As a painter and fine art photographer, Nu’a Bon (1954, Hawai’i) draws on personal experiences and memories, working within the politics of gender, race, war, diaspora, climate change, and identity. His tools are simple, beginning with a list of hundreds of conflict sites across North America. A custom-built mobile expedition studio allows him to paint in remote areas; earth pigments and water are collected from each painting site, and polymer binders mixed by wind, rain, and snow flow onto linen canvas unrolled on the ground. Master painting classes in Paris showed him how paint moves and blends. Bon has a deep aesthetic awareness of composition, colour, and tonality as a former workshop student of photographers Ansel Adams and Minor White in the late 70s, followed by two decades as an international photojournalist. Educated at the University of Hawai’i, Columbia University, and the New School for Social Research, Bon is a former NGO research fellow and a new media arts professor in China and Hong Kong. During his sabbaticals and for many years after teaching, he studied with tribal plant spirit healers in the Amazon, the High Andes, and Africa, and the wealth of their knowledge is infused in his work. Unearthing Justice Through Abstract Narratives of the American West Over the past decade, I've embarked on an artistic pilgrimage that bridges the past with the present. My journey with the ícaro: Medicine Songs project has led me to North America's often overlooked and forgotten realms. Travelling vast distances in solitude, devoid of institutional backing, my brushes and paints have transformed into instruments of memory, resurrecting tales of battles, school shootings, lynchings, and the haunting chains of enslavement. This voyage transcends mere recollection; it is a quest to fathom histories that have indelibly scarred the land and its inhabitants' collective psyche. Each brushstroke on my canvas serves as a meditation and a reflection, breathing life into tales that have long been eclipsed or forgotten.The vast expanse of the American West has been a perennial source of inspiration for countless artists. Traditional Western art, notably by figures such as Maxfield Parrish and Thomas Moran, offers a romanticised, often reductionist, view of this magnificent region. Such depictions, especially those by Moran, played a pivotal role in propelling the ideals of 'Manifest Destiny', casting the West as a majestic, wild realm waiting for the touch of "civilisation". While aesthetically captivating, these perspectives often eclipse the nuanced tales of the West, particularly those of its Indigenous communities. As a counterpoint to this dominant narrative, abstraction emerges as a profound artistic voice. Visionaries like Agnes Martin, whose tranquil grids resonate with the vastness of New Mexico, Beatrice Mandelman, with her infusion of Southwestern light and native motifs, and Georgia O’Keeffe’s minimalist ruminations, have reshaped the artistic lens through which we view the West. Their innovative approaches carve a path for contemporary artists like myself to traverse. The Pueblos of New Mexico, with their ancient edifices, narrate stories of age-old traditions and civilisations. The mesa-top Hopi villages of Arizona, majestically silhouetted against the horizon, are emblematic of resilience and the enduring spirit of their inhabitants. They stand not only as a testament to living and evolving cultures, amplified by contemporary Native American artists such as Jeffrey Gibson and Nani Chacon but also as a reminder of the defensive reasons underpinning their elevated constructions. As I delve into this rich tapestry of cultures and histories, I am reminded of myriad lives relegated to historical oblivion. This connection is heightened by my own diasporic Asian and Pasifika heritage. Some of my Pasifika forebears crafted unique navigational "stick charts" depicting oceanic currents and inter-island relationships using sticks and shells. Unlike conventional Western maps, these were mnemonic tools assisting navigators in recalling ocean patterns and island locations. In a parallel vein, I employ abstract painting as a compass, guiding me through the intricate labyrinths of history, human behaviour, and intercultural connections.In these landscapes, my abstract paintings seamlessly weave the past with the present, the tactile with the ethereal. While my art might not explicitly illustrate these histories, the emotional gravitas, vigour, and soul are encapsulated through vibrant hues, shapes, and textures—employing clays, minerals, and charcoal sourced from each site to form the essence of my paints.