James Jean - Mountain, 2024

The boy gathers the crumbling blocks from the quarry. The tumpline stretches tight as the weight of the blocks grows over time. The tumpline, frequently used by Nepalese porters and indigenous peoples in Latin America, allows the weight to be supported by the spinal column rather than the shoulders—a direct connection between mind and burden. The rubble of memory accumulates, forming a mountain. The shapes are the half-forgotten Chinese radicals of my past. Having grown up in the U.S., I quickly lost the ability to speak my native tongue. The absence of this ability leaves a void filled with an architecture of regret. Language was never my strong suit, and this deficiency was replaced by an obsession with drawing and images. The fluidity of Chinese calligraphy migrated to my drawings, while the words and characters became heavy, distorted, and broken. The boy gathers the remnants, trying to assemble a structure, a home, a puzzle with pieces that no longer fit.

-James Jean