Whether we are aware of it or not, cultural identity is embedded within us as a major part of our personality trait. Being a Hongkonger studying in the US during critical political times from both lands, I find myself gravitating towards the bits and bobs of things that speak to my culture a lot more than I would expect. 

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In Before Frying (2015), I used chickens I bought from the local Chinatown in Chicago in the hopes of recreating a scene from a fond childhood favourite cartoon of mine, Chicken Run. In the process of creating Before Frying, choosing the materials and mediums I used in the photo seemed like a mindless decision. Yet looking back at it upon completion, I realised a person with a different cultural background than mine would probably have never made the same choices. Things that are very “Asian” to foreigners speak as everyday objects and seem completely mundane to me while they translate to something else for others.

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Upon acknowledging these habits and the transnational narrative that my growing up in Hong Kong have given me, Terracotta La-la Land (2017) included everything ‘Hong Kong’ in it. The chaotic sounds of Hong Kong, classic and familiar advertisements that are decades old, the sound of MTR (subway) announcements, bamboo scaffoldings, and other elements that shouted: “Hey I’m from Hong Kong!" These are things that speak to me and other Hongkongers, and will always continue to provide such a language for us. These are things that would always be appropriate to us due to the cliché (but accurate) saying of Hong Kong being the land where East meets West. These are things that cannot be replaced or be categorized into the mold of being “Chinese” or “decolonizers of Britain”.

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It no longer matters to me that audiences might not know or understand the objects I present in my artwork right away. Being dislocated, disconnected, disjointed and omnipresent is how I feel right now towards Hong Kong and my identity as a Hongkonger. And knowing that is enough for me.  

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