Created at a residency at Haystack Mountain School of Craft, Passages explores the liminal space between life and death and asks what is left behind when we move on from this life.
A set of two low-seated sister tables crafted with North American Black Walnut with a hand carved banana leaf carved in the center to join them together and utilized as the “stage” for a Kamayan meal at The Distance to Kababayan
A collaborative project with Filipino artists across the Americas, Mariah explores the definition of community through the materiality of bookbinding by weaving memory through food in her book, Kamayan. The volume is an accordion style book that expands into a layout of banana leaves, imitating the same organic tablecloth used in the shared meal and gesture of the traditional pre-colonial method of eating with bare hands.
In Collaboration With: Maeve Leslie, Jacob Wachal, Kat Del Rosario, and Brandon Cruz
Featured: Isaiah Grissett opening Kamayan at its exhibition at The Distance to Kababayan
Kapwa: You = Your Neighbor
Filipino culture is rooted in community and each butterfly is a small part of a larger whole. Old Newspapers from my grandparents’ reading repertoire, The Filipino Press and The Asian Journal San Diego was used to create the delicate creatures that embody change, and to create the country of our heritage. With the help of my two siblings, each of us sat in solidarity to the tedious folding technique of origami for hours to help the entire project come together. This living evolution is an integral part of the beauty that can exist under the circumstances of labor.
This work is a testament to the generations before us that came together for the privilege that we benefit from now, and how immigrating to a new homeland is not without its challenges. Like butterflies what once was cannot always continue to be, and although the metamorphosis can be daunting, this evolution creates opportunities that weren’t there before.
Dito sa Table, a Taglish phrase for “Here on the table,” consisted of an installation of double-sided frames suspended in space provided an immersive experience that evoked the sense of intimacy I felt as an observer of their daily rituals. Each of the four pieces represented key areas in their home wrapped with textiles and fabrics around the edges, reminiscent of the commonplace textures from my childhood.
Here, I contemplated, much like if a fruit tree were aware that it had been planted from seed, a silent witness to the labor that was invested to help it grow. Cyclical is the thought of the tree in need of giving back; heavy is the anticipation of not being able to give enough. So, as they had, I would also bring something to the table.
Every image was an act of preservation because I knew that my time with them was limited but I still I wanted to explore ways to pay homage to their rituals even when the time came, and I couldn’t photograph them.
A salvation of affections.
Being Filipino is not just one definition of person, it is a cultural mix of many countries and many people. As a Filipino/American woman, I wanted to know what it felt like to look the part.
I started off with self-portraits in a traditional Filipino garment called a Filipinana, and then donned an ensemble that was comfortably functional, something I would wear on a daily basis. These items were all passed down to me from my mother and my Lola and are all part of my personal wardrobe.
The location was also my home at the time. Living near the college campus with roommates, working on my education, and fulfilling the ideals of my grandparent’s American Dream.
It wasn’t until I explored archival images of my Lola through old family photo albums and recalled the many stories of her past, that it dawned on me that these were moments in and around her own home.
“Immigrants do not experience complete catch-up in a single generation, either in past or the present,” I am left in meditation. For your children and for your children’s children, how do you provide something that can be passed down forever?
One can wonder what it takes to create a prosperous future and I wanted to document the foundations of their legacy.
This work is an exploration of the diligence, habit, and consistency that a family from another country integrates into their current place of settlement to transform it into a safe space to create a home.
I chose to print on raw canvas as a foundation because it is a material that is sturdy yet reminiscent of the many fabrics that I encounter when with my grandparents and the uses they find inside and outside of the home with it.
My earliest exploration of family and home, Litchfield Park was a residence that housed three generations and symbolized the conception of “Hard work paid off”.
