’As I consider all of my encounters with people, nature, and animals as informing my art practice, none would be as important as that of the ever echoing voices of my past. When I identify as an “Immigrant”, I am packing in the untold stories of my grandmother’s resilience while faced with Japanese occupation, famine, childbirth and death of a child, and move to the U.S. I am also telling my mother’s story of being raised in a convent, giving birth to a child out of wedlock, moving to America for a chance at a future for herself and her daughter, becoming trapped in a cycle of abusive relationships, and becoming free to know herself. The word “immigrant” is what is being whispered between the lines of my work, and fragile as they seem, they are the guardians of my story.’