egg tempera

Người Nuôi, Người Đợi

48″ x 60″

2026

In 2025, a lone, lost, Amur Stonechat, a bird species native to Vietnam, was spotted in Houston for the first time. Like the bird, I had found myself in Houston after leaving my mother behind 20 years ago to search for a better life in the United States. This portrait imagines the moment that I, alongside my three brothers, return to her.

Through egg tempera portraiture, a medium associated with religious arts such as Egyptian funerary portraits and Orthodox icons, I venerate my mother as an example of the Vietnamese working-class and single mother. At the same time, I use layered symbolisms to de-idealize the concept of motherhood. Her smile contains both pride and a hint of sadness. A window is both a point of liberation and a cage. Mountains of rice, each grain individually painted, at once reflects her tremendous labor raising her children until they are ready to “leave the nest,” and her days waiting for them to come home.

Em

24″ x 36″

2026

We snuck in a photoshoot for my reference when our family weren’t home with the clothes they had kept hidden away. The title “Em” is a Vietnamese pronoun used to refer to a younger person (my sibling in this case), but is also a feminine pronoun in a relationship. The title and the painting itself also reference the painting “Em Thuý” by Trần Văn Cẩn which Vietnamese art institutions have canonized as one of the great art works.

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“Lan” là tên của mẹ/ “Orchid” is my mother’s name

30″ x 48″

2026

A painting about my relationship with my mother (whose name is literally Orchid) during the 23 years I had lived oversea without her.

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Altar

30″ x 48″

2025

One half is about my relationship with a loved one who came out as trans to me. I don’t live in Vietnam so I can’t be there for them as I should.

The other half is just about queer love and intimacy in general. The tiled floor and yellow wall is inspired by the Viet temples while the space itself resembles the home I grew up in. A few of the childhood photos were lent to me by queer friends. My partner lent me make up and props.

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Ghost

24″ x 36″

2025

Cement tiles (gạch bông) is an artisan-made material that came to Vietnam during the French Colonial period. The material at one point mostly disappeared from Vietnam with the advent of easier produced materials, and as old buildings are demolished to be replaced with more modern, minimalist, architectures. I grew up around these tiles, with distinct memories of tracing their decorative outlines as a kid. I replicated this specific design from my grandmother’s home, which was demolished while I was abroad. Watching these changes from a distance due to my life abroad makes me feel like a ghost, foreign and perhaps even invasive like the tiles. The further I move away the more I find myself clinging to their memories for dear life.