Zeyuan Chen Archives | Carol L. Douglas

December 21, 2016

World’s Okayest Mom

Lonely rubber ducky in Camden harbor.

You might know my young friend Sandy Quang. She was my painting student for a long time, then my studio assistant, and sometimes my workshop monitor. Most recently, she worked at Camden Falls Gallery.

Sandy’s parents run a restaurant called Dac Hoa. It’s a small eatery on the edge of downtown Rochester, known for its fresh Vietnamese, Thai and Chinese food. Ha, Kahn and Nu know this range of cuisine because their families left China during the Chinese Civil War and settled in Vietnam. After the fall of Saigon they moved along again, eventually ending up in Rochester. I respect them for their courage, hard work, and integrity. Through Sandy, we’ve become friends.

“My parents’ restaurant,” graphite on paper, approx. 16X18, 2008, by Sandy Quang.

When I was a kid, I had a crush on an imaginary boy called Homer Price. I loved him because he was nice and could fix anything. Years later, I met him in the form of a gangling high school student. We’ve had four kids and grown grey together.

At the time, I didn’t know anything about Homer Price’s creator, Deer Isle’s own Robert McCloskey. I’d never seen his other children’s book classics. But I raised my own kids on a steady diet of his books. My youngest took Make Way for Ducklings very much to heart. The lad loved everything about ducks. “Well, that’s cute,” I thought. His obsession about ducks was just one of those things that were in the background of our collective family consciousness.

And then he was slightly older and we were at Dac Hoa during a Christmas season very much like this. He was restive and annoying, as little boys are wont to be. Looking to amuse him, I showed him the roasted ducks in the window. To this day, I have no idea why I thought this would be a good idea.

“Sandy’s parents’ restaurant interior,” graphite, approx. 18X24, 2008, by Zeyuan Chen.

He dissolved into howling, violent grief. Our dinner, obviously, was ruined. The lad cried for days.

“That boy is going to be in therapy for years,” I thought ruefully.

Last week we were in Dac Hoa celebrating the same kid’s 20th birthday. I asked him if he remembered the incident with the ducks. My husband pulled an exasperated face. Nu laughed. And my son also laughed. I’m so relieved.

I simultaneously believe that parenting is our most important job and that kids make their way somehow despite it. I guess for this youngest one, “World’s Okayist Mom” was good enough.

Christmas is the season of grace-made-manifest through the incarnation of Jesus Christ. It’s nice to know I’m forgiven.

January 29, 2008

The Kung Fu Fighters

I have recently had the opportunity to work with two young artists preparing portfolios for college. (Their work follows in the posts below.) They are laughingly called my Art Slaves since they have been in my studio seven days a week. One of my adult students wondered why they make such swift progress and she doesn’t. “If you’re willing to be chained to an easel seven days a week and do what you’re told, you can do it too,” I said. (But the charm of adult learners is that they are individualistic, stubborn, and idiosyncratic, and I wouldn’t have them any other way.)

Neither Sandy nor Ze had ever painted in oils before December. That they each have an oil painting in their portfolio is an indication of how hard they’ve worked.

January 28, 2008

Completed portfolio: Zeyuan Chen

Zeyuan Chen is 17 and will graduate from Brighton High School in June with three APs and a GPA of around 3.7. Ze emigrated from Kunming Prefecture at age 9. Her native language is Mandarin but she speaks flawless English. Ze’s father is a professor in China and her mother trained as a mathematician but works as a waitress here. (She completed this portfolio while maintaining excellent grades at one of the top 100 public high schools in the US.)

Ze started studying with me in Fall 2007, although I’ve known her for much longer than that. She has studied Chinese calligraphy and painting, which is evident in the delicate brush work of her piece, Qing Yi, which is a setting of a friend’s poem.