As a displaced Filipinx artist, goldsmith, and educator, my work interrogates the intersections of colonization and the violent erasure of cultural identity. As the child of a Filipino immigrant, I was born in the U.S. but later immigrated to Canada due to restrictive immigration policies that affected LGBTQ+ people in the states. I have experienced firsthand the deep scars of intergenerational displacement. My artistic practice is a form of survivance—a reclamation of identity, history, and ancestral knowledge in the face of ongoing colonial trauma.
In my art practice I’ve been exploring the creation of contemporary cultural artifacts—sculptures, talismans, and adornments—that reimagine symbols of oppression and resilience. My work honors pre-colonial goldsmithing traditions while confronting the colonial theft of our history. The Philippine archipelago, home to the second-largest gold deposits in the world, has been plundered for centuries, its cultural artifacts stolen and housed in Western museums. Meanwhile, the Filipino people, including my own family, have been stripped of resources and forced into economic migration. The forced conversion of Indigenous Filipinos under Spanish rule and the subsequent takeover by foreign powers in the early 20th century mirror the systemic dispossession of Indigenous peoples across the globe.
During Spanish colonization, Indigenous Filipino societies—many of which revered queer, trans, and non-binary people as spiritual leaders and healers—were systematically erased. Oral histories tell of Babaylan (shamans) and other gender-diverse individuals being rounded up and fed to crocodiles as a warning to their communities. This targeted violence echoes through history, from the destruction of queer and trans literature to present-day movements seeking to erase us. Yet, resistance endures.
My journey into metalsmithing was born from a longing to reconnect with the ancestral knowledge that was denied to me. I did not grow up with access to my cultural traditions, language, or history. The act of working with gold and ancient techniques like lost-wax casting is a form of resistance and reclamation. It is a way to bridge the past with the present, to honor my ancestors, and to assert the survival of Filipinx culture despite centuries of colonization.
The Lingling-o amulet, an ancient symbol of fertility and wholeness from the Cordillera region, has been a recurring motif in my work. Through research and DNA testing, I confirmed my ancestral ties to this region. The realization that my DNA connects to the origins of an object I have been making instinctually for years is a profound affirmation of the ways in which ancestral memory survives despite forced displacement.
At its core, my practice is a balance between technical expertise and creative expression. I work primarily with recycled gold and sterling silver, taking metal—a seemingly rigid material—and manipulating it into forms that carry meaning and history. I am deeply fascinated by the historical context of jewelry as amulets, talismans, and sacred objects. What drives us as humans to adorn our bodies with metals and stones found in the earth? Something about it feels sacred, connects me to my ancestors, and calls me to create.
I rarely design with one specific gender in mind, as I see gender not as a binary but as a spectrum of possibilities. This perspective results in a wide variety of jewelry that can be worn by many different people, regardless of gender. Working with clients to create meaningful, one-of-a-kind custom jewelry is one of the most satisfying aspects of my practice. Incorporating or reimagining symbols and patterns that honor a client’s cultural heritage is of special importance to me, as is working with heirloom gold and gemstones. I have the ability to recycle and repurpose these materials, transforming them into new pieces that carry deep personal and historical significance.
As someone who lives with chronic pain, my approach to metalsmithing and the techniques I use are largely informed by my disability. Time and energy for my craft are limited, so I am always looking for ways to adapt tools and streamline my process to make it as accessible as possible.
In 2022, I received a grant through the Canada Council for the Arts to support my research into Filipino heritage, including the rich history and ancient craft of Filipino goldsmithing. I am also exploring pre-colonial worldviews and symbology, as well as the history of colonization and Indigenous resistance in the Philippines. This research, combined with my studio practice, is leading me toward a more conceptual body of work that bridges the worlds of art jewelry and small object design.
And still, I create. Because in times of erasure, making art is an act of defiance. My work is a call to remembrance, resistance, and reclamation. Through gold, my ancestral inheritance, I carve out space for queer and trans Filipinx narratives, for those who have been silenced. In a world that often seeks to erase us, art remains a weapon, a shield, and a beacon of our enduring existence.