admin
Pittsburgh, PA – In a powerful exploration of cultural identity, displacement, and historical memory, artist Ginger Brooks Takahashi has cultivated "The Perilla People’s Garden" at the Carnegie Museum of Art. This evocative installation, part of the prestigious 59th Carnegie International, uses the humble perilla plant as a multifaceted lens to examine the profound connections between communities and their heritage, while simultaneously probing complex narratives of colonization, immigration, and diasporic experience. The exhibition, on view through January 3, 2027, invites visitors to engage with a botanical tapestry that embodies centuries of human migration and cultural exchange.
The Artist’s Personal Tapestry: An Ancestral Tether
For Ginger Brooks Takahashi, the intensely aromatic perilla plant, known in her mother’s native Japan as shiso, has always been a constant. Despite a childhood marked by frequent moves across West Virginia, Oregon, and Italy, her mother’s persistent cultivation of perilla provided a consistent anchor, a fragrant reminder of their Japanese roots. "It’s a very significant flavor that can’t really be replaced by anything else and becomes part of a cultural identity," Takahashi explains, highlighting its irreplaceable role in Japanese cuisine, akin to basil in Italian cooking.
Growing up largely separated from her extended family in Japan and rarely residing within a strong Japanese community, perilla transcended its role as a mere culinary herb. It became, for Takahashi, an "ancestral tether"—a tangible link connecting Japanese-Americans like herself to their forebears. This personal revelation spurred a broader understanding: the same profound connection resonates with people from Korea, Vietnam, and numerous other Asian cultures where perilla is deeply embedded in daily life, cuisine, and traditional medicine. It represents a vital connection for those "in the diaspora" and "separated from their homelands."
Perilla: A Global Botanical Narrative of Connection and Diversity
Perilla, a versatile member of the mint family (Lamiaceae), boasts a rich history spanning millennia, believed to have originated in the mountainous regions of China before spreading across East and Southeast Asia. Its journey mirrors human migration patterns, adapting and evolving into a myriad of varieties, each cherished for distinct culinary, medicinal, and cultural attributes. The plant’s flavor profile is remarkably complex, balancing crisp citrus notes with bitter undertones and subtle hints of anise and cinnamon, making it indispensable in many regional cuisines.
In Japan, shiso varieties are typically more delicate, with smaller seeds and leaves. Green shiso is famously used in tempura and as a garnish for sushi, providing a refreshing counterpoint to rich flavors. The burgundy variety, akajiso, is essential for pickling plums into umeboshi, imparting both color and a unique tartness. Korean cultivars, known as kkaennip, tend to be larger and sturdier, ideal for wrapping grilled meats in ssam or fermenting into kimchi. Vietnamese perillas, or lá tía tô, often feature bicolor leaves and are highly prized for their medicinal properties, used to alleviate inflammation, coughs, and support cardiovascular health, frequently served raw with noodle dishes like pho or stirred into soups. Beyond these prominent cultures, perilla varieties also feature in Nepalese, Bhutanese, and Thai culinary and medicinal traditions, demonstrating its wide-reaching significance.
The Perilla People’s Garden: An Exhibition of Belonging
This spring, Takahashi transformed a section of the Carnegie Museum of Art grounds into "The Perilla People’s Garden," a living installation showcasing over a dozen perilla varieties. Arranged in 11 distinct beds forming the shape of a leaf, the garden offers a kaleidoscopic view of the plant’s botanical diversity and the rich tapestry of Asian communities that hold it dear. Sourced from the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s gene bank and specialist seed keepers like Truelove Seeds and Second Generation Seeds (which champion culturally significant varieties), the garden acts as "a visualization or a representation of the different people who associate with these plants."
Visitors to the garden encounter a sensory experience. Flat, broad-leaf varieties stand beside curly cultivars resembling mustard greens. The intricately serrated hojiso from Japan, with its deep green topsides and purple undersides, contrasts with the softer greens and rounded leaves of Thai nga-mon, Nepalese silam, and Bhutanese zintshinam. The perilla plants, some reaching six feet tall, create an aromatic maze, inviting guests to explore, touch the fuzzy leaves, and inhale their refreshing fragrance.
The garden is but one component of Takahashi’s broader installation for the 59th Carnegie International. Inside the museum, a dedicated room features audio recordings of Takahashi’s interviews with perilla seed keepers and her own poignant reflections on the plant’s role in her family history. Notably, she uses perilla to confront her grandfather’s involvement in Japan’s settler-colonial presence in Japanese-occupied Manchuria, where he worked on a railroad. This powerful juxtaposition highlights how a seemingly innocuous plant can become a conduit for processing difficult historical truths.
Further deepening the conceptual layers, Takahashi’s exhibit includes a series of text works printed on handmade perilla paper. These pieces provocatively draw parallels between the language used to describe invasive species and that often applied to immigrants. Phrases like "Noxious Enemy Weed" and "Aggressive Transplant Worker" challenge viewers to reconsider societal perceptions and the often-dehumanizing rhetoric surrounding both nature and human migration. A handmade vessel within the exhibit captures the evolving scents of the garden throughout the seasons, from the rich humus of spring to the nutty aroma of mature seeds in fall, further immersing visitors in the plant’s lifecycle and symbolic journey.
A Commemoration of History: Liberation Day in the Garden
A pivotal moment for the Perilla People’s Garden occurred on August 15, when Takahashi hosted an ice cream party in the midst of the bustling Forbes Avenue. Guests savored fresh perilla leaves, perilla gelato sprinkled with perilla seeds, and engaged with the artist and the plant itself. The date was meticulously chosen: August 15 marks Gwangbokjeol, Korea’s National Liberation Day, commemorating its liberation from Japanese colonial rule in 1945 after 35 years of annexation. This gathering served as a deliberate attempt to "unearth the colonial history" between Japan and Korea, a history Takahashi notes many Japanese people are "hidden from or hide from." The shared affinity for perilla between the two nations underscored their intertwined destinies and the enduring impact of this complex history.
Adding another layer of historical resonance, the garden also featured plantings of garden balsam, known as bongseonhwa in Korea. This vibrant flower became a potent symbol of resistance during Japanese occupation, popularized by a song that metaphorically cast it as representing the springtime rebirth of the Korean people. During the Liberation Day event, Korean-American chef Sunni Park, who also grows perilla from her mother’s heirloom seeds, meticulously ground the balsam flowers with a mortar and pestle. She then used the resulting henna-like paste to dye visitors’ fingernails orange, a traditional Korean practice, securing the paste with a perilla leaf wrap. This act not only connected participants to an ancient custom but also subtly evoked the spirit of resilience and cultural endurance.
Voices from the Diaspora: Seed Keepers and Cultivators
The Perilla People’s Garden project is deeply enriched by the contributions and perspectives of various individuals who share Takahashi’s profound connection to the plant. Chef Sunni Park, who served as the garden’s caretaker during Takahashi’s completion of her Master of Fine Arts degree in Chicago, found herself appreciating the subtle distinctions between cultivars, noting how the delicate Japanese varieties and the bold Korean ones reflect the distinct culinary philosophies of their respective cultures. For Park, perilla has always been a "doorway" to her own heritage, a steady companion that evokes memories of harvesting leaves for family dinners—for ssam, kimchi, or simple soy-seasoned banchan. "When I’m eating perilla," she reflects, "I’m thinking of all my ancestors."
Kristyn Leach, founder of Second Generation Seeds, a company dedicated to preserving culturally significant plant varieties, also plays a crucial role. Born in Korea but adopted and raised in the U.S., Leach initially felt disconnected from her birth culture. When she sought to reconnect through growing Korean foods, perilla was her unequivocal first choice, despite never having tasted it before. "It felt like the equivalent of flying a Korean flag," she states, emphasizing the plant’s powerful symbolic resonance. Fifteen years later, she cultivates six varieties, incorporating them into traditional meals and even modern applications like sandwiches and pizza. Leach describes her family as "pretty enthusiastic about the gospel of perilla."
One specific Korean variety Leach cultivates, "38N," holds particular significance. Its name references the 38th parallel, the latitude that divides North and South Korea, a line that coincidentally also passes through her Namu Farm in Sebastopol, California. This geographical detail underscores the plant’s inherent connection to themes of division, identity, and reunification. Leach further observes perilla’s ecological role, nourishing pollinators and attracting hundreds of birds to its nutritious seeds in the fall. This natural scattering of seeds, she notes, often reminds her of the Asian diaspora—a word itself rooted in Greek terms meaning "to scatter or sow seeds." For communities whose ancestral ties have been "strained or severed," perilla offers a unique solace: "There’s something somatically freeing about sitting in the presence of these plants."
Thao Tran, a farm organizer at Resilient Roots Farm in Camden, New Jersey, echoes these sentiments. Her farm cultivates lá tía tô, a bicolor Vietnamese perilla, for Truelove Seeds. Working with this plant, Tran is reminded of the Vietnamese elders served by Resilient Roots, many of whom were displaced as refugees and resettled in the U.S. She contemplates the comfort and familiarity perilla might have offered them in a foreign land. "I wonder if that supported them in the process of finding home and community here," Tran muses. "I would imagine that there was a sense of comfort when they were like, ‘This grows really well here,’ and they could see themselves in perilla in that way."
Perilla as Metaphor: Invasiveness, Migration, and Resilience
The narrative surrounding perilla is not without its complexities. In Pennsylvania and several other states, it is designated an invasive species, prone to aggressive growth that can overtake gardens and natural habitats. This ecological reality, however, offers a powerful metaphor for human experience. Thao Tran acknowledges the plant’s aggressive nature but views it through a different lens: "The plant evades capture or complete erasure because it is very difficult, once the seed bank is established, to actually get rid of it." This persistence, she suggests, is a mark of resilience, mirroring the tenacity of immigrant and refugee communities who establish new roots in challenging environments.
Takahashi’s museum exhibit directly addresses this tension, juxtaposing the ecological label of "invasive" with the human experience of immigration. By drawing parallels between how aggressive plants are described and how marginalized communities are often characterized, she forces a critical re-evaluation of language and perception. The plant’s long presence in the Pittsburgh region, as evidenced by herbarium samples dating back over a century at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History, prompts a profound question: "How much time needs to pass before it’s accepted that it lives here?" This query extends beyond botany, inviting reflection on the processes of naturalization, belonging, and acceptance for human populations.
The Season of Seeds: Ongoing Dialogue and Future Aspirations
As fall progresses, the perilla in the People’s Garden will enter its natural cycle, setting seeds that offer visitors a glimpse into its regenerative power. Takahashi views the seeds not just as the promise of future growth but as a food source in their own right, lending a toasty, nutty flavor to dishes ranging from rice to ice cream. Her work on perilla is far from complete; she sees this exhibition as merely the "first iteration," opening the door to further conversation and exploration.
Takahashi expresses a desire to continue her research, perhaps culminating in a book that delves deeper into the plant’s multifaceted narratives. "I have even more questions," she admits, highlighting the endless layers of knowledge and connection that perilla unveils. "I want to continue to work with the plant. There’s so much more to learn." Through "The Perilla People’s Garden," Ginger Brooks Takahashi has not only created a vibrant artistic statement but has also cultivated a living classroom, demonstrating how a simple plant can embody profound cultural truths, challenge historical amnesia, and foster crucial dialogues about identity, belonging, and resilience in a globalized world. The lingering fragrance of perilla in the air serves as a powerful reminder of the enduring threads that connect us all.
