Da Pi Yuan
In the uncharted corners of my mind live the memories of the first five years of my life in Xi’an, China. Although Toronto has been home for most of my life, Xi’an was where everything started. The memories of that time are as clear as they are nebulous, distinctly my own, but of a different lifetime. Having grown up very much embracing my Canadian identity, I’ve found my connection to my Chinese culture growing thin. My level of Mandarin is on par with that of a first-grader, and my relationships with many extended family members in China have been worn down by distance and time. My limited knowledge of the realities of life in China, and my ancestral history, lead me to question what my responsibilities are to knowing and embracing my heritage. How much of Chinese culture should I adopt and pass onto my own children?
In an attempt to answer these questions for myself, I returned to my childhood home in Xi’an to rediscover my past in China. I photographed the places and people so vivid in my memories, and explored my nostalgia and cultural unease with a home that I no longer belong to.
Through images and words, I try to paint a picture of my connection to Da Pi Yuan, the gated apartment community where my grandparents still live. I lean into the dream-like, fragmented nature of memory, and show my discovery of my ancestral past through archival images and conversations with my grandparents. I meditate on the notions of home and familial relationships as a member of a multicultural family, separated by an ocean.
Da Pi Yuan is an exploration, an homage, and a love letter to my first home. It documents my journey into deepening and embracing what it means to be Chinese Canadian.
Featured in the Globe and Mail, She Does the City, and Photo Life Magazine.
A photo of my ancestors hanging above my great aunt’s bed in Fuping, China, my grandmother’s hometown.
My parents’ vase, which my grandparents have kept after we immigrated in 2001. My grandmother tells me it helps them feel closer to us.
Lianhu park, where I frequented as a child.
My baby blanket, hanging to dry in my grandparents’ yard.
A portrait of nai nai.
Nai nai’s scissors. My grandmother, who suffered a stroke paralyzing half of her body, likes to cut up the toilet paper to keep her hand busy.
The backyard, where I played and chased stray cats.
Ye ye’s shirt, hanging outside to dry.
Ye ye taking a nap.
Me and my cousin, Lu Xiao. Back then in China, your cousins were like your siblings, and Lu Xiao was my sister, whom I looked up to immensely. She liked art so I liked art. Today, Lu Xiao is an artist still living in Xi’an. We’ve led parallel lives from across the ocean.
The drumtower, a popular tourist attraction in Xi’an, under construction. My grandfather and I would walk here many times in my childhood.
Ye ye's bonsai
Ye ye was a busy body and liked to be up and doing things. He had many plants that he tended to.
The ground by my parents’ old apartment in Xi’an. When I returned it was unrecognizable, transformed into a shopping center. I don’t remember much of it anyway.
A spice pouch that my grandfather used to carry around, meant to keep one smelling fresh.
The overgrown exterior of my grandparents’ home.
A mosque near my grandparents’ home, which is located in a majority Hui community. I still remember the prayers playing over the loudspeaker very early in the morning and throughout the day.
My first room, my first home.
Gallery View
Da Pi Yuan, The Image Centre, Toronto, Canada (top)
[De]/[Re]Constructing Place Group Exhibition, The Varley Gallery, Markham, Canada (bottom)
