OPENING RECEPTION
APRIL 24 @ 6-9PM
CLOSING RECEPTION
MAY 25 @ 1-3PM
EXHIBITION ON VIEW
APRIL 25 - MAY 25, 2025
LOCATION
SOMARTS CULTURAL CENTER - MAIN GALLERY
934 BRANNAN STREET, SAN FRANCISCO, CA 94103
SOMARTS GALLERY HOURS
THURSDAYS, 3:00-7:30PM
FRIDAY, 12:00–7:30 PM
SATURDAY - SUNDAY, 12:00–5:00PM
A Promise Unspoken
Brown Palms Yellow Balms: Reinventing Caregivers of Color
My contribution to this group exhibition is— A Promise Unspoken is a personal exploration of caregiving, resilience, and identity. This installation honors my mother’s journey—a story of loss, sacrifice, and transformation that reflects broader narratives within the AAPI community.
The central painting
Memories & Obstacles is a 40”x60” acrylic painting on canvas, the color palette—black, sepia, and neon orange—mirrors that tension between memory and presence. The neon feels almost like a flash of recollection—sudden, vivid, but deeply felt.
At its core, this piece is about identity and the quiet shifts that happen over time. Walking behind my mother, I feel the role reversal—once cared for by her, now I’m there to support her. Meanwhile, she moves toward her past self, drawn to the life she once knew. That moment—where past and present nearly touch—captures the essence of who she was, who she is, and how those versions of her coexist.
Alongside this painting are two mixed media prints, each with their own stories to tell— of me and my siblings. Through personal memory, folklore, and visual storytelling, A Promise Unspoken reframes caregiving as a transformative act of empowerment. It invites viewers to reflect on the resilience, reinvention, and enduring legacy of those who came before us.
A Closer Look [The Altar]
Altar Top
Tiger In The Box—part offering, part memory capsule, holds a tiger behind bars—caged but still full of potential. In front of it, a cherry blossom—a symbol of fleeting beauty and the passage of time. Covering this box is a screen-printed image of my mother’s reimagined passport and my birth certificate. Passports dictate access and identity; birth certificates mark a beginning, a claim to existence. By collaging them onto the box, I’ve turned these official documents into something more personal—an artifact of lineage, migration, and inherited stories.
Additionally, Laying across the top are three arrows, Hamaya- signifying luck as it is known to ward off evil if placed on rooftop facing northeast, the direction from which oni (demons) are traditionally believed to come.
First Shelf
A mixed media painting of Kannon, the bodhisattva of compassion hangs surrounded by paper cranes, Tibetan prayer flags, kokeshi dolls, and a Uchiwa Daiko (Buddhist fan drum). A small cushion, which once held a singing bell my mother replaced over time but never discarded, now holds a broken cup. I repaired it using a method I call "faux kintsugi"—crazy glue and gold paint to highlight the cracks. Around it are five milagros, tiny metal charms stitched onto the fabric, representing prayers, protection, and gratitude. Inside the cup are acorns, symbols of growth and resilience.
Middle Shelf
An accordion-style Nichiren Shū prayer book, a small paper mâché inu hariko (for luck and protection), kokeshi dolls, a lavender and crystal smudge stick, and a bird perched on a wooden toy block represent small acts of care, protection, and healing.
Bottom Shelf
Two ceramic sake bottles and cups sit here; one cup filled with rice grains and an acorn as an offering to Inari, the Shinto kami of rice and prosperity. At the center is an antique kusuri bako, a Japanese medicine box from the Edo period, traditionally used to store medicinal herbs and remedies. Though not a family heirloom, this box holds deep personal meaning. Inside it is a portrait of my sister, who was my mother’s full-time caregiver and now cares for her father, a U.S. veteran and former child prisoner during the Japanese American internment.
The box symbolizes how caregiving is passed down—not only through objects but through memory, action, and love. My sister’s image honors her sacrifices and the broader tradition of caregiving in our family. It speaks to the unspoken bonds between us—passed down, often silently, through care that sustains us.
Next to the kusuri bako is my paper mâché’ kitsune, a sacred and playful figure in Japanese folklore, balanced on a folding ruler. It evokes the fluidity between worlds, the balance between movement and structure, past and present. Its presence here feels natural—both pieces connected to healing, protection, and the quiet endurance of love.
Floor
Small wooden stool with a singing bell and joss paper (spirit money) for visitors to write prayers, wishes, or comments. Holding down the spirit money sits a small stone wrapped in reed, created by artist Na Omi Shintani, drawing from Japanese traditions of sacred object binding. It’s protective and intentional use, is a quiet act of care and love.
On either side of the stool are unframed works: a screen print of my mother laughing, and a poem I wrote for her memorial in 2015 titled Wake and Cry. The poem reflects the complexity of family, caregiving, and the bittersweet passage of time.