Threads woven together tell stories about history, culture, and identity
Cynthia Brannvall enjoys making Swedish meatballs with turkey and kale and still calls them Swedish meatballs. Building on her grandma’s original recipe, she regularly cooks this special fusion dish for her family. As a California native who contains multitudes—American, African, and European roots—blending, transforming, and carrying on aspects of different cultures feels natural to her. It has become a central theme in her life and work.
Cynthia is an interdisciplinary multimedia artist, a community college professor, and the current Cubberely Artist in Residence, whose work explores identity, culture, history, and how to move forward in a world of conflict and uncertainty. She was raised primarily by her grandmother, a seamstress who not only taught her recipes but also introduced her to textiles at a young age.
One of her most important works, Continents, is a large three-panel textile painting consisting of off-white strips of linen, cotton, and lace that depicts themes of genomics and geology.“ These patterns represent sediment or histories, landscapes, and various patterns crossing from one panel to the next, like DNA traits passing from one ancestor to another,” she said. Her work also incorporates vintage and recycled textiles, such as blouses from the 1920s, which play into intergenerational themes in her paintings.
While sourcing materials, Cynthia was drawn to working with white textiles, which were never a crisp white. Many of her materials are thrifted, sourced from antiques purveyors or acquired through special collections such as those at Lacis Museum of Lace and Textiles in Berkeley. The fabric scraps she chooses naturally vary in color and come frayed, fragmented, and stained—yet enduring, which only adds more depth and meaning to her art. In another piece, titled The Threads That Bind a Divided Nation, she used off-white and beige colored antique textiles to construct a divided map of the United States. The states are disconnected at the MasonDixon line, which historically divided free and slave states.
While Cynthia was studying art history at UC Berkeley, she witnessed many conversations where artists used the color black, and people concluded that the artwork must be sending a message about race. However, that was never applied to works that were made in white. “It was kind of a defiant move. Like, I dare you to ask me, as a Black artist, why I’m working with the color white so much,” she said. But people rarely ask her that question.
In the past few years, Cynthia has built a new arm of her work, focused on black textiles. She aimed to push back on the obvious connotations of the color black, associated with darkness and mourning. To contrast those feelings, she adds flecks of mica, beads, and sequins to allude to a sense of whimsy and magic. She is currently creating a large black textile painting that will include at least a dozen panels. The use of black was inspired by dark matter and black holes that catalyzed the beginning of the universe, but they are also metaphors for the Black experience. “In my lifetime, I was not born into slavery. But as a Black person, I feel the gravitational pull of that,” she explained.
In addition to textile paintings, Cynthia also creates sculptures in a genre of works she calls “surreal textiles.” In her process, she takes clothing fragments or whole pieces of clothing and molds them into shapes that are often disorienting and thought-provoking. In her piece titled Roar, she molded a thrifted 1950s pink dress in resin to create a sculpture reminiscent of a target or a screaming mouth. She created the piece in 2022 and it helped her access and process her feelings that followed the overturning of Roe v. Wade that summer. Usually, Cynthia mattifies her resin pieces for a satin finish, but for Roar, she wanted a wet look. “It looks wet, so there is this erotic element. It’s clearly a dress, but I think it also evokes the body. It could be a screaming mouth or a vaginal opening. But it also has that sweetness to it because it’s pink,” she said. The juxtaposition of the ruffled pink dress and the way it is opened up evokes uncanny feelings and depicts psychological tensions.
As Cynthia’s past works have conjured questions about history, culture, and identity, she continues to ponder unanswered questions every day. One motivator for her in working with abstraction is that it allows people to come up with different questions and answers when viewing her artwork. Currently, she hopes her artwork can help people think about how to bridge cultural and political divides. She explained, “We live in a polarized time. What would it look like for us to belong somewhere together—whether we agree or not, whether we have hurt each other or not? Is that possible? And what would it look like?”
Image 1: Continents, 2014-2016 vintage and antique cotton textiles painted on stretched crinoline, 3 panels 48”x68”
Image 2: Not Quite Tame, 2024, vintage birdcage, globe, sea fans, vintage and antique trim, lace, and crocheted doilies and trim, 19”x36”x12”
Image 3: Shadow Work #2 A Pickaninny World, 2024, 19th century dress, vintage silk and velvet ribbon, vintage seam binding tape, polyester ribbon, acrylic paint and globe
The vibrancy of San Jose’s creative culture can be found on its streets, in its art galleries, infused in local businesses, and in the work of neighbors who use creativity to connect, reflect, and inspire. The City of San Jose’s Creative Ambassador program awards artists who champion the power of creative expression. Chosen for their commitment to an artistic practice and community engagement, these ambassadors represent a wide range of disciplines and cultural perspectives that capture the city’s creative pulse.
Selected by the City of San Jose’s Office of Cultural Affairs through a competitive panel process, each ambassador begins a yearlong role dedicated to uplifting local voices through public art projects, workshops, and storytelling. Their projects are rooted in the neighborhoods of San Jose and are designed to invite hands-on participation from residents—meeting people where they are and inviting them to participate. Whether through film photography, collaborative murals, theater, or zine-making, the ambassadors’ projects offer opportunities for all residents to tap into their unique creative voices and to see their city and each other with fresh eyes.
Their work reminds us that art belongs everywhere—it lives in community.
We are pleased to announce that the City of San Jose 2026 Creative Ambassador applications are now open.APPLY HERE.
2025 SJ Creative Ambassadors
Julie Cardenas
Julie Cardenas has always navigated identity, survival, and artistic expression. Born and raised in San Jose, California, to Mexican and Peruvian immigrants, Julie found her early inspiration in the stories her parents carried from their homelands. However, she often felt that narratives like hers, of first-generation children in overlooked communities, were missing from hegemonic reality.
With a BA in literature from UCLA and a master’s in education from Lesley University, Julie taught early arts education for 18 years. She also earned an MFA in comics from California College of the Arts. She is currently working on a 12-part memoir series, Pulguitas (little fleas), which explores food insecurity and cultural identity through childhood meals. “When I had my first child, I was creating in [two] aspects—both giving life to an actual human and then giving life to the stories that I’ve been holding on to for so long,” Julie explains.
Her work spans from comics to painting, with a focus on food and climate justice, sustainability, and housing insecurity. She partners with local organizations to empower others through storytelling. “A lot of my work is memoir, focusing on my own story. But a big challenge for me right now is [that] I see myself as a community artist. So, I look around at the issues and the community and see where I can tell stories,” she says.
As a Creative Ambassador, Julie’s upcoming projects focus on housing issues and sustainable art. She continues to transform memory into powerful visual storytelling, ensuring that voices from her community are heard.
Julie shares, “I’m representing the city of San Jose and its people. I am creating space for their stories to be told [and] enabling them to occupy the right of creation in spaces where those rights are not always respected.”
Jessica Gutierrez
San Jose-based artist Jessica Gutierrez is a multidisciplinary artist, mother, educator, and graphic designer, dedicated to fostering community and creativity. Her passion for accessible art led her to turn her home into a DIY art space where she hosted free art workshops until the pandemic reshaped her approach.
Jessica’s artwork concentrates on femininity, nature, and empowerment, and she employs flowing linework, organic forms, and symbolic imagery to express growth and resilience. Jessica’s range of mediums include painting, digital illustration, murals, and zine making. She founded Martha Street Art Zine, featuring artists and community-oriented art initiatives.
Multifaceted as a teacher and a mother, Jessica’s art practice is strongly influenced by multiple identities, pushing her to create spaces in which art and motherhood intersect. “I was always doing drawings or paintings of women, and it’s really been more intentional the last few years, as I’ve learned more about my maternal lineage.” As a Creative Ambassador, she created a series of free art workshops for children and mothers, making them accessible through childcare support and collaborations with community organizations. “A lot of the moms that are artists have wisdom and experience in their art practice. They also have a lot to share about how that has shifted their identity and capacities since they’ve had children.”
Through her art and teaching, Jessica continues to inspire and connect artists, mothers, and teachers, reaffirming the values of storytelling, self-expression, and community-building through art. “When I’m not in touch with my creative practice, I think I lose a sense of who I am. Art’s always open for interpretation, but for me, when I’m creating it, the energy I’m putting forth is a sense of power, a sense of compassion, and love.”
Miguel Fernando Ozuna
Miguel Fernando Ozuna is a dedicated San Jose, California photographer and community organizer with a Bachelor of Arts in Digital Photography and Associate of Arts in Art History from Arizona State University. Working as the Associate Director of Photography at Santa Clara University, Miguel brings his vast creativity to the job.
“I’m a photographer, storyteller. I was born in East LA, but I grew up to be a man in East San Jose, and San Jose to me is my biggest canvas.”
Miguel is also the founder of SJ Shooters, a collective that supports community engagement through photography and captures the beauty of San Jose. As a 2025 Creative Ambassador, Miguel has the opportunity to hone his skills as a community organizer and teach film photography.
Miguel has launched the second season of his community-based project, A Look Thru Your Lens. Originally initiated in 2020, season one of the project engaged 75 photographers over four years and culminated in a September 2024 group exhibition at Noble Gallery in San Jose. Now, with renewed momentum and association with the 2025 Creative Ambassadors, the second season invites 75 additional photographers to document San Jose within a single year.
“I like to see myself as someone who cultivates community, who brings people together. I go places. I meet people. I say, ‘Hi.’ And little by little, we keep building something bigger.”
For Miguel, photography isn’t just about taking pictures; it is also about the importance of inclusion. It is about storytelling, unity, and ensuring that every photographer, regardless of background, has a voice that is heard.
“I do what I say. I’m out there all the time, always documenting, always making. I dream about being a professor one day. So much of what I do is teaching, teaching people how to use the camera, and to slow down and really look.”
Steven Rubalcaba
Steven Rubalcaba is an artist who is recognized for his innovative style of art, which has an emphasis on sustainability and engagement. Based in San Jose, California, he has been involved in various art projects that transform public spaces and foster collaboration between communities. Steven has created interactive sculptures and murals that facilitate public interaction. “Breathing new life into old and used things became my thing—creating new art from the forgotten and showing people the experience they might have been missing,” Steven shared.
As a Creative Ambassador, Steven strives to respect the city’s diversity and history while highlighting its quieter communities. Currently, he is collaborating with a San José State University class on designing a geometric sculpture for the upcoming SubZERO Festival, using 75 to 100 percent recycled content. Looking ahead, Steven envisions partnerships with builders, developers, and city governments to transform useless materials into public art, merging green initiatives with creativity to reimagine the city.
“Art is my life. And I don’t even call it ‘art.’ I call it ‘creativity,’ because it’s everywhere and it’s in everything,” he said. Through his art, Steven “Nizzotes” Rubalcaba continues to inspire and involve the community, transforming common materials into thought, provoking works of art that foster culture and sustainability.
He shared, “I have been working on new and different things, and I always just remind myself to keep going. And I have found that one thing leads to another.”
Matthew Casey
For Matthew Casey, the journey to theater was accidental but transformative. Initially attending San José State University for ecology, he later found interest in political science, drawn to the study of human ecosystems. Meanwhile, he was getting increasingly involved in theater, taking on leadership positions that would define his artistic trajectory.
As a production manager for San Jose Stage Company and More Más Marami Arts, Matthew is dedicated to creating meaningful, community-oriented theater. More Más Marami was established in 2008 to help expand access to the performing arts in the South Bay. He explains, “We were all trying to break into the performing industry, but in the South Bay, where there isn’t really a big scene, it’s difficult to get in. So we created a space for ourselves.”
Since its establishment, More Más Marami has been a platform for experimentation in the arts. Their regular programming includes six weeks of script development for local writers that culminate in a staged reading with a director and full cast. Matthew says, “It’s been great to see it evolve from simply developing scripted work to developing full performance pieces.”
As part of his role at More Más Marami, Matthew spearheads the Bay Area Story Archive, a project launched in 2019 to document personal histories from San Jose residents. He is inspired by his own family roots in New Mexico, where multi-generational connections are the cornerstone of local identity and wishes to see that replicated in San Jose.
As an artist, Matthew describes his work as maximalist and sensorial. His signature style isn’t just directing or producing, but curating immersive experiences. He says, “I want to create interesting things with people I care about. For me, theater is about connection between artists, audiences, and the places they inhabit.”
A 98-degree sun scorched the Pavement of downtown Morgan Hill, California, but a cooler ambiance awaited inside Cura Contemporary, where sunlight striated between its architectural wooden beams and illuminated the gallery in a soft hue.
Inside, Content Magazine hosted a pick-up party for its Fall 2025 issue, 17.4 “Profiles,” and honored recipients of the 2025 Content Emerging Artist Awards, presented in partnership with The City of Morgan Hill, CURA Contemporary, the Gilroy Foundation, and Heritage Bank.
The evening began at 5:30p in Cura’s second-floor gallery with a VIP reception. The gallery had been reconfigured–each wall splashed with colors from artists’ works featured in the latest issue. Guests socialized amongst each other, connected with artists, and strolled the gallery to observe each piece.
Food and drinks provided by Vèra complemented the creative energy of the party and Morgan Hill’s flourishing support for the arts. Guests enjoyed single-serving versions of Vèra’s menu: lobster and eggplant sliders, beet tartare, and burrata – paired with wine or the Summertime Two cocktail made with Sereno pepper-infused Lalo tequila and watermelon juice. Fresh and colorful, each dish was quickly replenished to give each guest an opportunity to sample.
By 6:30, just as golden hour set in, guests crowded the center to watch the evening’s first performance by San Jose singer-songwriter Troy Tuan Truong, known as “Onbar.” Each song within his half-hour solo performance was delivered with passion, energizing the crowd.
Promptly after, David Valdespino Jr., the Developer of Content Magazine, introduced the 2025 Emerging Artist Awards, an award that provides artists with a $5,000 unrestricted grant and a feature in the magazine.
The first artist to be recognized was dancer Alice Hur, for her impact both as an artist and community organizer. Her award was presented by Mayor Mark Turner of Morgan Hill and Dan McCranie, owner of CURA Contemporary.
Next, ceramic artist Abiam Alvarez was honored for his sculptural and ceramic works that intersect labor, consumerism, and immigrant experiences, with his award presented by Gilroy mayor Greg Bozzo and Gilroy foundation executive director Jaci Muro.
The award ceremony concluded with visual artist Hana Lock, who was recognized for her work that explores life, death, and mortality. Her award was presented by SVCreates board vice chair and soon-to-be chair Tim Leehane.
With awards having been presented and photos taken, the next performance by Alice Hur began after a short introduction. Expressing art and identity through waacking, a dance style originating in L.A. gay clubs, her bold and exaggerated movements demonstrated the liberating potential of self-expression.
To close out the night, Blair “DJ Pardi B” Carson curated a DJ set featuring mixes from previously featured artists DJ Chalé Brown and Cutso, which filled the venue with energy.
This evening was more than just a pick-up party: it reflected the different aspects of the creative spirit and cultural scene of the South Bay. With art, music, and community woven together, it was a celebration of Content’s mission to highlight and connect the creative culture of the South Bay.
Join us on Thursday, November 13, 2025, at Open San José for Pick-Up Party 18.1, “Discover”. The evening will feature creatives from the winter issue, performances and fashion show curated by Chopsticks Alley Art, and more.
“When I hear authentic blues, that just brings out an emotion… They’re very real and grounded. Anybody in any walk of life can relate to it.” -Aki Kumar
On Aki Kumar’s [2014] album, Don’t Hold Back, the track “Ajeeb Daastaan Hai Yeh” begins with some sitar chords before Kumar interrupts: “Hey, you’d better cut that Bollywood shit out! That ain’t the blues…this is the blues!” The music restarts, now bluesy-sounding: a cover of a 1960 tune by Indian playback singer Lata Mangeshkar.
The song can be interpreted as an announcement of Kumar’s arrival on the blues scene, but in reality this Indian American harmonica player has been building to this point for years. In addition to the album, he currently leads a weekly Thursday night “Blues Jam” at Little Lou’s BBQ in Campbell and headlines gigs at a variety of local venues.
Born in Bombay, Kumar grew up with very little musical education, aside from studying some Hindustani music theory and playing around on a Casio keyboard and harmonica. He enjoyed it, but music was more of a hobby. “I gave up on it,” he says, shrugging. “In India, arts are secondary.”
At age 17, he came to the US to study computer science at Oklahoma City University. He stayed for only a short time before transferring to San Jose State, but it was an important stint: he discovered an ear for American music thanks to an oldies radio station, and he met his future wife Rachel, who shared his musical taste and is now a songwriting collaborator.
After graduating from SJSU, Kumar got a job at Adobe, working on products like PDF and Flash. “A few of the people in my group decided to start a band, just for fun, and they invited me to play a little harmonica.” The other musicians caught wind of his interest in classic American tunes and turned him on to blues music from the 1960s. He was hooked.
“When I hear authentic blues, that just brings out an emotion,” Kumar explains. “The lyrics are great. They’re very real and grounded. Anybody in any walk of life can relate to it.”
Inspired by what he was hearing, he enrolled in courses at the School of the Blues in San Jose. Founder David Barrett is a Grammy-nominated harmonica player, and he became Kumar’s private instructor and mentor. Kumar also began attending local shows and introducing himself to performers, eventually reaching a point where he would be invited on stage for a song or two to jam. Improvised jams are part of the tradition of blues, because most of the music is based on a three-chord foundation that forms a sort of “language” and allows people to perform together even if they have never met or heard each other play.
Kumar soon joined a vintage blues group called Tip of the Top, which toured successfully for four years and released three albums before the musicians decided to move on. Now, Kumar’s name carries recognition, and he plays shows as the bandleader. “I’m at a point where I’m able to summon the best players I can to back me up.” He’s even left his job and is trying out music full-time.
On stage, Kumar is electric. Always impeccably dressed in a suit, he exhibits an energy that pulls you in, much like the musicians he wants to emulate. “If I look at the guys I’m inspired by—Muddy Waters, Little Walter, Sonny Boy [Williamson], the whole Chicago blues scene from the ’50s and ’60s—those guys were showmen!”
As for the current blues culture, Kumar is careful not to disparage his peers, but it’s clear that he has a specific idea of what he likes. “Blues has turned into rock,” he laments. “I can turn on a radio and find nothing that plays blues, or it plays rocked-up stuff or funked-up stuff. But there’s something called essential blues. Right now, the only time you can hear that is on a Viagra commercial where they play “Howlin’ Wolf.” It’s sad. But when people are given a chance to hear the real stuff, they enjoy it—which is why doing live shows is important. Blues has never been a big audience, big arena kind of genre; it’s an intimate thing.”
But sustaining a career is a challenge when the audience is small, even if they’re a passionate bunch. “Unless there’s a way to break into the younger market without compromising the music, I don’t know what the future is. But I don’t think it’s going to fade away and die, because it’s just compelling music.”
And people are finding it. Invited to teach a master class in England recently, Kumar traveled across the pond to discover he had fans there who knew his music thanks to YouTube. “This show I did at the little barbecue that nobody knows about…there are guys in the UK spreading those videos.”
Kumar is well aware of the complex, transnational history of the blues, from its roots in the Deep South and segregated music clubs to its reinvention in the ’60s by white British guitarists like John Mayall to its influence on modern popular music across the spectrum. So why shouldn’t an Indian-born harpist serve as blues ambassador to a new generation? Maybe that is what “Ajeeb Daastaan Hai Yeh” is really about.
Alex was down on his luck after high school, when his best friend, a graphic designer, financed a camera for him. “I was kinda lost, and he put a tool in my hand,” Alex explains. “Ever since, it was hard to let go of the camera.” Following Bobby Kim and Ben Shenassafar of the Hundreds, he adopted his streetwear blog title, The Knowbody, as a pseudonymous last name.
He launched the Knowbody clothing brand, and along with “little random photography gigs,” that sufficed until he became a father, which requires more income. He and some friends opened a clothing boutique, Pesos Bodega, but it didn’t last long because they were too inexperienced. Alex then worked in apartment maintenance.
“I was kinda lost, and he put a tool in my hand. Ever since, it was hard to let go of the camera.” -Alex Knowbody
One day, when he was scrolling Instagram, he noticed that Iguanas Burritozilla, a San Jose–based restaurant, wasn’t getting the attention their “deliciousness” deserved. So, he called and became their unofficial creative director. He doesn’t even remember if he got paid, but it paid off, because he picked up more clients, and his supplemental income grew enough for him to quit his job.
Alex started the creative agency Better Than Good Enough LLC. “I was just tired of doing half-ass shit. I want to do better than that,” he shares. His LLC gave him the opportunity to work with the metal band Maya at Google on a Día de los Muertos collage project and to shoot for the Earthquakes—including photos of Wondo (number 8), who is retiring this season.
After having grown up in East San Jose, Alex moved to Portland for two years with his wife and daughter. In Portland, shooting a bike for Nike’s BIKETOWN PDX Latino Heritage Month boosted his confidence in himself and his developing style as he homed in on his Mexican culture and Latino heritage. San Jose had many Hispanic locations and models, but Portland was a foreign city. “Where the majority of the city’s white, there’s not a lot of [Latino] inspiration…I had to look for it,” Alex says.
During COVID-19, work dried up, from closed restaurants to cancelled events—including his planned art show. So, Alex, his wife, daughter, cat, and fish moved back to San Jose—to all live in one room in his mother-inlaw’s house. Private family photo sessions, along with becoming the creative director for Purple Lotus cannabis dispensary, got him through COVID-19 and helped bring back his belief in himself.
Alex’s dad is from Mexico and his mom is first-generation San Josean, which makes him a “first-and-a-half-generation” San Josean. Growing up, Alex felt like an outcast. “I couldn’t choose one [parent] to identify with, because I identified with both,” he says, regarding the Americanized Chicano side and the Mexican-rooted paisano side. “There is a lot of that here, but maybe the people don’t have the outlet to express it,” he continues. One outlet he attended was the Día de los Muertos Aztec dancing at the Mexican Heritage Plaza, where he took his daughter to water her cultural “seeds.”
Alex’s family is a family of creatives. His daughter is bold enough at nine years old to cut her hair and dye it bright green, and his wife paints and just launched her lifestyle brand, the Madre Life. For Alex, fatherhood is an inspiring change. “I feel like a lot of things could be cleared up if you just have clear communication. And I’m learning that through experiencing putting myself in my daughter’s shoes.”
After being featured on The FIRM podcast this year, Alex was asked to participate in the documentary San Jose Is Not for Sale. The squad, all from East San Jose, are working pro bono. “Everybody is doing it for the love for the city, because we give a shit…we have a story to tell,” he shares. “We feel like everybody tries to tell the story of San Jose in a way that maybe a lot of us don’t understand, and now it’s our turn.” They’re photographing things like local coffee shops, artists, and flea market vendors who face displacement to showcase the change that the city’s going through. Alex elaborates, “That shit’s gonna be dope. Like, the images, the stories, the people we get to interview…if it doesn’t mean shit to anybody else, it’s gonna mean something to us. This is a project that we are all gonna be super proud of.”
When asked about times he felt like giving up, he shares, “That’s every day, honestly… there’s good days and there’s bad days, and those bad days feel like forever…not only you feel it, but your family feels it.” Alex wants to inspire other people: “If that fool could do it, I could do it…I’m just an average-ass dude who, like, put in the time and effort into creating.”
These are the words that 17-year-old poet Thy Hope Luong read aloud the first time she ever performed poetry. It was her first spoken-word poem, written about her experience with intergenerational trauma and not feeling “Vietnamese enough.” Thy decided to perform the poem at a Vietnamese American Round Table at Brave New Voices, an international poetry festival, in San Francisco. After her performance, Thy looked up and saw her mother crying. That was the moment, Thy recalls, when she began to understand why poetry is so important to her: it has the power to touch people who mean something to her.
Thy, who’s name quite literally means “poetry” in Vietnamese, is a high school student in San Jose and is Santa Clara County’s youth poet laureate. Her writing and art have been recognized by the New York Times, YoungArts, the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, and various galleries.
In addition to being a poet, a critical part of Thy’s identity is as a youth activist. She is the founder and executive president of Learn4Justice, a youth-led outreach program to bridge the educational gap and facilitate cultural exchange among young global change makers; the co-chief of policy at GENup, which pitches bills to California legislators to support student attendance, mental health, equity, and more; the youth commissioner for San Jose’s District 4; and an intern at Harvard Law School, where she researched and tracked rhetoric and campaign strategies of conservative candidates for the 2024 presidential election.
“all i truly know is that i am a culmination and a beginning all at once a product of a million wants. and i hope i can strive to grow a seed that has been with me, within me all along.” -From “to be longing”
Thy’s exposure to poetry started young— her father is also a poet. Although she initially looked down at poetry as a form of expression that was “pretentious and inaccessible,” she has come to view it as a way to deal with and process the world. To Thy, poetry and activism are inextricably linked, two forces that work together to create more meaning. “Art is inherently an act of resistance,” Thy said. “It is useless, and that is the point. There is such beauty in creating something simply for the sake of creating. There is a reason why oppressive regimes crush art during resistance. Both poetry and activism create community and connection, which works against individualist forces like capitalism.”
Thy is so passionate about social activism because she recognizes the power of young people’s voices, as well as the potential for their words to be manipulated or misconstrued when they let someone speak on their behalf. Thy points out that the voices of young people are often tokenized, especially for political benefit. She claims, “Our voices deserve equal standing. So many issues affect us, and it is important that we find our way into decision-making spaces.”
To Thy, poetry, much like activism, is not an art that needs to be created and performed individually. Her deepest motivation in continuing her art is other youth and the lessons she has learned from her peers. She believes in the power of collaboration as a way to create new meanings and understandings of the world. One such act of collaboration was a group poem that Thy wrote alongside three other youth poet laureates—Matthew Kim, Sage Cobb, and Emma Zhang—for Santa Clara County’s State of the County Address on January 25, 2024. “If safety is home, / And home is you and me, / I find refuge in you,” they wrote in “Home.”
Thy also draws inspiration from Ocean Vuong, a Vietnamese American poet who shares his experiences with queerness, loss, love, and heartbreak in novels such as On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous and poems like “Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong.” Similarly to the deep introspection and evaluation of childhood that Ocean explores in these works, Thy’s poetry has explored a loss that occurred before she was born, but that nonetheless left a deep and indelible mark on her family and her place in it—the death of her older sister very soon after she was born. “I think of her often, alive, and wonder what it’d be like to be the younger sibling, to not pave the way. It would have clashed with my independence, I think. Or it would have unraveled me, in the sense that everything I am is premised only by my sister’s death,” Thy writes in her poem “White Lies.”
Just as poetry has been a way to connect with, process, and acknowledge her own trauma and pain, poetry is also one of the deepest sources of beauty in Thy’s life. “One thing that I have learned is that creation is so important,” Thy said. “Don’t just consume, create.”
Growing up in Saigon—now Ho Chi Minh City—Vinh G. Nguyen was the kid who preferred to be alone. He cherished his time painting with watercolors and oils and sketching fashion ideas. When he was 10, he immigrated with his parents to the United States. Despite the challenge of learning English late in elementary school, his daily routines were sweetened by afternoons at the library, where he gathered books on arts and crafts. In the evenings, while his cousins played video games, Vinh drew deeper into his inner world, making sense of it with just a pencil and paper. The desire to develop his artistry was instinctual.
In high school, he participated in choir and drama for the first time. That’s where he found friends—some of whom he stays in touch with to this day. Yet while at San José State University, Vinh found he was a late bloomer in the world of theater.
He remembered talking to a friend and sharing, “I always felt like I’m one step behind all of my peers in the audition room who had been training since they were like two.” But Vinh’s friend pointed out that his passion to catch up was what drove Vinh’s career forward.
And his friend’s words were true. Vinh took enough classes in the musical theater department that he was only a few upper-division courses from majoring in it. So, along with his major in hospitality, Vinh graduated with a BA in musical theater.
“I feel like my cultural identity is now my superpower.” -Vinh G. Nguyen
For a few years afterward, Vinh worked as a freelance actor and an elementary school drama teacher. His discovery of theater informed his approach. Growing up in an Asian household, making a living as an artist had never been in the picture. But his goal was clear. He stated: “Number one, do more of this art stuff, and then two, share it with the world.”
He continued to share that he wanted to do whatever he could “to spread that joy with the next generation.”
He wanted to take his passion further. Showing his family that he could make a living while also making a big impact, he pursued an MFA in musical theater at San Diego State University and then taught collegiate-level drama. When the pandemic pushed everyone online, his unique pathway became vital.
In 2020, as the world contended with injustice and change, the theater community pushed for better practices as well. “The We See You White American Theater movement came out of the Black Lives Matter [movement],” Vinh explained. “We called out all the white theater companies that [were] not doing the work.”
To support the changes for anti-racist theater systems, Vinh became an equality, diversity, and inclusion (EDI) consultant and helped local theaters rebuild from the ground up. These initiatives informed how companies should treat actors, pay their staff, and facilitate conflicts.
Vinh also worked as a casting director. “That’s where I felt I was able to go in and make a direct impact in my community,” he emphasized. He sat on plenty of boards and EDI committees, but casting allowed him to influence the process directly. “Instead of bringing in what the director [wanted], I would also present three other actors whom they wouldn’t even think of,” he explained. “You challenge the director with, ‘Well, they did great. Why didn’t you pick them?’ ” He set specific goals for each show, aiming to have a certain percentage of the cast be from marginalized communities.
As live theater returned, Vinh continued his EDI consulting work, which was in high demand. But the downside was being pigeonholed and losing out on work as an artist. So Vinh adjusted his strategy. He marketed himself as a director with EDI experience. “If you want me for my EDI [experience], then just hire me as a director and everything will come with it,” he said.
Leading with that intention, Vinh began to direct for local theaters. Directing was as fulfilling as he had hoped, because it was relational and relied on a clear vision. He shared, “All the theaters that I have directed for are theaters that I have acted for. And it has to be a show that I have a very strong artistic vision for, where I come in and say, ‘This is why I want to do the show now and at your theater.’ ”
In 2023, Vinh became the managing director of Chopsticks Alley Art, which is a southeast Asian arts organization that commissioned him for the play Tales of Ancient Vietnam. This play examines the ideal of cultural authenticity through the lens of a second-generation Vietnamese American and debuted as a staged reading in 2024.
This was not just about his success as a playwright, but also as an artist taking power in his identity. As a young actor, he used to intentionally stray away from “cultural” work such as this play. “I wanted to prove that I could do the ‘normal work,’ ” he remembered. “I had to fight to be in the same room as five other white actors to read for a role that I didn’t even care much for.” The stories he did care about were being told by the wrong people in the American theater landscape, well-intentioned as they may have been.
At this point in his career and life, Vinh has the triplethreat ability to tell these stories himself through his vision as the director or through his own creation as a playwright. In his own words: “I feel like my cultural identity is now my superpower.”
Viet Thanh Nguyen’s first recognition as a writer happened when he was eight years old as a student at Lowell Elementary School in San Jose. “Lester the Cat” is a story about an urban cat who, stricken with ennui and bored with city life, flees and falls in love with a country cat. Viet’s childhood story was selected for a prize at the former Martin Luther King Jr. Library located on W. San Carlos Street (now located at 150 San Fernando).
As an eight-year-old, the experience left a big impression, both as a very public and private experience—publicly, because he received recognition from the very library where he absorbed literature throughout his childhood and, privately, because his parents weren’t able to take him to the award ceremony. His school’s librarian took him, while no one in his family knew. To Viet, it was his little secret, and although he did not make a conscious decision to become a writer, he found that writing books could be fun and interesting.
Viet was born in Ban Mê Thuột, Viet Nam (now Buôn Mê Thuột) and came to the United States as a refugee in 1975. His family settled in San Jose in the late 1970s, opening one of the first Vietnamese grocery stores, Sàigòn Mới (later demolished to make room for the Miro Luxury Apartments on East Santa Clara Street). His path to becoming a writer dates back to being eight years old, dabbling with journaling, poetry, short fiction, and drama through high school and into college. This period, according to Viet, was the “first of many disasters in aspirations to being a writer.” He adds, “I think all writers have to make all kinds of mistakes.”
His ambition to be a serious writer and scholar solidified while he was a student at UC Berkeley. Not only did his education further his interest in literature and writing, but he also developed awareness as an Asian American and an English and ethnic studies major. The opportunity to read beyond canonical Western writers—including women, BIPOC, and decolonizing writers—was crucial in that it gave him a sense that there is a serious purpose to literature. Viet’s time at Berkeley developed his understanding of literature, both in his approach as a scholar and as a writer. Before then, according to Viet, “I think I had a very romantic idea of literature,” he says, adding, “From 19 to 20 years of age, I began to think of literature as a political, theoretical, and eventually philosophical issue.”
Fast forward to the present and Viet is a celebrated scholar, author, and essayist. His novel, The Sympathizer, is a New York Times Bestseller, winner of the Pulitzer Prize, and has debuted on over thirty bookof-the-year lists. His writing (although not a complete list) includes the sequel, The Committed, A Man of Two Faces, The Refugees, two children’s books, (Chicken of the Sea and Simone), and his next book, slated for 2025, To Save and to Destroy: Writing as an Other Viet is thinking about writing even when he’s not physically writing—a process that involves thinking, planning, and revising, in addition to writing. He states, “There is something mysterious about inspiration and where that comes from, but you have to do the work to get to the inspiration, and to do the work just means you have to be doing something every single day, whether that’s the thinking, planning, writing, or revising.”
Understanding the inside and outside of language was key to Viet’s growth as a writer, “For me, I immersed myself as deeply as I could into the English-language literature,” he says. This absorption allowed Viet to understand how language works, not just as a tool, but how it works internally. Knowing some Vietnamese also allowed Viet to look at his writing both as an insider and an outsider. He shared, “One of the best compliments I got about The Sympathizer was a Vietnamese author coming up to me saying, ‘I can hear the rhythms of Vietnamese in your writing.’ And I don’t think I intended to do that, but the fact that it’s there because I have an inside and outside relationship with the language was really helpful.” In addition, Viet believes that all writers develop their own voice by finding whatever is authentic within themselves as a driver for their writing. To Viet, speaking your truth is crucial to being a successful writer.
“My personal identity could never be separated from the identity of being Vietnamese and eventually Asian American.” -Viet Thanh Nguyen
Viet’s work as a writer, critic, and essayist is undeniably tied to issues of identity and memory. Growing up in San Jose, he was exposed to the notion of the collective identity at a young age because of the existence of racism and his own awareness of how the Vietnam War impacted Vietnamese refugees and Americans as a whole. Stories have power, and to Viet, the complexity of power as it relates to his individual and collective identity gave him the authority to write about his own story and the Vietnamese American experience. “I believed in the idea that stories had the power to transport me out of San Jose, my parent’s house, the grocery store that was our reality, but then I realized that stories have the power to destroy as well, the power to save as well as destroy. And that’s the complexity within power that also made me convinced I wanted to become a writer.”
Viet’s body of work through this lens of identity and memory is deeply personal. He shares, “My personal identity could never be separated from the identity of being Vietnamese and eventually Asian American. Those identities were inevitably tied in with memory, because how we think about the past, our individual past, but also the collective past of our cultures and nations is going to impact our sense of identity. There’s always been this dynamic between individual and collective memory for me that has been tied to issues of my racial identity but also to America’s national identity as well.”
Viet’s drive to speak to identity and memory, to write the stories that have brought him success, has been partly shaped by his upbringing in San Jose. He recalls, “I grew up in a very edgy part of San Jose’s downtown by the 280 access ramp on South 10th Street, and it was a tough environment to grow up in. But it was that friction between the beautiful diversities but also the economic struggle of so many people in that area that taught me so much about human nature and provided me with the stories that would eventually be really important to my motivation as a writer, scholar, and essayist.”
Viet Thanh Nguyen was raised in San Jose, educated in the East Bay at UC Berkeley, and now resides in Los Angeles as the Aerol Arnold Chair of English and professor of English, American studies and ethnicity, and comparative literature at the University of Southern California. “What’s important to me about being a writer is just writing,” he states. The Bay Area provided Viet with an environment where stories—including his individual and collective identity—his complicated relationship with San Jose–could take root and shape his craft. “[Growing up in San Jose has] always been so much more complex, because it’s the difference between the comforting parts of San Jose and the difficult parts for my family and myself that generated the emotional friction that turned me into a writer.”
“We’ve been so fortunate to have connections and relationships and the goodwill of people around us.” -Wendy Neff
Downtown San Jose’s latest brew café, Fox Tale Fermentation Project, on Santa Clara Street, is finally open. First-time business owners Felipe Bravo and Wendy Neff have endured a long road that was further delayed due to complications of the pandemic. Sitting beneath a beautiful painting of the company logo designed by local artist Brittni Paul, Felipe and Wendy look back on how they arrived here.
Bravo, a San Jose native who says he never even drank beer, had his interest sparked by a friend who introduced him to homebrewing. He fanned that flame further by shifting his focus from his graduate studies in engineering specifically toward the science of brewing: “I never thought about food or beer as a hobby, and it wasn’t until I saw [homebrewing] for the first time that I was like, oh, this seems really cool. I can probably get into this. To me, it seemed like you can really dive into it and figure out the formulas and the processes and kind of take this scientific approach,” he explains.
His master’s thesis focused on building and programming an AI system that would learn to formulate beers on its own—essentially an automated homebrewing system. “That was not working,” he says. “I had never worked in a professional beer setting. I didn’t have the professional skillset to really talk about it in the way that I wanted to. The only option I felt I had left was to quit engineering. So, in 2014, I basically went to my local brewery and asked for a job.”
Bravo moved his way up the ranks at various breweries, first working the floor, then working with packaging, and eventually moving into production. He landed at Fort Point Brewing in San Francisco as their research and development manager, where he now had the opportunity to develop some of the beer recipes.
at age 18, essentially on a whim she says, but would return home a few years later for a life reset. While home, she got a job at the Brinery in Ann Arbor, famous for their fermented products such as sauerkraut and kimchi. It was a short-lived but instrumental gig, as it sparked a passion of her own.
“I really fell in love with fermentation,” she says. “Then when I came back to California, it just stuck a whole lot more.” She landed a job at Facebook on their superfoods team, making “really amazing, unique dishes that were raw and vegan and gluten-free” to serve in their on-site restaurants. “It exploded my whole desire to help people get interesting foods and ingredients and unique flavors. [They] let me create my own fermentation program, which they had never done before. So, then I had three years of experimenting and going wild with it as much as I wanted to.”
Fermentation, whether it be with alcohol or food, is part of humanity’s long and storied history. The process of combining food preservation with exploration of flavor has created a rich history that overlaps with the development of cultures around the world. The yeasts that turn grains into beer and cabbage into sauerkraut are not so different, and modern techniques have accelerated innovation and subsequent overlap in the fields of both food and alcohol.
When Bravo and Neff met, this overlap resulted in an immediate burst of creative energy as the two batted around ideas for sour beers using pickle brine and other unusual combinations of ingredients, imagining what sorts of flavors they might produce. They also discovered that they both harbored a dream to open a space where they could build community through their fermented creations.
As the two came up with projects to experiment with together, their relationship grew as well. They started making limited runs of beers using things like mushrooms, beets, radishes, and flow-
ers, which they fine-tuned and shared with friends and local beer enthusiasts. They named their venture Fox Tale, a whimsical reference to the stories that can be found behind each collaboration.
The next step was to open their dream space, but opening during COVID was “the hardest thing I’ve ever done, for sure,” Neff says. “We’ve been so fortunate to have connections and relationships and the goodwill of people around us.”
The small space is cozy and inviting, decorated with a rotating collection of art from local artists. They serve small bites that highlight the ferments, keeping things simple so as to remain approachable. They offer a mocktail and kombucha as nonalcoholic options and hope to offer classes on fermenting and homebrewing. They want their patrons to feel welcome, and more importantly, like part of the story. And as for what’s on tap: it’s not all pickle brine and mushroom beer.
“Taking twists on familiar things is a big part of what we want to do,” Bravo explains. The menu still offers recognizable styles like IPA and lager. “It’s a little different, [but] it’s not crazy blending these concepts that are unique and pique people’s interests, trying to redefine what those styles mean and create something new.”
Though market saturation and the pandemic have been tough on small beermakers, these two entrepreneurs are taking on the challenge. They understand that support from the San Jose community will be key, and have already built much of the foundation while eager to continue earning that support. And as they talk, new ideas keep springing up—the creative energy has not subsided.
“The business is an extension of us,” says Bravo. “The goal is to incorporate as many people into this project as we can. It’s not just us. We’re always going to be putting it back into the community. We’re not totally on our own.”
Shane Martin Oseguera, also known as Quetsmo, is a muralist from Redwood City, California, currently based in San Diego. His moniker combines Quet, a reference to Quetzalcoatl, the Aztec god of creativity, with SMO, his initials. He has adopted Quetzalcoatl to represent his work, which includes the dualities of sun and moon, reds and blues–warm and cool colors.
After graduating from San Diego State University with a bachelor’s in painting and printmaking and pursuing a muralist career by volunteering with POW! WOW! Long Beach (now known as Long Beach Walls), Quetsmo was introduced to Carlos and Jen of Empire Seven Studios. He jokes, “…and they haven’t been able to get rid of me since.”
Quetsmo remembers getting the call about The Roosevelt Mural from Empire Seven Studios–“As soon as [Carlos] introduced this opportunity to me, I told him, Man, this has been a dream of mine. I have been waiting for this call for years, and hands down, I’m all in. I’ve been putting 110% 24/7 on this thing.” Quetsmo spent a couple of months preparing the design and two months on the wall itself.
The mural is over 100 feet wide, spans 77 feet vertically at its tallest point, and is 20 feet high along the sides. Focusing on plants and animals native to California, Quetsmo hoped to capture the diversity of the state’s landscape. The crown jewel, centered on the tallest portion of the wall, is a larger-than-life Elephant Cactus adorned with a single hawk and cactus blooms painted in pearlescent white. It can be seen from East Santa Clara Street and symbolizes the strength of the community in one of San Jose’s oldest neighborhoods.
“Not only this community, but so many others like it, and the people within it have endured many hardships but continue to stay resilient. And that’s exactly what this cactus represents.” -Shayne M. Oseguera.
About the Development:
The Roosevelt Park Apartments, a First Community Housing development, are designed for young adults experiencing homelessness or at risk of homelessness, homeless families, large families, and, if possible, foster families and/or survivors of domestic abuse. The project’s goal was to create a synergistic set of services and facilitate community building so that 80 families and transitional-age youth could remain in this rich and supportive neighborhood rather than being pushed out of Silicon Valley.
Artist Statement:
The composition transitions from the ocean to the west to the desert to the east. A unique quality we share all along the western coast, from Oregon down to Baja California and Mexico. The Santa Clara Valley mountain range stretches across the background, bringing a calming sense to the viewer. The foreground is a colorful reflection of the local biodiversity found within our community. People are seen interacting with the environment through activities they can engage in. The 1964 Impala lowrider in the bottom right-hand corner represents the surrounding area’s dominant Hispanic and Latino demographic. A large Elephant Cactus stands tall as the main focal point. Personifying the resilience of all demographics who have endured countless hardships yet continue to adapt and survive despite the odds against them.
Follow Empire Seven Studios on Instagram @empire7studios and their website at empiresevenstudios.com (Last featured on The Content Magazine Podcast Episode #16)
As a jazz bassist, composer, and arranger, Ken Okada has spent his life finding the groove. Unlike in other genres of music, in jazz, bass is the glue responsible for holding the group together. When composing music, Ken is less concerned with being credited with a beautiful melody and more so leaving room for other musicians to join and create.
Born in New York to Japanese parents, Ken also spent time in Brazil and New York in his youth as his family followed his father in business. His ear for music came from his creatively inclined older sisters, who played piano and influenced his taste in music. Video game soundtracks also inspired Ken. He began learning to produce music electronically and playing in multiple bands throughout middle and high school.
After attempting law school at university, Ken began sitting in with the historic Keio University Big Band, where a friend went. That was a huge turning point for Ken, who would soon dedicate his life to music while beginning a tech career, starting his businesses to support his family, and moving to the United States.
Over the years, Ken has composed music as part of the Ken Okada Group and performed in jazz combos and big bands featuring artists such as John Worley, Leon Joyce, Yankee Taylor, Destiny Muhammad, Eric Colvin, and Rick Vandivier and numerous jazz clubs and festivals around the world.
Most recently, Ken has recorded and performed with a percussion phenom, Yoyoka Soma, a 13-year-old Japanese musician living in America who went viral in 2018 for renditions of Led Zeppelin. Together, the group has released the album “Square One,” now available on Spotify and Apple Music.
In our conversation, we discuss Ken’s approach to jazz, his upbringing as a Japanese musician, the influences of jazz in San Jose, and his most recent project featuring Yoyoka.
Join Ken this Friday, 11/10, at 8 pm at the San Jose Jazz Break Room as the Ken Okada Group Featuring YOYOKA engages audiences with stunning rhythm, high-flying melodies, and original arrangements by Ken Okada.
Artist, educator, and activist Jessica Gutierrez might be new to the San Jose arts scene, but she’s already having an impact. A teacher at James Lick High School, Gutierrez first became involved with the arts community through her work at Be the Change Yoga, integrating art into their public programs and coordinating with local organizations for the Conscious San Jose Festival. Living in a building with apartments upstairs and empty space on the ground floor, she and her collaborator, Jesse Santos, had the idea to host a gallery show featuring art made by Gutierrez and her housemates. The result was the first Martha Street Art Night—a small gathering that has since grown into a series of sporadically scheduled community events drawing hundreds of people to showcase, participate in, and share art. She has added food and music, and the event is generating enough buzz that she is already trying to figure out how to scale up.
“Martha Street Art Night was my first experiment of what it looks like to have an intention and hold space for other people. It started as a fun thing where I can host people in my home and share art—but I don’t have the capacity to do it frequently, and in terms of the space, it’s at that capacity point where we might have to find another space. I’ve been thinking about what that would look like, but at the same time, maybe the appeal is that it’s in a home, a space of comfort and welcoming. If I partnered with a gallery, would the same community want to come, knowing that there are all these formalisms that come with that? Is it okay if it draws different crowds? It’s not about what I want; it’s about what’s needed by the people who are coming. I also want to model for my students that these are the kinds of spaces you can create, especially understanding gentrification and how that’s impacting San Jose and the East Side—how you can control what those spaces look like for the community as opposed to developers coming in and deciding for you what those spaces are.”
