Since last summer, I’ve been consciously incorporating some different ideas into my artwork.
Origami is a rather unconventional choice of medium, at least for a “serious” artist. There is (still) a prevailing pretention about what is “art” versus what is “craft”.
Obviously these are ideas that can be transcended. Conceptual art can be kind of a copout as good concepts do not necessarily make good art. Art should be about aesthetics; to do something just for the sake of doing it is fine, but no one will be the next Marcel DuChamp or Andy Warhol by simply emulating their ideas. That would be rather redundant.
Incorporating my identity as an Asian-American into my art is something that happened almost without my realization.
But I would have to be extremely crazy not to realize the connection now, having done an entire installation of a thousand hand folded origami cranes.
There are some memories that I have associated with origami. I did have origami books as a child. As an adult, I sat with my maternal grandmother on the tatami, watching her fold papers into triangles and piece them together into objects, as we watched some random show on tv (she usually changed it to the US TV station for me… and either Xena or professional wrestling was what was on).
Origami became a way of modifying found objects, previously owned objects, photographs (or other paper-based representations of my life) and recycling them into something pretty.
And I still have a lot of memories and words on paper that need to turn into something beautiful.