Three years ago, I left Hawaiʻi for California to attend my dream graduate program. In that time, I’ve loved in ways that held me—and I’ve lost in ways I’m still learning how to carry. Somewhere in between, I became a maker my younger self once imagined from far away. And I know, without question, I didn’t get here on my own.
From building sculptures to formatting files, wiring speakers to rewriting the same line over and over—every part of this work carries someone else inside of it. This body of work, the most ambitious pieces I’ve made so far, is held together by a love that stays.
And now, as I prepare to leave school, at a time when the world feels heavier by the day, I found myself returning to something seemingly simple and impossible—to make a show about love.
Not a utopic or flattened kind of love. Not the kind that smooths things over.
But a love shaped by contradiction. By grief. By memory. A love that doesn’t look away. A love that persists anyway.
Everything I carry, I carry because of all of you.
Mahalo nui loa. Thank you. I love you. Thank you. I love you. Thank you. I love you.
The show will be up until the 24th—just one more week—and I’m not sure when all of these pieces will live together again, so I would really love to share this work with you while it’s here. More pictures to come.
The @aapiartsnetwork will be also hosting an artist walkthrough / talk story this Sunday at 1pm (DM for info). And if you’d like a more personal walkthrough, please feel free to reach out.
And lastly link to preorder a copy of the book I published for this show available in my bio 😚🫣
アリアちゃんとグランマ
My grandma has always struggled with dry eyes. At breakfast she’s often teary, with makapiapia gathering at the corners of her gaze—like morning dew. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized I’ve inherited this too: my eyes welling each time we see each other.
She adores my niece, Aria, always calling her by her middle name, Kiyomi. “ひいばあちゃんだよ、I am your ひいばあちゃん,” she says—worried that no one will speak to her in Japanese after she’s gone.
Recently, I’ve felt myself becoming more and more like her, as if unconsciously trying to carry her habits and gestures, to hold them close—to preserve as much of her as I can. My Japanese has been getting better, and I’ve started singing lullabies to Aria—the same ones my grandma once sang to me and my sister.
