Cry the Beloved Countries

“The idea is to give refugee artists an
opportunity to reflect on their lives,” explained Nguyen, who runs the
South East Asian Program for InterFaith Works of Central New York’s
Refugee Resettlement Program. “These people need support economically
but it’s also important to sustain their lives culturally.” 

The works included in the show vary in
their level of polish but all are highly personal expressions of a
struggle to adapt. The largest piece here is a fabric collage mounted
on canvas which was created by Women Transcending Boundaries. The
group, composed of women who hail from various African and Middle
Eastern countries, meets every Thursday at the Center for New Americans
to cook, knit and work on craft projects. It’s also a great way to
socialize, practice English and commiserate about adjusting to life in
America. 

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Long strips of patterned cloth are
woven, sewn together and in places held together with paper clips.
These connections echo the mending of lives and the personal strength
that can be gained by finding connections with new neighbors. Snapshots
of each member of the group are nestled within this “Fabric of Life.”

Although Karen Le is only
15, she
already concerns herself with the effects of time on memory. In an
artist’s statement she relates her photo montage “Memory Watch” to an
archaeological pit. She carefully divided a circular space into a grid
and inside each section pasted a family snapshot: memories isolated for
study. Glued along the outside of the piece are small hands plucked
from their homes on clock faces. Their chaotic placement seems to
challenge time’s relentless passage. 

Strife in Sudan created a group of more
than 4,000 unaccompanied minors that were granted refugee status and
allowed to come to the United States. Makram Bosso belongs to this
group, referred to collectively as The Lost Boys of Sudan. He and other
local Lost Boys have found a way to connect with their past while
working for a better future for their countrymen. They sculpt clay
cows, much as they did as children as a lesson in the importance of the
creature to Sudanese culture and economy. The cows are traded for
donations that go toward tuition and textbooks for children in Sudan.
Examples of Bosso’s cows are on display.

Refugees from South Vietnam miss a home
country that no longer exists in the eyes of the world. Vinh Dang
paints in a straightforward illustrative style with black paint on a
white background. The scene included in this show commemorates a
ceremony where the flag of South Vietnam is raised over Syracuse City
Hall. His own poem, “Vietnam, Our Mother’s Soul is Still Flying
Loftily,” floats in the foreground, painted as if written on a
wind-blown piece of paper.

Memories of a Vietnam that no longer
exists haunt Khanh Le’s work as well. He submitted two of his
hand-printed photo etchings from a series called “Know Place.” Le left
Vietnam when he was 9. Now 27, he remembers only fragments: rice
paddies, propaganda posters, chirping crickets and urban sprawl. Le
splices numerous photos of present-day Vietnam together to construct
landscapes that jibe with his fading impressions.

Then there’s Nguyen’s own work. One
piece—a shadowbox containing an abacus and medical illustrations—honors
his grandfather. Nguyen recalls the man figuring out problems on the
abacus but he also remembers scooting around on it like a sled. His
grandfather practiced traditional medicine. He diagnosed illness by
touching pulse points and mixed his own remedies with ingredients like
snake bones, ginseng and seahorses. Like Western doctors using Latin,
he recorded his scholarly work in classical Chinese characters. With no
son to pass the work on to (all died before him in the Vietnam War) he
had his books buried with him. 

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The abacus, just a simple tool, has
become precious to Nguyen because it is a last link to a world of
arcane knowledge that died with his grandfather. “Looking into your
past offers you a lens for your life today,” Nguyen said.  

Lost and Found is on display
through Aug. 20 at the Center for New Americans. The center is open
Mondays through Fridays, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. For more information, call
474-1261.

—Jon Dufort