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By Pat
Tanumihardja
For the Northwest Asian Weekly
Meeting artist Diem Chau was like reuniting with a long-lost sister. A
friendly handshake was all we needed to ease into a conversation as relaxed
as if wed chatted every day of our lives.
Born to a Chinese father and a Vietnamese mother, Chau grew up according
to Chinese traditions. She and her family came to the United States in
1986 as refugees and settled in the Seattle area. She was only 7. Inevitably,
Chaus immigrant identity and her experience of growing up in two
worlds greatly influenced her art.
The turning point in Chaus life came when her father, Ton T. Chau,
died of pancreatic cancer while she was in high school. Soon after,
I decided I would be an artist and pursue it with everything I have,
she said.
After her fathers death, Chau felt as if a world was lost to her.
I missed his company and mourned the countless stories that would
never be told, she said. That is, until she found a tattered envelope
containing hundreds of old photos, what she called a novel of images
filled with memories and stories.
As Chau went through the photos, she picked out ones that struck a chord
in her. The photos depicted her late father and his friends posing at
various locations at the beach, at the university, on a group date.
I connected with these images because they showed my dad exploring
with his friends and disconnecting from his parents. Its a phase
I went through, we all go through, kind of like a rite of passage,
Chau said.
Flipping them over, she realized they were all dated October 6, 1963.
Those images provided the impetus for the works now displayed in the exhibit
Reconstruction and Fabrication. I have no true memories
of these events, only stories retold to me over the years, she said.
The combination of storytelling and pictures is her evidence of the past.
Using ubiquitous acrylic paints on canvas, Chau transformed scenes from
yesteryear into the surrealistic world of tomorrows dreams. Bold
and expressive, Chaus paintings contrast realistic figures with
organic shapes. In true retro mode, flowers, mushrooms and polka dots
blossom like fireworks among trunks and branches, ponds and stones.
Clean-cut young men are dressed smartly in uniforms of white pressed shirts,
brown pants and dress shoes. They stand confidently in stylish fashion-magazine
poses, their smiling batik-splotched faces staring boldly from the canvas.
Paint intentionally drips from hair, from fingers, from feet, fusing subject
to setting.
To emphasize the natural feel of her works, Chau chose a palette of colors
obtained from natural sources, like rocks and minerals, rather than chemicals.
Shades of ochre, rust, mint and salmon grace the canvases.
Through this experience, Chau discovered a part of her father she never
knew and a part of herself, too. These were stories he never
told me, and in a way it connects me to who I am, Chau, who lives
in Seattle, said.
Using memories of her father, and fabricated memories so to speak, Chau
has translated her culture into her art. This exhibition is about culture:
Chaus, yours and mine. She challenges us to determine what is important
and what we want to pass on to the next generation. There simply
is not enough room for everything, she explained, so what
are the essences of your culture or the true gems of your
family history?
Chau believes that art is the manifestation of culture, the physical evidence
of thoughts and actions, things that cannot be held. That is the
importance of art, she said. That is why I make art. That
is why I show art. That is why I talk to people about art.
Reflecting on my conversation with Chau, I realized that we shared so
many similar experiences growing up, even though we lived thousands of
miles apart. Her story in many ways is very much the story of my life.
So maybe Chau and I are sisters after all, bonded by our common culture
and our common heritage.
Pat Tanumihardja can be reached at scpnwan@nwlink.com.
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