A B O U T   M E

She felt alone in her darkness, the orange dried up on the counter. The smog was smothering the light. But one day, she decided: she was going to do something to reconnect. She saw the ways the trees grew together, she learned how mycelium coordinated harmony. She found others who also wanted to grow together. A world full of wonder. 

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My work is an exploration of personal stories inspired by the land, and which while follows the meaning of my family name 归 guī. Defined simply, gui means ‘to return,’' ‘'to gather together,’' and ‘to be taken care of.’ Within my explorations lay ecological art inspired by lessons from the more-than-human world in conversation with climate justice. I find it important to grapple with two sides in my work: the horror and grief of the climate crisis, and the visions of radical hope held in our hands. Often, my work starts with dichotomies: beauty and pollution, plastic and wood, grief and happiness. We can foster our relationships with the land, or we can destroy it. Yet thankfully, real life usually exists somewhere in-between, and as Robin Wall Kimmerer says in Braiding Sweetgrass, “paying attention is a form of reciprocity with the living world.” It is in this moment of understanding that energizes my work.

I want to create space for contemplation and discovery, reconciliation and connection, and bridge the gaps between upturned roots. From this yearning for refuge rises imagery and objects of home: a handmade wooden table, a piece of music on the guqin, ceramic cups for drinking tea, artist books of my native forests, woodcuts and silkscreens of transformation and mountain defenders. Chinese calligraphy and iIllustrations of water droplets, hands, and lyrical linework made through automatic drawing, along with photography and plants all grow from my art practice. The motions of creation bring solace amidst grief and translate stories of hope into tactile forms. As a way to present all these elements in concert, I activate them through a mix of storytelling, ritual, and performance. I invite you on my journey to see the more-than-human world with a deeper layer of complexity and sensitivity.

Could we, by gathering together, return to a language of care on this planet we call home?