May 26, 2023

Dear Reader [Bamboo], 

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my practice and how it's shifted since the pandemic. How it evolved from being dependent upon people and group gatherings as my main subjects to being solely a product of my isolation during the pandemic. I’ve begun making work where I,  myself, am the subject, which has in turn started me thinking about what it means to be the subject of an image.

More recently I've been reflecting on the failures of the pandemic, how precautions were handled, how chronic illness or immune conditions are viewed as weaknesses, and how the government and media in America gaslit my entire experience, telling me that covid is "over." That it is now merely a "flu"—nothing to worry about, get on with your life. After painstakingly taking every precaution since the pandemic began, I got Covid for the first time in November of 2022 and have been in and out of the hospital ever since. I have been stuck doing 8-hour infusions two to five days a week, which makes me drowsy and sick, with several additional follow-up appointments every week. 

My practice has now, once again, been shifted by Covid and the pandemic and has become centered around survival. Documenting my time in the hospital in between the unsettling infusion-induced comas, contrasted by the flashes of beauty that surround me. 

The way the sunlight hits the empty chair next to me, the wires and plastic tubes wrapped around me like roots extending deep into the earth. The IV I’m hooked up to has now become an extension of my body and feels similar to a conjoined twin. I keep reflecting on the now symbiotic relationship between myself and these inanimate objects that I am physically connected to for eight hours a day—for the majority of my week. I am dependent upon them and they are connected to me. 

I am trying to find the beauty in everything that surrounds me in the moments that I am able to. But this is an experience I can't seem to shake and has now become an unexpected crucial point both in my photographic practice and daily life. It is a snapshot of the glimpses of beauty in between the moments of grief, isolation, and anger that I feel. A reminder that I am stronger than my body can be and that disability should be seen as strength and celebrated. These images are acts of rebellion and glimpses of joy met with reconciliation.

— Alligator

June 3, 2023

Dear Alligator,

I can truly empathize with the challenges you've faced during the outbreak of COVID-19, as I have experienced similar struggles. When it all began, I was still attending school in Chicago. Amidst the chaos, my uncle, who resides in Wisconsin, undertook a nearly three-hour drive to pick me up from the city center. Looking back, it was a time when we knew very little about the virus, and my uncle's act of bravery put both himself and his family at risk.

Settling into my uncle's home in a small Wisconsin town was a blessing. Surrounded by lush trees and sprawling greenery, their large house and extensive land became a haven amidst the turmoil happening elsewhere. While there were inconveniences, I also relished the opportunity to take a much-needed break, having lived in bustling New York for over 15 years. These moments of isolation allowed me to reflect on the impact humans have had on nature.

At times, I couldn't help but ponder what would happen if COVID-19 were even deadlier, potentially signaling the end of our human race. What would our world look like then? Such thoughts stirred a sense of urgency and concern within me.

Recently, I've been exploring new avenues for artistic expression with the assistance of AI. I've delved into creating images with Midjourney. I would like to share some of these images generated by Midjourney that capture a glimpse of a world untouched by human presence. 

— Bamboo

June 15, 2023

Dear Reader [Bamboo],

It's hard not to think about what could have happened or could have been. To not be in a constant state of "what if". What if computers take over the art world—or the world itself? What if everything happening now with AI is leading us to the downfall of civilization instead of advancing it? It’s hard not to get lost in a constant doom-spiral. I'm usually not one to think negatively but covid has shifted my perspective in ways I wish it hadn't.

I am writing to you from the hospital. I've been here for almost a week. After receiving immunotherapy to help my covid complications, Instead of healing, I’ve had a reaction to the treatment and developed further complications. There was a 0.06% chance this would happen and I'm now in the hospital with meningitis. It's been frightening, and it feels unfair. 

I always have my camera with me, so I've been documenting my time here whenever I feel up to it. While I loathe and dread the idea of talking about this, being so vulnerable, and wish that no one would ever know, I think it's important. Someone needs to talk about the reality of what can happen, seemingly out of nowhere, to any of us. I don't say this to be grim, nor do I want to be a poster-child for some cautionary tale. But more a reminder of visibility and that the disabled exist. That eventually we will all succumb to disability, so why not be accepting of it. Why not create open dialogues and accessible, supportive environments for each other instead of using others as projections of one's own fear and anxiety about the inevitable. 

So many times I’ve had to leave an event because it wasn’t accessible. People care about appearances, people care about their own image, people are about presenting environments that "look inclusive". But how do we make environments within the art world truly inclusive? And why isn't this a conversation (post-covid) that is happening more often?

I never thought I would go to a gallery (especially pre-vaccine) and see no one wearing masks. Until I did. I was shocked, disappointed and let down. I felt completely abandoned and alone. 

I never expected to be a part of a community that only cared about making an Instagram story look good or surface-level performative-allyship. I got into art because the personal is political because I’m an activist, a feminist, an advocate and a punk.

I don't want to be bitter but someone has to be vocal about this. My literal survival at this point is dependent upon speaking up. I don't have the luxury of silence anymore. As much as I never want to talk about this and pretend it isn't happening, people need to know it can happen. It isn’t about me, it is a broader discussion that needs to take place. 

My identity is more than what is happening right now, I am more than my body, my work as an artist extends past this moment in time. but this is a conversation I feel like is critical to this particular moment. 

People need to stop living in fear. I don't mean in fear of covid—we should absolutely fear covid. 

We should learn not to live in fear of disability.

I hope you are doing well. 

I loved your images on what it would look like if we ceased to exist. I often think about what it would look like having nature completely take over a city. 

Being from the South, I’ve watched as Kudzu grows over entire buildings and houses, consuming and taking over the landscape. With the way things are going, it all seems so uncontrollable and looming. It’s hard not to worry about the future, seeing what is inevitably going to happen, and having no way of changing it. 

We might as well try and care for and understand one another while we can. 

I think that’s what is most important right now. Empathy and understanding one another and making the world a safe and more inclusive space for others.

— Alligator

July 2, 2023

Dear Alligator,

I'm truly sorry to hear about your hospitalization and the complications you've faced as a result of your treatment. It's incredibly unfortunate that such a rare occurrence took place, and I can only imagine the fear and frustration you must be experiencing. Your decision to document your journey, despite the discomfort it may bring, shows your commitment to raising awareness and fostering understanding. It's through these open dialogues that progress can be made, and I hope your words resonate with many.

I wholeheartedly agree with your sentiment that we should not live in fear of disability. Each of us has a unique journey, and disability is a part of the human experience. It's essential that we foster empathy and understanding, and create a world that embraces and supports individuals of all abilities. Your advocacy for a safe and inclusive space for others is commendable, and I believe that through collective effort, we can create a more compassionate society.

On a personal note, I wanted to share an update regarding my own endeavors. I am currently on a fellowship for a study trip to Germany, aiming to complete my remaining four credits for my undergraduate studies. Although I was supposed to finish my undergraduate degree three years ago, the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic necessitated travel restrictions, leading to the postponement of my completion. Two years ago, I pursued a master's program in Switzerland without having formally concluded my undergraduate studies. 

Yesterday marked the conclusion of my study trip, culminating in a group exhibition held in Berlin. It was a joyous occasion as some of my friends who had already graduated from the master's program joined us and met the new friends I made from the undergraduate school. The stark age gap and diverse life experiences among the groups became evident, fostering intriguing discussions on the nature of art and what it means to be a successful artist. While I won't delve into the specifics of the conversation, as I believe there is no definitive answer to these questions and each individual has their own unique perspective and expectations, it was a thought-provoking exchange that left me contemplating the various paths and possibilities in the art world. 

As I reflect on these experiences and conversations, I am reminded of the richness that diverse perspectives bring to our lives. It is through these interactions, spanning different ages, backgrounds, and aspirations, that we broaden our understanding and grow as individuals. I feel grateful to have been part of such a dynamic exchange, and it has further fueled my passion for embracing diversity and fostering inclusive spaces.

Please take care of yourself, and may you find strength and inspiration in your art and advocacy. I would also like to share with you the work and progress I have made with AI, but I have to catch a 10-hour bus ride from Berlin to Milan now. I will write to you very soon.

July 10, 2023

Dear Alligator,

It's me again. I hope you're doing well. The past week has been quite eventful for me. I embarked on a trip from Berlin to Milan and then traveled further to a small coastal town in Italy called Cottalica. However, what was supposed to be a 10-hour bus ride turned into a 20-hour journey. 

The reason behind my long journey was to meet a Tinder date for the first time. We had known each other for three years, and he's a young and handsome Italian from the southern part of the country. Interestingly, he aspires to open a restaurant by the sea in Indonesia.

As we strolled along the beach, he taught me a beautiful Italian phrase, 'Dolce far Niente,' which means enjoying the art of doing nothing. And that's exactly what we did—simply relishing the act of walking together by the beach that night. 

On the second night, he took me to a seaside dancing party and introduced me to all his childhood friends. It was quite an unusual sight for an Asian man like me to be in that town, and the locals were genuinely curious about me. We danced, enjoyed drinks, and his friends even gave me a rose that I carried with me to New York.

One summer night, he drove me back to my hotel on his motorcycle, and as we said our goodbyes, we shared a kiss. It was truly a memorable journey, and even though I felt young and foolish, I have no regrets.

On another note, I've been working on a project centered around my fascination with men in suits. I would like to share some images I have produced with AI. My Tinder date would be the perfect model for this project, and I hope that one day I'll have the opportunity to create and share this work with the world.

Take care and I hope you enjoy “Dolce far Niente”.

Best regards,

Bamboo