A distorted piano encompasses a majority of the painting. It may not be immediately recognizable as a piano due to the flattened perspective and lack of visible black and ivory keys. This is intentional. Abstracting the piano in this way allows the instrument to become a sort of reliquary; a decorative and therefore important piece of furniture, whose function is to contain and safeguard emotional content. Such as a decorative lacquered box made for meaningful jewelry. Whose aesthetic purpose imbues a simple container with the aura of inarticulate significance. Much like an altar or shrine.

The imagery of death and commemoration has always stood out to me due to the sharp contrast that exists between my two cultures. In East Asia, the relationship with the remnants and relics of the deceased was everywhere. Found in home altars, mountain temples, and in the jubilant civic celebrations. My grandfather made the decorative floats or moving street displays that commemorated spirits, ancestors, and the deceased. Eye-opening, vivid colors and patterns paraded the streets, while the air was filled with a transcendental haze of burning, aromatic incense, loud gunpowder, hypnotic recordings, clattering, and chants, enhanced by the spiritual embodiment of vocal outcries in all varieties. In America, the etiquette surrounding ancestors and death is overwhelmed by silence and appears achromatic. Its biblical influence is captured perfectly in Jean-François Millet's 1859 painting, L’Angélus. Quite the contrast from the bombastic sensory experience of my East Asian experiences surrounding the same subject matter.

The combining of two cultural traditions has the power to elevate the mundane. Ubiquity is disrupted, so it requires a moment to process. As I shuffle through my collection of vintage American family photographs, my momentum is halted by these disruptions. Often appearing in puzzling small details taken out of context. In this case, several untouched gift-wrapped presents were haphazardly stacked on a piano bench. On the board (mantle) of the piano, aligned and angled neatly with some precision, are framed photographs of assumed family members. This image evokes the altars in my family members’ homes, intended to memorialize the dead. Between blinks, I am transported and can see a bowl of rice, fruit, boiled poultry, and smell the sandalwood arranged with consideration, framing the portraits. A display in nearly perfect symmetry, creating a triangular composition as in a Pieta. The untouched gifts in the photograph are serving in place of the meal offering that exists in another world. Contextually, gazing down at the found black and white photograph is as real to me as the images in my mind’s eye.

In these paintings, I chose to commemorate significant Asian Americans. Pioneers who occupy the diaspora’s presence in the American landscape. I like to imagine there exists a kinship in shared experience, in imaginative ways, as my own Asian American ancestors. They include, from left to right, Vincent Chin, Hazel Ying Lee, Corporal Joseph Pierce, Anna May Wong, Grace Lee Boggs, and photo journalist Louis Lee.