Canto Cutie - Volume 1

Canto Cutie
An art zine about the
Cantonese diaspora

Transience
Oil on canvas
Charlotte Siu

Curated by Katherine Leung
Featured Artists
Tsz Kam, Austin
Matthew Lee, New York
Erica Pang, Vancouver
Brenda Chi, Los Angeles
Elaine Chiu, Hong Kong
Kanny Yeung, Hong Kong
Artists and Writers
Charlotte Siu, Hong Kong
Raymond Chong, Sugar Land
Arron Luo, Atlanta
Felix Wong, Amsterdam
Theodora Yu, Hong Kong

From the Curator
3
Growing up in the American Southwest, I was
constantly asked, “what are you?” or “where are you
from?” They weren’t asking for my hometown of Austin,
Tucson, or San Jose. I didn’t like this question because
it made me feel different from the dominant culture of
white Americans, who probably did not get asked that
question. Usually, I proudly answer that question with a
rote speech of my-parents-are-from-Hong-Kong-
which-means-we-speak-Cantonese-at-home-and-
Cantonese-sounds-different-and-is-written-differentlyfrom-Chinese.
At a young age, I made it my personal
mission to educate outsiders on Cantonese culture.
Even with my Hong Kong pride, I never felt at home in
Asian spaces. I have been to Hong Kong four times in
my life. With each visit, I tripped over my words and felt
shame for knowing so little of the language I spent so
much time explaining to Americans.
When I was a student at the University of Texas, I
signed up for an international student partnership
program. At first, I asked to be paired with new
students from Hong Kong in an attempt to practice
Cantonese. Those international students didn’t like me
right away. We had nothing in common. I internalized
that I represented everything that they didn’t like about
America - that I was culture-less and not the
authentically American “guide” they had hoped for
from the program. I had also internalized these
students as symbols of the “old country”, not open to
cosmopolitain or liberal ideas and wearing the wrong
clothes, the wrong hairstyles. I did a lot better when I
was paired with students outside of Asia.

Asian-American activism is also difficult because
there’s such a disconnect in how first, second, and
third generation immigrants engage with issues. There
isn’t much solidarity between those connected to their
“home” countries and with Asian-presenting activists
who are monolingual in English. Many of those
activists speak out overwhelmingly about Asian-
American representation in media, an issue that I don’t
have the emotional capacity to engage.
I spend my days working at public schools serving
latinx students, at nature camps serving black
students, protesting alongside a diverse body of youth
and community organizers. Police brutality and family
separation weigh much more heavily in my daily life
than Asian representation in the Hollywood, in my
opinion, and I find the lack of discretion has led to the
latest Asian-American produced media to be a
celebration of hyper-capitalistic values, a decadent
“arrival” onto the globalist stage, going as far as to
silencing countless Asian voices that shed doubt in
China’s imperialist mission. Despite it all, I seek
belonging, while feeling love for my Cantonese
brothers and sisters.
My intention with Canto Cutie was not only to create a
community of artists of the Cantonese Diaspora, but to
celebrate one that exists. Artists all across the diaspora
are doing amazing things and using their art to be
heard. Some make art to try to initiate incremental
changes in their own communities. Some make art
that expresses their identity and educates outsiders. I
celebrate that legacy with this first volume of Canto
Cutie. I hope you enjoy the selection of artists around
the world, with diverse narratives through art works
and interviews.
Sincerely,
Katherine Leung
Curator

Volume One
Poem: Father I Love you
by Raymond Chong 7
Artwork and interview
with Tsz Kam 9
Essay: Linguistic Empire
by Arron Luo 35
Artwork and interview
with Matthew Lee 37
Photo: Canto Grind
by Felix Wong 53
Artwork and interview
with Erica Pang 55
5
Poem: For my Long-Lost Lover
by Raymond Chong 69

Artwork and interview
with Brenda Chi 71
Artwork: Endangered
by Charlotte Siu 89
Artwork and interiew
with Elaine Chiu 91
Poem: Cantonese please press 1
by Theodora Yu 103
Artwork and interview
with Kanny Yeung 105
Poem: My Kaiping Lady
by Raymond Chong 119
Photo: Canto Grind
by Felix Wong 121
Afterward by curator
Katherine Leung 122
6

Father I Love You
by Raymond Chong
My poem is my belated tribute to Gim Suey Chong, my
father, from Canton, our “Quiet Man” who loved us by his
sacrifices and struggles in America. Gim Suey Chong died
on December 2, 1979, in Los Angeles. A!er January 30,
2003, I finally discovered his awesome life as sojourner,
husband and father.
7

When I was child
I never loved my father
Nor I heeded him as his son
For our talks were crisp
And our times were lean.
At the City of Angels
He meekly toiled away
As his words were stiff
And his thoughts were dark
But he kept our family together.
After a subliminal journey
Of my ancestral roots
I finally grasp his awesome life
As a paper son
From Hoyping to Gum Saan.
I fondly muse about him
A hardy pursuer of his dream
A devoted husband to his wife
A doting father for his two sons
Our quiet man of calm dignity.
While a frosty moon crest
Down a celestial sky
Midst a surreal brood
In heartfelt affection
I say “Father, I love you.”
8

9
Silent Witness’s Triumph
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam

Tsz Kam
Austin, USA
Tsz Kam was born in colonial Hong Kong and moved
to Texas at age 13. Kam’s family history of being
political refugees of communist China runs parallel
to their own escape from Hong Kong culture. As a
first generation immigrant, Kam explores the
outsider and insider perspectives through the lens of
a gender non-binary person, both when observing
American culture and looking back at their Sino
roots. Kam investigates their own gender and
cultural identities through Western consumerist
imageries and motifs of Hong Kong folk practices. By
using escapism and nostalgia as an expression, Kam
reestablishes a sense of belonging through their
works.

Your art uses vaporwave-like colors and you create
inexpensive prints, patches, and stickers to sell on Etsy.
You describe your art as “low-brow art”. Can you talk
more about that?
I associate vaporwave as our generation’s response to
having grown up in material abundance, but also really
lacking sustainability and integrity in a material world.
That is true for a lot of developed countries, but especially
true for where I am from. Hong Kong is known for being a
fast paced city. Under British colonization, we were forced
to modernize and develop in an incredibly fast pace, and
most of us basically lifted our families out of poverty
within just a few generations. However, this doesn’t mean
there isn’t a rich and poor gap in Hong Kong, in fact, it’s
exacerbated because of this. I am not an economist or
social scientist, so I am not going to go into details about
the various factors… but basically Hong Kong is a tax
haven, consumer goods are cheap and they are abundant,
it gives you the illusion or delusion that we are rich
because how can we not be? Look at the things we have
and are able to buy.
11
I don’t think I directly make “low-brow art”, but I
appropriate methods from it and make art that can speak
to the layman rather than just those who possess the
esoteric knowledge to formally understand art. I don’t
make art because I think I am a misunderstood genius
who is cursed with the talent to “see things differently
than most”. I make art because I have something to say,
and of course because art making brings me joy. I make
art and share it because I want to tell people about my
experiences while also spreading the joy of that process. I
think making inexpensive art products is a great way to
make it possible that everyone can participate in
collecting art. Collecting things that bring you joy, things
that have meaning… I think that’s an important thing.

Lion and Hounds at Zephyrus Gate
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam

There are macaroni noodles in your tapestries and zine “Sticky
Dreams”. Tell us more about what they mean and what role they
play in your art practice.
I used to make nude portraits of myself when I was in college as a
way to understand my relationship with my body, but when people
kept only reading it as just simply another nude female figure
painting, I got frustrated and decided that it wasn’t getting the
message I want across, although the process is liberating for me
personally. I decided to use the macaroni as a metaphor for
androgyny in my
work. It’s two holes
interconnected,
which is the most
basic description for
a human body. It is
phallic but also a
really long hole. They
also stir up
association with
children’s art. They
just look really sad
and funny at the
same time.
13
Right when the desert becomes cold
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam

There are busts of Roman statues and, o!en yourself, naked in
your paintings. Can you tell us more about that process?
I used to have a very negative relationship with my body. I grew
up being told a lot of negative things about my body and I
believed it. It’s not until I started to really look at my body from
an art history angle and learning about the body positivity
movement from black activists online that I began to see it
differently. I take reference photos of my own body and I paint
them as statues in my paintings. Painting it also takes it to
another level, because I have to learn every detail, know what
everything looks like. It also sort of turns it into a specimen, no
different than an apple a beginner artist has to study and
observe, then replicate on paper with chalk pastels. Even in year
2020, I think a huge number of people still have issues with
naked female bodies, and I am not painting myself naked as a
way to rage against the machine, I am doing it for me, and then
hopefully someone sees it, and may also start investigating
their own relationship with their own body image or just gave
some new thoughts about bodies in general.
14

I document my own body by taking videos of
myself moving around naked. It’s like an out
of body experience to see myself moving
around naked on the screen, but it’s also
very fascinating, not in an egotistical sort of
way… We can see ourselves naked in the
mirror, but it’s different, because when we
look into the mirror, our reflection will
always be looking back and it moves in
accordance with our own movements- when
I look at a video of myself naked, it’s like I
am a second person looking at myself
moving around. The combination of my
videotaped self not looking back at the
camera and also moving on its own without
the observing me also moving, it’s quite
literally taking myself out of my body to
observe my own body. Many people may
wave it off like no big deal, since the body
positivity movement has been so
commercialized, but this process has really
helped to fundamentally change my
perception. I recommend trying it even if
you don’t plan on making any art.
I don’t always imply my figures as statues,
but I do sometimes. It’s a reference to art
history, but also the act of depicting my
body as a deified statue is personally
liberating. It’s to say, it’s just an image, an
icon, a shell, nothing else. It’s my image, it
represent my self, but it is also just an
object. I don’t have mastery over my body
like performers do, but in another sense, I
have also mastered my own body.
15

If my body must be the image of your whore goddess
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam

17

Alight! Venus, Flytrap, Lionbird
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam
Tell me about your family’s
immigration history.
My grandparents fled to British
Colonial Hong Kong around the
50s after the Chinese Nationalist
Party lost to the Chinese
Communist Party. My grandfather
was a member of CNP. He went as
far as to change his name when he
arrived in Hong Kong. He kept our
family name, but he changed his
given name to 明 . It is made of the
characters “sun” and “moon”, and
means bright or tomorrow. He told
me that during his early years in
Hong Kong, he was recruited by
the CNP to be a spy. He turned it
down because he did not want to
involve his wife and his children.
What most people don’t know
about Hong Kong is that it used to
be a spy hub where nations sought
to gather intelligence on each
other. It was the window to China
during its isolationist days.
I have two aunts and one uncle
who made the decision to
immigrate to the US and Canada
before Hong Kang was returned to
China by the British on July 1st,
1997. The Tiananmen Square
Massacre happened on June
4th, 1989, which was just 8
years before the Handover was
due. Even though the Sino-
British Joint Declaration
promised Hong Kong’s
capitalist system and its basic
way of life would remain
unchanged for 50 years, many
Hong Kong residents at the
time feared what the
Handover will eventually spell
for the existing freedom and
liberties that they had under
British rule, so many of those
who possessed the means
chose to immigrate. I would
say they weren’t wrong, given
how China has recently
declared the joint declaration
“void”, only 23 years after the
Handover. Not to mention the
various ways China has not
upheld the various other
terms in the joint declaration
and has actually worked to
erode the existing freedoms
and liberties in Hong Kong.
18

You mentioned in a previous conversation, “I make work about
identity and what I want to be recognized as”. Can you talk more
about this?
I make work about my existence. I think in a globalized world
where everything seems to be converging and becoming the same
everyday, it’s easy to forget to celebrate the differences in our
roots. Human beings derive meaning from existence, and the
stories from our existence help us create meaning. It’s easy to fall
into a sense of helplessness and hopelessness when we don’t know
who we are and therefore what we should do. This is why creating
work that talks about my own existence brings me joy and makes
me feel alive. Identity is really just a concept we have about
ourselves consisting of stories. Sometimes those stories are lost
over time because people didn’t see fit to record them. Sometimes
we are left to create the myth of our own existence, responsibly of
course. I am not a historian, I am not interested in recording
events, but I am interested in recording the brilliance of life itself.
This is why my work is not narrative based. I am not talking about
things that have happened or are happening, I am talking about a
place that is not in the physical realm, but is very real in our
consciousness.

Your art takes on a spirit of activism. For example, your two
upcoming projects involve a mural at a sex therapy clinic and a
local gay bar. Tell me more about your personal involvement with
both organizations and what you hope to share with the world.
I don’t think my art is an act of activism, I think it’s merely a
documentation of my existence. I don’t think documenting one’s
own existence qualifies as activism, although I think it can be just
as powerful in its own way. I want to make this distinction because
I think activism is about mobilizing a group of people to take
actions that result in actual change, be it social, political and or
legislative change. I cannot call myself an activist when there are
people younger than me in Hong Kong right now who are sitting in
jail facing the possibility of a felony on their record and a 10 year
sentence. However, I do make my work in hopes that those who
experience it can be encouraged to think about their own existence
and what actions they would like to take in the world.
I came to know the owners of our local gay bar, Cheer Up Charlie,
when our local feminist organization, BBATX, hosted a donation
drive event for reproductive health earlier this year. I was tabling
there to sell some of my art prints and donated 10% of my proceeds
to the drive, which benefited organizations like Planned
Parenthood. One of the bar owners, Maggie, gave a talk that night
speaking about her experiences fighting breast cancer. She and her
partner took an interest in my work and asked if I would display
one of my large paintings there for the bar’s 10th anniversary as
part of the photo booth for that night’s celebration. Not long after,
the coronavirus hit and they contacted me again to see if I’d be
interested in designing a shirt to help make some money to help
support their staff when the bar is closed for business. Through the
shirt design work, one of the people who works at the sex therapy
clinic saw my work and contacted me to see if I’d like to paint a
mural at their clinic’s new location.
I didn’t specifically choose to paint murals at these locations, it’s
just a result of me living as a LGBT member and participating in my
community. The act is meaningful, but it’s just part of my
existence. For the mural at our local gay bar, Cheer Up Charlie, I am
painting a mythical nature scene that contains symbolisms
commemorating the passage of marriage equality in Taiwan last
year. One of the owners is of Taiwanese heritage, and I hope to
celebrate our common Sino heritage with this mural in our own
queer way. Taiwan is the first Asian country to have marriage
equality, even though I have no direct ties to Taiwan, I am still very
proud of this majority Sino nation.
20

You’ve mentioned that as Cantonese people, “we are the
products of colonialism” and that you embrace that. Can you
explain how this affects your relationship with speaking
English and Hong Kong’s international standing with the rest
of the world?

I can’t speak for all Cantonese
people, there are also Cantonese
people who are not living in Hong
Kong and have no ties to Hong
Kong all across the world, so I can
only speak from my own
experience as someone who was
born and raised in Hong Kong.
From what I understand from
history, the term Cantonese is
used to refer to the various
ethnic groups living in Southern
China. Cantonese people speak
Cantonese, or Yue language. The
Yue language has many sub
dialects, Cantonese is only
considered as the standard Yue
dialect, as in the pronunciation
was standardized for government
use throughout history and it is
the one used by news anchors, so
to speak. Other Yue dialects are
considered “hometown tongues''
and not used by government
officials. You may want to ask
why is that everyone else in China
speaks Mandarin but not the
Cantonese? It’s because
Cantonese people are the result
of intermarriages between the
Baiyues and the Hans. Thousands
of years ago, the Baiyues
occupied the territory that is now
considered Southern China.
When the Northern Han invaded,
some of the Baiyue fled to what is
now known as Vietnam and other
surrounding regions. The ones
who remained were Sinocised by
the Hans. That was our first
colonization. “Yue” and “Viet''
share the same pronunciation in
Cantonese, though they are
written differently. We are
literally children of colonization.
Of course, that was long ago and
too long ago for anyone to really
care about. We are who we are,
we are Sino or Wa Yan. We speak
Cantonese, a Chinese dialect,
and we record our culture and
history with Chinese characters.
I can only emphasize that a lot
of Yue or Cantonese culture is
preserved within our spoken
language, especially in our
slangs, and its marked
differences with Mandarin has
always created distinct cultural
differences between us.
Before I talk about British
colonization, I would also like to
mention Sun Yat Sen. Dr. Sun is
considered the father of
modern China, this includes
both Mainland China and
Taiwan, although in Mainland
China they might deny this
historical fact. Dr. Sun was a
Cantonese revolutionary who
had studied overseas in
Honolulu, he saw the benefits of
democracy and wanted to bring
it back to his home country.
When he returned to China, he
started a revolution to
overthrow the corrupt Qing
Imperial Government and
founded the Republic of China.
He did not succeed in bringing
democracy to the Mainland
China territory, but the people
who followed in his footsteps
eventually finished the mission
and installed democracy in
Taiwan, where a majority Sino
population live under
democracy and can vote for
their political leaders.

The second time we were
colonized in an orchestrated effort
was by the British. The British
annexed Hong Kong from China in
1842 after China lost the Opium
War. Hong Kong wasn’t their first
pick actually, but they settled for
Hong Kong. At the time, young
Queen Victoria recorded how her
husband, Albert, was “so much
amused” by this little addition to
her vast collection of colonies.
Charles Elliot, who was the
Superintendent for Trade for
China at the time saw the
potential of this little island as a
port, he was chastised and
eventually fired for picking such a
seemingly useless piece of land.
The early years of colonization
was brutal for the native
population and the Cantonese
who moved there for job
opportunities. Chinese
commoners who were caught
breaking the law suffered physical
punishment at the hands of their
colonizers. I don’t wish to gloss
over the brutalities that
happened during those years.
Though eventually, the Crown did
see that they had to do
something useful with this
colony, and Hong Kong proved its
potential. With improved policies
and urban development plans,
the British colonial government
and the Sino tycoons worked to
mold Hong Kong into a very
useful port city, for the British,
and for the world. It was the
West’s door to the East. India was
called the Crown Jewel, and Hong
Kong was Pearl of the East. Hong
Kong made so much money for
the British as a port city, they did
not levy any tax on Hong Kong.
Under the British, all of Hong
Kong’s tax revenue went to its
own treasury for its own
development, the same cannot
be said about its current rule
under the People’s Republic of
China.
Previous page:
Temple’s Cat
Acrylic on wood panel
23

We can say Hong Kong has always
been the international middle
man. Not only geographically, with
our deep, beautiful harbor named
after Queen Victoria; but also our
people have been trained to
become the software that
understand how to operate this
hardware. English as a second
language is part of the deal, it is
the language we use to
communicate with everyone else
who doesn’t speak Cantonese.
Hong Kong is remarkably diverse,
not only did the British bring
themselves, they also brought
people from other colonies of
theirs, not to mention the various
other peoples looking for business
opportunities in this busy port.
Hong Kong people worked to build
Hong Kong for themselves, but
they also contributed to the world
by operating as the intermediary,
and knowing how to speak English
is part of the requirement for that
job. Of course, we do this in the
financial and trading sector under
the Basic Law, which is based on
the set of laws left behind by the
British and is compatible with the
laws of other capitalist countries
where human rights and
intellectual properties are to be
respected, but I think culturally,
this dual language ability has also
made important contributions. I
don’t think having mastery over
the English language makes me
superior, I think I am lucky to have
been given the education and time
to learn it thoroughly. Language is
a tool for communication, and I
think I have an obligation to
communicate as someone who
speaks both languages and can
translate to different peoples
the cultural context of what’s
been happening.
Another thing that I would like
to add about the difference
between English and Chinese-
Chinese as a language exists in
many forms, that’s been true for
ages due to the many dialects
that exist. Hong Kong Chinese is
different from mainland
Chinese. The two places were
separated, so it’s only natural
the languages there will evolve
separately as well even if they
came from the same root.
Simply put, mainland Chinese
have gone through Cultural
Revolution, Hong Kong Chinese
did not. Mainland Chinese was
simplified and turned into a
version of Newspeak, Hong
Kong Chinese did not. Language
not only represents culture, it is
also what laws are written with.
Mainland Chinese as a New
Speak has been used by the CCP
to explain laws and legislation
that give people no justice. They
control what words mean. Hong
Kong’s law was written in both
Chinese and English. There’s a
reason for that. Under this
historical context, English is a
much more technical language
than Chinese. Words mean
things in English that cannot be
warped. I think this fact is lost
in translation to those in the
diaspora who don’t speak
Cantonese or any dialect of
Chinese.
24

25
Rage in a stirring void, crashes on
Acrylic on cotton
Tsz Kam

26

You have been vocal about recent civil unrest in Hong Kong.
Can you share more about the collective struggle in Hong Kong
in reference to your Chinese and Cantonese identity in the US?
As I mentioned previously,
China has been eroding the
system and way of life we
worked hard to build under
British influence. The British
did not give us the ability to
vote, but all in all, I think they
started off messy but they
went back on the right track
and did mostly what was right.
I think they looked after this
place called Hong Kong, it
became a safe haven for those
who wished to flee from the
brutalities in China conducted
by the Chinese Communist
Party. During the years of the
Cultural Revolution in China,
many old traditions were
brutally eliminated, artists,
literati and intellectuals were
persecuted and executed. Mao
even had the written language
“simplified”. Our beautiful
script and language that so
much of our culture lived
within was systematically
changed, like how in Orwell’s
1984, a New Speak was created.
The British may have
pressured us to learn English,
but they did not force any
change on our culture. In fact,
under the British, our culture
was preserved. Various rituals
surrounding festivals, our
rituals around death… all of
those things are beautifully
preserved in Hong Kong. I once
learned from a documentary
made by RTHK (Hong Kong’s
tax funded public broadcast
channel) that a Malay-British
beer factory director in Sham
Tseng, a district in Hong Kong,
personally donated a piece of
land to support the Teochew
locals in building their own
community center. There are
many stories like that in Hong
Kong. The British encouraged a
culture of transparency and
free speech as well. In 1980,
when RTHK asked to be able to
create the program “City
Forum'', where a debate about
current events held in public
would be broadcasted live, the
colonial government at the
time allowed it. Later in 1986,
inspired by the BBC radio
program “Prime Minister’s
Question Time'', the director of
RTHK once again asked to be
able to tape footage in Hong
Kong’s parliament. That was,
once again, permitted. The BBC
only had radio broadcast of the
British parliament at the time,
they only started TV broadcast
of their parliament in 1987.
These aren’t instances of white
saviorism, it is people living
side by side and learning from
each other to build something
better.

I went on a bit of a history lesson
there because I think Sino people
in the US, even if they have roots
in Hong Kong, may not know
about this context. Now, people
who wish to run for legislative
council seats are being
disqualified by the Hong Kong
government because they have
had a history of protesting China’s
interference with Hong Kong’s
legislation or protesting for the
right to be able to vote for Hong
Kong’s chief executive, which was
promised in the Sino-British Joint
Declaration.
I am not in Hong Kong, I have not
been living there for over a
decade. I don’t know what it’s like
to live there everyday, but
because I can consume
Cantonese news and media, I
understand what is going on
there. Many Hong Kong people
have left since the handover,
some went to North America,
others went to other places to
find a better way of life. Just a
couple weeks ago, a famous Hong
Kong actor announced that he
has moved to Taiwan. But I think
those of us who were born there
will always care about what
happens there. I don’t have any
call for action for the Chinese
American or Asian American
community. I don’t know what
else to say other than to tell the
stories of myself and the place I
am from. I don’t ask for people to
feel the same level of sympathy
that I have for Hong Kong and its
people. I can only explain why it’s
important for us to care as
Americans. Hong Kong is the
free society that’s standing at
the very forefront, if we don’t
want the same repeat of the
brutalities and destruction of
culture during the times of the
Cultural Revolution, I think we
should be careful about the
nationalist messages the CCP
pushes to Chinese Americans
overseas. I think we should
think carefully whether the
CCP is the legacy we want as
Sino people, and maybe we
need also to be reminded why
we and our families left China
under CCP rule in the first
place. If we embrace freedom,
liberty and pursuit of
happiness, is China under CCP
really the right country to
build our collective identity
upon? In being Sino American,
my specific Sino culture has
been fossilized and preserved
the moment I left Hong Kong.
It is a specific Hong Kong
culture from that specific time
that lives within me while
Hong Kong continues to
change and evolve. Many
Chinese diaspora have also
done the same throughout
history. Each Sino diaspora
has a specific time and space
preserved within them, and it
will only continue to flourish
and grow in a new land under
freedom.
28

29

Cantonese Cowgirl and her Water
Buffalo
Acrylic on wood panel
30

31
Cantonese Cowgirl and her Buffalo
Today has been a good day. I feel loved.
"Loved" is the word I think of when I look at
this water buffalo.
She's actually from the stories my grandma
told me when I was little. She told me stories
of days when she used to work the fields with
her family's water buffalo as a child.
She didn't tell me how much she loved or
didn't love the water buffalo, that's just my
imagination. All she told me about the buffalo
was how much it peed.
If you didn't know, water buffaloes are still
commonly used to farm in south and
southeast Asia.
The Cantonese cowgirl in the painting was
created a"er my own image, but when I
talked to my dad about how glad I was that I
sold the painting not a day a"er I finished it,
he referred to the figures as "Mah Mah and
the water buffalo". I didn't correct him,
because I guess in a sense, it was as much
Mah Mah as it was me that I was painting.
Mah Mah is a remarkable woman. She never
had any formal education, but she taught
herself how to read by following the printed
script when the opera troupe came to her
village to perform.
She told me she would go watch the opera,
chew on sugar canes, and teach herself how
to read.
I didn't use to think about this much. Having
to learn two languages and two dialects at a
very early age myself, and perhaps also
inhereiting a healthy dose of scornful
patriachal intellectualism attitude from my
grandfather, I didn't appreciate Mah Mah's
brilliance for having accomplished the feat of
teaching herself how to read without formal
guidance as a teen.
Mah Mah can't write, even now, though she
reads the newspaper every day. Many in her
generation are still illiterate today, in their
old age. Mah Mah signs her documents with a
chop seal that has her name carved in it. She
was never taught how to hold a writing
utensil properly. When I was a child, I always
remembered how rough and knobbed her
hands are. She o"en showed off one of her
jagged forefingers to me. It was partially cut
off at the very tip by one of the factory
machines when she used to be one of the
many factory girls during Hong Kong's
industrial age. I used to show her my right
hand middle finger, which is slightly deformed
from having to take so much notes and do so
much homework as a student in Hong Kong.
Mah Mah was the daughter of a Cantonese
merchant, but her mother was only one of many
concubines, and having already had enough
children in his household, my great grandfather
sent Mah Mah to live with her own grandmother
and to work the fields in their home village. Mah
Mah told me her grandmother was very strict,
and she used to hit her hands during meals with
her chopsticks to correct Mah Mah's method for
holding the chopsticks. Mah Mah is one of the few
people I know in person who holds chopsticks
"the right way".
I think about this now and then, I came from a
woman who taught herself how to read by
watching opera.
Mah Mah lived in Shanghai as a young woman for
a time when it was a French concession. She
taught herself a bit of Shanghainese. Then she
met my grandfather, and when the Japanese
invaded in WWII, they fled to British Colonial
Hong Kong.
Yei Yei and Mah Mah had six children in Hong
Kong. Three daughters and then three sons in
that order. My dad was the youngest.
Mah Mah worked in factories, taking boxes of
plastic flower parts home for my aunts to
assemble with her. She also made Barbies.
Though much more educated than Mah Mah, Yei
Yei had a hard time bringing in income, but Mah
Mah held the fort down. She was the only investor
in Yei Yei's failed neighborhood grocery store
venture.
They brought up six children in their little
makeshi" home at the foot of Lion Rock. Always
emphasizing to all their children the importance
of education.
I was born as the first child by one of their three
sons. I lived under my grandparents' care since I
was 45 days old unil I was thirteen and le" Hong
Kong for Texas. I heard their stories more than
anyone else, I think. Mah Mah spoke of the past,
Yei Yei dreaming of a better future, for me, which
was deprived from him in his youth. His cowboy
Westerns always playing on his TV screen.
So there, Cantonese cowgirl and her water
buffalo. They roam free in my imagination, and
they have always been there to begin with, even
before I got here.
Written by Tsz Kam

Cantonese Cowgirl and her Water Buffalo
Acrylic on wood panel
Tsz Kam
32

You express sentiments that
challenge the dominant narrative
about colonialism and how
mainstream Asian American
activism functions. We aren’t
fighting the same issues the black
or indigenous struggle, yet many
Asian Americans may use the
phrase “decolonize” in reference
to the Asian struggle but you
simply don’t agree. Can you talk
more about that?
I agree we also need to decolonize
ourselves, I just don’t think we
should do it the same way as black
or indigenous peoples. Asian
American is a broad spectrum, so I
will only speak about what I
understand as a Sino American. To
summarize what I have included
above, most of our families left
China because we wanted a better
way of life away from CCP. Sure,
some people actually left because
of Japanese invasion too. I just
think that Chinese people
continue to immigrate outside of
China today because they don’t
wish to live under the CCP. So what
exactly are we trying to decolonize
from? Is it the institutional racism
white people perpetuated for
hundreds of years via
colonization, or is it the brutality
of the CCP? I think it’s both. I think
European colonization was the
first step for globalization, the
world changed, for better or for
worse, but it is what it is now, and
we can only learn to live side by
side. Colonization is a brutal act to
begin with, but I think we should
ask ourselves who colonized us
first? I think we should ask what is
Chinese? Is it a monolithic
concept or have we always been
made up of many ethnic groups,
only forced to be unified for
thousands of years under dynastic
China and then the CCP? Why do
we have so many dialects and
regional identities? Who is
ultimately our biggest oppressor?
Why are there traces of history of
us always having been different
from each other but no one wants
to actually talk about those? Why
should we chant for people to stop
looking at us as a monolith but at
the same time so desperately
want to rally behind a single
narrative of having always been
bullied by people of other color?
Words fail me. There’s just so
much erased and lost history
within each of us, I can’t begin to
explain all of it in a few
paragraphs. But trust me, the
people who want to erase our
history are not the British or the
Americans. In fact, most of the
Chinese history we have now was
researched and written by
Americans. Meanwhile, China still
wouldn’t allow their academics to
research certain topics and events
that were about “revolution” or
“riots” to overthrow a central
power because they don’t wish
Chinese people to learn from it
and see the parallel in their
current reality. So I ask again, who
is the one trying to erase us? Who
is the one we really need to
decolonize from?

Follow Tsz Kam:
TszKam.com
Etsy: tszkam
Instagram: tszkam_art

Linguistic Empire, or There
are many kinds of empires
at all times in all places and
this one is linguistic
by Arron Luo
Linguistic Empire is a reflection on Cantonese heritage for
one member of the heterogenous and far-flung Chinese
diaspora through a lens of language, both written and
spoken. These concerns about language mark a
relationship to identity upon which items up at the scale
of nation-states and global migration histories are
always active.
Arron is a Chinese diaspora and US Asian person living in
Atlanta, Georgia. Their first language was Cantonese
Chinese, followed by Mandarin Chinese, then English.
These days, they speak halting Cantonese, if ever at all,
and feel the loss. But their accent is true.

These days, I have been thinking about how living in the US is to live in the heart of
empire. I remember while studying in Beijing, I had thought how learning to speak
Mandarin and to write Simplified in the capital of the People’s Republic of China was
like being at the heart of an empire, too.
Today still, I am inordinately proud of what my instructors had chidingly called my
⼴(Cantonese-accented Mandarin), it being habit because of a childhood first lived
along a Shenzhen-Hong Kong border, and then between New York City Chinatowns.
I am pleased whenever people remark upon it — “ 你 是 ⾹ 港 ⼈ 吗 ? 还 是 台
湾 ?” (“Are you a Hongkonger? Or maybe Taiwanese?”) — and glad I have it still. “ 我
家 ⼈ 是 ⼴ 东 ⼈!” I happily proclaim.
Having already lost most of my Cantonese speech ability, my Cantonese accent
whenever I speak Mandarin is among the last remainders of a heritage whose
discernibility within me I am frightened to lose completely.
Because of 推 ⾏ 普 通 话 的 政 策 (the national policy to promote Standard Mandarin
Chinese as common speech throughout the People’s Republic and beyond), now
and then I wonder about Cantonese and its futures in China and overseas. While not
as marginal as other so-called ⽅⾔ (“regional speech,” or more commonly, “dialect”),
the language nevertheless feels at risk.
I have my hopes and wishes; I have my dreads and fears. I dread the day Hong Kong
is no longer Hong Kong to the world but Xianggang, like how Canton is no longer
Canton but Guangdong, or how Peking is no longer Peking but Beijing. I fear the day
Traditional is no longer taught in Taiwan, and settler Chinese and indigenous
Taiwanese alike are compelled to learn to write Simplified instead. Or when 国 语
and 华 语 no longer exist, only 普 通 话 .
Hong Kong is already Xianggang to many, and Canton and Peking are not necessarily
more preferable than Guangdong and Beijing. However, Hong Kong, Canton, and
Peking gesture toward alternative and diverse ways of naming Chineseness and
being Chinese, which the current regime of language standardization discounts, and
even denies. I hope for nuance in the struggle over names, identities, and language. I
wish for everyone a non-nationalist sovereignty, and people everywhere the power
to be enough, and respected and accepted as they already are, today, right now.
In my language classes, my instructors had us pronounce a!er them: 哪 ⼉ nǎ r. I
consider my 哪 ⾥ nǎ lǐ, my refusal to use ⼉ r, a refusal that is not pointless.

37
Dynasty
Oil on canvas
Matthew Lee

Matthew Lee
New York, USA
Upon graduating university, self-taught artist
Matthew Lee directed his energy towards fine art
with a focus on visual arts, with a primary
concentration on paint, photography, and film. His
work revolves around the realm of the Liminal, a
place becatween two worlds. Matthew’s artistic
practice explores the concept of identity and the
evolution of his desires surrounding the notion of
having or not having an identity - what it means
to simultaneously belong and yet not belong - and
involves an honest inquiry into his personal
upbringing in a religious, conservative Asian
culture.
38

39

The Dance
Paper and glue on wood board
Matthew Lee
40

How has your background in
geography and architecture
informed your work?
My original career plan was to
graduate with a degree in
Geography and Architecture in
hopes of going to grad school
for a Masters in Landscape
Architecture. I actually started
painting and drawing more
because of my projects and
practices in both fields. I began
making models, drafting,
photographing architecture,
painting, etc. and I ended up
being attracted more to the
medium of visual arts and
methods of representation than
to geography or architecture
itself. I think both areas of
study helped me better
understand and experience
space, both imagined and
physical. It helped me explore
how cultures and normalities
form in the context of
geographical space and how we
experience them through time,
and how the visual motifs and
signals related to architecture
and cartography form our
conception of culture, time, and
the world at large.
Space seems to play a big role in
"Homewrecker". Can you
explain more about how you
used space in that piece?
In Homewrecker, the idea of
space was integral; It deals with
the themes of intrusion,
imperialism, and invasion and
how global networks of power
affect our individual lives,
especially for a child of a firstgeneration
immigrant.
Homewrecker was really a
culmination of all my interests
and practices as it includes
abstract and figure painting,
geography, architecture,
photography, family, politics,
and culture. Some see the
painting as a reference to
aggressive imperialism abroad,
others see it as the arrival of
evil, maladjusted forces coming
into our homes - foreign
invasion in short. This idea of
foreign invasion is important
because it bring with it a
geographical and architectural
context; a foreign force invades
from a different geographical
location (psycho-, meta-, sociogeographical)
and destroys our
architecture (intellectual,
spiritual, physical), and in doing
so erects new ways of living and
understanding -- for better or
for worse.
41

Ophid’s Reverie
Oil and tape on fabric
Matthew Lee
42

43

What is “Homewrecker” about?
I tend to go back and forth between abstraction
and figuration, so I wanted this piece to be a
c o m i n g t o g e t h e r o f t h e t w o m o d e s o f
representation. The initial idea for this piece was to
paint the idea of a map, which are the individual
lines on the top half of the painting. I eventually
saw that I formed what looked like alleyways and
buildings, a bunch of different architectural
elements. I also had placed a piece of black tape
vertically in the center top which introduces this
element of invasion by use of a different medium. It
was slim, sleek, and silent - an immovable force
penetrating the canvas. The juxtaposition of the
abstract marks and the single piece of tape made it
feel balanced for some reason, as if all this chaos
had an explanation. I was processing a stressful
situation while painting this and one day I was
looking through some photos I took in Hong Kong
after I graduated. I found an image of the alleyway
behind my mother’s childhood home, an image that
was very poignant for me and held a lot of
emotional weight. As a last step, I included this
image on the bottom half of the piece as I thought
it provided a closer, more intimate part in the
painting. There seems to be something ominous
going on in the painting with images fading and
mashing into each other; destruction and chaos in
a contained environment. There was an old phrase
I used to think was interesting: Organized Chaos.
And it’s kind of like that, it’s about invasion and
disintegration, and whether you’re in the belly of
the beast or far away at a distance, you’re still
affected by the aftermath of it all.
Homewrecker
Oil and tape on canvas
Matthew Lee
44

What is the idea behind the name, "Stuck in
this Machine?"
I came across this band called JIL based in
Brooklyn. On their album Emotional Heat 4A
Cold Generation, one of the last songs features
a line where they sing “to be stuck in this
machine”. I felt that those lyrics really
resonated with me at the time, and they still do
today. When I began this painting, I had just
graduated from university and was working an
office job that I really did not like. I was
expecting to have more freedom and agency in
my life, and to start a career where I could use
what I learned in university to create
something meaningful. But the best I could
find was this no-brainer office job where half
of my classmates ended up working. The office
environment was like an extension of college,
an extension of a life I had just left, it was like
another strange institution where I was
expected to act a certain way, accept a certain
lifestyle, perform certain actions, all of which
worked against my true desire and drive for
creativity. Stuck in this Machine is about
isolation, to be trapped in a cell, tethered to
forces beyond your control with no escape and
maybe a hope to one day break free from a
mold that’s formed around you since before
you were a child. It’s about the feeling of
dependence and insecurity, the inability to
assume agency over your own mind, body, and
soul.
45
Stuck in this Machine
Oil and tape on canvas
Matthew Lee

46

Describe the symbols and
imagery in “Stuck in this
Machine”.
I first painted this image of an
industrial military machine. I
liked the organic forms and
movements of the mechanical
parts but I didn’t know where to
go from there so I just let the
painting just sit like that for a
while. I tend to source random
images from the internet,
subconsciously picking and
choosing which image would
work with the canvas. I later
found an image of a scientist in a
hazmat suit in a lab and found
this to be quite compelling. And I
found a likeness of myself in the
scientist, trapped in this bizarre
late-capitalist society with so
many layers keeping me closed
inside. It was an image that
screamed “Help! I’m stuck in this
machine!” The painting shows a
moment when the figure looks up
and for a split second they can
see at a distance, the inner
workings of the machine that has
trapped them inside these walls.
The Chinese script on the side
painted red is really just a
reference to the title of the
painting. I wanted it in a painterly
style, written like it was
important but made in haste. The
ironic thing is that I can’t read or
write Chinese, so I relied on
google translate and asked my
dad if the statement shared my
intended meaning.The act of doing
that was as if I myself was stuck in
this machine, relying on the
internet, unable to express myself
without the help of the modern
technology. A more subtle element
of the painting is a thin strip of
tape with random symbols and
letters running vertically. The tape
to me was sort of like a foreign
manuscript or code that I’m
unable to translate, like a message
that was not meant for me, but
that I intercepted, perhaps meant
for someone of great power to
execute something far beyond my
control.
How does this work address your
idea of "the realm of the Liminal"?
Liminality has always been a
concept that has intrigued me. It’s
about ambiguity and
disorientation when moving
between places in your life where
you no longer hold your previous
status but have not yet assumed a
new status - you’re just in flux.
This piece reflects my internal
struggle to cope with a new reality
having just left another, unable to
find ground and find myself. I was
battling these abstract machines
with my bare hands and psychic
power alone and I was getting
nowhere, I felt stuck in a network
of machines floating between
realities, none of which I found to
be home.

When the Days were Endless
Watercolor
Matthew Lee

You grew up in a conservative Evangelical community that
informed a lot of you work. Can you expand on the themes in
“Cheap Panic”?
This piece is a manifestation of my religious struggles, specifically
with the institution of the Christian Church. In the piece there are
three essential figures, one in the middle, mostly nude with a shroud
over his head, holding his right hand up - a hand that is glitchy and
slightly wavering. To his left is a smaller figure, similarly dressed,
crouched on the ground looking up at the central figure, almost
desperate, learning, inquisitive. On the right is a body, dismembered
and rotten. This piece makes me think about the Church’s
relationship with its members and the rest of the world, all its

Cheap Panic
Oil on canvas
Matthew Lee
problems, rejections, hypocrisy, and failures. I find the elements of
this painting to be a bit bizarre and disorderly, like they don’t really
make sense -- much like the way I see institutional religion itself. I
grew up in a conservative, christian, Chinese household and have
been in a constant spiritual struggle ever since. It’s a very convoluted
yet ambiguous landscape to navigate as a young adult because the
Church is where I learned my morals, it was the place where I started
to learn and question life’s biggest riddles, a place of refuge and
community. But at the same time, it was a place of disgust and
hatred, of superstition and illusion and cheap tricks, a place where I
felt isolated and rejected and merciless without will to agency. I think
everyone’s spiritual journey is like that: a total mess, and Cheap Panic
was a way to confront these struggles and hopefully find some truth
in the struggle.

How has your identity played
into your participation in
group shows and in the art
community in both Austin and
New York?
I feel that my identity is more of
a focal point in Austin than in
New York. The lack of outspread
diversity in Austin has become
a problem, as it has in many
places in the US. The culture of
ethnic minorities has always
been capitalized upon,
appropriated, and destroyed
time and time again. It’s hard to
escape stereotypes and
prejudice when the population
is so homogenous and has a
serious lack of and problem
with ethnic and cultural
diversity. In New York, I feel that
race doesn’t have as much
weight; it’s much more diverse -
I believe Queens is actually one
of the most ethnically diverse
places on earth. I feel more like
an individual than simply “that
Asian guy”. It gets old very
easily when viewed through the
“white gaze”, and I think that
has played an integral part in
why I feel this way about Austin,
a place that has struggled with
ethnic diversity for decades and
that continues to encourage
homogeneity. I’d like to one day
live in a post-racial society
where individuals aren’t singled
out or ignored; this doesn’t
solve all the problems, but it’s
definitely a step forward.
51
What is being an artist in New
York like?
Being an artist in New York is
quite interesting. It’s one of the
major art capitals in the world,
which is why I moved here- to
learn, grow, and experience. But
the art industry is also a
daunting landscape to navigate.
I feel like it’s easy to chase
superficial goals like popularity,
fame, money, status,
recognition, etc. in a place like
this. But at the same time there
is so much diversity in artistic
expression and so many
stimuli/influences to work
from. It’s important for artists
to be in an environment where
art is taken seriously, where
they can engage with likeminded
people, where art isn’t
encouraged to be constricted to
a homogenous style or theme,
where radical new thought is
taken into consideration, where
cultural events have taken root
and continue to shape the
future, and for me, that's New
York City.

Follow Matthew Lee:
MatthewLeeStudios.com
Instagram: Enjoiabletaco
52

“Capturing the daily
life of the middle and
lower class in Hong
Kong.”
- Felix Wong
Felix Wong is an Amsterdam based hobby
photographer interested in capturing daily life all
across Asia.
Instagram: Fx.wng
53

Canto Grind
Digital photo
Felix Wong
54

55
In Full Bloom
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang

Erica Pang
Vancouver, Canada
Erica Pang a painter and art therapist. She
earned a post-graduate diploma in Art Therapy
from the Vancouver Art Therapy Institute. She
insists, “I want my clients to find their voices, to
express themselves in a way that feels right for
them.” As an artist, Pang has found the courage
of self-expression; as an art therapist, she thrives
by helping others discover their voices, too.
56

You were born and raised and
Vancouver. When did you start
“feeling” Cantonese?
I started embracing my Chinese
side more as I got older, and I kind
of wish that I embraced it more
when I was young because I can’t
speak Cantonese fluently, but I can
understand. My parents speak
Cantonese.
My brother moved to Hong Kong
with his wife, about fi"een years
ago. So, I’ve been to Hong Kong
only about seven or eight times,
and every time I go, I feel like I’m
home. Even though I wasn’t born
there or anything, there’s
something about that place that
makes me feel like I’m at home. I
don’t know why.
You have an interesting family
history that involves your
grandfather. Can you tell me
more?
My grandfather was from Hong
Kong, and he needed to make
some money, so he ended up
working on a ship. He didn’t know
where he was going to go at all. But
basically, it stopped all over the
world. The ship ended up stopping
in Vancouver, and he jumped off
57
the ship and was like, “Maybe this
is where I can build a family.”
So, he walked into Chinatown with
literally forty cents in his pocket
and ended up staying there and
getting a job at a restaurant, I
believe. He ended up working and
staying there. Eventually, he
moved his family over, and he had
the first Chinese restaurant in his
town. By the time he brought his
family over, and it was eleven
years that my mom didn’t see him.
It’s kind of crazy because he
landed in Chinatown, and I ended
up getting a studio in Chinatown
two years ago. I found out that it
was literally like a block away from
where he was when he landed. So,
I always keep his book in my
studio. I always keep this book at
an altar in my studio - just as a
reminder of how lucky I am to be
doing what I love and to have the
freedom to do what I love. Because
I know he didn’t. I know probably
my mom didn’t. I’m really grateful
that he did that and that I’m here
and I get to make art.

Rejoice
Acrylic on
canvas
Erica Pang
58

How does your culture inform your art practice?
Growing up, there was a lot of artwork in my house because my
dad loves to collect art. A lot of Chinese paintings, Chinese
watercolor paintings, or different like statues or decorative
Chinese tables. I grew up around that, and I guess it influenced
59

me in ways where I would take certain symbols from them. I
paint a lot of Lotus flowers, I painted koi fish before and also yinyang
signs. I know that’s all probably from my childhood without
really knowing it. And even though I was surrounded by so much
Chinese art. I’ve never done any traditional Chinese paintings or
anything like that.
Making Peace
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang

On your website, you share that at
first, you doubted your value as
an artist. But then you went
through an experience that
changed all of that. Can you tell
me more about that journey?
I’ve been painting and drawing my
whole entire life. My ultimate
dream was to go to Emily Carr
University, which is this really
well-known art school in
Vancouver. I was like, “That’s what
I want to do. I want to do it.” I was
working towards that in high
school, and I ended up getting in.
During my years in art school, it
was really hard for me just
because I think I was just too
young. I was really vulnerable, and
I believed what everyone said. I
didn’t do well in art school at all. I
barely graduated. I wasn’t a good
student. During a critique, a
professor even said to me, “I don’t
think painting’s for you.” I don’t
remember what else he said, but I
just remember hearing that, and
that’s all that I took in. I went
home that day, and I cried. I was
like, “Oh my God, like maybe
painting isn’t my path.” Even
though I had done it my whole
entire life. So, a"er graduation, I
didn’t even participate in the grad
show just because I just wasn’t in a
good head space. It really stunted
my growth as an artist in art
school. A"er I graduated, I went
through this really kind of darker
period in my life where I was like,
“I don’t know what I want to do. I
thought that’s what I wanted, but
it’s not.” So, I was like, “You know
what? I need to take some time for
myself.” So I ended up quitting
everything, moving all my
belongings into storage, and just
taking off for a whole year and
traveling. My first stop was in
Hawaii, the big island, where I was
housesitting for my cousin. Then I
ended up living in this little
community in the jungle, and did
work trade. It was a retreat center,
and I volunteered in the kitchen,
and in return, I would get housing.
They had a little art shed there. I
was really into meditation and
yoga, but I had not painted or
done any art for like two years.
I started really embracing the
yoga and meditation, and I was
like, you know what? Maybe I
should do a little meditation at
then try maybe some art and see
how that goes. So, I started
combining the two practices
together where I would meditate
first and then create.
I also had a Reiki session with this
woman who gave me a Reiki
viewing, and a"er the session, she

hands me this red flower. She
said, “I’m supposed to give you
this red flower. I’m not sure why,
but here you go.” I take this red
flower. I’m like, “This is so
beautiful. I am going to paint it.”
So, I ended up painting it, and that
was a really defining moment for
me because it was like kind of the
first time that I created where I
was like, “I don’t really care if no
one likes it. I don’t really care if it
gets critiqued. I just want to do it
because it feels good to me.” And
it was great.
Since that time in Hawaii, I was
painting a lot more and then
ended up in an art show in
Hawaii, and that’s what I sold my
first painting. I thought, “maybe
my professor was wrong!” You
know what I mean? I just kind of
like just let go of all of that stuff
that I had endured in art school.
That’s kind of actually how I
found art therapy too because
when I came back to Vancouver
a"er all my travels, I was telling
my friends. I was like, “I really
want to teach like a painting,
meditation type of class or
workshop.” A friend was like, “Oh,
have you heard of art therapy?” I
hadn’t so I did a little research. I
was like, “wow, there’s a whole
profession for this?” Then I found
a school, then I applied, literally
that day.
Rekindling the Fire
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang

63

What do you do as an art therapist?
Art therapy is using art as a way to express yourself and
your emotions. it’s kind of like talk therapy, but I’ll have
all my supplies up for my clients, and then they can
choose what they want to use. It’s not so much about
teaching people how to paint or teaching art techniques.
It’s more about giving people the space to use art as a tool
to express their emotions.
A lot of people get it confused with being an art teacher or
have an art class. Sometimes a session could look like
giving my client a directive of what to do, or it could be
more of an open studio. It really depends. It really
depends on the goal of the client of what they want. Not
to achieve, but with what they want to get out of the
session. It’s so different from client to client. There’s no
one set formula. It just really depends. I use a lot of my
intuition when I’m working with people. It’s very
unplanned. A lot of my clients are stroke survivors or
elderly patients. It’s pretty interesting because some of
my clients are non-verbal. They’ve lost the ability to
speak a"er having a stroke. And so giving them an outlet
of art is really powerful.
I’ve had a lot of tears and like breakthroughs. It’s not me
doing it. It’s them, really. It’s really about the artwork. I
always say “the artwork will speak back to you.” A"er
you’re finished, and you look at the art, and you see, “Oh,
why did I end up using that color?” or “Why did it end up
looking like that?” Then I’ll ask the appropriate questions
that can unlock something. Like, “Wow, I unconsciously
chose that color or whatever, and it actually meant
something.” It’s the artwork that can tell you the
answers.
Inner Glow
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang
64

Do you work with Asian clients?
It’s funny, I’ve had a lot of Asian
parents approach me and be like,
“Oh, my kids love art. Could you
teach them painting?” I’m like, “I’m
not an art teacher. It’s art therapy.”
Yeah, I’ve had so many requests
from those parents. I’ve always had
to turn it down because that’s not
what it is. I think it’s the word
therapy that is confusing for people.
It’s confusing to a lot of people, like
even my parents. I don’t think they
really know much about what
therapy is. Not really open to the
idea. But I feel like it’s gotten more
normalized now. I know so many
people who go to therapy, but still
to older generations, they don’t
know if they can rely on therapy.
How does your culture connect you
with the art community?
I have a friend who’s also an artist.
We really connected because of our
culture. There aren’t a lot of other
Asian artists. Even though she’s
Vietnamese and I’m Cantonese. We
still connect because there is the
understandings of our culture that
is similar. Whether it’s respecting
your elders or seeing your family
share food. All these little things
connected us. When we paint
together, it’s an opportunity for us
to really hold each other up and
understanding each other without
actually speaking. We always talk
about like Asian sisterhood, that it’s
very different.
Something I’ve noticed, too, being
Asian, while being in the art
community: I’ve done some painting
workshops throughout the years and
retreats, and every single time, I
realize “I'm the only Asian person." It's
just so weird. I think I'm the only
Asian person at these art retreats and
workshops.

In your artwork, you use a bright
palette of colors, a lot of flowing
lines, and nature imagery, like
birds and flowers. Can you just talk
more about your art practice?
I start every painting with like an
intention. I actually write like words
on the first layer of the canvas, and
that kind of sets the tone because I
only want to be putting up
positivity. The words that I write in
there are like joy, peace, happiness,
like all these positive ideas. That
sets the tone for what I’m going to
be bringing into the world. So, that’s
probably the most important part
of my art practice is that intention
setting.
With my painting process, it’s very
intuitive and it’s very much about
me getting out of the way. Like
getting out of the way for the
images to come through.
Sometimes I feel like it’s not even
me painting. It’s like something
that’s being channeled somewhere
else. I never plan anything. I never
have like a vision. Like, “Oh my god, I
need to paint this bird, or I need to
paint this flower. I never have that
in my mind before I create. It’s
literally blank, and I just kind of go
along with it. I see what comes up.
It’s very intuitive.
The Breath of Life
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang
66

Inner Fire
Acrylic on canvas
Erica Pang

Follow Erica Pang:
EricaPang.com
Instagram: EricaPang.art
68

For My Long-Lost Lover
by Raymond Chong
My poem is a true love tale of my grandparents, who were
cruelly separated, for 43 years (1923 to 1966) by the
Chinese Exclusion Act (1882) and upheavals in China. On
February 14, 1966, Moi Chung, my grandfather, and Cun
Chuen Wong, my grandmother, reunited at Los Angeles
International Airport, a!er 43 years of separation.
69

Below a pearly moon
Amid an edgy sleep
Teary roars of a thunderstorm awaken me
My dreamy mind arouses
For a creamy plum blossom of Hoyping.
My dragon heart achingly weeps
Why can we not share our lives?
Why may I not feel your lust?
Why are you so far away from me?
Across a pacific sea.
While my lonely dusks are so long
I will never adore another
I will never declare farewell to you
I will save myself
For my long-lost lover.
70

71
Gia Gunn - Blessed and Asian
Digital
Brenda Chi

Brenda Chi
Los Angeles, USA
Brenda was born in Los Angeles (San Gabriel
Valley) and was raised by syndicated sitcoms
and cartoons. She loves playing and recreating
existing IPs and putting them in a context of a
movie poster, or a vintage AD, or in a way to
inspire the viewer. Much of her work has a
sense of humor, and if it doesn't, then it is with
intention to celebrate the subject and mood
that fits in that piece.
Brenda is published in New Frontiers: The
Many Worlds of George Take as a comic book
writer and artist. She’s also been featured by
NBC News Asian America, USCscape, Asian
American Comic Con, Long Beach Zine Fest,
Threadless, and SingTao Newspaper.
72

It seems like the clients you
chose to work are consistently
Asian American organizations
and the creatives you team up
with are also Asian American.
Have you always gravitated
towards that community? Has
your art always found a home
there?
Actually, I have only recently
gravitated towards the
community. It took some time
knowing myself for me to
realize that I wanted to make
work about AAPI. It happened
to work out that I knew friends
who brought me along to
projects, and that the rise of
“Asian American culture”, like
Crazy Rich Asians happened at
the same time. I continue to
look for clients that are related
to Asian American
organizations, and it feels like
I’m giving back to the
community through my art.
That feels right.
You’re made Lunar Year
coloring pages for the Chinese
American Museum in LA and
even designed a kids alphabet
floor rug. It seems like the
programming you have been
a part of paves a different
path for children of the
diaspora. Can you talk more
about your childhood? How
do you hope your work
resonates with younger
viewers?
I grew up in the San Gabriel
Valley, so I was surrounded by
a lot of kids who were also
Chinese American. Looking
back, some things have made
me realize how close I was to
Chinese culture through my
upbringing, while other parts,
made me realize how isolated
I was from it too. Growing up,
many of my peers and I felt
like we had to pick. I just want
younger audiences to feel like
they fit in, the way I did
growing up, and if they can
feel that connection even
more than me, then even
better. The pride of knowing
where your family came come
is a big factor. So, with this
work, I want it to be a hybrid
of American and Chinese, and
that it’s fine to be both. There
doesn’t need to be a one way
or another.
73

ABC (American Born Chinese)’s Guide to Guilt
Digital
Brenda Chi

Your comic, “Inbetween”, part of New Frontiers: George Takei
Graphic Anthology, expresses a sense of not belonging to
neither Hong Kong nor Los Angeles, where you grew up and
currently live. Can you talk more about that?
I had to live and work outside
of the San Gabriel Valley to
learn that Los Angeles, and in
a bigger aspect, USA, is quite
foreign to me. The subtle
racism, the ignorance my
coworkers would say about
the language of an Asian
culture, and the food that
they didn’t understand—food I
have loved since forever. I
didn’t know it would annoy
me so much until it happened.
That I would be faced with
questions that were subtly
racist. It was easier to
withdraw from people who
didn’t “get it”, than try to
explain anything to them.
When I walked into a room
with no Asian people, I felt the
most foreign and “Asian”.
People look at me and assume
they won’t understand who I
am because of my face. I dress
like a girl from LA, but they
don’t even look at that, they
go straight for the eyes.
75
Going to Hong Kong was an
exploration of my family’s
world that I wished to know
more of. I knew my parents
would feel more at home in
this world, and therefore, I
would too, in some way. But I
constantly knew that I did not
fit in. I don’t know anything
about being Cantonese, I don’t
know sayings, or even simple
words. My Cantonese isn’t very
good, a child’s level, and it was
so hard to talk sometimes. I
was reminded of the
disconnect whenever I spoke
to my parents in Cantonese
and I can’t express myself to
them. I’m just an ABC
(American Born Chinese). It’s
easier to accept who I am than
try to push myself to one way
or another. What I am is valid
and part of the Cantonese
diaspora. I’m American who is
enriched with two worlds and I
can be really proud of that.
Some people don’t even know
that exists.

“Inbetween” can be found on Brenda’s website
BrendaChi.com/Comics/COMICS-INBETWEEN
or purchased at the Japanese American National Museum
JANMstore.com/Collections/New-Frontiers
Your comic, “Inbetween”, shows a Hong Kong native telling
you that your Cantonese is good for someone from LA. Can
you explain the cultural repercussions of this statement?
She had low expectations of
me. I am “American sized”
and much bigger, and I don’t
dress like a Hong Konger.
Then again, I don’t think a lot
of clothes in Hong Kong
would fit my body shape.
Like any elder Chinese person
I’ve met, they have low
expectations of me being
Chinese. I’ll get that from my
parents too. It hurts but you
get used to it too. Sometimes
I’ll tell myself it’s “person
from another generation”
and “cultural differences”.
They see ABCs are one thing,
maybe because they have
kids, nieces and nephews that
fit that mold. They don’t know
there’s more than that, but
that’s because they aren’t
American, and probably don’t
move out of their comfort
zone. They are close minded,
and that’s not my problem.
Also, it’s a backhanded
compliment, but it’s so
Chinese Auntie of them, and
my role is to nod, and be
gracious of such a
compliment. It’s all roles. I
play it up, if it moves the
conversation. I guess it is
code switching.
76

Your AZN GRRL comics “No Nihao, Thanks”
and “Day in the Life of an Azn Grl” speaks to a
specific kind of fetishization many in the
diaspora experience. Coupled with misogyny
rampant across many communities, your
artwork offers a distinct counternarrative.
Can you talk more about that?
It was inspired by the comics of Doug Sneyd, a
Playboy Comic from the 60s and 70s—all of
which were naughty comics, often with a ditzy
woman or a very sexually confident woman. I
wanted to create my version of that, where
the woman is in full power, and she
commands the narrative. I’ve experienced
fetishization in my own life and this was my
way of fixing those awful experiences. I
learned this term earlier last year from a
project with a UCLA class, “L'esprit de
l'escalier” (The Spirit of the Staircase), which
means you think of the perfect reply too late…
when you have walked to the end of the
staircase. These pieces are the replies I wish I
could’ve given. As women, we sometimes are
safer if we don’t speak, if we appease—play
defensive than offensive. Sometimes, it’s not
worth our time to call it out. Unfortunately,
that’s the first reaction most women go to
when faced with some sort of sexism or
racism, rather than calling it out. If I showed a
moment where I didn’t, and I confronted, I
could share the truth of what I was really
thinking, and what I think a lot of women are
really thinking.
77
No Nihao, Thanks
Digital
Brenda Chi

78

Cantonese is barely makes it to one of the top twenty most spoken
languages in the world. In some communities, language loss over
generations is a documented phenomenon. Can you speak about
this?
Yeah, that makes me really sad. From an American standpoint, I
think Hong Kong is the center for Cantonese language and culture.
The “marketable to Westerners” city. If that loses to China, it loses
a lot of its cultural influence, and Cantonese will have a hard time
surviving. China doesn’t want their people to speak Cantonese.
Westerners don’t even know that Mandarin and Cantonese are two
different languages, as they all think Chinese is Mandarin. Of
course, I’m ignorant on anything China, especially that of Southern
China, so hopefully Cantonese can last for a long time. It’s
heartbreaking but it’s not the only language to suffer in this way.
Lots of culture and language has been obliterated in history. You’d
just think that with the Internet, we can save it before it
disappears. We can keep making art, film, music with it, so it is
remembered. I hope it is! I hope Cantonese culture comes back in
some chart breaking Netflix film.
You have mentioned that you think “Cantonese is something
hidden in the shadows of being Mandarin”. It is indeed a minority
culture that stands opposed to the dominant culture of mainland
China. Can you talk more about this?
Being American, I can only speak to my upbringing in the SGV.
There used to be more Cantonese people, and sometimes it was
weird to hear someone speak Mandarin. But as I get older, there’s
more and more Mandarin/ mainlanders here, and as great as their
restaurants and culture is, it’s not THE home, for me. Cantonese
people were quite a large group of people who immigrated to Los
Angeles. Cantonese / Cantonese American food has shaped so
much of what a Chinese Restaurant is supposed to have on their
menu. We don’t acknowledge it enough. It goes back to
“Westerners think Chinese is Mandarin, Mandarin is Chinese”. I
don’t know, I think Cantonese needs a publicist and we need a new
marketing campaign. I’d love to see a museum exhibit a show of
only Cantonese American history, so I could learn more. I have a
feeling our influence on the world, has been brushed aside
because people were generalizing us.

A Day in the Life of an Azn Grl
Digital
Brenda Chi

The recent events in Hong Kong have awakened the social conscious
of many in the diaspora. You’ve shared a fear that many currently
have, that the civil unrest and assimilation policies may actually
push Cantonese to disappear. Can you talk more about that?
I am fearful for Hong Kongers and where the CCP will take them. I
don’t really know what’s going on there, other than news, and some

posts from friends who live in HK. It’s like watching a battle. We
don’t know what’s going to happen. I hope the news about Hong
Kong shed a light to other people though. I think Hong Kong is this
(in its best light) a great example of how beautiful Cantonese culture
is, and I don’t think people realize that its destruction will hurt a
minority culture, that has been so badass in its art. If we talked
about that, people would understand why this is so important, but
people generalize us.

You’re shared that you are
actually Cantonese-
Vietnamese. Can you talk
more about this identity?
What do you “claim” or
“identify” as? What
experiences do you have that
may be different than
someone who is mono
culturally Cantonese?
I am Cantonese, but ethnically,
half Vietnamese because my
mother is from Saigon. So,
when I think about being
Vietnamese, I realize her
upbringing different than
someone who grew up in China
(even though her family was
Chiu Chow/ Cantonese). Then, I
can’t ignore the fact that her
family was in Saigon because
they were refugees from China.
Then mom left because of the
Vietnam War. It’s all connected
to war and the displacement of
families trying to survive (My
dad’s side has a history of
being refugees too.). Knowing
that both my families were at
one point displaced out of
China makes my experience
being Cantonese a bit different.
Other people know family in
China, they visit them, they
have places they call home,
while mine have disappeared.
There’s something about losing
that before you were born,
make your family feel so
different from everyone else’s.
Well, I know how to make a
good fish sauce, and I have a
palate of someone who is from
Southeast Asia. I feel
Cantonese, but I know that part
of my blood is in Vietnam, and
that’s home too. Images of my
mom as a preteen, riding her
motorcycle in Saigon, is
something that keeps it
different from someone who is
mono culturally Cantonese.
Sometimes I think her
personality wouldn’t be the
same if she wasn’t the
independent girl on the
motorcycle, and I would’ve
been raised differently. I can’t
say what would make it
different, but I believe “Jungle
Asian” is a wonderful thing to
have in your blood.
I grew up thinking everything
at home was all Chinese, until
my mom had to really explain
her upbringing (and after I
questioned her many times).
So, I didn’t really think of those
cultures as too different. It was
all one, for me. Only now, do I
see that they were two
different worlds, and I don’t
know much about Vietnam.
There’s also a disconnect
between Asians. I can hang out
with Southeast Asian friends
because we’re not here to be
proper and save face. We’re
here to eat, be loud and enjoy
ourselves. I think for Chinese
people, it takes a couple of
drinks to get there. At least,
that’s my experience. My world
is bigger and that’s because of

being Vietnamese. My mom
knows Chiu Chow, Cantonese,
Mandarin, and Vietnamese.
You grow up knowing your
mom can intermingle with
different groups of people, and
it’s powerful to be able to do
that.

Page 81:
Golden Queen - Reflections
Digital
Page 84:
Golden Queen - Office
Digital
Golden Queen is an ongoing series that Brenda is working on,
mixing 70s design and the things a Chinese American would
have in their home. Its the depiction of what it would’ve been
like to be Asian American in a 70s action film.
Your logo is a fortune cookie,
your art features boba, fish
balls, and bon chon. What role
does food play in identity for
diaspora communities? Or in
your development,
specifically?
Well there’s a Bon Chon in
Alhambra and my boyfriend
who lived in the East Coast
loved it, so it’s more for him.
However, Korean Fried Chicken
is king, as we all know.
An example of your question is
me being Vietnamese. I don’t
know how to speak
Vietnamese, though I heard it
while growing up. However, I
know the food, I can taste the
palate as I talk about it. It’s a
reflection of the culture, and
it’s fresh and vibrant. I know
I’m Vietnamese because I can
connect to the food and mom
makes great Vietnamese food.
Without the food, I have very
little confidence in being
Cantonese or Vietnamese. I
know what the food is
supposed to taste like, I know
when we eat it, I know how to
eat it. No one can put me down
when we’re at the lazy susan at
Dim Sum. I know my shit. When
I can barely name all the Dim
Sum dishes to the waiter, I still
know what is good on the
menu. It’s those practices that I
didn’t need to take classes on.
And food lets me connect with
other people who feel the same
way I do, or I can celebrate my
family by making or eating the
food. There’s something about
making your food, knowing that
some version of it was made
generations ago by your
ancestors that is so magical.
In the diaspora of being
Cantonese, I feel a lot of shame.
It’s heavy, and it’s with me
whether I’m in Los Angeles or
Hong Kong. When one is a little
kid to when one is 60 years old.
The one solid thing I can purely
enjoy is food. No shame. I know
this is mine and no Auntie or
white lady blogger can tell me
off about it. You can’t take back
the years of my family feeding
me their food. I have the
receipts!!

87
Page 86:
AhMa Burns
Digital
Brenda Chi

Follow Brenda Chi:
BrendaChi.com
Etsy: BChiLA
Instagram: Brenda_Cheese
88

89
Endangered
Gouche
Charlotte Siu

“This work is about a
disappearing Hong Kong
industry, the pawnshop, an
old tradition that is best
preserved in Hong Kong
and Macau. It reminds me
that some traditions may
just disappear like the
endangered animals.”
- Charlotte Siu
Born and raised in Hong Kong, Charlotte Siu works
across different mediums. She wants to inspire the
viewers to look more carefully at the world around
them and to question their relationship with nature.
Instagram: CharlotteSiuArt
90

⽣ 於 ⾹ 港 、⻑ 於 ⾹ 港 , 趙 綺 婷 的 畫 作 圍 繞 城 市 景
⾊, 從 第 ⼀ 身 視 ⻆, 刻 畫 個 ⼈ 與 城 市 的 關 係 。 趙 綺
婷 使 ⽤⽔ 彩 作 為 主 要 繪 畫 媒 介 , 透 過 其 透 明 靈 動 的
特 質 , 渲 染 出 轉 瞬 即 逝 的 光 、 影 去 刻 畫 城 景 。 對 她
⽽⾔, 創 作 像 是 在 城 市 街 頭 上 的 歷 險 、 亦 像 是 對 個
⼈ 身 分 認 同 的 探 索 , 由 畫 作 帶 領 ⼤ 家 以 ⾃ 身 視 ⻆ 再
次 觀 察 我 們 身 處 城 市 的 脈 搏 與 ⼼ 跳 。 趙 綺 婷 希 望 以
⽔ 彩 創 作 和 寫 ⽣, 紀 錄 我 城 獨 有 的 景 貌 、 社 區 和 ⽂
化 , 表 達 她 對 ⾹ 港 街 道 的 鍾 情 。
趙 綺 婷 於 ⼆ 零 ⼀⼋ 年 , 畢 業 於 ⾹ 港 ⼤ 學 ⽂ 學 院 藝 術
史 系 。

Elaine Chiu
Hong Kong
Elaine Chiu depicts the urban lives and
environments through watercolour cityscapes.
With the fluidic and transparent qualities of the
medium, she captures the transience of the light
and shadow of a city’s unique street view. To her,
painting is not only an exploration in the streets
of the city but also a journey of self-searching.
Through her art, Elaine hopes to record the street
views, communities and cultures of places she
calls home.
Elaine Chiu graduated from The University of
Hong Kong with a Bachelor’s degree in Art
History in 2018.
92

What message are you trying to convey to
foreigners and people who have never
been to Hong Kong with your artworks?
As an artist who is born and raised in Hong
Kong, I wanna show people from other
places the more intimate, “lesser-known”
side of my home city. In my artwork, I often
depict street scenes in Hong Kong that are
disappearing or already disappeared due
to urban redevelopment. Signboards,
calligraphies and old tenement houses
that merges Western and Eastern style, are
my favourite elements to paint. As a
post-90s, I don’t find myself attached to
the current metropolitan images or
architecture here. I like to collect the bits
of the older communities that actually
built up our identity. Painting old streets
feel like painting a self-portrait — and
erasing those visual elements in streets,
feels like erasing part of the unique Hong
Kong identity of this generation. So,
perhaps it’s the intimate perspective and
sentiment of the city-citizen relationship
in today's Hong Kong is something I want
to show to foreign readers.
趙 綺 婷 _ 褪 ⾊ 記 憶 Fading Memories
Watercolor
Elaine Chiu

The Memory Lane
Watercolor
Elaine Chiu

Milk Tea City
Watercolor
Elaine Chiu

What are your experiences with art and identity abroad?
I think culture sharing is a lot easier with art as a medium.
Being an Urban Sketcher I travelled and sketched with people
from all around the world since University time. When I
sketched on the streets, local people would sometimes come
to you and talk to you. I think that is a fabulous way to
experience how the community is like. In Europe, people are
friendly to artist painting in the street. In Taiwan, local people
would stay around you and watch the whole progress of your
painting! As I paint, I enjoy talking to them and exchange our
views about cityscape and share about Cantonese cultures.
Sketching in North
Point, one of the
oldest districts in
Hong Kong.
Some uncles
gathered
around as I
sketched and
they shared
with me their
childhood
stories living
in the
community.

Neon City
Watercolor
Elaine Chiu
Page 101:
Seafood Street
Watercolor
Elaine Chiu
99

10

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ElaineChiu.com
Instagram: ElaineChiuArt

Cantonese please press ‘1’
by Theodora Yu
“Living in the U.S. for two years, I found myself becoming
more appreciative of my heritage. Cantonese and Chinese
language have been an anchor of my identity as a
Hongkonger during my stay. There are so much treasures
within our culture, waiting for us to seek.” -Theodora Yu
Theodora Yu is a Hong Kong journalist and writer
currently based in Sacramento. She is inspired by the
work of Hong Kong poet Leung Ping-kwan and Hmong
American writer Kao Kalia Yang.

There is something sweet and smooth, like warm honey,
about reverting to your mother tongue.
Like turning on a switch to activate a secret code
it draws us closer, exchanging thoughts more precisely expressed.
Cantonese chatter floats like cool breeze in a sultry evening,
as I perk up my ears and eavesdrop on strangers in Chinatown (「 我 哋 去
邊 度 ⻝ 飯 呀 ?」)
confirming membership to our “club.” (“My people!”)
The familiar intonations are a breath of fresh air
during brief chitchats with ladies selling fruits (「 今 ⽇ 啲 ⽕⿓ 果 好 靚
喎 。」)
or in a phone call with a reader, who immigrated four decades ago -
initiated by the magic words -
「 你 識 唔 識 講 廣 東 話 ?」
Walls shatter, lips curve into smiles -
it births unspoken understanding across generations.
Despite different accents or enunciations
there is something we share
lost and found in a diaspora
connecting us on a foreign land (to me), a home (to her).
I feel embarrassed sometimes, finding myself
embedding too many English words in a Cantonese sentence.
The longer I stay in America
The more I found refuge in reading and thinking in my mother tongue
mulling over the rich imagery packed in a Chinese quatrain
a full story about nostalgia, sealed by its twentieth character;
or the wicked sense of humor of “eating words*” (⻝ 字 )
in memes and videos on Instagram;
or the timeless Cantonse ballad that reminds me of my mother -
just to make sure I’m still okay at it.
There’s still so much I want to listen to,
still so much I want to say.
*replacing a Chinese character with another of the same pronunciation
but different meaning

105
There is still light
Oiil on canvas
Kanny Yeung

Kanny Yeung
Hong Kong
Kanny is an independent artist born and raised
in Hong Kong. She graduated with a BFA in
Communication Design from Parsons the New
School for Design in New York, where she lived
and worked as a graphic designer for 5 years. In
2019, Kanny began showing and selling her work
in Melbourne, Australia where she launched her
website: kannypaints.
She recently returned home to Hong Kong, where
she is currently based. Kanny paints landscapes
inspired by her travels around the world—
seeking out experiences whilst appreciating the
transient nature of our world. We never watch
the same sunset twice, and the same space can
be phenomenally different from one moment to
the next. Kanny captures her perceptions of these
moments and shares them with you.

Describe where you grew up and how you ended up where you
are.
I was born and raised in Hong
Kong. I went to university in
New York where I lived and
worked for 5 years doing
graphic design. I had to move
back to Hong Kong due to visa
reasons (it's really difficult to
get a work visa even if you have
a sponsor!) so I worked as a
graphic designer in a small
design consultancy in Hong
Kong. The design industry in
Hong Kong was so
drastically different from the
creative culture in New York and
soon I felt unfulfilled even
though it was a comfortable
environment and lifestyle.
I took a year off to travel,
backpacking around Europe and
to decide what I wanted to
pursue. I eventually decided to
pursue a career in
physiotherapy and applied to 1
university in Australia. I got into
that program and moved there
in 2018. But after a year of
struggling through the
program, it was evident that it
wasn't who I am - I felt like I was
living someone else's life doing
something that isn't natural to
me, I don't excel at no matter
how hard I try. I was completely
lost and in the beginning of
2019, it pushed me to the point
of extreme stress, anxiety, and
depression - to the point where I
didn't know what the point was
to be alive anymore. So after a
period of difficult mental space,
I mustered up the courage (or
perhaps just gave up on life),
and decided to quit.
I always told myself that if
money wasn't a problem I
would just like to paint - and
that is what I wanted to do
when I retired. But why do we
always wait to live our dreams
when we retire? Why do we
spend the majority of our youth
and health doing something
mediocre (in the sense that it
isn't our dream/passion) just to
retire to do what we want to
do? It didn't make sense to me,
but that was how we were
brought up in this modern
society and especially in Hong
Kong. The stereotype is real -
there was an expectation to
become
a
'professional' (lawyer, doctor
etc.), make lots of money, get
married and have kids. My
parents are already quite
liberal I would say, they
supported me to pursue design
which is still an acceptable
'profession' as I have been
interested in art my whole
childhood. I think design was
an acceptable 'profession' for
them and for me. And I'm not
saying that I made these
choices because of my parents'
expectations but I do think that
what we are surrounded by
growing up does influence
subconsciously what we believe
to be valuable or important,
and that it takes a lot of work to
break through those beliefs

that aren't actually true for us individually because it is so built into
the fabric of who we think we should be.
The hardest part was getting over the expectation for myself and of
what I thought my parents wanted for me. But once I was pushed to
the point of breaking, I had the courage to speak the truth to myself
and my parents, and they were surprisingly understanding and
supportive. So the lesson here was that we are probably the hardest
on ourselves.
So all this has brought me to launching kannypaints in Melbourne,
Australia in March 2019 as I decided to stay on for a year of working
holiday. I had all the intentions of returning to school for another
degree in Business but after starting in early 2020, it really didn't feel
right to me. Australia also didn't feel right for me anymore either, so
I decided to move home to Hong Kong to see if I can make things
work here as well as I have the last year in Melbourne.
I think one thing I've come to realize about myself is that I love
change and living in different places. I'm still figuring it out but I
think I don't like staying stagnant and feeling too bound to one
place.

Where did you get your education and what was that experience
like?
I got a BFA in Communication Design (Graphic Design) from
Parsons in New York. Living in New York from 2010-2014 was
seriously amazing. It has definitely shaped me into who I am today.
I think it's really important to live in different places that are
completely different than your upbringing, just so you can
experience other cultures and perspectives. That said, I was
extremely introverted during that period so if I could go back to my
younger self I would try to go out and experience more.
After working for a few years in design I felt like it wasn't exactly
right for me, so I went on to pursue a Doctor of Physiotherapy
degree in Melbourne, Australia in 2018. Melbourne was also
another amazing city full of the arts and really cool people. I think
all the changes and what happened was meant to lead me to where
I am today. I think with my Hong Kong / Asian upbringing, I was so
heavily conditioned to believe I needed to be a professional or
pursue a formal education and degree then get a reputable job,
that I needed to make the wrong choice so I could push myself to
the point where I could make the right choice for me.
How do you define your cultural and ethnic identity? Are you
Cantonese?
This is an interesting question that I often discuss with my old
friends. I don't really identify as anything in particular because I
simply don't feel like I belong to any specific finite culture. From
the outside I am full Hong Kong-Chinese. I would say that I'm born
and raised in Hong Kong, educated in an international school, then
went off to university for my first degree in New York. I've lived and
worked in both New York and Hong Kong shortly before moving to
Australia for 3 years. I'm a little bit of all the experiences I have had
up to this point.
I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling like not belonging, like being in
between, misunderstood, disconnected to the majority. When I am
in Hong Kong, I am considered a little too foreign and not a local,
but when I have lived abroad, I am definitely considered an
outsider. So there is this constant in-between and unbelonging.
109

Page 108:
Sky above, what are you dreaming of?
Oil on canvas
Kanny Yeung
Endless Reflection
Oil on birch
Kanny Yeung
And I think I quite like it in some sense, because it refrains from
putting myself in a box even though that's exactly what everyone
else loves to do to me. And I think that has made me who I am to
this point - open minded and able to see different perspectives
whilst being able to choose my own beliefs, forming a whole mixed
up unique identity.
110

A light from the shadows shall spring
Oil on canvas
Kanny Yeung

On your website, you mention that your work comes
from a place of authenticity, from your personal
experiences. Can you explain more about that?
One thing that I always try to do is just create what I
want without trying too hard in the sense of trying to
form an elaborate thesis behind my work as I
personally always find that type of art feels very
pretentious. What I create comes from the heart and
not the head. I'm not trying to make a political
statement (which is overwhelmingly what the
contemporary Hong Kong/Asian art industry has
been focused on), instead I simply paint what I like
and what I am drawn to naturally. I think every single
artistic choice I make is influenced by every part of
who I am naturally - my past, my thoughts, my
opinions, my hobbies, my preferences - and letting
that intuitive creation happen is the most authentic
way to express who I am. I create from what I live.
You mention that your work mirrors an inner
journey. Can you describe what that process is like?
For me, it is the same as being authentic. By keeping
the purity of what I create to simply what I want to
create, I am expressing my authentic self. As you may
see I love searching, being curious, beautiful
landscapes that bring me peace and a sense of
wonder. I love travelling and seeking out different
places in nature. I'm so drawn to nature, especially
landscapes that are different! I am still figuring it out
but perhaps it is related to that sense of unbelonging
that I keep searching for these places, I'm not sure.
And what I'm trying to describe in the last question
as well is that in hindsight my collections always
teach me something about what I am going through
in my inner journey at that moment. So in a way each
artwork or collection is kind of a way for me to work
through my thoughts and life experiences in that
moment.

When I look at your work, I get a sense of
longing. The luminous palette and stark divide
between sky and land creates a space that
leaves viewers in awe. What messages are
embedded in your technical choices?
That's interesting, I don't get to hear too much
what people feel from my work. I love that that's
what you feel. I intuitively gravitate towards
certain palettes at certain times and I just go
with it - that is how I keep my work authentic
and real. I like exploring the different
compositions between sky, mountains, waters
as well as adapting varying visual styles from
more abstract, to more photorealistic.
I love that you felt a sense of longing and awe -
that is exactly how I feel when I create most of
my work since they are often of places I have
been to and had magical experiences in,
inspiring me to create work from those
memories. All I want is for people to feel the
sense of wonder. I think it's something society is
trying to teach us to forget, to 'grow up' to
'adult' and live in cities, use technology and so
on. I think my work is a reflection of me wanting
to escape that in a way.
Describe the process of planning a new
landscape piece. What do you do first? How do
you choose a landscape to work with?
Usually I am inspired by a recent adventure I
have been lucky to go on. I draw upon the
memories, feelings, mental state, experience I
have in a place with the help of reference
photos I take and start to experiment with the
color palette. As I described previously about
how I create authentically, I don't overthink
before starting an artwork - I kind of just go for
it. Then it usually leads me onto the next one
and the next until I feel like a collection is
complete which is usually when I've had enough
of painting that landscape or color palette.
113

Feel the spray
Oil on Birch
(cradled wood
panel)
Kanny Yeung
Just turn
right and
keep going
Oil on Birch
(cradled
wood panel)
Kanny Yeung
114

Your Baked Earth series is all about the Australian desert "a place
of quiet where time stands still and the infinite weathering of Earth
is chronicled”. Can you speak more about this?
Even though I launched my website, kannypaints, in Australia and
still have connections there I don't feel drawn to be there physically
anymore. In Baked Earth, the collection was mostly inspired by
Uluru, a very special place ian Australia. It was inspired by the
feeling I got when I visited Uluru. It was so removed from the usual
city life in a way that you feel like you have been transported to
another planet. The air felt different, the light was different, the way
that time passed was different. I wanted to capture that in a small
collection of paintings that worked together but also individually. I
was also fascinated by the red ochre desert and the rock formations
as this type of desert landscape was new to me.

Page 115:
Light
Oil on canvas
Kanny Yeung
Pg 117:
Daydreaming and I’m thinking of you
Oil on canvas
Kanny Yeung
Time
Oil on Birch (cradled wood panel)
Kanny Yeung

You write that your new series, Azure, is a "therapeutic response
to current circumstances, this collection represents solitude and
hope". Can you provide insight about those circumstances that
birthed these works?
I started this collection shortly after returning home to Hong Kong,
due to the current pandemic, quarantine, self isolation and also a
tough break up. So it was a collection about hope and finding
peace, a way to meditate on my life circumstances and channel all
that energy staying at home into these large paintings filled with
vibrant color and hope. I wanted to be completely immersed in my
craft so I decided to paint in a photorealistic style which I haven't
done before, which gave me so much peace and it felt like the
therapy I needed.
117

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Instagram: KannyPaints
118

My Kaiping Lady
by Raymond Chong
My poem is an impassioned song about a dragon
(gentleman) and his phoenix (lady), midst their sultry
amour, at a village in Kaiping of mystical Canton, that
blends flowery metaphors.
Raymond Douglas Chong is the president of Generations,
his creative enterprise in Sugar Land, Texas. He is a
writer of stories, composer of poems, director of films,
and lyricist of songs. Raymond is a civil engineer, a traffic
operations engineer, a transportation professional, and a
road safety professional.

Upon a dewy aurora
Midst a crispy spring
As a gold sun crests
Down Kaiping – Land of Peace
At mystical Canton
The grand Diaolou dot the ancient
villages
While a serpentine Tanjiang cascades
Through a majestic terra
Of kelly mounts and jade vales
Among leafy and piney woods
As a serene zephyr swirl
From the South Sea
As honeybees wildly sip nectar
While hued gems bloom and glint
When buttery flowers waltz
When Mandarin ducks glide
When tawny cicadas cry
When pearly swans soar
When auburn sparrows croon
Amid a brisk wa!
Of sugared fragrance
A creamy plum blossom captivates me
With dreamy fire and ice
In our brazen splendor
Your willowy allure
Of milky bud
Of glossy lips
Of silky hair
Impulsively bewilders my zest
In spicy fantasy
Your seductive aspect
Of satiny gown
Of pearly stones
Of orchid scent
Intimately bedazzles by lust
In saucy ecstasy
When we fervidly cling
With desire and passion
Along a riverfront rocky promenade
As a magical dawn arrives
A frosty moon glitters
Below a crystal celestial sky
As sky lanterns sway
Near a glassy lotus pond
By a pastel peony pavilion
Inside a candlelit crimson chamber
Amid an incensed plume
When I grasp your silken stalk
As I stroke your jade gate
While we arouse and aspire
When I graze your glazed bud
As I rub your ivory peaks
While we enrapture and engulf
When I glance your flowery pond
As I sip your rosy wine
While we infatuate and intrigue
With incessant thrusts and throbs
Of primrose mists and tears
Within a steamy tempest
As we daringly sear
Amid your high tide of yin
When you so!ly moan
Amid my high tide of yang
When I hotly roar
Midst our sultry rhapsody
As butterflies in flight
Until a shiny aurora
At cosmos and heaven
At sun and moon
At dawn and dusk
My darling Venus
You bewitch my mind
You besmirch my soul
You beguile my heart
From our sunlit serenade
To our moonlit soiree
When I deeply gaze into amber irises
As we intensely pulsate
For our true amour
You are my Kaiping Lady.

Canto Grind
Digital photo
Felix Wong

Afterward
I hope you enjoyed this wide range of narratives. Finding
Cantonese artists from around the world is no easy feat. For
starters, our identity is complicated. We’re Chinese… sort of.
Maybe not. Well, I’ve never felt Chinese.
My parents were born and raised in Hong Kong and I’ve
never even been to China. I don’t speak Mandarin. There was
always a negative connotation when referring to mainland
China, especially around my family, growing up. I understand
that I attended, and subsequently failed out of, Chinese
school, but it was to learn Cantonese. I feel profoundly
Cantonese. This zine was created to support that radical,
cherished identity: being Cantonese.
Only around February of 2020 did my grandfather reveal in
one of our countless Hong Kong democracy debates: “hey,
we’re Chinese now!” This was news to me. I hadn’t gotten the
memo. You’re telling me who I am and what I am rooted in -
can change overnight?
I was curious to see how other people in the Cantonese
diaspora defined themselves. All I knew was life in the US,
but what about other Cantonese people? In coming up with
Canto Cutie, I wanted to feature a wide range of perspectives
and ask them, “who are you?” and “how do you live that?” I
wanted to capture the voices and try let the art speak.
Instead of being told who we are, I wanted Canto Cutie to be
a chance to reclaim the narrative and decide who are, for
ourselves. Being Cantonese is multi-faceted. It’s a language,
it’s an identity tied to a geographical location, and it’s now
an act of resistance.

Canto Cutie
CantoCutie.com