I am a second-generation (I think?) Vietnamese-American theater artist. I spent approximately 2/3rds of my life trying to pretend to avoid viewing the world (and subsequently art) through that lens; now I’m spending my time playing catch-up to my identity.
Through my current artistic work, which spans disciplines, I am trying to explore the nuances of borders and boundaries.
Borders are artificial, political constructs created by man. They’re by definition rigid, and their entire reason for existing is to enforce some law or system. Borders create things like nationalism, jingoism, and occupations. I’m usually loath to make big declarative statements like this, but here’s one: fuck borders.
Boundaries are organic, living things that require constant back and forth conversation. They evolve over time, in concert with their environs. Boundaries are a conversation between sea and land, formed by erosion and tide.
Exploring the interstitial space – the boundary lands – is something that has always fascinated me. Maybe because I’m a daughter of immigrants? Because I’ve had a multitude of places that felt fundamentally like “home”? Something about this question feels essential to the human condition.
I hope if you’re reading this, this made sense and didn’t sound completely pretentious. I hope there’s some part of you interested in this journey, too.