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"missing you" book

missing you

For my senior exhibition, I created a show about nostalgia, memories, and finding home. The main piece were 11 books designed, printed, and bound by me while the poem Inside was written by my friend Abby Hepner. More information about the exhibition itself is linked here or is located
in the Studio Art section.

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artist statement
by Eunice Chong

​​Nostalgia was first coined as a disease, and even a cause of death in the 17th century to describe the symptoms exhibited by mercenaries serving abroad who yearned for their homeland, or in other words, “homesickness.” 

 

For most people, a house or home is a manifestation of their identity. As someone who hasn’t had a constant home for more than 2 years at a time, recalling memories has become my coping mechanism for dealing with change. Memories play a central role, evoking nostalgia—a yearning for the familiar comforts associated with home. While presently nostalgia has served as a means to confront change, it presents a dichotomy: it serves both as a place of rest and confusion, being both the malady and the remedy of the past that I am missing. 

 

In Missing You, I portray the duality of meanings that come with the word “missing.” It both describes the experience of losing, of something that should be there but isn’t, to be absent, to forget, to literally be “missing.” Or it could be the longing for familiarity intertwined with a sense of grief. To miss some thing, some one, some place…some memory. The title: Missing You, describes both the memories that go lost as time passes and as we forget, but also as a memoir for the past that I long to remember. 

 

I utilize the risograph and screenprinting as my primary mediums. Both require separating colors into different layers to create an image, printing each layer individually to form a cohesive picture. This process reflects the complexity of memory—how it has layers that can distort and shift over time, yet still contribute to the overall picture. Risograph ink is also not archival; it never fully dries and over time it will fade, smudge, and become distorted. My work explores the fragility of memory and the paradox of our desire to preserve the past despite its transformation over time. Memories, like the images I create, are subjective and flawed, shaped by bias and framing. They’re both tangible and intangible, with details fading over time, yet they remind us of who we are and where we come from.

 

Through my work, I hope to encourage viewers to not only contemplate their own personal journey but to also find solace in acknowledging what has been lost while embracing the fleeting yet profound moments that define our existence.

some photos & process video:

missing you
by Abby Hepner

How does one capture moments?

Reach out and grasp the intangible movement of time?

Hold onto what is familiar and remember?


 

The expression on a face

The pitch of a laugh

The aroma of loved ones

The flavor of celebration

The touch of others in your life


 

The truth is, you can’t.

Memories slip through your fingers like sand

Flowing

Falling

fleeting


 

Always moving

Always changing with time


 

Places erode and grow

The memory of a whisper of what once was 

Now only haunts the memory.

 

The sweetest of days past

Now taste bitter in the light of new. 


 

How do you hold moments tight to your chest,

Refuse to let time diminish their glory?

How to engrave a piece of yourself in history?

How to stop time in its tracks?

How to spit on the irony of it?

How to prove you cared, existed, mattered?


 

Life constantly marches forward

You move, and change, and evolve. 

You are not the same person who walked

 

Your first steps,

Your childhood home,

Your school hallways,

Your awkward dances,

Your first date, 

Every moment of your being.


 

Yet…

You still cherish that one memory.

The one that shapes the future of your past


 

Some memories may blossom like a sunset,

Warming our minds with gentler days.

 

Some come crashing like tempests,

Drowning our senses in gloom.


 

But, each sun must set,

Each rainfall must stop,

And each memory fades.


 

The sweetest of days past,

Now taste bitter in the light of new. 

Clutching onto the old sensations,

Trying to recreate what can never be again

 

Permeance means forever.


 

Sometimes it is better to forget

Scars from the past imprinted on the brain,

Missing pieces from permanent losses.

 

Maybe absence can be gentle,

Maybe sometimes it soothes our minds from some harshness


 

But we will never know

Because we will forget.

more information about the process!

© 2025 Eunice Chong

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