Last night, I thought about my grandpa, how he created a legacy, how he left this world. Idk, just at the end of the year, and at this age, I find myself thinking a lot about the past.
Art always means something, even nothing means something. Like he believed, art is already there, within us, and we spend our whole lives trying to figure it out, trying to learn how to express it to the world. Sometimes I think about Asian culture, the roots, about how doing something meaningful really matters. I think about my name, my last name, my family, and time itself. About what previous generations gave us. About what he left behind that still runs in our veins, and leads to what Im doing right now.
Im not so proud of myself, but I think Im living what Im meant to be.
In loving memory of the artist, the teacher, our grandpa, Tôn Thất Văn.
