混血
Halfbloods Collective is proud to present Ipseity, a curated exhibition exploring the quality of being oneself. Ipseity is composed of a series of scenes from the perspective of our narrator, Christina Mei Rouse. As a person of blended ancestries — her mother is Chinese, and her father German — Rouse’s narrative evokes feelings tied to her mixed race identity, cultural learnings, and vivid memories of childhood.
Ipseity is presented as a series of dreamlike frames — singular moments pulled from the framework of a larger story.
A collective of three artists, all from mixed-race bloodlines, Halfbloods exists to explore the intersection of artistry and ancestry.
Christina Mei Rouse is a photographer, filmmaker and writer based out of Boise, Idaho. Always observing, Rouse is able to capture quiet, transparent moments filled with a sense of the ethereal. She is of Chinese and German descent.
Chris Sims is a self-taught composer and sound designer specializing in electronic music and modular synthesis; he aims to cultivate an ethos that stretches well beyond the barrier of what musicality is considered today.. He is of Nigerian, German and Haitian descent.
Greg Lutze is an artist and curator based out of Oakland, California. A polymath, his interests lie in a variety of creative pursuits including design, photography, painting, fragrance and fashion. He is of Chinese and German descent.
混血
The translation of this neon sign reads ‘mixed blood’ and is a nod to others, like myself, who are multiracial. A light amid the darkness, it signals the desire to be seen and known.
Misfit
I was 20 years old before I met another half Asian person beyond my family, so I grew up an anomaly. Raised in a predominantly White setting, I was often viewed as the Chinese girl. Yet in the eyes of my own Chinese grandmother, it was a shame I didn’t appear more Asian.
Regardless, I never really minded standing out rather than blending in. I always felt that being mixed was part of what made me special — not one thing or another, but an amalgamation of two people who came from different backgrounds.
Curses
This image symbolizes the unwitting mistakes made as a half Asian child in regards to traditional Chinese culture. When placed vertically in your food, chopsticks resemble incense being burned at a funeral, which is a major faux pas and believed to bring bad luck.
Ghost
I’m very familiar with people’s stares as they try to figure out my heritage. The red ghost represents being judged solely on your outward appearance, all the while longing to be identified as more than ‘other’.
Yum Cha
My grandparents spoke different dialects, so the Chinese language was not passed down to my mother and her siblings. However, whenever we went out to eat Chinese food, my mom would fill cups with hot tea and pass them around the table saying ‘yum cha’, which means ‘drink tea’ in Cantonese.
Semblance
I’ve always wanted to be like my mother. She’s effervescent and likeable, lovely, capable, and kind. Though I’m more quiet and reserved, I hope I resemble her in other ways. When I was in high school, she used to sing “Fan Tan Fannie” from the musical Flower Drum Song, while waving an imaginary fan around the house.
Chang’e
In Chinese mythology, Chang’e was a woman known for her beauty who drank her husband’s immortality potion and fled to the moon. During the Mid-Autumn Festival, when the moon is full, people remember her story and eat round pastries called mooncakes, which contain sweet or savory fillings.
Auspicious
In honor of my Chinese grandmother — who grew orchids in her garden, chased chickens, hung her clothes out to dry, and mowed the yard in zigzags and circles. To the woman who called me ‘the little fairy’, fed me chai sui and longan, massaged my back with the pounding of her fists, and told me to ‘never trust a Chinese’.
This dragon necklace belonged to my Po Po Ching, then was given to my mother, and now belongs to me. It’s one of my greatest treasures.
Chrysanthemum
When I was a little girl, my grandmother, who we called Po Po Ching, came to visit. Sitting on the front porch, she covered my entire head in silk flowers. None of my hair was visible, and I remember feeling embarrassed about how odd I looked. I immediately removed all the blooms.
As an adult, I grasp what a sweet act it was to adorn my head in flowers, and I wish I had left her handiwork in place. Recreating the hairstyle she gave me, Chrysanthemum represents coming to terms with the understanding that different isn’t synonymous with ugly; different can be beautiful.