GIRL VOICE, 2025

feature with Korean American Voice (New York City)

This is not just a performance. It is an invocation. It demands that we listen with more than our ears, to consider how voice and body are policed, fetishized, liberated, and reimagined. It leaves the audience suspended in a liminal space between the known and the wild, the human and the elemental.
— Joyce Chung, Curator

documentation by Phillip Byrne (Los Angeles)

live performance + sound installation + social practice, 22 minutes. Feminism Is Not Your Enemy, AHL Foundation + Commission for Water + Power. found shell, rabbit fur hide, sheep skin.

GIRL VOICE invokes the transfeminine voice as a site of reclamation—bridging indigeneity and the pressures of gendered passibility. Through live sound-looping, the performance channels a spectrum of cultural memory, recalling the forgotten vibrations of third-gender shamans, spirit mediums, and ritual practitioners across the Asian Pacific. The work confronts collective dysphoria and the post-colonial forces that sever trans people from ancestral identity. Audiences are invited to loop their own voices into the installation using the prompt “how’s this for a girl voice?”—a revolt of cisnormativity and the supremacy culture attached to it. The performance channels the grief, pleasure, and becoming through the bio-mimicry of coqui frogs and animalistic gestures. It re-enchants audiences into an empathic participation with the present: the violence of anti-trans legislation and the need to re-steward ecological and spiritual relationships while on stolen land.

The voices of participating audiences includes Asia Stewart, Mark Hepworth, Luwin Changco, Horus Porras, Lena Chen, Souen Bae, Ibuki Kuramochi, Yuqing, and Jared Hoffman (New York) + Beatrice Gosse, Dylan Tescher, Jane Die, and haven luya (Los Angeles).


when no one is watching, 2024

documentation by Jun!yi Min

live performance + video installation, 44 minutes after 7 consecutive days performing on various camming sites. Debut solo exhibition, Trans Aphrodisia, at The Brown Building.

when no one is watching uses the webcam platform Chatroulette to investigate digital intimacy with randomized strangers across the globe. Through real-time encounters, I mirror the physical and verbal cues of online male users while live audiences witness the spectrum of responses—ranging from fetishism to transphobia.

The performance probes the unspoken erotic contracts that form in technological shadows, examining how human consciousness shifts to meet needs of self-gratification. The live interface is projected across the walls, transforming the space into a cyber-bedroom where spectators can inhabit the intimate terrain between anonymity, desire, and surveillance.


R U REAL, 2025

digital performance, 3 hours and 20 minutes on Chaturbate. Mad World at Loop Art Critique, Mud Foundation + The Wrong Biennale.

R U REAL is a durational livestream performance from my ongoing project, worship the dolls, meditating on cyber systems of erotic labor within the sanctity of a (trans) girl’s bedroom. During the performance, I tweeze leg hairs for three hours while engaging over 500 viewers through text and webcam interphase. Participants are allowed to share their cameras, tip, and inquire for private messaging during the performance. Through screen-based ritual, I explore how online spectatorship might shift exploitation into power-switched voyeurism—how watching itself might become an act of devotion, or a form of “worship" to keep trans identity preserved. 


the wind was just like them, 2024

documentation by Terry Smith

documentation by Sanchez Productions

live performance + installation, 8 minutes. Commission for LIMINAL SPACE at The Mingei International Museum and Disco Riot at Queer Mvmt Festival. 2024. electrical fan, dozen eggs.

the wind was just like them is an interdisciplinary performance that combines live vocals distorted into an electrical fan and experimental movement with a dozen eggs. The ritual-performance uses body languages of trans joy to subconsciously detonate the 35 million landmines still hidden in the countryside of Vietnam after the Vietnam War (1955-1975). With the 50th anniversary of the fall of Saigon, I question one’s displaced and diasporic relationship to homeland. Using the traditions of my paternal grandmother, I researches movement languages rooted in Daoism, especially the concept of spirals and unicity, to help express the freedom for re-narrating memories of sudden death.


Homework, 2023

live performance + installation, 11 minutes. Commission for Queering the Table, an exhibition at the Mingei International Museum. three grass brooms and a wooden chair.

Homework reclaims bodily safety by exposing histories of child abuse in Vietnamese and diasporic immigrant communities. Audiences contemplates how violent discipline is stored in collective skin, and remains repetitively cursed in the body for generational patterning. I re-program body-pain relationships by transforming the object-hood of brooms with somatic sequences of “sweep-walking” and resting. The performance seals with an artist talk where I facilitate a grieving circle through poetry recitation.


can’t you just change jobs, 2024

documentation by Tommy Bui

She moves both elegantly and ungainly within a performance, rendering moments of both instinctive reaction and designed transcendence.
— Seth Combs, SD Union Tribune

live performance + sculpture, 11 minutes. Debuted at PROJECT [BLANK], a performance exhibition at Bread & Salt + commissioned for the closing performance of 17th Annual Dia de la Mujer at The FRONT Arte & Cultura. 2024. seventeen braided “Thank You” bags into a frozen durian fruit, and an improvised hair pin.

can’t you just change jobs compels audiences with an ode to Vietnamese women and fruit sellers. I release the generational inheritance of lethargy, scarcity, and childbirth by wrestling with a metaphorical ball and chain crafted from supermarket goods. The ritual uses a chant, mua cho bà con ơi / oh child, buy these from me (because I need the money), in repetition as a labor prayer to engage with audience members as passerby customers.


Yet another birth of, 2024

documentation by Krysada Phuonsiri

live performance + installation, 33 minutes after a 30 day sugar fast. Closing performance for Through the Maze, in collaboration with Tarrah Aroonsakool, at The Athenaeum Center. 2024. rice, honey, condensed milk.

Yet another birth of re-myths Aphrodite as trans-Madonna to contemplate the (non)consensual sacrifices of one’s indigeneity for Western assimilation. I echo vocal tones while oscillating through the maze installation, constructed with found objects that reminisce the Asian American household. Upon arriving onto the altar stage, a bathtub awaits where artist, Tarrah Aroonsakool, uses honey and condensed milk as actors of the American Dream — sugar as an agent to freeze the psyche and one’s ancestral memory. The performance invites audience members to pour various liquids on my body, where divinity is stripped in place of the despair.


braiding the future, 2025

Our body is molded to fit the land,” fae said. “There’s something about our bodies that we carry a geographical location, a bloodline, something cosmic as well. We don’t carry just memory or trauma. We carry all the past lives we’ve had. We carry all the untold stories that haven’t been expressed yet.
— Daylight San Diego

live performance + social practice, 44 minutes. the land we carry, El Salon at Casa Familiar. red thread.

braiding the future activates the ancestral technology of hair braiding as a ritual of care and resistance in response to ongoing ICE raids in the San Diego–Tijuana borderlands. Across Indigenous and diasporic traditions, braiding carries generational wisdom and one’s re-connection the creation. This performance mobilizes that lineage to imagine futurity through collective touch.

The work begins with three strands of red thread, braided durationally. Participants are invited to braid one another’s hair from the central red braid as the origin point. As hands interlace hair, a human spiral forms underneath a hovering ICE helicopter during the exhibition the land we carry. Futures are braided through shared touch, collective witnessing, and the ancestral insistence on staying woven together through joyous connection.