The Power Plant

Ella Gonzales & Sami Tsang: Reconciling with Displacement through Personal Narratives

AUG 02 2023
by Samantha Lance

As part of The Power Plant’s current summer exhibition, in parallel (June 23–September 4, 2023), two artists explore their cultural identities, migration stories, and past traumatic experiences through their art-making.

Ella Gonzales, Follow Me, first, 2023. Acrylic on piña silk, metal hinges. Courtesy the artist

Ella Gonzales, Follow Me, first, 2023. Acrylic on piña silk, metal hinges. Courtesy the artist

Ella Gonzales is a Filipina Canadian artist who combines painting and digital programming to recreate family homes that she has occupied in the Philippines, Saudi Arabia, and Canada. She uses 3D modelling software, photographs, and her own memories to piece together interior spaces from her past. As a homage to her cultural background, she paints onto piña silk, a fabric made from the leaves of the pineapple plant, which is native to the Philippines. These thin, semi-transparent textiles are sent from Gonzales’ family, who are based in the Philippines.

Installation view of in parallel, The Power Plant, Toronto, 2023. Photo by Henry Chan.

Installation view of in parallel, The Power Plant, Toronto, 2023. Photo by Henry Chan.

With their translucent qualities, the compositions within her paintings, Second sentiment (2023) and Follow Me, first (2023), resemble a labyrinth. The overlapping shapes and subtle layers of soft colours create the illusion of a space that is constantly in motion. The shifting doorways and windows also embody multiple paths that immigrants face as they journey from one place to the next in search of stability. While permanency is never guaranteed, Gonzales traces her migration journey and invites us to consider what it means to find a sense of identity, belonging, and community in the makeshift.

Interestingly, piña silk fabrics have a long lineage and cultural significance for Filipino communities. For the last four centuries, artisans have sustained these traditional techniques since piña is seen as a national symbol for the country. Plant fibres would often be weaved into shirts, women’s blouses, shoulder scarves, handkerchiefs, or table linens.

Ella Gonzales, Follow Me, first, 2023. Acrylic on piña silk, metal hinges. Courtesy the artist

Ella Gonzales, Follow Me, first, 2023. Acrylic on piña silk, metal hinges. Courtesy the artist

Pineapple was first introduced to the Philippines under Spanish colonialization during the late sixteenth century. In spite of these circumstances, Filipino weavers learned new embroidery skills that would surpass the intricate lace patterns and trends in Spain and France. However, after the Spanish-American War of 1898, the United States paid Spain $20 million to annex the entire Philippine archipelago. As Filipino families were forced to immigrate to the United States, many families struggled with poverty, learning the English language, and adapting to a new culture that was not their own.

With these histories in mind, Gonzales honours the Filipino diaspora and their stories of migration through her paintings. In a way, the piña silk itself becomes a symbol of resiliency and cultural pride for a nation that has endured political hardships, colonization, and displacement.

Installation view of Sami Tsang's Take a Chocolate Mint Moment, 2021 and That Bathroom Nightmare, 2022, The Power Plant. Photo by Toni Hafkenscheid.

Installation view of Sami Tsang's Take a Chocolate Mint Moment, 2021 and That Bathroom Nightmare, 2022, The Power Plant. Photo by Toni Hafkenscheid.

Through her ceramic work, Sami Tsang explores the challenges of carving a path different from the traditional expectations of her cultural upbringing. As an only child born into a conservative Chinese family in Windsor, Ontario, she often felt that she was not encouraged to speak her mind. While growing up in Hong Kong, she studied conventional Chinese painting for seven years before moving back to Canada at the age of 12. From there, Tsang experienced a series of traumatic issues as she struggled to fulfill her role as a Chinese daughter while living in a Westernized culture.

Sami Tsang, I’m An Only Child, 2020. Courtesy the artist and Cooper Cole, Toronto.

Sami Tsang, I’m An Only Child, 2020. Courtesy the artist and Cooper Cole, Toronto.

In hopes of finding her own voice and identity, she chose ceramics as her primary medium for self-expression. After earning a BA from Sheridan College and an MFA in Ceramics from Alfred University, Tsang does not shy away from revealing difficult emotions within her sculptures and drawings. When looking at her ceramics, I’m an Only Child (2020), Take a Chocolate Mint Moment (2021), and That Bathroom Nightmare (2022), she invites us to consider: how do we reconcile with past trauma? Besides her studio, Tsang often sees the bathroom as a safe space to express herself and find respite.

Using clay, the distorted figures in her works may have a grotesque appearance at first glance. The streaks of colour that run down the bodies of these characters suggest a messiness or tension that takes place within oneself and familial relationships. By drawing onto the actual sculptures with a ballpoint pen, Tsang explains how she allows herself to be concealed within an imaginary world. These illustrations often resemble faces, Chinese proverbs, animals, or other references to her childhood. In sculptures that may be representations of the artist, perhaps these haunting figures that appear on the surfaces of her garments are meant to be an ever-present force that she continues to wrestle with.

Installation view of in parallel, The Power Plant, Toronto, 2023. Photo by Henry Chan.

Installation view of in parallel, The Power Plant, Toronto, 2023. Photo by Henry Chan.

In her recent exhibition at Cooper Cole Gallery called A Good Hard Look (May 27–July 8, 2023), she articulates that, “Some days I am in the past. Some days I am fighting the past. How do I merge the differences I feel within? Instead of competing about which side I belong to, I feel confident to be as is.”

Tsang’s artwork is nothing less than an act of courage. She makes herself vulnerable by confessing inner conflicts that were once suppressed. Her sculptures can be seen as a form of emotional release as she continues to confront cultural burdens and forge her own identity through her artistic practice.

Bibliography

From Pineapple to Piña: A Philippine Textile Treasure. SFO Museum

Immigration History. Stanford Medicine

Montgomery, Marcy. Traditional Textile Revival: Demonstrating the Potential of Piña Fabric for Apparel. Oklahoma State University, 2017

Mott Avalon. A series of actions or steps taken in order to achieve a particular end. Toronto: Xpace Cultural Centre, 2023. Exhibition catalogue

“Personal Space: Ella Gonzales, Tristram Lansdowne, and Luke Painter.” Patel Brown Gallery

“Sami Tsang: A Good Hard Look.” Cooper Cole Gallery

“Sami Tsang Artist Statement,” Sami Tsang Ceramics

“The Spanish-American War in the Philippines and the Battle for Manila,” PBS.org