How Then Shall We Become

When things change inside you, things change around you. Learning from our mistakes, as humans, is inevitable. Knowledge simply comes from experience. But it is what we do with those insights, how we grow through what we go through, that makes us. Awareness -- of our mindset, our behaviors, our flaws -- can be empowering, but it is only when we put this wisdom into action that we have the ability to evolve instead of repeating and recreating our histories. We are all flowers waiting to bloom. All we have to do is remind ourselves that because of then, there is now.

I have always felt pressured by an imaginary timeline, as though I have some kind of expiration date -- some kind of time limit set by society, culture, biology, and the media. Only recently have I come to terms with how preposterous it is to expect people to grow, evolve, and bloom on a fixed schedule. Growth is spontaneous and personal, not something to be prearranged on a timetable. It is not society, but our unique experiences that help us decide who we become and when.

Baby steps are still steps. All growth is still growth. I urge everyone who comes across this project to take a minute to contemplate and relinquish whatever imaginary expectations are set by society. Now is the time to come together as one united community and celebrate our successes. Even after so long of wilted leaves and lack of sun, of people telling me how many petals I should have grown by now, I still bloom.

Painting: acrylic paint on canvas, pipe cleaners, coffee filters, artificial vines 

Music video: recorded on an iPhone

For the last four years, we expressive therapies students have learned the importance of “creating the space:” forming a container with the people around us and the space we are occupying to provide safety for physical and emotional exploration. I found the idea comforting that no matter where you are you can make a space for yourself that feels comfortable. If the past year has taught me anything, it’s that no amount of willpower can create the same energy from place to place. As a dancer, trying to continue my art when quarantining at home proved to be a huge challenge. I found myself longing for the open space of a studio where my movement didn’t have to be confined.

As I began to move in different spaces, I started to recognize that what came up looked and felt different, but not in a bad way. I had spent so much time considering how I could make space, rather than looking at what the space could make of me. I think there is a fluidity in our art that we may not often acknowledge, allowing us to take the shape of the walls that contain us. When we enter a space, we enter a reciprocal relationship, engaging in a dialogue that can spark our creativity in new ways. Through this process, I was able to explore the spaces that shaped me, the opportunities they provided, the challenges they presented, and the gifts they gave me.

"When I see my tree, I run to it. I touch the tiny colored bells and wind chimes. ‘Ooooh,’ I say. I run around the tree, touching the bells and chimes. The wind blows and my tree jingles and rings…Lito plays my flute. He says, ‘Pablo, do you remember the story of your tree?'" (Pablo’s Tree by Pat Mora).

Growing up, it was never a secret that I was adopted. In fact, it was celebrated. Every year on March 16th, we celebrated my adoption day. We would show the old video tapes from the trip my parents took to Russia to pick me up, go through my Life Book and add in more pictures and events that had happened during the past year, and we would eat a meal of my choice.

One major activity we would do to celebrate came from a book I loved, Pablo’s Tree. This book explored a young boy's story of adoption and how it was celebrated in his family. Every year on his birthday, his grandfather would decorate a tree that was planted just for him. Growing up, my family took from this tradition and planted a tree for me in the backyard. Every year on March 16th, I would wake up to decorate it and have it as a reminder of my story.

My art piece is created as a triptych. It consists of three parts: my tree, myself, my birth mother, and my adoptive parents. I also incorporated the purple baby blanket that I grew up with as it was such a huge part of my childhood and I brought it everywhere. Each section of the triptych represents different parts of my life. The first section portrays my birth mother holding me and giving me to my adoptive parents through the tree. The second section is my tree. I included in some of my favorite decorations from growing up. The third canvas shows my adoptive parents holding my hands welcoming, accepting, and loving me no matter what. This painting represents my adoption story.

Acrylic paint, canvas

Opposites have followed me since the moment of birth. Every moment leading up to the next, I oppose everything and nothing at the same time. As I grow, the theme began to show more and more within my work as my unconscious mind dealt with every aspect that “I” opposed. Letting down the walls within myself, I used the new space to guide my creative identity into a shift -- identifying with the theme of opposites rather than either one of its opposing sides on any level of expression or production. With a freeing feeling of knowing that anything that wasn’t perfect was also its opposite, I was able to cast myself into the deepest oceans of unjudged and unheard creativity. Trying to express oneself through the blissful center of the unknown, the artist is left to use his known as a way out.

Acoustic/electric guitar, bass, iPad, MacBook Pro, iPhone (not sponsored by Apple yet), desk light/wall, makeup, crayons, mirrors, dishes

The ocean’s waves come in cycles. There is a sense of returning;

Tide comes in, tide goes out,

Wave after wave.

And life’s waves come in cycles:

Sorrow, Joy, Stillness;

Each waning and waxing,

Retreating to return.

Waves of joy may only be shoulder height, gently lifting us off of the sandbar.

They go through us.

While sorrow or fear may grow into a monstrous wall of water,

And then?

A choice:

To attempt to scramble away, and run the risk of a harsh wallop down into the sand

Or to run to its breast, dive and

Go through IT.

I talk about waves in therapy,

Where my placement exists in the cycle;

Am I

Watching the rise of a large whitecap,

Dreading our meeting point?

Or maybe I’m already in the dark, damp, cold,

Thick of it.

Maybe the waters are calm at the moment;

Still.

Still,

I’ve made my choices.

I’ve had to peel myself off of the beach,

But I have also known the euphoria, the relief,

Of pushing my head through the surface after the plunge,

Breaking through.

Sculptures: Watercolor, ceramics

Video: Guitar and voice 

I am a tree, the roots are all over me.

I feel static, grounded.

But a voice is telling me I can’t yet be free.

Now I move like the wind,

With quickness and curiosity.

I feel all my skin,

Tiredness invades my shadow;

As the need for my legs to feel lighter

I jump into the water

And I sense myself flowing,

Knowing where I am going

With no fish to distract me.

Now,

I understand the balance

Of knowing who I am

In order to connect with my power

To be curious for going farther

And allow myself to get impressed

With the mysteries of every day.

To breathe in the silence

And sense the answers and guidance.

Without separating from my fear

Who just wants to keep me safe

I transform it into strength

Being aware that if I fail

I will still have my roots, my curiosity

and my own guidance,

To keep transcending

To keep breathing,

To keep floating,

Into the unknown

Into this new and infinite world.

Oil pastel

This past year we’ve learned a lot about new methods of communication and how to stay connected when we can’t meet or see each other face-to-face anymore. We’ve adapted and grown and spent way too much time on our devices. But from that time, we found community and a way to let our voices be heard: Facebook groups to make us laugh or cry, Instagrammers to look up to while we clean up our spaces, Tik Tokers to copy in silly dances. I found community in a Facebook group for Asian Adoptees, which is especially important during a time in which anti-Asian hate runs rampant.

My identity is something I never spent much time wondering about. I knew how I felt about myself so why should I care about what others think? Then COVID happened and suddenly I was feeling very self-conscious about how others see me. I’d already been exploring what my identity meant to myself, but to have the opportunity to tell my side of the narrative of what it’s like being Asian-American right now is something else.

I’m hoping that through my work I can show others a little of what goes on inside my head: my daily thoughts, concerns, moments of brightness, and sometimes a little self-doubt and discomfort. I want to share a sliver of the community I found.

Over the past two years, I have become more interested in creating visual art through film and music. I find that it can bring people together and give them something tangible they can go back to forever. In lieu of becoming "Zoom University" and being unable to be close to one another in our final year, I began to ponder ideas on what I could do to show how much these past four years at Lesley have meant to me. I wanted to create a platform where the people that have been with me through the journey and who I’ve gotten the pleasure of getting to know, could have a space to celebrate this chapter ending. I wanted each and every person to be showcased as they have all helped me through every twist and turn of this wild ride at some point or another. Even if we couldn’t be together physically, I was going to make it happen virtually. This video includes just some of the amazing friends, teachers, and family members who have supported me and been my light throughout college. Without you all, I don't know where I’d be.

Thank you to everyone who sent me videos and helped this come together. I am truly honored to know each and every one of you.

Now Please Don’t Go and join us in Our Last Dance together!

I once knew a park ranger who spent an entire summer lighting controlled fires in the woods. He told me he did this because it was through scorching the earth that new things could be grown from the ground; after the fire, the plants came back healthier and more expansive than before. Exploring the wildfires in my own body - the small deaths, rebirths, and all of the heartbeats that happen in between - has facilitated everything that I am today.

My experience coming out as trans and being in community with other trans folks has allowed me to finally settle into myself. My transness has always felt like a homecoming and a welcoming at the same time; a giant dinner party where all of these pieces of myself that I repressed for so long could finally come together and feel nurtured.

The quilt in this piece is composed of clothes that I wore during different and more difficult times. I wore certain clothes to perform femininity and it made me feel as though I had a body that never truly felt like my own. Other clothes in this quilt come from periods of grief in my life; from times where things felt harder and I felt less safe.

I stitched these clothes together to make a quilt because I wanted to express that I had outgrown the things that caused me pain. I transformed the grief into an object that can provide warmth to the same body I had once felt so dissociated from.

In front of the quilt stands a plaster cast of my torso with a plant growing from the chest. Now that the fire is out - now that the body is home - there is room enough for new things to bloom.

This piece is a love letter to my trans friends, family, and strangers. Thank you for giving me the space and permission to find safety and comfort. Thank you for encouraging me to become the green that grows after the fire.

Plaster, assorted fabrics, plants

I invite you to dive into my consciousness. Here, I portray the process I have undergone to identify, understand, and appreciate all parts of my inner self. I have connected with each “part” of myself or in other words, my different reoccurring states of mind. I’ve explored from an observing perspective as, what I like to call, the “Witness.” As the witness, the goal I set for myself was to take in my whole self, all the different parts, and observe from a non-judgmental and loving stance.

I was on a search for harmony. Such harmony that allowed for dialogue between me, as the witness, and each part of myself. This, in turn, offered space for each part to advocate for itself and its purpose, aiding in my ability to understand and have empathy for myself. This relationship centers me, enabling me to see all facets of a situation, feel many emotions simultaneously without being conflicted, and to respond appropriately. It has helped me be present, calm, and compassionate. I am now able to empathize with each part and understand their intentions. I’ve learned how to activate the right parts at the right time, in turn, using the energy of each part to orchestrate a more balanced life.

Over the past four years, I have been on an immense journey of self-discovery. I knew that to best relate to the world around me, I needed to feel at home within myself. This video is an ode to the progress I have made and the self-awareness I have cultivated. I stand today with the ability to confidently embody every part of my inner self, understand them, and have intense appreciation. So, I ask you, how well do you know yourself? What do you still long to understand? And what is standing in your way?

Collaged Book

Chaos has taken this year by storm, but I have learned how to adapt, overcome challenges, and blossom into the person I’ve become today. Creating and viewing the collaged book has been an eye-opening process. It acts as an important milestone for my theme as well as where I am in my development in my current stage of life. The book has also served as a much-needed escape throughout the pandemic.

I hope these pages serve as a reminder that as you grow up and move on, you’ll cherish all the little special moments that come your way.

Video

This music video is a representation of growing up and moving on but while remembering the past. As the song progresses, I move through my home, taking a pause in every room to interact with the household objects. In particular spots, flashback videos of my childhood are faintly overlaid for a transparent effect.

The bridge verse of the song is used as a turning point. My movements become freer and my dance more joyous. I make eye contact with the camera, as does my younger self, to simply acknowledge, “cause I’m still turning out”.

I would like to thank my close friend, Madison Perkins, for her trusted camera work and assistance in the editing process. Not to mention my beloved family, who has let me dance around their home for the past twenty one years.

Collaged book: unlined small notebook, acrylic paints, markers, magazine clippings, printed photos, ribbon, fabric, glue, and tape

Video: dance, dance paws for floor grip control, song from Spotify, film: camera/edited on Adobe Premiere Pro

This piece is meant to represent the strength that comes with vulnerability. Taking a leap of faith means stepping outside of your comfort zone, exposing yourself to the elements. Doing so can be scary, but this step is a necessary part of growth. If we wish to become ‘better’ than we were, then we must do something we’ve never done before. There is no guarantee of success in the most beautiful of things; one of them being love. Vitality is required on each of our journeys if we wish to keep our chromaticity; this piece emanates the outcome. Embrace the process, embrace vulnerability.

Ecdysis

Transformation begins with a choice

to evolve, or to remain?

Evolution requires ecdysis,

the shedding of an old skin.

Grey in color with clouded vision,

change is the only cure.

Stagnant situations are defeated

in unexpected ways.

The process is not painless

your body thrashes about.

Yet through this trying time

comes irreversible growth.

- J.R.

I’ve always been interested in stories. I’ve spent so many hours devouring books, and getting lost in movies or TV shows, and no matter the genre or setting, I’ve found there’s always something to relate to and to learn from. I love the way that language seeps into the very cracks of who we are and binds us all together through space and time; the sharing of such deep, honest emotion based on a collective understanding of what story is can be so powerful! I love that stories help me to reach out and care for others, and they also help me look inwards to care for myself. They give me the tools to reflect and communicate, to help me to share knowledge or wisdoms that will outlive me. (Such therapeutic possibilities!)

I believe that storytelling is a human condition, inextricable from Nature—it both informs and expresses identity: the symbols and characters we create or see and grow to hold dear become us, just as we become them. In other words, we are the stories we tell ourselves and others! When we dare to feel the power of stories in an embodied way, when we enter that container of legend and Story Space, the wisdom is revealed, and the magic becomes real.

I’ve created this storybook as a voice for my own inner child and my own experiences. It’s an amalgamation of some real, lived experiences, some dreams, ghost stories, formative archetypes and tales of wounding and healing, and the hopes of a creative spirit. I’ve bound them all together in a journal created by hand and steeped in the imagery of Nature that I hold so dear. The crumbling, earthy moss on the inside of the covers, the imperfect edges of the smooth white pages, the soft, rich brown fabric wrapping the whole thing—all embody the life and spirit held in the forest of imagination for me, and I hope to take you, reader, by the hand and lead you down the path, now, with me—eyes to the crowns of rustling trees, revealing stars to guide us as we go.

Visual art through bookbinding with cardboard, paper and cardstock, felt, glue, needle and thread, and scissors; scrapbooking technique and materials including felt, washi tape, paper, and story-related found materials; creative writing, and storytime/reading performance video filmed on HP Envy camera application/webcam

A huge part of growing is learning what you love. This journey began on the North Shore of Massachusetts, where I began to express myself truly for the first time. The story continues and flows throughout the Boston area, and tells the story of a young woman in search for inner peace. 

The young woman discovers more about herself than she expected to, and this collection of songs is the result of overflowing emotions being displaced. This music tells the story of connecting with others, with nature, and with the self. 

The subject matter of these tunes ranges from long distance-true-love amidst a pandemic, to a tribute to my late hamster Eleanor... and everything in between.

The overarching theme of this project is the concept of "home." Something I have learned on this journey, which has brought me to the Catskill Mountains of Upstate New York, is that ‘home’ may not be a physical place at all. 

I chose to make this project mainly audio-based because music and its expressive qualities is what brought me on this journey. During my time at Lesley, I have witnessed the healing powers of art, movement, language, etc. I decided to return to my roots for this project, and to finish my undergraduate studies with a meaningful exploration of all that has come full circle.

Safety? Comfort? That’s where I go to hide, when I feel lost. This feeling of nowhere to go but to hide is because the unknown is sometimes too much to bear. Why have I been carrying the same pattern in my body over and over again? Why do I feel the same things, prepare to fight the same fight, and find myself in the same situations that have harmed me before? These are the questions that guided my capstone, taking me deeper within myself—deeper into the unknown.

During this period of transition, I wondered how I could integrate these questions into understanding in my body and not just my mind. Dissociation is a common after effect from experiencing trauma. It is one of my daily challenges, I gladly take on each day. But the real question was, how do I move beyond this trauma identity? I’ve been living in a trauma state of being for 18 years; is that really all of who I am?

My dance demonstrates my exploration into these questions. This feeling of being placed on a pedestal is important because through movement I noticed a repetitive theme that I wasn’t aware of until now—my attachment to the negative or my darker emotions—my “monster self.” Viewing myself in a lighter or positive state is hard for me; I had gotten so use to feeling guilty or ashamed or being categorized as the “black sheep.” I never realized until now, that for reasons of survival, early on I learned to own that as my permanent state of being. Somehow, I forgot the good, happy, and enlightened parts of me!

My dance represents the process of learning to love oneself and embodying all aspects. Vulnerability is the basis of the dance. Normally I am very bold, and out there, maybe even wild to some, but my dance shows something different and new. A softer and gentler side of me appears as I dance. As a survivor of sexual abuse, I am often met with a silent stigma that isn’t talked about. In other words, if you are someone who is confident in your sexuality, whether within societal norms or not, it’s not that big of a deal until the identity of “abuse survivor” is added on. Then one’s confidence becomes viewed as someone acting out or a cry for help, versus someone who is empowered and owns their sexuality and also happens to be a survivor of abuse. For that reason, which is why choosing to use the pole as my supporting dance tool, along with my body was very important to me. Pole is viewed in such a sexualized way that a dancer typically is seen as dancing for the entertainment of others. My dance challenges that stereotype. Instead, pole dancing is used as a tool and space for liberation and enjoyment for oneself—the dancer—rather than an audience. It’s all a matter of perspective.

My dance technique uses of liquid motion and low flow pole beginner moves combined with other dance styles. Liquid motion in particular was an essential part of my journey as it focuses on moving from the pelvis. Through this dance, I am able to step into the unknown and challenge myself to let go of old pain or stories that may be stored in my body-mind and, instead, allow the now to be a guide to who I am and who I am becoming. This dance is my expression of liberation through self-love, of honoring all of who I am, and reclaiming the power of my sexuality without being victimized.

My paintings demonstrate how I process words and emotions that I am not always able to integrate and express verbally. I focused on the idea of liberation and allowed my hands to guide the way, without having any intention of a final result. I used primary colors to represent the primal survival energy I am used to carrying and holding. However, you will see blended colors creating secondary tones to represent new experiences and emerging emotions. The painting with no white spaces is what it feels like while reaching towards liberation. The painting with the white space represents myself in view of the person I am becoming. The unknown takes place here. And the little splats of color on the white stand for an important message I’ve come to understand: there are no mistakes when you are trying to grow and improve; there are just moments for opportunities and growth. The question then becomes… who, then, shall I become?

Pole, mirror; acrylic paint, canvas, plate knife, medium gloss

Since COVID-19 forced us to stay at home in March of 2020, I have been face-to-face with my poor body image and questionable relationship with food. I have spent years trying to radically love my body and accept myself. This semester, I finally feel like I am on a true path in my body positive journey. I have started mending my relationships with food and my body with the help of an anti-diet dietitian. 

Knitting this dress has been a major part of this journey, too. I had to learn new skills to make this dress and expand on my prior knitting knowledge. Every minute I spend working on the dress, I am connecting to myself and my body. I wanted to make something that I knew would fit me—I didn’t have to hope that a mass-produced item would adorn my body in a flattering way and end up feeling crushed if it didn’t. Being in control of making clothing for my particular body was very empowering. 

100% wool yarn, “Bretagne” pattern by Rachel Søgaard