Chua Xiong
Chua Xiong is a first-generation Hmong American artist and entrepreneur with a vibrant passion for creativity and expression. Born and raised in Merced, California, she grew up in a humble home where resources were scarce, and the idea of art seemed like a far-off luxury. But now, looking back, she sees the incredible accessibility and boundless possibilities of digital art, which has become her artistic love song to the illustrative wonders she could have had as a child. Today, she's not just an artist; she's also a proud owner and operator of an online shop, where she offers captivating Hmong-based art and design.
Xiong's work combines her upbringing with the vibrant textile art of her Hmong heritage. Using communication and art, she tells compelling stories that celebrate creativity, love, and authenticity. Chua's artwork, characterized by vibrant palettes and Hmong-inspired elements, reflects her playful nature, offering an escape from her naturally shy disposition.
What is your personal definition of home? - What experiences have influenced/continue to influence and shape your understanding of home, belonging, and safety? Are there any core memories? (this can be a time/event, a place/location, an item, a tradition/way of knowing etc)
Home is where you create it and the people you can return to. I resided in the same house for 19 years before deciding to move two hours away, discovering my second home where I formed lifelong friendships and met my partner of 9 years. In Sacramento, CA, I relocated at least 5 times over 8 years. I made a move to Hawaii to explore and live my most authentic life, and moved back to Sacramento during the pandemic. Despite my frequent moves, one constant remains—I've maintained and often strengthened my relationships. Home, for me, is with the people who provide a sense of familiarity, safety, love, and comfort.
What parts of your personal/family/collective histories help you feel grounded in (or disconnected to) your idea and understanding of home? - When/if you feel disconnected to your cultural community, where do you go and/or what do you do to feel safe and accepted?
I adore listening to my mother's stories. In her earlier days, she didn't have a stable home and was always living with others, working tirelessly to send money back home. As a sort of traveling babysitter, her stories carry a yearning for a sense of belonging and home from her childhood. Now, having laid down roots and made a home, she's truly living her life. Her tales of navigating life without a fixed home, paired with her assurance that having us means she's not worried, made me realize that home isn't just a physical place; it's the people you share it with.
What aspects of your identity do you feel most connected to? - What parts feel the most challenging to feel connected to and how does this impact your understanding of home and belonging?
I find my strongest connection within my artistic identity. Throughout much of my life, I've adhered to the conventional expectations of being a straight, heterosexual Hmong woman/daughter—pursuing education, securing a job, finding a husband, and starting a family. However, this linear path lacks profound meaning or connection for me. I often ponder if there's more to life than this prescribed purpose. It's not to discredit this lifestyle, but in terms of genuine connection, I feel most authentic when immersed in my artistic side. Here, I can be true to myself, exploring boundless possibilities without compromising the well-being of those around me.
The interplay of religion and culture in my identity poses challenges to my feelings about home and belonging. Spiritually, I sense a lack of home or belonging because I neither actively practice my religion nor fully comprehend its traditions. This uncertainty ripples into other facets of my identity, impacting my sense of womanhood, family dynamics, sexual orientation, and personality traits. A bold perspective is that being a Hmong woman practicing shamanism without a husband can evoke a fear of the afterlife within our cultural context. Wrestling with these cultural and religious expectations shapes how I navigate my life, although I recognize it doesn't dictate my path. Despite this complexity, my first instinct often leans towards these considerations. Hence, I find a deeper connection to my artistic identity—a realm that allows me to lead an authentic life, embracing the freedom to be who I want, go where I please, and find peace in the life I've lived.
Time isn’t linear–spiritually speaking, we carry our ancestors and descendants with us everyday. How do you hope to contribute to the healing, growth, and transformation of your people’s collective understanding of home, place, and belonging? Through your art, how do you hope to help your ancestors and descendants find home and feel + know safety?
My parents preserved our culture and traditions, playing a crucial role in guiding our ancestors and descendants to find a sense of home and genuine safety. Presently, I may not actively carry on those traditions in the same way, but I contribute by representing and celebrating my cultural identity through art, fashion, and education. If it were up to me, my aim is to introduce and familiarize those who may not know much about the Hmong people through the contributions listed above.
What role does art/creativity play in your life? Is this connected to your journey of belonging? If yes, how?
Art has been a constant presence in my life since childhood. Although we sometimes lost touch, it has consistently been there for me. On days when I need to reconnect, art welcomes me without resentment. It serves as a reliable constant. Surprisingly, when I link the sense of belonging with my art journey, it isn't tied to a specific artistic community. Instead, creating art makes me feel okay with not fitting in elsewhere. When I draw, I unleash grand ideas onto my art space, sharing them openly to see who resonates. Whether it gains notice or not, that's the beauty of art—you don't require a sense of belonging, as the resonance with your creations is satisfying in itself.
What is one dream you have for your community?
Interestingly, in the context of belonging, my dream revolves around my community gaining mainstream recognition. To belong in a world where we've been in America for just 50 years is significant. Witnessing more members of my community being acknowledged nationally and internationally, leaving a mark on the map, has always been a dream of mine. It's not just for me, but the sight of this genuine representation makes the eight-year-old in me incredibly happy.
How has this project influenced your understanding of community, belonging, home and/or safety?
Getting to know my cohort members and hearing about their upbringings and stories, which are surprisingly similar yet diverse, has significantly influenced my perspective on community, belonging, home, and safety. If I were to pinpoint one common thread, it would be compassion. The ability to carry enough compassion to open up spaces, create connections, and build a sense of belonging for each other is a profound blessing to be a part of. To me, that feels like home.
After this project, what's next? Is there anything on your horizon or forthcoming for you as an artist/storyteller?
As an artist and storyteller, I plan to keep exploring themes of identity, belonging, and home. I want to share diverse voices, including my own, through my art. I'll focus on cultural narratives and celebrate individual uniqueness. I also aim to contribute to discussions about compassion and building a sense of belonging within communities through my creative work.
How can people learn more about you and keep up with your work?
Coffee date, anyone? Shoot me a message on Instagram (@alleveryart) or Facebook (@allevery)! Let's chat :). I'm all about sound boarding and bouncing ideas, and if you fancy picking my brain, drop an email at alleveryart@gmail.com.
Shadowed Solace, 2024
digital art on canvas
Following a paranormal encounter, my sense of safety and belonging found solace in my religion. Despite attempting to distance myself, it shadows me persistently. While not actively practicing, my connection to shamanistic rituals, especially those performed by my father, shields me.