The power of sensory memories and cultural identity captivates me deeply. Scents like jasmine and tuberose transport me to Tet celebrations, grounding me in familial ties, while incense recalls poignant moments during winter pagoda visits tied to significant exams. These imprints reflect my Vietnamese heritage's enduring impact, fueling my curiosity in the intersection of psychology, culture, and art. I have always been in love with drawing and painting. Even as a child my parents would never see me without crayon in hand. I love the spontaneous ideas that I get for a new painting whenever I come across something interesting and the rush of colors that cross my mind. I also love going over the same line five times because it doesn’t quite sit right with me and changing up the color of a pot in the background because it clashes with another object. Everything is meticulous in painting but even the mind numbing technicalities of painting I have fallen in love with. It’s become a meditation for me to let my wrist run freely across my canvas in a rush to put down all my thoughts that I couldn’t express through words in beautiful hues of orange and red. Only to later fix them with calculated, carefully placed brush strokes. Every moment is beautiful in painting from the very first spark of an idea to standing back and appreciating the emotion that comes to life in my masterpiece.

Still wearing my wrinkled elementary school uniform, I sat on the sidewalk of Trang Tien street with my sister and mother and watched the beautiful golden hues of the sunset pour through stacked Hanoi apartments. The air was filled with the smell of sizzling pork belly and sweet caramelized nuts that we watched parents feed their giggling toddlers while they played games on the open street. Among the bubbles blown by kids and the vibrant stands of tapestries, a game of double dutch being played caught my eye. My sister ushered my mom over to join in on the jump rope game while I watched from a distance. My mom, still youthful as ever at the age of forty-three, joined the other children and parents playing. My sister’s skillful twirls and my mom’s jumps matched the beat of the ropes hitting the ground as their laughter rang out into the night. Even as my mom’s face was starting to wrinkle, her youthful smile and infectious energy still embodied a teenager. As the sun’s last rays of light illuminated through the horizon and the beginnings of the blue hour were showing, the game of jump rope came to an end and the vibrant energy of the night started to fade, giving way to the complexities of growing up. The once beautiful moments, like that night, are left behind in Hanoi since our family moved to the US to start a new life when I was thirteen. I understand the magnitude of my parents’ sacrifices. They have given up their own dreams to ensure I have the chance to pursue mine. The loving memories of my childhood become part of my energy reserves to help me face the challenges of moving to a new city head on. As a teenager, I’m caught in the web of emotions and complexities of the ever changing dynamic of family life, social circles, and internal turmoil. Oddly, I find peace in fighting. I started teaching martial arts to children when I was 15, emphasizing to them not only the physical discipline but also the mental resilience the sport has instilled in me. Through teaching, I discover the impact I have on young minds, and it drives me because I was also once a younger kid struggling to find a path, it feels like I’m coming full circle. As I continued my journey in martial arts, I entered the arena of tournaments. The feeling of stepping into the ring with the adrenaline coursing through my veins painted my life in vivid colors. It was as if I saw the world in a new light, vibrant and full of potential. The lessons I learn in fights extend far beyond the mat. I become a creative problem solver, approaching each challenge with adaptability and determination. This transformation is not just about winning fights; it is about digging deep and treading in murky waters to overcome adversity, both in the ring and in life. As I reflect on my journey from Vietnam to the United States, from a colorless canvas of a confused teenager in a new city to a vibrant paint palette of a confident adult, I know that the road ahead will be challenging. My relationship with my parents will mature over time, and I am determined to make them proud. My goal is to continue seeing the world in beautiful colors, sharing that vision with others, and making the most of every opportunity my parents have given me.

Family and culture have had a large impact on my identity. In "Golden Memories" I explore both my Vietnamese culture through flags and Vietnamese iconography as well as my familial connection to my sister through portrayal of memories we built together. The use of gold leaf in this piece is similar to medieval halos that represent the importance of those individuals and make them seem almost heavenly. Similarly in this piece it’s to show the importance of my memories with my sister. I painted this following the grisaille method of underpainting with burnt umber to get the most precise details and build layers. I used a blue glaze to create unity in the piece after all the figures were painted as clear as possible. Within our bodies are all the memories we created together and they come together without borders between us. There are cracks within the gold to show that even through rifts in our relationship we are still one, like how our bodies blend together to become one, and our relationship will continue to be golden.