ABOUT
a z i z e n g o
they/them
private studio - tongva land a.k.a “los angeles”
@trans.quility
some context:
trans (prefix) - "across, beyond, through, or such as to change”
tranquil - “free from turmoil”
transquility - a state of harmony through persistent change in form
i came up with this word to use as a creative tuning fork. it describes a kind of peace that accompanies creative expression while being mindful of its impermanence. it describes the flow imbued within a live jam session with friends. the hypnotic focus of having sex, doing drugs, dancing, or getting tattooed. they’re the moments in which exploration and evolution are happening.
specifically, i’m referring to the inevitability of change, everywhere. at times change is painful, but so is our existence. informed by Buddhist traditions, i created transquility to help me release attachments to designs i’ve created, bodies i’ve adorned, and projects i’m currently working on in order to make room for other ideas and methods to float to the surface. magic happens when we express ourselves sonically, in movement, or by adorning our flesh suits before they eventually rot and fertilize soil.
after many years of existential cynicism sprinkled with anxious exhaustion, this framework has given me a lens through which i occasionally find solace in the fluid absurdity of life.
more context for the curious:
i was brought into this world by a Turkish, Muslim mother, and a Catholic, Vietnamese father. if “opposites attract” and “survival tactics” came together with a volatile shelf life, it would be my parents. despite blissed-out expeditions into delicious culinary landscapes, abrahamic tradition couldn’t bring peace to the dissonance that was living between disparate cultures on wisconsin’s milky plains of micro/macro-aggressions. there’s power in resilience, but the pain of neglect and isolation stains. if you can’t beat them, develop insomnia by bathing in the contours of your imagination, right? haha, only half joking.
by day, i was trained to serve - my immigrant elders, everyone else before myself. i wanted to feel helpful and knew i could work hard to help others heal even if i was figuring out what healing meant to me. i left the Midwest to study cognitive science at University of California, San Diego.
convinced my calling was in medicine, i spent several years post-grad researching how adolescent trauma informs adult psychoneuroimmunology. in so many words, what happens is - our bodies transform from marks left on us by the shit we endure. there came a point where i realized there was only so much i could do to change a system designed to negate healing. tattooing causes injury, but the way i want to approach this practice is to minimize trauma. it’s a beautiful thing to witness transformation from marks made consentually and collabortively. with encouragement and a gift from my partner, i pivoted and took up needlework in a creative setting. i’ve made deeper connections with myself and others by etching designs onto peoples skin than i have from drawing out their blood. i’m much happier for it.
for millennium humans have used markings on skin to heal, weave narratives together, build community, cast spells, and bring our bodies closer to our visions of them. perhaps this is why i’m drawn to Turkish rug motifs, Vietnamese drum inscriptions, geometry in flora and fauna, or the putrid excrements of surreal horror. there’s a story everywhere. there's an acceptance there, that, by withstanding our environment, experiencing ritualistic changes to our bodies, we might grow to love and imbue outselves in it. this affirms my belief that our bodies resemble clay, in that they hold a memory of how they’ve been handled, and they transform under special circumstances. this sacred practice, i hope, will leave you becalmed, in stasis, forever changed.
︎
ABOUT
a z i z e n g o
they/them
private studio - tongva land a.k.a “los angeles”
@trans.quility
some context:
trans (prefix) - "across, beyond, through, or such as to change”
tranquil - “free from turmoil”
transquility - a state of harmony through persistent change in form
i came up with this word to use as a creative tuning fork. it describes a kind of peace that accompanies creative expression while being mindful of its impermanence. it describes the flow imbued within a live jam session with friends. the hypnotic focus of having sex, doing drugs, dancing, or getting tattooed. they’re the moments in which exploration and evolution are happening.
specifically, i’m referring to the inevitability of change, everywhere. at times change is painful, but so is our existence. informed by Buddhist traditions, i created transquility to help me release attachments to designs i’ve created, bodies i’ve adorned, and projects i’m currently working on in order to make room for other ideas and methods to float to the surface. magic happens when we express ourselves sonically, in movement, or by adorning our flesh suits before they eventually rot and fertilize soil.
after many years of existential cynicism sprinkled with anxious exhaustion, this framework has given me a lens through which i occasionally find solace in the fluid absurdity of life.
more context for the curious:
i was brought into this world by a Turkish, Muslim mother, and a Catholic, Vietnamese father. if “opposites attract” and “survival tactics” came together with a volatile shelf life, it would be my parents. despite blissed-out expeditions into delicious culinary landscapes, abrahamic tradition couldn’t bring peace to the dissonance that was living between disparate cultures on wisconsin’s milky plains of micro/macro-aggressions. there’s power in resilience, but the pain of neglect and isolation stains. if you can’t beat them, develop insomnia by bathing in the contours of your imagination, right? haha, only half joking.
by day, i was trained to serve - my immigrant elders, everyone else before myself. i wanted to feel helpful and knew i could work hard to help others heal even if i was figuring out what healing meant to me. i left the Midwest to study cognitive science at University of California, San Diego.
convinced my calling was in medicine, i spent several years post-grad researching how adolescent trauma informs adult psychoneuroimmunology. in so many words, what happens is - our bodies transform from marks left on us by the shit we endure.there came a point where i realized there was only so much i could do to change a system designed to negate healing. tattooing causes injury, but the way i want to approach this practice is to minimize trauma. it’s a beautiful thing to witness transformation from marks made consentually and collabortively. with encouragement and a gift from my partner, i pivoted and took up needlework in a creative setting. i’ve made deeper connections with myself and others by etching designs onto peoples skin than i have from drawing out their blood. i’m much happier for it.
for millennium humans have used markings on skin to heal, weave narratives together, build community, cast spells, and bring our bodies closer to our visions of them. perhaps this is why i’m drawn to Turkish rug motifs, Vietnamese drum inscriptions, geometry in flora and fauna, or the putrid excrements of surreal horror. there’s a story everywhere. there's an acceptance there, that, by withstanding our environment, experiencing ritualistic changes to our bodies, we might grow to love and imbue outselves in it. this affirms my belief that our bodies resemble clay, in that they hold a memory of how they’ve been handled, and they transform under special circumstances.this sacred practice, i hope, will leave you becalmed, in stasis, forever changed.
︎