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Season Walker is a series of stitched scrolls on hardened cheesecloth, with square works framed over paper weavings. The imagery walks through seasons: a white cat from a Ukiyo-e print watches a rice harvest; a banana tree recall Formosa summers, redrawn with Mughal leaves to avoid visual heaviness; a bundle of winter carrots earn quiet reverence. My favorite— a water buffalo strolling home (with the farmer)—remembers my childhood ride on a wooden cart in Taiwan. Now, few buffalo remain in the fields. A black-and-white Haori not funereal, but pared down, hangs layered like a relic of past seasons. I avoid printed patterns, using tassels, reused fabric, and daily inspiration. My work isn't quite craft, painting, or sculpture—but a stitched narrative, unpolished and in-between. I hope viewers enjoy its freedom, its marks, its imperfection—and discover something for themselves.
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Season Walker opened June, 6th at Cyristalis Salon during First Friday, alongside opera, bicycles, and Tulsa’s summer buzz. My family arrived early. I brought plant and bicycle stickers for the gallery—a nod to Tulsa Tough and small celebrations.
This is my first show since 2016. I had stopped, disheartened by an art scene chasing popularity and profit. But Joel and Bob at the Crystalis offered me a space—no proposal, no resume, Just trust. This show holds seven years: teaching face to face through COVID, saying goodbye to my brother, missing my father’s funeral while quarantined in a military hospital, James’s surgery, and our children’s ER visits. After all of it—retirement came, and a quieter rhythm returned. This is not a loud show. There’s no declaration. But it’s steady. It says: we are here. I am still practicing. I look forward to making art with my grandchildren. I cherish the walking pace, the stitched path, the slow noticing. To the new collector—thank you. I’ll carry your kindness into whatever comes next. |