Like many Cambodian-Americans, I grew up imagining relatives I would never meet, glimpsing them only through my mother’s memoir, the rare stories shared over home-cooked meals, and the few surviving photographs she brought from Cambodia. Following the Khmer Rouge genocide, photographs were often lost or forbidden, making the few that survived precious traces of family and history. One image, taken by a Khmer Rouge official of my mother’s sister, sparked in me a deep need to understand how an image born of violence could become the only proof of her existence. My mother continued documenting her life in America, teaching me that photography can connect past and present, memorialize loved ones, and carry memory across time.

Growing up in Rhode Island, home to the third-largest Cambodian community in New England, I was immersed in the stories and rhythms of our community. My work in photography and narrative history explores how Cambodian memory intertwines with family, community, and landscape. Guided by a de-colonial and feminine approach, I focus on presence, spiritual intuition, and lasting relationships with the people I photograph. Through my art, I translate feeling into image, foster connection, and honor those who came before me, reclaiming photography as a tool for remembrance, resilience, and perseverance.