Flesh of my Flesh
Flesh of My Flesh, 2020. Commissioned by MCLA Arts & Culture, North Adams, MA
Belle’s acrylic, charcoal, dirt collected from the almond orchards in which my husband Hiền and his family labored with other immigrant families when first arriving in America, holy water, ink, Pacific Ocean water collected from the harbor of San Pedro, where Hiền served time in the immigration detention center, and tears shed for him as I considered the hardships that he has endured on paper; arrows crafted with indigenous methods using found branches, found feathers, found string, and wax. Drawing 42 x 94 ½”, installation dimensions variable.
Many of the Psalms were written during times of war, lamenting suffering, rebuking those responsible for the suffering, protesting innocence, petitioning for divine assistance, anticipating collective response, and with sincere thanksgiving even through the turmoil.
This life-sized portrait of my belovèd Vietnamese Cambodian American husband was inspired by Psalm 91, a prayer of protection for the faithful, the hopeful, and the suffering.
During the immigration crisis that has pervaded neighboring countries and our very own, ICE raids suffered by the households of refugee and immigrant families often take place during the still of the night when our families are most vulnerable. Injustice knows no time. These attacks occur night and day.
Psalm 91:5 and 91:7 reads:
Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;
A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.
While meditating on these verses, the prayer moves from faith into promise.
Perhaps the thousand and ten thousand are our fallen neighbors, or the arrows that have just missed their marks, preserving the lives of we who are the privileged—the ones who know freedom. As tens of thousands of Vietnamese American refugees have been detained since our arrival on American shores, many have been unlawfully deported back to a country whose communist regime regards them as defectors, agitators, traitors, enemies. They now face the very persecution from which they had fled during the war in Việt Nam in the 1970s.
Some of the arrows are made with the feathers of the California great horned owl, a bird that is documented as a permanent resident of its territory. We can only hope for this same status. While the arrows aim to pierce flesh, my husband stands confidently, even on unstable ground amid the battle. This portrait serves as a visual prayer of protection for we who are teetering on the trembling foundation of justice, that we might stand firm in the active faith that will provide us with sure footing. Guarding him: an American goldfinch, a resident of the United States; a silver-breasted broadbill, native to Cambodia; and a Vietnamese greenfinch, only found in Việt Nam. One protects his mind from fear while blessing with strategic, righteous, and compassionate thinking, another perches upon his shoulder, whispering wisdom into his ear, while the third guides his arms, reminding him to move in grace, even while displaying strength.
*More insight into the development of Flesh of my Flesh during my discussions with SJMA, PlacemakingUS, and Gallery 51 (also a preview).
*Lyrics to Ambush in the Night by Bob Marley and the Wailers (1979)