an asian american zine

Welcome to the second issue of It’s Complicated, a publication that centers the art and voices of Asian Americans.

We asked the artists of our sophomore issue to create a portrait of the people who raised them. Initially, we wrote this prompt in hopes of drawing out reflections of parents, caretakers, and other figures who shaped our childhoods and influence our present.

The pieces we received showcase remembrances of visceral, sensory details enclosed in tiny pockets of time. The subjects of these pieces are blurry, just out of focus, and invite the question: Are these portraits of the people who raised us, or of ourselves being raised?

This bending and looping helps us make associations and recognize patterns. Occasionally, a here-and-now sensation opens up a capsule of infinite others, causing strange and intense nonlinearity.

Moments fold atop moments; meanings layer upon meanings. Life is both a smooth, creamy flow of events as well as a nest of improbable, frenetic twists and kinks.

Contending with this task results in some discombobulation, which we see threaded throughout this issue. There is a fragmented, spasmodic energy present as the artists weld together disjointed and, at times, contradictory sensations. Simultaneously, we see an intent aliveness – each artist, while grappling with their disorientation and confusion, is also insistent on being here and making meaning.

These pieces resist efficiency, which demands linearity and is unforgiving toward slow, roundabout ways. Instead, they acknowledge the richness, flavor, and color contained in each layered and fragmented moment. Throughout "Time Travelers", words and images form new kinds of coherence that allow for truths from different moments to be held together in one piece.

The loop-ily straight smoosh of experiences makes it impossible to see our parents and caretakers without also seeing ourselves. We cannot define distinct boundaries between where their histories, bodies, and memories end and where our own begin. Thus, when we create portraits of those who raised us, we inevitably create parallel portraits of ourselves being raised.

We hope this issue intrigues you and allows you to encounter the relationship between selves and caregivers – past, present, and future – in new ways.

INTRODUCTION

Time Travelers

Welcome to the second issue of It’s Complicated, a publication that centers the art and voices of Asian Americans.

This bending and looping helps us make associations and recognize patterns. Occasionally, a here-and-now sensation opens up a capsule of infinite others, causing strange and intense nonlinearity.

Moments fold atop moments; meanings layer upon meanings. Life is both a smooth, creamy flow of events as well as a nest of improbable, frenetic twists and kinks.

We hope this issue intrigues you and allows you to encounter the relationship between selves and caregivers – past, present, and future – in new ways.

Table of Contents

90s in Florida

Mi-yun

The Lake

Arpeggi

Mornings with my mom

Love letter to my father who cannot read this language

Bibliomancy in 3 Parts

Magpie Theory

Portrait of my parents

Michelle Wu

Isabelle Sohn

Rachel Ann Ong Regner

Angela Liu

Bryan Gu

Elizabeth Shen

Josea Evan

Julia Yang

Sarah Kwon

90s in Florida

Michelle Wu

Dad: If you ask people now, they already know a lot of things. From, you know, TV, Internet. At the time when we came here, we don't know much, so everything is new to us, and we enjoy a lot of new things.

Mom: When I came here, I was…first time took the airplane, so it was very exciting.

Dad: Even we don't have money, but we doesn't feel it's so bad.

Mom: Yeah first time we went to that Halloween party, we did not know what is that trick-or-treat. But first time we went, in the Miami Beach, we went that trick-or-treat, that Halloween party, all the people dressed up, and was very fun.

Dad: The beach, the palm trees, the shrimp, very cheap. Chicken is very cheap.

Mom: Chicken, also the tangerines.

Dad: Yeah tangerines, oranges.

Mom: We never had such good fruit before.

Mom: Most fun part is we go fishing. We fishing because at the time we did not have any money, and fishing is almost for free.

There was a Taiwanese actually, his uncle opened a motel on Miami Beach. So, we went there during almost night. Then we fishing there until next morning.

And they are good enough, actually they are very kind. They offer us continental bread, you know? And we ate.

Mom: Making new friends, exploring Floria, America. We want to actually explore more places.

Dad: Before money is not important to us, but after we had kids, we realize we need money.

Mom: We did not want to stay in Florida forever. We feel like Florida is just the entrance to this country.

Dad: We want our kids to have a better life, right? So…things is changing.

Mi-yun

Isabelle Sohn

if you look long enough, the clouds turn to plum blossom silk. us amongst the flowers, painted into a still-life.

Mi-yun

Isabelle Sohn

if you look long enough, the clouds turn to plum blossom silk. us amongst the flowers, painted into a still-life.

i open my mouth and the cellos crescendo and decrescendo so fast that each pocket of air floating bubble-like turns to cream, real whipped cream. a pocket full of meringue, egg white and sugar. as if the earth was gently pouring to the side, as if i were turning about and about and about.

my guts rise and hang suspended. jumping organ set in custard, dancer led by the neck. in the mirror, my face is a face from generations and generations, the soft taffy of my skin. one hundred years ago we were all dressed in white and softening under the push of padded fingertips. i am hot from the throat. my throat, thick with the smell of the sea.

blue and liquid amber, perilla and tangerine. my mother has sent me another video of a law professor. against racing clouds, sunshine bursts and burns and in target, the blonde lady is rearranging all the candies. seeping from the air like a wound, a whisper, pretty pretty pretty pretty.

asdfadsf

The Lake

Rachel Ann Ong Regner

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear

sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear

sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my mom said you're gonna get cancer because you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear

sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

This lake house is for family only, said the

boy with blue eyes.

You don’t look like me so there is no way

we are cousins. Your nose is weird and my

mom said you're gonna get cancer because

you don’t wear sunscreen.

But my mom said only kids that burn wear sunscreen.

Well your mom is wrong and my mom said

that your mom is weird.

She doesn’t belong here.

But my dad said we are family, I answered back.

I used my foot to push him off the dock and into the water.

My mom is weird? My mom is beautiful. Her tanned skin and deep dark eyes make me feel warm and safe unlike those cold, icy eyes of my so-called family.

I walked away; blood began rushing to my head, making my cheeks hot to the touch. Is this how it feels to be burnt from the sun?

I used my foot to push him off the dock and into the water.

My mom is weird? My mom is beautiful. Her tanned skin and deep dark eyes make me feel warm and safe unlike those cold, icy eyes of my so-called family.

I walked away; blood began rushing to my head, making my cheeks hot to the touch. Is this how it feels to be burnt from the sun?

photos by Angela Liu

Arpeggi

Angela Liu

multimedia: pastel, colored pencil, sumi ink, wire fabric, paper, charcoal

mornings with my mom

Bryan Gu

photo by Calvin Lin

there are cuts on my leg

made by your toenails.

you kick me, unconsciously,

in your sleep.

the cuts are slight.

so slight that they are:

invisible

insignificant

incidental.

but still, in the morning,

i tell you that you've cut me.

i show you slivers of red

emerging and disappearing upon my skin.

you trace them tenderly with your hand,

and i wonder if small wounds

appear larger on small bodies.

i wonder if my wounds will grow larger with me.

then you laugh at their slightness,

and already the red appears paler.

your hands dance mirthfully now along my leg.

red ribbons trail in the air.

i look for ribbons

amidst your distraction,

worried your hands might rub too hard

and my cuts will disappear.

Love letter to my father who cannot read this language

Elizabeth Shen

24x36 acrylic and oil pastel on canvas

Bibliomancy in 3 Parts

Josea Evan

1997— On a December day, Jesus was born again

in my sister’s school play. This is how I imagine

it — I was told my mother held me,

alien-looking. my father held a bible, like swearing

in, and the book of Hosea opens, because what

could go wrong, naming your son after a Jewish

minor prophet of ill-fortune and misnomers.

1997— On a December day, Jesus was born again

in my sister’s school play. This is how I imagine

it — I was told my mother held me,

alien-looking. my father held a bible, like swearing

in, and the book of Hosea opens, because what

could go wrong, naming your son after a Jewish

minor prophet of ill-fortune and misnomers.

They take the eureka, then the portmanteau,

and give me an English name.

They take the eureka, then the portmanteau,

and give me an English name.

2005— On a hazy afternoon, my mother comes home

from her mother’s house. In her hand, a piece

of paper, scribbled with old person font. She

cannot make out what the words mean. To her,

the letters are leaves falling and suspending. To

me, fresh from Chinese school, they are leaves falling into place.

2005— On a hazy afternoon, my mother comes home

from her mother’s house. In her hand, a piece

of paper, scribbled with old person font. She

cannot make out what the words mean. To her,

the letters are leaves falling and suspending. To

me, fresh from Chinese school, they are leaves falling into place.

I rub my fingertips on the 3 words, like reading Braille.

This was my popo giving me a Chinese name.

I rub my fingertips on the 3 words, like reading Braille.

This was my popo giving me a Chinese name.

1968— On a February night, not long after the red

ornaments were taken down, another son was born

again. There is some chatter about if the kitchen

had room to spare, or if it’s time to chop off the

starfruit tree that was eavesdropping on the bedroom

wall. I wonder if my engkong or ah ma ever imagined

a life for him this far away, an expectant future so tangible

and fragrant to touch. I wonder if my engkong was there.

I wonder if my ah ma was the same — could only

1968— On a February night, not long after the red

ornaments were taken down, another son was born

again. There is some chatter about if the kitchen

had room to spare, or if it’s time to chop off the

starfruit tree that was eavesdropping on the bedroom

wall. I wonder if my engkong or ah ma ever imagined

a life for him this far away, an expectant future so tangible

and fragrant to touch. I wonder if my engkong was there.

I wonder if my ah ma was the same — could only

utter a xie xie, a timid wo ai ni, so she

gives my dad an Indonesian name.

utter a xie xie, a timid wo ai ni, so she

gives my dad an Indonesian name.

Bibliomancy in 3 Parts

Josea Evan

1997— On a December day, Jesus was born again

in my sister’s school play. This is how I imagine

it — I was told my mother held me,

alien-looking. my father held a bible, like swearing

in, and the book of Hosea opens, because what

could go wrong, naming your son after a Jewish

minor prophet of ill-fortune and misnomers.

They take the eureka, then the portmanteau,

and give me an English name.

2005— On a hazy afternoon, my mother comes home

from her mother’s house. In her hand, a piece

of paper, scribbled with old person font. She

cannot make out what the words mean. To her,

the letters are leaves falling and suspending. To

me, fresh from Chinese school, they are leaves falling into place.

I rub my fingertips on the 3 words, like reading Braille.

This was my popo giving me a Chinese name.

1968— On a February night, not long after the red

ornaments were taken down, another son was born

again. There is some chatter about if the kitchen

had room to spare, or if it’s time to chop off the

starfruit tree that was eavesdropping on the bedroom

wall. I wonder if my engkong or ah ma ever imagined

a life for him this far away, an expectant future so tangible and fragrant to touch. I wonder if my engkong was there.

I wonder if my ah ma was the same — could only

utter a xie xie, a timid wo ai ni, so she

gives my dad an Indonesian name.

photo by Calvin Lin

Magpie Theory

Julia Yang

The plate,

painted fantasy green around the lip;

dotted with magpies,

The plate,

painted fantasy green around the lip;

dotted with magpies,

for good fortune, baba would say;

the one tucked into the very back of the very top shelf

where mama, even in all her five foot glory,

could not reach.

where mama, even in all her five foot glory,

could not reach.

The plate, I dropped it,

felt it slip between my fingers, watched it fall

adrift the kitchen tile

The plate, I dropped it,

felt it slip between my fingers, watched it fall

adrift the kitchen tile

like a chewed-up bolus

into a baby sparrow’s open, hungry mouth;

like a chewed-up bolus

into a baby sparrow’s open, hungry mouth;

The plate, I broke it

into a terrible eruption of scabrous bits and pieces,

and mama—

The plate, I broke it

into a terrible eruption of scabrous bits and pieces,

and mama—

she shrank into a tender, quiet sadness,

when I had expected her usual fury, loud.

she shrank into a tender, quiet sadness,

when I had expected her usual fury, loud.

The plate,

she said, as we swept up half a dozen sharp

and lonely magpies,

was a gift they had been saving

for me;

The plate,

she said, as we swept up half a dozen sharp

and lonely magpies,

was a gift they had been saving

for me;

it seems I just don’t know

how to accept a gift, a hope, an expectation—

without breaking it, too.

it seems I just don’t know

how to accept a gift, a hope, an expectation—

without breaking it, too.

But what I do know is that I could not help myself

from pocketing

one of those pointed porcelain pieces,

one of those little birds

But what I do know is that I could not help myself

from pocketing

one of those pointed porcelain pieces,

one of those little birds

that finds foolish beauty in ordinary things,

that shamelessly wants and wants and wants,

that leaves its nest but always comes back—

that finds foolish beauty in ordinary things,

that shamelessly wants and wants and wants,

that leaves its nest but always comes back—

that brings good fortune

to my mama and baba.

that brings good fortune

to my mama and baba.

photos by Calvin Lin

portrait of my parents

Sarah Kwon

photo by Calvin Lin

About the Artists

Angela Liu

@angalogue

angelaliu.me

Angela is a Seattle-based creative, originally from Houston by way of Chicago. Her work navigates the line between art and technology. Beyond making things, she enjoys math, soup (of any variety), and her cat Sumi.

Bryan Gu

Bryan Gu is trying to practice making art without thinking too hard. He is grateful for the space It's Complicated provides.

Calvin Lin

@calvlin

Calvin is a street photographer living in New York City. He loves capturing intimate, candid moments of the strangers and environments around him. Currently shooting digital on a Ricoh GRiiiX.

Issue 2 cover and Introduction images by Calvin Lin

Elizabeth Shen

@chickenswithopinions

chickenswithopinions.com

Elizabeth Shen is a multimedia artist based in Chicago with roots in San Jose, California. With one eye on sociocultural phenomenon and another on ethnographic details, her art contemplates the bizarre, baffling, and beautiful experiences of being alive. She is full of joy and glad to be here!

Elizabeth Xu

@frmliz2u

elizabethxu.myportfolio.com

Elizabeth Xu is a 23-year old, Houston-raised, Chicago-based creative. She is interested in exploring the interworkings of race, gender, class, diaspora, and spirituality within herself and the world through various artforms. She looks forward to highlighting other Asian American artists’ work and interests through this zine!

Isabelle Sohn

@sohnshine98

Isabelle Sohn is a rug-maker interested in the intersection of food, media, and design. For her piece in this issue, she drew inspiration from MinJoo Ham’s “Blazeface Hangeul” font series, Cristofano Allori’s “Judith with the Head of Holofernes,” and the intimate creation of naming. Sohn is originally from New Jersey and is a law student.

Josea Evan

@jo.graphy

Josea is a Chicago-based poet, originally from Singapore and Indonesia. He is currently working on a collection of poetry about home, memory, and everything in between.

Julia Yang

@heyajulia

Julia is a writer based in Houston, Texas. She loves poetry, art, and the feeling of splitting open a ripe fig. You can find more of her writing in Re:Visions.

Michelle Wu

@ellemdreams

Michelle is a designer and multimedia artist based in New York. An advocate of creativity, she explores audio and visual mediums to tell stories, surface emotions, and have fun.

Issue 2 layout design by Michelle Wu

Rachel Regner

@raregner

@papreishoots

Rachel is a law student, actress, singer-songwriter, and proud Filipina-American based in Houston, Texas. Growing up mixed race, she has grappled with her cultural identity for most of her life. Now, she shares her experiences through writing and discourse to foster camaraderie among other multicultural individuals.

Sarah Kwon

@sarahkwon_

Sarah (she/her) is a Korean-American SoCal native, currently based in New York. She is passionate about building people power to make the world a better place for everyone. She is deeply interested in the intersection of the immigration & criminal legal systems and hopes to use art to find hope & beauty in the midst of it all.

Welcome to the second issue of It’s Complicated, a publication that centers the art and voices of Asian Americans.

Welcome to the second issue of It’s Complicated, a publication that centers the art and voices of Asian Americans.

90s in Florida

Mi-yun

Mi-yun

The Lake

Arpeggi

mornings with my mom

Love letter to my father who cannot read this language

Bibliomancy in 3 Parts

Magpie Theory

portrait of my parents

portrait of my parents

itscomplicatedzine@gmail.com