Spending time at the Pacific Islander Ethnic Art Museum (PIEAM) to me is like coming home. Most of my previous work experience comes from nontraditional museums where the spaces are intimate, galleries are small, and the organization is run by grants and a dream. These smaller museums inhabit different spaces than the big budget ones by offering a limited but intimate experience. Coming back to the atmosphere of an intimate smaller museum made me feel relieved, because not only am I comfortable due to my work experience, but smaller museums often create these feelings by design. These spaces gave me the breathing room to explore how these pieces worked on a deeper level, and how those pieces can relate to my life.
In the small hut in an equally small space I was reminded about how I grew up, in a cramped apartment unit with the rest of my family. A place where things didn’t quite fit: couches covering bookshelves, drawers filled to the brim, and a squeezed dining table; but it was home nonetheless. We made it work because we had to, and I was personally content because it felt like a jigsaw puzzle we made together. Seeing two completely different pieces of furniture fit together perfectly made our home feel like we were building it ourselves. I had the same feeling when spending time with the pieces at PIEAM where the art was a little too big for the space, but they made do with what they had. Scattered around the gallery were pieces on walls, cramped walkways, and pieces that ought to need more space. However, this cramped feeling added to the experience by making it feel like home.
Seeing this space also made me think about how the immigrant experience is not only taking belongings with us, but also culture and ideals. We take them and fill every nook and cranny of our home and try to make the pieces fit with our new lives. PIEAM was littered with culture: sails, huts, murals, and wood carved sculptures. All of these pieces show their influences on their sleeve in bold lettering, like the words, “Do you miss the wind?” in blue near the large woven sail that dominates the entrance. However, I could also find traces of the traditional museum experience of didactics, poster boards with information, and a quaint gift shop. This blend of the traditional with culture filled to the brim created an atmosphere of defiance, where although PIEAM was playing by the traditional museum rules, they were breaking them at the same time. This is epitomized by the fact that you could touch the pieces, unlike traditional galleries. Through its use of space, cultural pieces, and museum elements, PIEAM are indirectly telling patrons that “We’ll take what we like from your rules, and add in some of our own.” Just like the immigrant experience, we take aspects of our new life and combine them with our own culture.
Being second generation has not given me many opportunities to learn and feel a part of the larger culture from where my family comes from. However, sitting in the hut and exploring the larger space has helped me be more in tune with my Filipino roots. I realized that being in America has stopped me from being truly Filipino American beyond home cooked meals and karaoke. PIEAM has given me a space to start exploring who I am, because it feels like home. I couldn’t help but feel the urge to take off my shoes the moment Aunty Fran offered, because when you enter a home you don’t want to leave tracks on the floor.