Future Flowers: Thao Huynh French’s Deeply Moving Solo Show

A Master Class in Art

People talk about art having depth and how great works gain meaning the longer you experience them.

If you live in San Diego and have the good fortune to attend Thao French’s Future Flowers show at Mesa College Gallery, you will see this exhibit embody that concept in real-time.

The reception held on Wednesday, September 2^nd was already drawing a crowd, and it was barely 4pm. There was a nice spread of foods at the entry, which Thao later shared were provided by all Vietnamese establishments.

The entry doors sported a red carpet framed by stanchions with red caution tape which read: “Future Flowers sponsored by Palantir” – a small detail that my friend and I wondered (and hoped) was satire. I later confirmed with Thao that it was.

When you first walk into the gallery, the show is full of pretty paintings, aesthetic installations, and delightful add-ons, like women getting their nails done in the corner.

You think to yourself, “This is nice. What a cool community event”

Stretched abstract works bathed in red are hung front and center. They are well-executed and appealing to the senses.

Small Lego replicas of Thao's murals on local buildings, created by North Park Lego, sit on podiums in front of the large pieces. A unique touch for an art show-- I love when artists get meta with their work.

Behind you, a mirrored credenza is covered in lipstick writing: “Hypersexualization of women is a tool of capitalism that benefits the patriarchy xoxo.”

It holds dozens of keys with similar sentiment: “women are not each other’s competition,” “the revolution will not be televised,” “collective liberation is uncomfortable.”

“Okay, so there’s more to this than just paintings,” your mind begins to grasp.

You follow the wall to find smaller works that differ from the styles of the larger canvasses. These are more representational and were created using various media (some were spray paint, some used acrylic paint, some were watercolor). They are all incredibly well done, and each one different from the last. My friend and I rejoiced in the fact that an artist put together a show that didn’t just have one media and one distinct style (a common sentiment you hear in the art world: you need to make a cohesive body of work, use one medium, and have a certain style...).

In the center of the room was another rope and post setup with yellow caution tape that read “What you say/do/look like will be used against you” that was juxtaposed against the beautiful Lunar New Year installation it surrounded.

You turn to find a display of Vietnamese dresses that are just about the most beautiful garments you’ve ever seen, complimented with a pair of Doc Martens that were painted by Thao herself.

In the back corner, an installation that goes up to the ceiling catches your eye.

On your way to check it out, you peruse the wall leading up to it which consists of photographs and printed-out email correspondence along with quotes from discussions with family members. You read some and realize that this is her search for her mother’s biological father who was a US military man stationed in Vietnam during the war. Chills begin to spread across your arms.

“Oh…” you begin to realize the implications here, which are solidified by a simple two-line quote from a talk with her grandmother:

Thao: “Bà Ngoại (Grandmother), did you ever love him?”

Bà Ngoại (Grandmother): “No.”

The photos and quotes on the wall push through that heartache to share Thao’s experience in the Philippines Refugee Processing Center. She and her mother lived there for six months when she was a baby before coming to the United States (A fact she didn’t learn until she was in her 20s).

You follow onto the display that reaches the ceiling. You marvel at this scene that looks like it's straight from Harry Potter but when you dive into the meaning, the whimsical feeling quickly loses its magic.

Beneath the papers suspended mid-air is a table with bankers boxes, countless documents and photographs, and candles. There is a placard on the table with a trigger warning display that reads:

“This installation contains historical documents and photographs from a refugee camp. Some of the material depicts displacement, loss, death, mentions of sexual exploitation, and hardship… Proceed with Care. What you are about to see is real. These are unedited, unredacted reproductions of our findings. They are pieces of people's lives, preserved and shared with trust that has been kept in boxes behind security… We have chosen not to censor or soften this history.”

You sift through these pieces of paper and soon realize they are autopsies, reports of human capture, death certificates, and photos of American imperialism. These are human beings reduced to words on paper that speak about them as if they are inanimate objects... It’s horrifying.

Around the corner is a small inlet, with a pedestal holding cards and a telephone on it. The walls are decorated with twinkle lights and clear clothespins. A few cards are hung already, and about a half dozen people surround the small table, writing fervently on these cards.

Another white woman and I picked up the card to read it and politely put it back down. The cards encouraged refugees to share their experience and hang them on the wall. What privilege we had to pick up that card and put it back down, to not have anything to write. It made me feel strange and sad for those that have undergone such an experience: leaving their home with almost no belongings, thrust into a new land with a foreign language, knowing no one in that new place.

It brought me joy, though, to see those that have experienced that trauma connect so deeply with Thao's art and want to share their story.

That’s what this show does. It connects with people.

Future Flowers is raw, visceral, and impactful. It resonates on a fundamental human level. It resonates on a deeper level than a lot of art can. Even if you don’t directly relate to the refugee experience, you will be moved by this show.

On the surface, it just looks like a nice exhibit with pretty paintings and cool displays. But when you dive in deeper, you’ll find a chilling narrative, an artist’s POV of her culture, and the search for truth in her family.

Every detail was perfectly executed and deeply considered. Thao went out of her way to ensure her culture was well-represented (an active nail salon setup, red everywhere, local Vietnamese food, garments, photos, and depictions of the Asian American experience).

This exhibit is a master class in art, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Thank you, Thao, for sharing you work with us!

Thao French (right) and me (left) at the opening reception on 9/2

I highly encourage everyone to attend and experience this show for themselves.

Read the texts, explore the photos, and take in the art. You might just be so moved by it that you find yourself doing an entire write-up on it, even when you aren’t a writer, like I did. :)

This exhibit is on display at Mesa College Gallery until September 17^th. It is free and open to the public Monday through Thursday, 12 - 5pm. If you come during the week, there is free street parking on Marlesta Drive just off campus.

There is also another reception on Wednesday, September 9^th, 5:30 - 7:30pm, with an artist talk at 6pm. There is free parking in Staff spaces in front of the gallery (Lot 1) during this reception.

A note to the readers: I hope you’ll forgive the grammar mistakes, incontinuity in tenses, and/or general writing faux pas. I had to get the word out there asap, so you can have the pleasure of moving through this emotional experience before the show is over. And like I mentioned, I'm not a writer.. I'm a painter :) *

Thanks for tuning in.

Cheers,

Lyss

Below is one of the placards from the show, written by Thao French: