Fine Art

My Undo-ing: Drawing vs Video Editing

Video editing is forgiving. Due to its digital format, mostly the “undo” button, risks are not really risks but rather experiments. When I draw or paint though, something different happens. At first, all is great. Starting is the best part. The blank page is full of possibility. The strokes are bold, vibrant, and daring. The colors are wild. But as the piece takes shape and becomes its own thing, a responsibility mounts. Each stroke carries more weight than the last. Hesitancy emerges and the lines gets weaker. The work becomes too precious too fast. The stakes are high now and irretrievable mistakes loom. Many wrap it up prematurely and call it done. *Sigh*

Few great artists master this juncture, throwing caution to the wind. Experimentation and fearlessness carry the work forward into the realm of Masterpiece. Doubt transcended.

Reviving Grandma I, 2020, Graphite & Chalk Pastels

Moon Po Pae. 1905 - 1999.

In 1950 at the age of 45, she and her husband shepherded 5 of their children, the youngest being 9 yrs old through a raging war to safety in the South. Many families were separated but theirs managed to stay together. 

They rebuilt their lives from the few items they hand carried on their journey. Namely textiles imported from overseas. A few years later, when they finally got a foothold, her husband, my grandpa died in a truck accident. She was determined to provide for, protect and guide her children. They survived, moved to America, and started families of their own. 

Uprooted over and again, displaced to foreign lands. A residual bitterness stained her tongue.

This drawing is based on a photo that was taken before the war. My grandpa was initially drawn to her beauty but held by the undeniable fortitude that radiated from within.

Reviving Grandma II. 2020. Graphite and colored pencil rendition of a 1973 photo.

We, the grandchildren dulled by first-world comforts joke that Grandma’s so gangster. But it’s no joke that she lost much in her life. Before the war, in more prosperous times, my grandpa did well as a textile trader. She made the vest from fabrics salvaged from those days. She cherished the vest throughout her life, and made sure to replace the fur trim every year.

My rendition of the vest is not exact but it captures its vibrance of my memory.

Benthic Baba back in the day spent endless hours under water. He emerged a prune. Wrinkled but sweetened by the love of being weightless. An air of levity surrounded him, always attracting the ladies, but mom was too grounded. He was instantly drawn to her. Heavy and light are not yin and yang though. Mom passed on way too young at 41, burdened by the accumulated weight of their 15 years together. An ultimate sacrifice indicative of the type of sticky love that long term marriages are woven upon.

Grandpa D. 2020. Colorization of a 1970 B&W photo via Photoshop.