Walking into the small, quaint Specialist Gallery to see Joe Bun Keo’s broken courage, I was welcomed by items that filled the room with their stories. At first glance, I didn’t understand the wide range of objects that seem unrelated. However, I gained a deeper understanding as I spent more time with the items and the worklist, where the words don’t just describe the items but also their backstory. In broken courage, visitors are asked to challenge their perception of inanimate objects. What if we saw them as carriers of our personal life? Keo’s objects tell a story of his Cambodian heritage and the life he, his friends, and his family members have lived in the aftermath of a violent regime.
The first piece I encountered was fathom (all works 2025): six measuring tape strips adhered to the wall in identical alignment at eye level. The worklist indicates that these were a gift from artist and Keo’s friend David Borawski. The worklist doesn’t say the reason for the gift, but I do wonder what sort of conversations prompted the exchange of measuring tape strips. I walked across the gallery towards hats off/ no cap, a collection of small wooden hat stands of various lengths, width, and woods. According to the worklist, all were rescued from disposal in a museum’s costume and textiles department. Not only was I interested in the reason for the institutional discard, I was more interested in how the hat stands were retrieved—was it through a serendipitous mosey in an alleyway or through a strategic, multi-person rescue mission. What I found interesting about many of the pieces is how the descriptions of the items elusively indicate a deeper story. Curious visitors would have to incite or continue a conversation to know more about what happened with these items.
In the middle of the gallery floor laid flip flop on lock—blue slides decorated with Hella Chluy stickers next to a hide-away rock that holds a key. Hella Chluy is a Khmer American popular musician, comedian, and overall social media influencer. His entertainment style is a mixture of Khmer culture and Black and Brown U.S. cultures on the West Coast, as seen in his language, body movements, gestures, props, and subject matter. His work resonates with many young Khmer diaspora who have experienced the merging of their Cambodian culture with American culture. The inclusion of the sticker on a utilitarian, everyday object like slides demonstrates that even in the mundane, the owner of the flip-flop wants to express celebration of cultural merging. Additionally, the stickers foster awareness of Khmer American pop culture and/or provide a mode of connection with others of similar identities to build community. It’s as if the sticker is a symbol or a flag to foster belonging.
On the opposite wall hung anagram (karma): two scarves on a wooden dowel. One was a blue and white checkered scarf with a Cambodian Buddhist Society of Bristol badge. This scarf belonged to Chor Keo, the artist’s father. Next to it hung a silk orange and blue checkered scarf, gifted to Keo by a friend. And before I arrive back at the entrance, I stop by take one, a large red plastic bowl filled with rice and decorated with another Hella Chluy sticker, a red price tag, and warning labels. A sign made with computer paper and red ink reads “Take ONE Please.” take one is a sculptural nod to a Hella Chluy social media post for Halloween 2023, meant to suggest that instead of candy, trick-or-treaters must take only one piece of rice. Both of these pieces point to staples in Khmer culture— Buddhism is traditionally the main religious affiliation for many Khmer people and rice is a staple food item or part of many popular dishes in Cambodian culture. Because the sanctity of the Cambodian Buddhist Society of Bristol scarf contrasts the humour and silliness of the plastic bowl of trick-or-treat rice, Keo demonstrates the celebration and sharing of cultural values, artifacts, and inside jokes can be done in myriad ways. And each way will continue to form connections and community.
Following the worklist, I moved through the exhibition in a non-linear way. I was a guest, meant to listen to the stories of objects that had traveled great distances—both geographically and temporally. Storytelling is a way for people to remember a past life that was wrongly and violently ripped away from so many. Many of the items on display reference lives of people before and after the Khmer Rouge, a genocide in Cambodian history that resulted in the deaths of 1.5 to 2 million people from 1975 to 1979, nearly 25% of Cambodia’s population in 1975. Cambodians were starved, forced into labor, tortured, and murdered under the communist mission of dictator Pol Pot, who sought to turn Cambodia into an agrarian powerhouse nation.1 The genocide forced many into exile; Cambodian refugees dispersed and fled to other countries, including neighboring countries in Southeast Asia, France, and the United States.2
As decades passed, those who experienced this violent history worked to heal—sharing their stories across generations. For Soreath Hok, a writer for KVPR, “the genocide existed only as fragmented stories [she] occasionally heard from [her] parents and grandparents…usually sparked by conversations around food at the dinner table.” The Krama scarves, gifted by friends and Keo’s father, and the Hella Chluy stickers serve as symbolic relics. They spark conversations by telling the story of the items that have roots in Cambodian culture across different times and geographic locations. Who and what survived the aftermath of the genocide live to continue building the culture within and beyond Cambodian national boundaries. The collection of items holds a history not only of Keo but also of his family, friends, and community members. By engaging with these items, people tell stories—and we listen.
I left Keo’s broken courage with tools, insights, and many questions for a further investigation of the traumatic experiences from the aftermath of Khmer Rouge. I gained a deeper understanding of how communities, families, and friends of Cambodian ancestry continue to share their selves and their history through storytelling. Still, Keo doesn’t offer the whole story but instead leaves room for others’ curiosity, inquiry, and interpretation. We also realize how we all contribute to our historical knowledge through the stories we continue to tell about ourselves and our people. Keo’s use of puns, irony, and communal memory add complexity to how traumatic experiences can be reckoned with towards healing. Keo demonstrates the varied ways to reclaim one’s narrative.
1 “Introduction: Cambodia 1995-1997,” United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, Last Update April 2018, https://www.ushmm.org/genocide-prevention/countries/cambodia/cambodia-1975.
2 Soreath Hok, “From Cambodia to California: Survivors of the Khmer Rouge genocide need access to mental healthcare,” KVPR, Nov 5, 2021, https://www.nytimes.com/article/george-floyd-protests-timeline.html
Joe Bun Keo: broken courage
Specialist Gallery, Seattle, WA
January 2, 2025 to February 16, 2025