Antonius-Tín Bui (American, b. 1992)
years staining from the inside out / all losses have lifetimes/ we who are made mostly of distance / But, who can prepare you for the past?/ we deal with a permanent voyage, the becoming of that which itself had become / you needed me first, and now I’m shaped like your thirst/ Water, too, held me hostage. Your wounds, plural in my throat, 2023
Hand cut paper
30 x 40 in.
Gallery Purchase with funds from the Dr. Joan Huntley Art Acquisition Endowment
I’ve always liked a long, thought-provoking title, be it for art, music, or books. So think of my surprise upon finding Antonius-Tín Bui’s work, whose full title is a 61-word poem:
years staining from the inside out / all losses have lifetimes/ we who are made mostly of distance / But, who can prepare you for the past?/ we deal with a permanent voyage, the becoming of that which itself had become / you needed me first, and now I’m shaped like your thirst/ Water, too, held me hostage. Your wounds, plural in my throat
Suffice it to say, my interest has been piqued, and I have not even considered the actual artwork yet.
Bui’s three-dimensional paper work, a recent acquisition at the Van Every/Smith Galleries, features a figural element embedded in fragments of ceramic-like shapes, floral designs, and wispy strings. The hand-cut paper appears frail despite the stark contrast of its deep blue color against the white background. Thicker strands of paper denote a face with a serious expression, partially obstructed by the ceramic shards around it. Thinner strips make the scene look wind-blown, adding movement to an otherwise static image.
On my first view of the work and its fascinating title, I interpreted the poem to reveal themes of grief and the act of wrestling with a heartbroken past and an unknown future. Greater reflection indicated ideas of simply growing up. To me, the idea of “years staining” suggests the myriad of identities and experiences that make up a person, be it good, bad, or somewhere in between. The emergence of such identities are depicted through the ceramic vase fragments that intersect and overlap in the work. Ceramics, too, can indicate ideas of personal histories. The phrase “Who can prepare you for the past?” questions how we reconcile with our memories, reconstructing and blending them into ways that influence our present state of mind. The idea of a “permanent voyage” indicates the inevitable forward motion we live on, even as we look back in time. It also evokes imagery of a ship embarking on an ocean journey, possibly reflected in the blue of the paper or its windswept nature.
As I sat with the poem, I considered the end of the title to refer to a younger version of the poem’s author and their mark – or “your wounds” – left on the life of the grown-up version. “You needed me first” reflects the author of the past as they dreamt of their future, while “now I’m shaped like your thirst” indicates the outcome they grew into, based on their youthful wishes. Collectively, the title creates a nonlinear path of time, referencing future, past, and present with blurred lines between the three, represented by the abstract qualities of the work. How “Water, too, held me hostage” fits in is something I’m still trying to figure out.
There is something soulful and peaceful in this poem, reflected in the artwork through its somber expression. The negative space between the patterns of the paper makes the work appear delicate and permeable. It reminds me of the unstable nature of memories – although we often think of our memories as accurate and concrete, they remain rather fragile and malleable. Sometimes memories feel clear, while others appear muddled and fragmented, much like the figure in this work.
With its its brittle material, subtle movement, and glimpses of figures and objects, Bui’s work feels like a single snapshot of a memory. Although “distance” and “wounds” have splintered this recollection, we continue to find ourselves on this “permanent voyage,” also known as life. And for my very last blog post as a graduating gallery intern, I think this is a perfectly bittersweet note to end on.
– Gaby Sanclimenti ’25
Antonius-Tín Bui (American, b. 1992) is a Vietnamese American multidisciplinary artist who received a BFA from the Maryland Institute College of Art. Their gender and ethnic identity is central to their sculpture, paper, performance, and other works, which they complete through a meditative yet exacting process. Bui’s creations reference oral histories, intergenerational trauma, and refugee experiences to give voice to erased narratives through metaphoric and abstract works. Learn more about Bui here.