Madi Lapid

Madi Lapid is an illustrator based in Sacramento and a student at California State University, Long Beach. Born in San Diego in 2004, she is a third-generation Asian American with Hmong, Filipino, and Japanese roots. Her queer and multi-ethnic identities have led her to be expressive about intersectionality and the relationship between individuality and connection. She aspires to reach others emotionally through her work by encapsulating a multilayered atmosphere of whimsical melancholy. Her current creative practice alternates between traditional and digital mediums. 


My sense of home is not confined to a single physical place or a certain group of people. Colors are universal; they can communicate an array of emotions that are too difficult to translate into words. I find blue to be a vast and flexible color because of its dual existence in the physical world and abstract ideas. Blue is also indicative of other emotions besides sadness, such as imagination and freedom. For this reason, blue has the power to describe the complex experience of having minor feelings. On a personal level, the color blue holds a place of safety for me because of its vulnerability and nakedness. It has a deep cultural connection to me as well, as Hmong embroidery is commonly done on blue cloth.

Where are you currently based and/or where is your creative practice based? (city, zipcode) Do you consider this place home - why/why not?*

I am based in Sacramento and Long Beach.



 At a certain time of day, before the last streak of daylight succumbs to night, there is roughly a half-hour window where the entire world around me is engulfed in a soft blue haze. In this short moment of dusk, it seems as if everything and everyone can feel the same color of blue as I do, regardless of who or what they are. My emotions become understood for a second, and I feel a little less alone.



Capitalism and colonialism have made it so that having a space to be at home is very limited, at least in regards to how we think a home should feel. Our community has only known what it means to work, so much so that the idea of no work or rest is not home.

I also think that being from a displaced community has pushed me to think of a home outside of land ownership. A tendency that has become deeply ingrained in Asian American culture is the hoarding of objects with memories and value. Many of these objects are kept to appear untouched in the package wrapping they originally came with. In a sense, these objects act as testimonies of our belonging in this country. It evokes a sense of home and is also why such objects are kept in pristine condition.



There are times when being queer and being Asian American have clashed. For myself, the feeling of dysphoria, or being out of place with your body and environment, comes from both Asian and queer contexts. They work hand in hand to create an overall experience, but they also operate in their separate ways to make me feel displaced within each facet of my identity. I want to make a point about differentiating between being a queer person in the Asian community and an Asian person in the queer community because both appear to me as separate experiences with a parallel sense of non-belonging.



I think that it is important for our queer and gender-nonconforming South East Asian youth to take the initiative to pursue art and other alternative fields. Our community is bigger than people think, and it is only going to continue expanding from here. In this time of growth comes an emerging need for representation in the media: people of the community who are willing to converse, spread knowledge, and empathize with one another. Through this act, we can work together to heal our traumas and cultivate a culture that is simultaneously nostalgic and adapting.

Artist Catalog Specific Questions


I find art to be an outlet of expression that can communicate layered thoughts and emotions. It has a place in the process of healing and gives us the space to reckon with our realities. When I create art, I hope to establish visibility; I want to be seen and to make others feel seen.



I dream of a community that does not quietly dwell on the tragedy of pain but expresses emotion in alternative ways that break tradition and stereotypes. Oftentimes, I think about how Hmong traditional dresses come in many different animated color combinations and lively patterns. I feel that we should be the same way. We, especially those who are femme, should allow ourselves to be angry, aggressive, and loud. Tradition should be something we dictate, not the other way around.


It has been very therapeutic to work with people who share the same experiences as I do in all facets of my identity. This project has taught me that there are more artists like me who understand my struggles.

Portraits, 2024

Oil Paint