My work lingers in the space between comfort and unease, where beauty begins to distort and the familiar slips into something stranger. I am drawn to materials that feel both fragile and enduring—clay, soft forms, delicate surfaces—and I use them to explore ephemerality, excess, and the emotional weight we place onto objects. Influenced by dream logic and the uncanny, my pieces unfold like scenes from a warped memory: melting, embellished, and slightly off-balance. I am interested in how environments, especially those tied to ritual can be manipulated to feel theatrical, disorienting, and emotionally charged. Objects become exaggerated, textures become ambiguous, and material truth is often disguised or subverted. Underlying this work is a tension between escapism and awareness.I think about the desire to remain in a state of wonder, softness, and indulgence, while also confronting the discomfort of seeing too clearly. This push and pull between innocence and self-consciousness, fantasy and reality drives my process. Ultimately, I want my work to feel immersive and seductive at first glance, then slowly unravel. I want viewers to question what they are seeing, to feel both drawn in and unsettled, as if they’ve stepped into a world that is beautiful, but not entirely safe.

Thương nhớ

May 12, 2020 was when my older brother Kinhthi died from fentanyl poisoning. The title is in Vietnamese to portray my growing and strong relationship with my mother.Thương nhớ. It means, “miss you.”This sculpture illustrates my mental and physical state during that time, and still even now. The colors, seemingly fun and playful, are to represent my innocence and ignorance that were taken away. As the piece depicts, grief weighed me down; I felt trapped and lonely. There is a Vietnamese saying, “Chia Buồn,” which translates to “sharing sadness.” When we divide and share our grief with each other, we also share the belief that we are not alone and we are not meant to experience grief in isolation. Through this piece, I can share my grief and feel less alone.

Letters from my father

This piece was contrived from the letters my dad wrote when he was in rehab to me over the summer. His struggles through drugs, grief, financial issues, loneliness were something that defined his last 7 years. This constant back and forth battle to stay healthy and reach happiness has took a toll on him and our family.I wanted to make a piece about him and his struggles and highlight his hardwork and send a message of hope to him.

Have Dinner with me

Like a dream left too long in the sun, this dinner party scene swells beyond its original form. Familiar objects bloom into strange organic masses, suspended between celebration and collapse. The installation reflects my interest in transformation, impermanence, and the beauty of things that refuse to remain fixed, turning an ordinary gathering space into a landscape of excess, fantasy, and becoming.

extended Gallery

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[email protected]feel free to reach out with any creative inquiries!Email for resume.