Bio
Statement
Graduating 2025 from UH Mānoa with a BFA in Fine Art, Solomonʻs practice is an exploration of material. As a part-Chinese, part-Sioux, and part-white blooded American born and raised in Hawaii, much of his work is an attempt to understand what it really means to be a modern patriot.
What is right is often left to wrestle what feels like home.
I used to pray for akule
You shine like silver
catches the moonlight,
a glint of tomorrow’s
promise. In the morning,
expired, along with all
the others. Halalu mixed
in the case at Tamashiro’s.
I used to pray for akule,
hands crossed, eyes closed,
neck bent at the dinner table—
the whole shebang. “Dear God,
please send Dad fish,
amen.” Our toes barely touched
the ground. We filled up on rice and
furikake, spare ribs and canned cream
corn. On akule nights
that old wok smoked like nobody’s
business. Thank God she was out-
side. Mom hates the smell of fish,
the cats, cigarettes, if we ever said “Oh!
My God!”, and driving the H3 tunnel
alone. Don’t think I ever held my breath all the way... If we tried now, in this moment, down from a hundred, how deep could
we go?
