Flesh of my Flesh, 2020, Belle’s acrylic, charcoal, dirt collected from the garlic fields in which my husband Hiền and his family labored with other immigrant families when first arriving in America to be compensated one dollar per bucket harvested, holy water, ink, Pacific Ocean water collected from the harbor of San Pedro, where Hiền served time in the immigration detention center, and tears shed for him as I considered the hardships that he has endured on paper; arrows crafted with indigenous methods using found branches, found feathers, found string, and wax. Drawing 42 x 94 ½”, installation dimensions variable.
Trinh Mai
Artist Statement
As my work shares insight into personal life experiences, it also communicates the messages that have found their rhythms in the human experience to remind us that there is nothing new under the sun.
As a second-generation Vietnamese American, art has become an invaluable tool that has granted me the opportunity to live the refugee, immigrant experiences vicariously through the ones who arrived before me, allowing me to interpret these stories through my own ears, eyes, and hands. With deep respect, I bind these inherited stories into our witnessing of history’s alliteration, of persecution and injustice, of mass exodus and the tribulations that we continue to face upon arrival, and of the anticipated opportunities that indeed await us on new horizons as we set our gaze upon home and promise.
My current work serves as an aperture into which I examine the stories of enduring People who have been targeted worldwide, amidst an immigration and refugee crisis that has been a consistent humanitarian struggle throughout all of human history. Drawn from intimate experiences of heartache and triumph, of struggle and perseverance, and of loss and fulfillment, my art practice strives to find comfort by searching for and then sharing the discovered faith, fulfillment, and freedom that have fostered me/Us during these anguishing times.
Through the creative process, I am able to adopt the joys and the hardships that persist in these meandering liminal spaces wherein we experience these histories. I rewrite them as true tales of triumph, also a reminder that out of tragedy is ever born the blessings that we might have never been able to predict could or would come.
I pay respect to the details in the work as I hope to do in life. The often-overlooked details in my work are brought to attention by my efforts to be more sensitive to those things that go unnoticed, those things that we take for granted, and those quiet moments when the profundity of Life can speak so clearly to us. These works also speak on the healing that occurs on a human and universal level, while we wade through the circumstances of life, striving to find meaning and look to the passage of time and forgiveness to mend things fractured.
I believe in the power of art and its ability to repair the irreparable. It is the channel through which I connect my spiritual to my earthly existence, to tell the stories that we might all share. For me, it has made the intangible tangible and the unseen visible, and somehow, offers comfort in the seemingly unbearable. It is my form of study and of prayer, and through my work, I share this journey that is ours, through this trying and blessèd life.
To learn more about Trinh Mai’s work, please visit www.trinhmai.com
Flesh of my Flesh, detail of American Goldfinch, a resident of the United States, and silver-breasted broadbill, native of Cambodia
Flesh of my Flesh, detail of handcrafted arrow made with feathers of green parrot, found in Orange County wherein resides the largest population of Vietnamese people outside of Việt Nam
More About Flesh of my Flesh
Many of the Psalms were written during times of war, lamenting suffering, rebuking those responsible for the suffering, protesting innocence, petitioning for divine assistance, anticipating collective response, and with sincere thanksgiving even through the turmoil.
This portrait was inspired by Psalm 91, a prayer of protection for the faithful and the suffering.
During the immigration crisis that has pervaded neighboring countries and our very own, ICE raids suffered by the households of refugee and immigrant families often take place during the still of the night when our families are most vulnerable. Injustice knows no time. These attacks occur night and day.
Psalm 91:5 and 91:7 reads:
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
While meditating on these verses, the prayer moves from faith into promise.
Perhaps the thousand and ten thousand are our fallen neighbors, or the arrows that have just missed their marks, preserving the lives of we who are the privileged—the ones who know freedom and know life still. As tens of thousands of Vietnamese American refugees have been detained since our arrival on American shores, many have been unlawfully deported back to a country whose communist regime regards them as defectors, agitators, traitors, enemies. They now face the very persecution from which they had fled during the war in Việt Nam in the 1970s.
Some of the arrows are made with the feathers of the California great horned owl, a bird that is documented as a permanent resident of its territory. We can only hope for this same status. While the arrows aim to pierce flesh, my husband stands confidently even on unstable ground amid the battle. This portrait serves as a visual prayer of protection for we who are teetering on the trembling foundation of justice, that we might stand firm in the active faith that will provide us with sure footing. Guarding him: an American Goldfinch, a resident of the United States; a Silver-Breasted Broadbill, native to Cambodia; and a Vietnamese Greenfinch, a bird found only found in Việt Nam. One protects his mind from fear while blessing with strategic, righteous, and compassionate thinking; another perches upon his shoulder, whispering wisdom into his ear; while the third protects his arms, reminding him to move gently and tactfully, even while displaying strength.