They fought for the soil, for the children to mourn on.
Tag: Father
In Memory of My Father
This box turned out to be about the death of my father (1925-1986). In thinking about the exhibition and before I actually had the box in my hands I thought of “hope chests” and “Pandora’s box,” both representing women’s issues and lives. But behind these thoughts was always the image of coffins and bone boxes (the boxes that the bones of the dead in Greece are transferred into after their initial burial).
After receiving the box and playing around with it for awhile, I had to go with the more direct, personal association of my father’s death. So it became a shrine, a memento mori, a symbolic object. The words on top are FUTURE, PLACE, GOOD MAN, LIES. The words inside of the half-open box are HERA, MOTHER, THERAPY, FATHER, DREAM, STRANGER. We will all go to this future place. Here, a good man, lies. Hera, Greek goddess, wife of Zeus, mother/father/therapy, dream, father stranger.
Yes, I am Still Alive
I worked on this box right after my dad had open heart surgery and so I felt like I had no thick skin protecting my love.
Al Cuore del Cuor
My connection and admiration for my fellow women grow ever stronger as I grow older. This was to have been the theme of my box.
My father died in my arms a short while ago, calling “Mama.” How varied, how interchangeable, how understanding of the incomprehensible we must be. How I strive to trust my instinct that taps deep, deep, deep into the strength, the capacity, the tenacity of a woman.
My box is for my father, whom I miss with all my hearts. He was a painter, he taught me to see.
Transmitting Life
This project is dedicated to my father. My dad has been a friend to me since I was young. Being a traditional Asian man, he has never made me feel inferior for being female. In fact, he gave me the space to develop my potential as a person. This work allows me to express my reflections on my dad’s failing health. Initially, I wanted to portray the notion of dying, but through prayers and time spent with him, I realized that even though his days are numbered, his undying sense of humor, his child-likeness, and his concern and love for the well-being of his loved ones have never diminished. Through his dying, I gradually learn to live; not to escape but to be present and available to my family. The red paper signifies the vibrancy of life which my father shares with me. In a symbolic gesture, visitors are encouraged to touch the paper and get their fingers tainted and red.
Beatrice’s Box – A Coffin
The figures on the top represent her husband and four children who were all murdered during the genocide. She had to (forced) watch, as her husband was hacked into four or five pieces. Overwhelmed with tears, she could not go any further.
Note the small red heart on the side.
