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February 19, 2005


Above: This detail of the painting, “October 6th, 1963,” was inspired by old photographs of Chau’s father and his friends. Chau discovered the photos after her father passed away.



Artist reconnects with her late father

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 we’d 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, Chau’s immigrant identity and her experience of growing up in two worlds greatly influenced her art.

The turning point in Chau’s 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 father’s 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. It’s 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 tomorrow’s dreams. Bold and expressive, Chau’s 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: Chau’s, 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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