Joy of Art: Enter the ‘Eternal Spa’

On its surface, the Eternal Spa was a singular event held at the Geffen Contemporary at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) in LA’s Little Tokyo; but look deeper, and you’ll see that it offered a rare glimpse into the pain and pleasures of the Asian body, while providing a communal space to heal from its historically endured violence.

A crowd of guests walked through the glass doors on April 2nd, quickly immersed into the multi-exhibit showcase that was the Eternal Spa. The durational performance exhibit was a joint collaboration between MOCA and QNA, a queer API collective led by Louie Bofill, Jae-an Crisman, Paulie Morales, Ly Tran, and JoySauce’s Howin Wong. 

Guests enter the Eternal Spa, engulfed by the warm red lights of the venue.

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Attendees were immersed in the intimate glow of red light that engulfed the venue, which hosted a number of queer API artists such as Angela Dimayuga, jas lin, 미친년/ Michinyeon (Kwonyin, Na Mira, and Saewon Oh), Brandon Nguyen, Daphne Nguyen (aka Fine China), Yuki and Scott Oshima. 

One year after the Atlanta spa shootings, the Eternal Spa aimed to take the metaphor of Asian spas and health centers as a foundation before evolving it into a multi-sensory performance experience that engaged questions of embodiment, sexuality, sex work, self-care and identity.

A performer fills Oshima’s 3,000-year bath as the crowd watches from afar.

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The first performance attendees witnessed upon entering the venue was Scott Oshima’s 3,000-year bath. Oshima is a yonsei Chinese and Japanese American community activist and artist. 

The performance honored the traditional Japanese bathing practices that originated from China and Corea around 1000 BCE. A lone bathtub sat in the center, slowly being filled with water until a performer’s bare body embraced the sweet release of self care into the bath. 

Angela Dimayuga poses with her specialty drink for the Eternal Spa, the “Hello Kitty Chi Chi Milk.”

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Across the display of care was a booth hosted by Angela Dimayuga, a New York City based chef, multidisciplinary artist, and co-author of Filipinx: Heritage Recipes from the Diaspora. 

“Angela’s Sanrio Spa Drink Stand” provided sustenance for attendees, offering a herbal welcome cocktail made of special ingredients. The “Hello Kitty Chi Chi Milk” aromatherapy cocktail was a lavender, bubblegum tulsi, Thai basil, and sesame leaf concoction that offered comfort in each sip.  

Members of Michinyeon embrace each other’s stares in front of their waterfall display.

The line for the beverage extended to the next performance by 미친년/ Michinyeon, an improvisational group that works with their ancestral lineages to channel voices that have been repressed and thus stored in their bodies. The group made up of members Kwonyin, Na Mira, and Saewon Oh, performed a piece titled Water Temple which featured a waterfall display that asked the audience—Is it safe for an Asian femme to love in this world? 

“We are creating a space for our emotional exfoliation,” Michinyeon said about their performance. “It’s a temple where you can process the intense things that are happening in the world and call on the power of the waterfall.”

Daphne (left) and Yuki (right) pose for the cameras at their performance setup for Mirrors.

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Across the sounds of the falling waters were Mirrors, a performance by Daphne Nguyen and Yuki. Nguyen is a multidisciplinary visual and performance artist who aspires to share a human glimpse of the trans experience to dismantle the often fetishized and tokenized lens. Yuki is a hapa Uchinanchu ha’awahine who has been a sex worker in varying capacities since 2015 and has established herself as a TS femdom over the past three years.

Guests were able to consensually sign up for both “hard and soft” services, which manifested into being spanked over the bench by Yuki shortly before having a chat with Daphne on the bed about anything the guest wanted. The performance tackled the stigmas of sex work, offering a glimpse into the negotiation and booking process of it and the potential outcomes of what a session can become.

DJ Howin plays music from his booth as a massage performance takes place before him.

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Further into the venue was a massage table set up neatly in front of a DJ table. Sounds were provided by Wong and Morales with projections illuminating the walls of the venue that were created by Crisman—all members of QNA. Throughout the night, various people received massages on the table, evoking a powerful image on display as Asian bodies caressed each other in a public act of relaxation. The music and projections surrounded the viewers, washing our bodies with vibrations and light as we watched this radical care from afar.

The final addition to the Eternal Spa bouquet was the amalgamation of two artists’ work. 

Nguyen’s creation of an aisle of chrysanthemums that lead its way to an altar.

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At the very end of the venue was Brandon Nguyen’s piece, within us. Nguyen is a Vietnamese queer floral artist who expands on the imaginary dreams of nature. Nguyen created a river of white chrysanthemums toward an altar, representing the path leading home to ourselves.

“May we take this time to honor ourselves, those still with us, and those who have passed,” Nguyen said. “It is time to rest. Rest is sacred, radical and is our birthright.”

Jas Lin performs their closing ritual down the aisle as the crowd surrounds them.

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The floral sanctuary was the final performance space for the closing ritual by jas lin 林思穎. Lin is a taiwanese American performance artist and choreographer whose performance, chrysanthemum river, embodied the collective care and grief of Eternal Spa.

Brandon Nguyen takes a moment before the mountain of memoriam chrysanthemums laid at the altar.

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Lin used movement to embody and facilitate grief, catharsis, and celebration for their community. The performance ended in attendees of the event lining up with chrysanthemums in hand to leave at the altar. An event of vibrant color and expression ended in a slow collective action of prayer, healing and grief.

It was in those moments we especially remembered the lives we lost a year ago. The feeling of holding a chrysanthemum in my hand felt like grasping the hands of Paul Andre Michels, Delaina Ashley Yaun, Daoyou Feng, Yong Ae Yue, Xiaojie Tan, Hyun Jung Grant, Suncha Kim, and Soon Chung Park that we lost in the Atlanta shootings. And as a survivor of sexual violence myself, as someone who has had his body viscerally taken advantage of before, it was a reminder that despite what violence Asian bodies like mine may have endured, and may continue to experience, that the community will always prevail—especially after healing in communes like this.