepare for the following year. I’m busy meeting deadlines, drafting reports, developing the skeletons for potential projects, and organizing the details in order to be ready for the abundance that is making its way to our table. The days flow into each other and I have difficulty keeping track of time. This sometimes means forgetting my birthday, until my husband reminds me. In my youth, like many of us, I counted down the days to my birthday, but now, it is confirmed that I am, indeed, of that age when I easily forget.

I arrived in class on the evening of my birthday, greeted by a wave of exuberant cheer and the smell of pizza and paint. Our Village had thoughtfully thrown me a surprise birthday party. 

WITH YOUNG PARKER'S HAND-PAINTED SIGN AND A DELICIOUS SPREAD, WE CELEBRATED THE LIFE THAT HAS BROUGHT US TOGETHER. THANK YOU, LIFe. Thank you, VILLAGE. 

The conversations that take place in quiet

From as early as I can remember, I was a child that depended on my hands to make sense of the world around me. I grew up building and crafting and making things. I built animals, people, and dwelling places with lego. I organized my rock collection and named each of them with an accompanying key code. But when I became conscious of how art has the power to evoke conversation, (whether it be a private conversation with oneself, or a conversation between the work of art and the viewer, or between the work of art with the creator), I fell deeply in love with it.

With the mid-autumn buzz, I thought perhaps we could slow it down a bit. I brought in some mandalas for us to color. With the set patterns, the residence could relax their minds by simply enjoying color, free of the need to consider composition, shape, or concept. While working on these meditative pieces, we turned the volume of the music down low, and quietly welcomed in the season of harvest. 

"Working on these mandalas have slowed me down. I’ve noticed that I am calmer in my everyday life." - Joe Buffardi

Joe works steadily on his mandala

Joe’s gorgeous mandala was colored in with sharpie markers. Mandalas are spiritual symbols thatrepresent the universe. In various spiritual traditions, mandalas may be used as a spiritual guidance tool, and for establishing a sacred space.

As Peter sat quietly, focusing on his work, I ask him if he’d like to begin taking morning walks with me. He answered, “Ask me later. I’m concentrating.” This amused me a great deal since Peter is one of the most enthusiastic storytellers of the bunch. We listen to his various tales as he teases the residents playfully as he watches the rest of us work. When our sessions first began in February, he would come to visit with us, but showed no interest in participating, claiming, “I don’t do that art stuff.” Months later, he warmed up to art, and now, we’re asking him to tell us the secrets of his technique and color. 

Sharing Stories

Through the art medium of social practice, one of the greatest lessons that I’ve learned through this residency is to allow things to develop organically while working with people, just as I do in the studio. This is a simple task in the studio when I am alone and dealing with my own artwork and ideas, but in working with people, it’s been something that I’ve had to consciously embrace. Perhaps it’s the pressure of needing to “be a good teacher”, and somehow feeling like in order to be one, a schedule and routine must be implemented for maximum efficiency.

Once I began thinking of a teacher as one who helps unlock potential in another, it helped me to let go and allow the work to take its course. I would be there to serve as a single oar, swaying the direction of the boat here and there, but trusting in the other oars and our river to carry us toward open ocean.

As Greek Author Nikos Kazontzakis said,

Part of my project is to document their stories, but I’ve been stressing over how to approach these oral histories. I’ve invited some of the residents to interviews, but they have not seemed to be comfortable with it quite yet. So, I learned to let it go, and further examine my method. And then one day, they began sharing their histories in depth.

And all on their own time.

Mr. Nguyen and Pedro sharing their photographs taking us along their nostalgic journey. 

Pedro visiting his young friends at choc's cancer center

Mr. Nguyen joins us from time to time. And although he prefers not to partake in our creative projects, he will bring various objects from his house to show and tell. He often brings photographs, and has a collection of precious stones which he makes into jewelry. He also has a collection of photographs of the moon, some of the photographs which he has generously gifted to us.  

As we perused through Pedro's photo album, he told us about his earlier days as a medical assistant at the Children’s Hospital of Orange County (CHOC), where he would spend time with the children in the cancer center. For Christmas, he magically appeared as Santa Claus for them. 

It’s amazing what can happen when we learn to let go of expectations and trust in the flow of Life. Life takes care of itself and pulls us right along. 

**The season is here, Friends. It’s time to harvest the plentiful fruit that has sprouted from the seeds we’ve sown together. **

September 2016: Flowing Free in Whichever Form

It began as a painting and drawing class, but this art studio has now blossomed into a space where we can practice our freedom of self-expression in whichever form it calls forth. Our Village has become a place where we gather to celebrate the the gift of time, the blessing of growing old, and the expanded wisdom that can come with it. 

Sometimes it expresses itself in drawing.

TERRI'S CHARCOAL DRAWING

Claudia’s daughter, Terri, has began joining us. This was the piece she completed on her first day with us. I was struck by its simplicity and the feeling of honesty I felt from it—not a trueness I could describe, but one that I surely felt. And as I stood admiring the piece and its vocabulary of marks and soft smudges from the artist’s hands, her mother said,

"It makes me feel uncomfortable.
I don't like the big X on the window.
It tells me that Terri is feeling closed off from the world."

This, I did not see. After hearing Claudia’s interpretation of her daughter’s drawing, I felt hopeful that there were circles around the door, perhaps describing the movement of a turning knob, either from the inside where the artist currently resides, or from the outside where we are awaiting her presence. Maybe this was an indication that in time, we'd be invited to enter. The tree reaches toward the open window, signifying growth and a place for light to enter. This is a hopeful drawing. And without Claudia’s remarks, I'm not sure I would have understood the significance of this piece.

Among these very special people, I am offered this vast amount of wisdom—these visions and insights that have been collected through lifetimes of experience. We all have something to learn from one another, and no matter how small or vast, there is so much wisdom to be absorbed here.  Every Friday, we all gather as students and leave more enlightened than when we arrived. 

Sometimes it expresses itself in flowers.

"This art class is where you can go crazy. You can meet friends."  –Parker, age 8

FRIDAY NIGHTS ARE "MOMMY AND ME" NIGHTS FOR MARIA AND HER SON, PARKER. HERE, HE USES A FRESH FLOWER FROM THE GARDEN AS A PAINT BRUSH. ONCE THE RESIDENTS ABSORBED THE TRUTH ABOUT THERE BEING NO RULES IN ART, IT OPENED UP A CHANNEL FOR THEM TO BE FREE IN EXPERIMENTATION WITH ANY MATERIAL THAT SPARKS THEIR CURIOSITY.

 

Sometimes it expresses itself in verse.

Terri greeted me in class one day with pages clutched in her hand. “Trinh, I have something for you”, she said as she handed me over a dozen pages of her poetry, all typed in Apple Chancery font. It moved me deeply that so soon after having met Terri, she would trust me with her heart’s work, and then give me permission to share it here with you. 

Here is an excerpt from Terri’s poem, entitled Butterfly Release: 

"Both in whisper and trombone…” How did she even think of that? Just beautiful. It speaks on both the gentleness and the power of freedom. Thank you, Terri. I feel these words a'stirring, and they might just manifest themselves in my work--both in whisper and trombone. 

 

And Sometimes it expresses itself in song.

 

Sometimes it expresses itself in painting.

ABOVE:  JOE (A.K.A. JOEY B) SINGS US OFF INTO THE NIGHT WITH AN IMPROMPTU CLOSING SONG AS WE RETIRE FROMT HE EVENING'S FESTIVITIES. 

LEFT: IN SHARONDA'S VIBRANT PAINTING, SHE ENCOURAGES US WITH, "DO WHAT CALLS TO YOUR SOUL." THANK YOU FOR THE REMINDER, SHARONDA.
 

These folks have so much to share. And now we’ve been given this gift of time to connect with one another, to share our knowledge and gifts and stories, to acknowledge each one’s special nature, and to express those things that are nestled within our hearts, to find trust in one another, and to experience this togetherness that holds us close and warm and still. 

** Flow free, Friends, and let the current guide you to the place where you belong. **

August 2016: Being Love

Curiosity and enthusiasm continues to stir wildly during our gatherings at Our Village. The residents have been arriving for our Friday night art fiestas with their personal treasure troves of tools and ideas. As the muse comes dancing in with maracas rattling, they have become the collectors of unfamiliar mediums. From glitter sharpies to oil pastels, metal washers and color pencils, these artists are eager to experiment, and as a fickle artist who also enjoys experimenting with unconventional materials, I’m happy to take part.  

La Verne is an esthetician who owns case in which she carries her skin care products. She has since emptied this hefty toolbox, and has replaced the cleansers, scrubs, and moisturizers with markers, paint brushes, color pencils, and various other tools that a craftswoman might need to delve into her creativity. 

A DETAIL FROM ONE OF LA VERNE'S DRAWINGS AND A NOTE FROM HER SKETCHBOOK

These musings flow so generously among the artists, that notes, quotes, and ideas are often sketched upon loose pieces of paper, post-it notes, and in the margins of the promotional flyers that they’ve received in today’s mail.

Every artist needs a sketchbook. They serve multiple purposes--as journals, planners, to-do list carriers, drawing boards, and a place to collect unfinished thoughts, developing ideas, and musings that may or may not crystalize into anything at all, except for the scribbles upon these tattered pages. I brought each of them a sketchbook to offer them a space to gather their innermost thoughts, and we spent some time decorating them. Each book will comprise their unique inspirations and insights. Each book will be a safe space to document their thoughts and feelings in the handwriting that can only come from their very own hands. 

Pedro working quietly on his falling autumn leaves. It’s always interesting to watch how art affects him. Pedro is a very outgoing man, always with many stories to tell, whether about the changes he's witnessed in his native Santa Ana, or about the current goings on with the neighbors. But, when he falls deep into his work, Pedro will go all evening with hardly a peep. Art has a way of calming us and pulling us into those quiet places, giving us time to reflect, escape, and breath easy. Breathe it in, Pedro. It's all for you. 

with gradiating color, claudia and i work together to introduce the very first elements into her new sketchbook.

Some other thoughts from La Verne’s sketchbook which she has graciously allowed me to share—words gathered from conversations and from books, ideas absorbed, notes to self, and musings that have fallen gently upon her heart.

Of these truths, a few of the ones we have adopted in class as mantra is that there is no limit to art, there is not a method that makes a work of art successful (for its subjectivity is what gives it such great value), and there is no right or wrong in art when we are working from the heart because feelings are neither right nor wrong. They just are. This is what we try to remind each other as we soil our hands with the substances that translate these feelings into a life lived upon paper and canvas.

The Bowers Museum offers us open seats to their free bimonthly Treasures Program which offers art projects, docent-led tours, presentations, and performances, but because many have medical appointments, work, and difficulty traveling, the Heninger residents rarely attend.  I want so much to help expose them to more art and culture, and must remind myself, that we are on time. So, I decided to invite just a few of them in for a studio visit, and was happy that La Verne and Sharonda took me up on my offer. It was a special moment for us, so I pushed the works in progress aside to make room for our hors d'oeuvres on the drawing table—smoked salmon, an array of cheeses, salami, pistachios, and all sorts of berries. We enjoyed the fellowship as they milled around the studio, curious, inquisitive, and eager to begin new projects. 
 

La Verne, sharonda and i spend the afternoon in the studio. We took care in feeling the texture of the stitching, leaves, stone and tree bark between our fingertips, while soaking in the fact that art is ever abundant, and will continue to, until the end of time, surround us. 

When I asked, "When do you know when a painting is finished?" Sharonda replied, “A painting is never finished... you can always add to it."

I walked them through from piece to piece, series to series, discussing materials, intention, concept, words that sparked imagery and narrative, and how these factors coalesce to take form. We shared openly about how much art has shaped, changed, and enlightened us. What a privilege it has been to walk this path with such special individuals as we continuing discovering ourselves together. La Verne expressed:

"I’m just now discovering what’s inside of me. 
When you’ve found something like this after all these years, there’s no stopping."

**Onward, Friends. We've come upon something spectacular.**

July 2016: A New Way of Seeing

Class begins at at 6pm, but when I walked in at 5:30, it looked like the studio session had already begun. La Verne and her daughter, Sharonda, were deeply consumed in their work. Lit with inspiration, they had decided to get a jump start, and had started painting 4 hours before class began. Although class ends at 8pm, we left at 9:30 that evening. Mother and daughter had been painting continuously for 7 ½ hours, and expressed how they couldn’t seem to stop, that inspiration just wouldn’t let them, and that they were determined to finish their paintings for the upcoming show. (La Verne only stopped painting because her "eyes didn't want to work anymore".) They’ve become entranced. And they love it. 

La Verne and Sharonda into their 6th hour of painting

At 6pm, the other residents joined us in the hustle to finish their paintings, which would be displayed in their first ever show. When Genevieve Barrios-Southgate, Director of Community Programs at the Bowers Museum, heard about our senior artists of Heninger Village and the work that we've been doing as part of the Community Engagement + Grand Central Art Center Residency Program, she invited them to show at the museum’s Old Fashioned 4th of July Festival. They were thrilled. La Verne shared:

"A few months ago, I wouldn't have even attempted to paint. I didn't think I had the ability to make art. 
And now, we are going to be showing our paintings at a museum? I could have never imagined."

La Verne, Sharonda, and i stand proudly in front of the students' work. In Sheronda's self portrait, Swimming with the Dolphins, they jump out of the water, representing freedom. One of her wishes is to swim with the dolphins in Hawaii, and to have an opportunity to travel the world. 

Throughout class, I caught myself gently shaking my head with delight as I listened to the group talk about how they couldn’t stop thinking about painting, and about all the ideas they hope to implement in their work. They arrived with their newly-purchased pencil kits, drawing pads, portable paints, and other materials to try out, and it gave me such joy to see how their interest in art was blossoming even brighter. I remember how quickly in love I fell with paint, and my heart beats stronger as I experience it again vicariously through them. This newborn enthusiasm for paint I remember all too well, and I am so grateful to be sharing in this moment as they discover it for themselves. 

Claudia admitted, "I can't stop thinking about painting, and it's making me feel a little crazy."

While Joe worked on his self portrait, he shared, "I can't drive in my car without noticing a color and asking myself, "How do I mix that color? Everything looks like a potential painting now."

And so it begins. Welcoming you to my world with open arms, a knowing grin, and a rag to wipe the paint smudge off of your cheek, Friends. This is one of the reasons why I am so in love with art and creativity in whichever way it presents itself. It offers us new lenses through which we can observe our spectacular world. I am delighted to be a spectator as these artists experience this in their own way, at their own pace, and through their own eyes. 

A couple nights ago at his job, Joe helped some of his coworkers clean some food trays. We laughed as Joe described the moment: 

"It was so beautiful. At any other time, I would have just seen it as food, but now I'm seeing everything so differently. 
The red and the green of the guacamole and the salsa was mixed together like some beautiful abstract painting. I could have taken the tray and put it up on the wall, and I wouldn't have even been able to tell the difference."

Yes, Yes, and Yes.

Co Kim Thoan demonstrates her techniques on this test sheet. Really. how beautiful is this? 

One of my other students, Co Kim Thoan, whom I’ve worked with closely since 2013 through the Bowers Museum’s Treasures Program, has also been joining us. With gentle eyes, a confidence in her brush strokes, and an ease in her hands, she flicked her paintbrush steadily to paint the palm tree that stood tall on the shores of Vietnam. The Heninger residents watched in awe. Nearing the end of class, she spent some time demonstrating her different techniques for the students - the mixing of colors to create her sky blue, the smudging of paint with a paper towel to capture its gradience, the dabbing of the paintbrush to incite the blooming poppies.

This is what I had hoped for. This is what we had hope would come from this project for our community. That this creativity, these skills, newfound or continued, would fuel more inspiration, light, and curiosity into their lives. That these moments spent together would marinate into a warm broth from which they could continually sip. Our hope was that they would continue flourishing together, sharing their ideas, knowledge, excitement, and stories with one another, even after this residency culminates. It's all happening. Right before our very eyes, right through our very eyes, and right out of our fingertips. And it’s a spectacular thing to watch.

When Co Thoan had first began painting, back in 2013, she said to me (and I will always remember this):

"I’ve lived with these clouds hovering above me for all my life, 
and I’m just now fully recognizing their beauty."

Amen, Sister. Isn’t that one of the exquisite truths that art reveals to us? Creativity pulls us over a microscope where we can get a closer glimpse of the beauty that exists all around us. The ordinary becomes elegantly simple; the mundane becomes part of the rhythm upon which we can stride with the movement of this glorious life. Art helps us see life from a clearer lens. It helps us focus on those things that evoke our curiosities, and allows us to question, seek answers, and believe in the potential that lies in things big and small, and most importantly, within us.

** Stay inspired, my friends**

June 2016: Where Things Bloom

I had been spending more one-on-one time with the Heninger residents, so I was anxious to begin painting more regularly with our group and introduce some color to our work.

I arrived at Heninger Village that in the warmth of the evening, already jittery, even on my coffee fast, because I knew that it was going to be a most productive and energizing day. After all the efforts in cold calling, spreading the word with residents I’d encounter while spending time in the Village, designing multiple flyers that were delivered to each one’s doorstep, it was my colorful, hand painted sign placed in window that had attracted some curiosity. Our Sycamorean neighbors would arrive, ready to get their paintbrush tips saturated with radiant colors like the ones found in Mexican folk paintings.

Sycamore trees guard their street that leads to Heninger Village, and during my walks over, the Eucalyptus shed their bark, leaving crumbs to guide me along my path, like out of some fairy tale. The journey leads me [about one thousand] paces from my front door. 

As we gathered for some blueberry cookies, we discussed symbolism, and I asked them to think about a place or thing that might represent who they are. Before beginning their new self portraits, they took a few moments to ponder, and then eagerly began painting. Everyone painted quietly and listened as some of the residents opened up to share more about themselves.

The Music Man

As Joe swirled the brush upon the gleaming white surface, his wife, Carol, stepped into the room, bright and beaming and with book in hand. She flipped back and forth between its pages and our conversations, walking over from her cozy chair from time to time to take a closer look at the all the color spilling out upon the table. In the 70’s, Joe played with several popular bands, and his eyes lit up as he remembered the days when they performed together. 

A self-taught guitarist and vocalist, Joe has become our resident DJ. For each class, he brings music to inspire our work. The music he has played for us includes his own covers of popular blues and rock hits, and CD mixes entitled Music to Inspire, Sounds from the East, and Movie Soundtracks, which includes Danny Elfman’s lovely score to the film Edward Scissorhands. Joe always surprises us with the music he brings, and sometimes, he thoughtfully comes bearing gifts - multiple copies of his "mix of the day" for residents to take home with them and enjoy. (*sigh* This is such a special bunch we have here.) 

On the first day Joe and I met, we exchanged some friendly banter over the NBA Finals, and this Cavaliers fan’s eyes smiled as he recounted the previous evening's Cleveland win, his early life memories, and his love of music. Joe's painting accurately describes his personality: cheerful, optimistic, fun-loving, and full of bright, positive energy.

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Joe Buffardi. Sunset in Joey B Minor, acrylic on paper, 19 x 24"
When Joe moved to California from Philadelphia, he saw his first sunset. He recalls, "It felt like I was a mirror with the sky reflecting off of my face. I love music and nature, so this, too, was added to my score."

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Lidia Tena. Recuerdo de Cuba, acrylic on paper, 19 x 24"
Here, Lidia paints herself at age 15, standing upon Cuban soil. She recalls the clear blue Cuban skies and its crystal waters. She remembers the palm tress from which her family gathered the fronds to build the roof of the home into which she was born. 

Remembering Cuba

Lidia painted a herself at 15 years old with her feet rooted in Cuban soil. To the left, her ballia, the house in which she was born, palm fronds shelter the family from the warm Cuban sun and rain storms that sweep through town. Lidia spent some time describing to us the different species of palm that grew on the island. There are some whose fibers are crosshatched, and when arranged correctly, can sustain for years. The palms that grew nearby her home, however, had thinner, hatched fronds, so it was necessary for her family to replace them regularly.

(While describing the palm trees, she actively spoke with her hands, since she speaks predominantly Spanish, and my vocabulary is so limited. She drew lines in the air, intertwined her fingers, and gestured to the sky, to helped me understand “crosshatched”. It’s truly amazing how much we can understand when we truly want to!)

As a teenager, Lidia was forced into a labor camp for two years under the regime of Fidel Castro. Even with these looming atrocious memories, Lidia speaks fondly of her homeland as she recalls,  

“There is no bluer blue than the waters of Cuba and the skies above them.” 

***

The Gatherer

Pedro, who also goes by Peter, is a very special man. Although he is in a wheelchair, he is one of the most active participants in the Village. He has been described as a leader by his neighbors, and has shown so much love, kindness, and warmth in welcoming me into the Heninger Village community. It took several months for Peter to assemble a small group of residents to participate in Lotería, or Mexican bingo. Now, several times a week, they convene, with poker chips, glass beads, wooden blocks, and other unique items which they use as their Lotería markers, carts full of food to share, and enthusiastic hearts. It brings me great joy to now be included in this fellowship. During breaks, we sip on coffee, share snacks, and sometimes have dinner, and when we are lucky, Maria Luna brings her homemade tortilla soup. We chat, and I listen in on their conversations, also admiring their patience as I ask them about their lives in incorrectly-conjugated past tenses, trying to think up various words in Spanish, looking to Pedro for help, and staring off to the corner of the room as I speak, as if the answers are hidden there. 

***

Thank you, Heninger Clan for welcoming me into your home, and sharing these moments of your life with me.  I have thoroughly enjoyed my evenings with you, and am looking forward to learning more about what brings you joy, and hearing the stories that have led you right here, where we now meet and continue growing. Together.

What a privilege it is to be part of this project that brings together community through creativity and conversation. There is so much love here.

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PEDRO HERRERA. LOTERIA PEDRO, ACRYLIC ON PAPER, 19 X 24"
WITH ENTHUSIASM, PEDRO HAS BROUGHT THE HENGINGER COMMUNITY TOGETHER BY HOSTING FREQUENT GATHERINGS WHERE THE RESIDENTS CAN SHARE IN THE EXCITEMENT OF LOTERIA, OR MEXICAN BINGO. HERE IN THIS SELF-PORTRAIT, PETER IS SURROUNDED BY THE ITEMS ONE CAN FIND IN LOTERIA - EL TAMBOR (THE DRUM), LAS JARAS (THE ARROWS), EL MANO (THE HAND), EL ARBOL (THE TREE), AND LA SANDIA (THE WATERMELON).

May 2016: Found Threads

Our Village gathers on a sunny afternoon, with charcoal smothered all over our hands and smudges on our cheeks. Since charcoal was a fairly new medium for most of the students, I brought in some drawings for them to reference, to give them a chance to play and get a feel of how different kinds of charcoal can behave, how much the marks may vary, and how delicate lines can be drawn into deep, heavy ribbons. The room flushed with unfettering cheer as they giggled joyfully at themselves, at each other, at each other's drawings, and at the charcoal dust that somehow made it to someone's brow.

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a peep of the sketchbook: CHÚ LÊ ĐỨC'S LESSON ON CHỮ HÁN. HIS CHARACTERS, DRAWN IN PINK, SURROUNDED BY MY COPIOUS NOTES. second character On the bottow row: "Spirit".

After class, Chú Lê Đức graciously invited me over to his apartment that serves as a gallery as much as it does his dwelling. With his original works in delicate watercolor, expressive acrylic, rich oil paintings, and splashes of Chinese calligraphy, I stood spinning on a single axis, taking it all in. I immediately walked toward his desk, where bold, black swaths were painted upon delicate rice paper, and before we knew it, we were deep into my first lesson on chữ Hán. During our lesson, he tells me: 

"The Spirit must come into agreement with the language

for one to know and to understand

the heart of the language and its characters."

[ And now a quick break for a most beautiful lesson: The character for the word "Spirit" (see image on left) is written by combining the two characters, "tree" (left) and "chi", or energy (right). Together, the characters create this abstract line drawing to describe its essential definition: "Spirit is the energy that leans upon the tree to hold one steady". Honestly. How beautiful is that? ]

We sipped on jasmine tea from his pure white porcelain teacups as he continued leading me deeper into his life. I learned that Chú Lê Đức is a father, an intellectual, a poet as much as a painter, a natural teacher, and during the Paris Peace Accords, he worked in Paris as a media correspondent. 

I shared with him that soon after arriving in America, my grandfather, Trần Vân Học, also served as a media correspondent for Spirit of Vietnam, an organization based out of Harrisburg, PA, which gave assistance to newly arriving Vietnamese refugees. Ông Ngoại (grandfather) was a language arts teacher who taught English in Vietnam before arriving with his family at Fort Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania, in 1975. He would go on to help organize Spirit of Vietnam until his passing in 1979. Ông Ngoại's role at the organization was to translate the American news into Vietnamese, which would then be broadcast through Spirit of Vietnam's radio station, informing the Vietnamese American community of what was happening back at home in Vietnam, and here at home in the United States. (At that time, my mother her older sister were paid $1.20/hr to read the news on air.) After chatting further, we discovered that Chú Lê Đức knew of my grandfather and my grandfather's work.

We laughed together as we unearthed this tie that binds us, this path that brought us right here where we belong, sitting face to face among his paintings, and sharing our commonalities. How magnificent is this life that we, as humanity, are so much more closely connected than we can ever fathom ?! 

Oh, these glorious, invisible, found threads. I walked home with my ankles tangled in them, their silky strands pulling in all directions, provoking me to search for their ends, though I knew there were none. Sometimes life can be sweeter than the pineapple he sent me home with. 

MY Ông Ngoại, my mother's father, at spirit of vietnam. 1976.

March 2016: The social practice of letting go and meeting people where they are

While developing curriculum for the Bowers Museum and the Pacific Symphony a few years ago, I created a set schedule for 8-week and 4-week classes, which were planned for 50+ students. At that time, I found comfort in keeping a strict schedule; I liked having control over my days by having my lessons and dates lined up. I've also worked closely for lengthy periods of time with a handful of obsessive-compulsive individuals, and witnessed how their tightly-scheduled agenda resulted in their monumental accomplishments. (You know who you are, and you are just as much crazy as you are appreciated and loved! :)

When beginning the program at Heninger Village, which houses a large Latino and Vietnamese population, my detailed schedule did not go according to plan. At all. These seniors have busy lives with constant appointments, and many of them are isolated and disengaged like many of our elders, and this makes it challenging for them to open up to new experiences, which can include making time to attend class. I was a guest in their home, and so I felt it important to begin by taking part in their communal activities.

Then sprouted my fervor for Lotería, a Mexican Bingo of sorts, which helped me brush up on my Spanish vocabulary and allowed me to spend time doing the things that they enjoy. (And what they really enjoy doing is hustling me out of my laundry quarters!) During breaks, the residents eat together, and this is when I find joy in the eavesdropping as part of my Spanish lesson. (The other day, there was a lot of drama being discussed, but all I could make out was that there was a dog involved.)

[As I write this, mariachi trumpets blow out of the speakers at a local coffee shop.]

Lotería with the lovely Marias

It had been a challenge organizing the class, and getting them to accompany me to the museum, which was planned as part of their program. I began feeling defeated. And then I had to rethink the situation. I was brought on board to engage in social practice first and foremost, a practice of connecting with the community. The goal was for me, the artist, to engage and collaborate with the residents of Heninger Village, in whichever form the process takes. I had to remind myself that it is foremost about the connection and stirring up a creative movement within the community. The art and sharing would find its way in, but the trust and the relationships would have to come first. 

It was time to put the idea of *human first* into practice and apply it to the work that I would be doing with the Heninger Village. My art-making has always been the byproduct of my wanting to connect with life and all its details, with the people I love, with the past and the present, and with the ideas that swish around in my head like a steady tide. My work has been a documentation of the search and a means to the discovery. Such should be the same approach to working with the elders, yes?

YES. HUMAN FIRST.

And so I revisit the idea of social practice, think about what it means to me, and ponder upon the intention of it all, with some notes:

1.     Building trust foremost through the connectivity and engagement with those in my community. 

2.    Learning to let go of the ideas that I have about what art is, how it should be created, and how the method “should work”. Instead, allow relationships grow organically and trust that the process will take form on its own time, in its own way, and varying with each individual.

3.    The success is in quality of the relationships made, the way in which residents interact and come together, and how the time spent with one another brings light to their community. I will have faith that the art will find its role in this collective mission. 

4.    That my being welcomed into the Heninger community is a beautiful thing. And although the art projects are slow to come, we are indeed being creative together as we build these new relationships, and strengthen existing ones. After all, living life, and sharing our life with others, is one of the most creative things we can do, yes?

5.   There is so much for us to learn from one other, and learning takes time. We are on our own time, and Time has been good to us. We're all still here living life, aren't we?

A quote by Howard Thurman, Educator, Philosopher, Theologian, and Civil Rights Leader, which I think sums it up beautifully ... 

We can also say the same for one's own life. One's own life cannot for long feed on itself; it can only flourish with the coming of others from beyond, their unknown and undiscovered brothers and sisters. Thank you, Community Engagement, Grand Central Art Center, and neighbors, for coming into my life and walking with me on this journey! 

***

February 2016: Recentering

Grand. Central. Art. Centered in downtown Santa Ana, I am working with the senior residents of Heninger Village. My project’s mission is to engage with this community through autobiographical art workshops in conjunction with oral histories to help the elders document their stories to leave with their succeeding generations, with the help of the format used by the Vietnamese American Oral History Project.

young artists from the orange county school of the arts deep into their studies on the promenade

We now are proud residents of Grand Central Art Center, where the street is named after the trees that shelter our walkways. Equipped with four galleries, a theater, a flamenco studio, a wood shop, a cooking studio, a café, clusters of artist studios, and sharing a seven-minute-walk-radius with over a dozen other galleries, this is a place where artists are set up to thrive, succeed, and get inspired, be inspired, and stay inspired.

On any given day, we will be greeted with gallery-wandering guests, artists working through their installations, young painters en plein air, residents tending to their gardens, and sometimes with a knock on our door handing offerings of homemade lemon curd, spring salad, or freshly baked cookies. I must confess that as much as I've always wanted to be, I've never been neighborly. Even as a child, life always felt too busy for me in my little world, which carried on to my adult life, and I never made time to engage much more than with a sheepish wave hello. Now, living among 27 artist neighbors in a communal living quarter, the warm sense of home and neighbor has me making an extra cup of tea on most days.

When Mother came to visit, she wandered wide-eyed and in awe of what we had been granted as we gave her a tour of our quarters. She said, "Ti, this is your dream". But the truth is that I could not have ever thought this up to dream of it. I've been given this gift of creativity, and now I'm being equipped with a very kind, and most supportive team of collaborators to help me share this gift in service to the community? Now that's some over-the-rainbow, way-up-high, where-blue-birds-fly type Goodness. (Except here in Orange County, it's where green parrots fly. We wake up to them some mornings as they squawk their way through the neighborhood.)

meeting my neighbors: "buenos dias, Señor. me llamo trinh, y soy un artista, nueva a santa ana. que hermosa es su nieta. puedo tocar su photo, por favor?"  

As these hands have worked tirelessly through the years, it is those who are committed to community work and their organizations that have opened doors to continue stressing to me the importance of community service, and to show me what heights can be achieved while working together. Their dedication to focus on the importance of education, of putting people first, and bringing art to the community, have helped mold me into an active participant, helping life unfold further into one of fulfillment and meaning. One of the truest blessings in Life is that we will always be given an opportunity to be a blessing to others, yes? (*Rest in Peace, Dear Prince.*) I do want to be this for my neighbors, and I'm so grateful to have this chance to do so, to be given the abundant resources to help me, in a new community in which we all are learning together.

***

November 2015: Asking Boldly

I’ve never been claustrophobic, but its mass came over me, as my heart looked to Co Be’s chattering typewriter to find a steady pace, and every cell inside of me wanted to burst out of my body to gulp some new air. Even the safety of my own bed was no comfort to me. For eight months, I carried the density of these letters as burdens, and these inherited memories of a thick, humid jungle suffocated me. The birds were sent as our protectors, but their shrieks could not call off the bombs in the distance. We were deafened by the chaos and the silence, blinded by the night. The damp soil swallowed our feet whole and sipped from the blood, a foreboding that we would once again become part of the earth.

This is the weight that art, and love, sometimes must bear.

I have frequent conversations with God. Sometimes, it’s to ask for help with the simple things. God, please help me get there safely on time. And sometimes, it’s for the more important things. God, please help me be more patient with people. God, please be with Mother. She needs You right now. God, please help us get through this. And sometimes, it’s just to give thanks. God, Thank You for always providing. God, my plants are so happy right now. Thank you for flushing them with life!

But on this day, defeat, frustration, and anger draped heavily over me like a blood-soaked blanket as I sat in our tiny little apartment in Long Beach, feeling isolated from our community. I cried out to God. Pled, whined, and shouted.

"I CANNOT BREATHE! I NEED SPACE TO GROW!
WE HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO, AND WE CANNOT DO THEM HERE ANY LONGER!"
 

Just a few days later, I received a Call to Creatives from a friend, an opportunity that seemed much too good to be true, but in fact, was true. Community Engagement, a new non-profit, was searching for dedicated artists to help make lasting impacts upon underrepresented communities through art and social practice. 

Sometimes, it's not enough to wish. Sometimes, we just have to ask boldly.

making a wish under grandmother's soursop tree