Tears as Emotional Objects

This body of work emerged from nine years of living between two countries, two languages, and two cultures. It is a visual record of the thoughts, emotions, actions, and reactions that have shaped my experience of becoming a transnational person. Through the process of making, I reflect on the persistent questions of identity and belonging that accompany migration: Where is home? Where do I belong? And how do I reconcile the different parts of myself formed across places and cultures?

I chose **tears** as the central motif because, for me, they represent much more than emotional release. Tears can hold grief, longing, joy, vulnerability, relief, recognition, and transformation. They can emerge from both pain and insight. In this project, tears become a metaphor for the emotional landscape of migration and for the ongoing process of forming a transnational identity.

The project began with drawings of tears flowing from the eyes. I developed and repeated these forms, then introduced the three primary colours—red, yellow, and blue—to represent different emotional states and experiences accumulated throughout my life in transition. Through a process of refinement and transformation, the drawings were transferred onto five sheets of Shina plywood, carved, and printed by hand onto handmade washi paper using the Japanese Mokuhanga woodblock printing technique.

The resulting prints were then cut, layered, repeated, and assembled into two interconnected installations. Rather than presenting a literal narrative, the installations translate an internal emotional experience into rhythm, movement, repetition, and spatial form.

The first installation creates a dynamic composition of large, eye- and tear-like forms. Vibrant reds, yellows, blues, and deep blacks move across the surface in layered patterns, creating a sense of visual intensity and emotional energy. The repetition of the tear forms suggests continuous movement—as if emotions are flowing, accumulating, and transforming over time. The arrangement also evokes the shape of an eye, bringing the act of seeing and being seen into the work. Here, tears become both a physical expression and a way of looking inward.

The second installation shifts from the intensity of colour toward a more restrained and organic language. Hundreds of layered, tear-like forms cascade through the space, creating a suspended landscape of overlapping shapes. Dominated by earthy blacks and deep tones, with traces of red and lighter colours emerging between the layers, the installation suggests both the density and delicacy of emotional experience. The repeated forms resemble leaves, petals, feathers, or droplets, allowing the tear to move beyond its literal meaning and become part of a larger organic vocabulary.

Together, the two installations explore the tension between fragmentation and wholeness, movement and stillness, visibility and concealment. The repeated tear becomes a unit of memory: individually small and vulnerable, yet powerful when accumulated into a larger whole. In this sense, the work reflects my own experience of migration—how seemingly ordinary moments, emotions, losses, discoveries, and adaptations gradually accumulate to reshape one's sense of self.

The project was also an exploration of material, process, and persistence. Working with materials sourced from Japan and the United Kingdom presented practical challenges, while limited funding following an unsuccessful grant application required me to adapt my original plans. These constraints ultimately became part of the creative process, encouraging experimentation, resourcefulness, and a willingness to allow the work to evolve beyond my initial expectations.

This project has deepened my interest in repetition, organic forms, spatial installation, and the relationship between traditional craft processes and contemporary experiences of identity. Moving forward, I hope to continue exploring scale, light, shadow, natural materials, and installation environments, allowing the work to respond more directly to its surroundings.

Ultimately, this project is not an attempt to provide a definitive answer to the questions of identity and belonging. Instead, it is a space in which those questions can remain open. Through the language of tears, repetition, and transformation, I invite viewers to encounter their own memories and emotions—and perhaps to recognize that belonging, like identity itself, is not always a fixed destination, but an ongoing process of becoming.