2014 – Present
God Girl watches
but she doesn’t need to care.
Sometimes you’ll look up and
see nothing there.
But look closer and you’ll see
Skeleton Space Man – a trickster! Tweedle-dee-dee!
Then there’s the Sleep Walker. Poor comatose kid.
He can possess you, God Girl forbid.
Birthed from the ashes of Generalizasian and Frustrasian came God Girl, an ongoing series focused on my identity (from being Asian, sometimes female, and poking fun at my bizarre Christian upbringing).
She’s a powerful god, usually disembodied, omnipresent, intrigued, bored… tl;dr: Girls just want to have fun! God Girl hangs out with Skeleton Space Man (SSM) and the Sleep Walker. SSM is the same as God Girl. Sometimes he’s a goof, sometimes he’s evil – it’s totally super natural! Sleep Walker is the spirit of an ambiguously Asian boy spirit who was comatose. He is God Girl’s and SSM’s bridge to the mortal world – sometimes they possess people or things! Wild!
I’m working on just creating art in general, but eventually I want this Holy Trinity to go on adventures related to my life and the current events of the world around us.
In 2018, Trina Fernandez and I collaborated once more to create The aZn Room exhibit during the Verge Studio Art Tours. It was a whirlwind of work, fun, and dumb. Trina focused on their Filipino heritage and mythology. I focused on my relationship with my mum and her relationship with a Christian God. Below are photos from the exhibit (thanks so much to the friends who documented the show!). You walked down memory lane, a driveway filled with some of our art from the 2012 Generalizasian show. As you entered the main exhibit, you found a karaoke station playing hits from Trina’s life. After singing a song or four, you bumped through a series of my hanging lanterns, covered with uncomfortably passive aggressive religious stories, poems, and drawings. Beyond that, you found a shrine to God Girl. You were given a chance to create your own tile and offer it to her shrine, praying for blessings that would never come to fruition because she isn’t your God. She’s no one’s God. She is her own. After weeping deeply in religious fervor, you turned around in horror to see a manananggal of Filipino myth. As you turned yet again to run for an escape, you found yourself suspended in time and space by boxes typically used by Filipino Americans to send food, miss-you’s, and other gifts back home.