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By Ben Seal
September 28, 2026
For artist Ginger Brooks Takahashi, the intensely aromatic perilla leaf, known in her mother’s native Japan as shiso, has always been more than just an ingredient; it is an ancestral tether, a fragrant link to heritage that transcends geographical distances and cultural separations. Throughout her transient childhood, moving between West Virginia, Oregon, and Italy, her mother’s consistent planting of perilla provided a constant, grounding presence, anchoring the family to their Japanese roots. This profound personal connection has blossomed into "The Perilla People’s Garden," a multifaceted art installation at the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, serving as a vibrant public forum to explore the complex interplay of cultural identity, migration, and the lingering shadows of colonization.
A Culinary and Cultural Cornerstone: The Ubiquitous Perilla
A distinguished member of the mint family (Lamiaceae), Perilla frutescens is a genus encompassing a diverse range of cultivars, each bearing distinct flavors and cultural significance across East and Southeast Asia. Its flavor profile is remarkably complex, balancing crisp citrus notes with bitter undertones and subtle hints of anise and cinnamon, making it indispensable in regional cuisines. Takahashi highlights its importance, likening it to basil’s role in Italian cooking—a flavor so integral it becomes inseparable from cultural identity.
While widely recognized as shiso in Japan and kkaennip in Korea, the plant’s versatility extends far beyond these familiar varieties. For instance, Vietnamese perillas, such as lá tía tô, are not only prized for their fresh, herbaceous qualities in noodle dishes and soups but also revered for their medicinal properties, traditionally used to alleviate inflammation, coughs, and support cardiovascular health. The plant’s adaptability and ease of cultivation have allowed it to naturalize in various climates, including parts of the United States, where it is increasingly found in Asian grocers, specialty farms, and home gardens, often growing vigorously to heights of six feet under optimal conditions.
Japanese varieties, often smaller and more delicate, tend to retain characteristics closer to wild perilla, which originated in China. Green shiso is a staple, frequently fried in tempura or served fresh with sushi, while a burgundy cultivar imparts its distinctive hue to pickled plums, umeboshi. Korean cultivars, by contrast, are typically larger and sturdier, their broad, heart-shaped leaves robust enough to wrap grilled meats in ssam, providing a bold, fresh counterpoint. This spectrum of forms and applications underscores perilla’s deep integration into the culinary and medicinal traditions of diverse Asian communities.
Ginger Brooks Takahashi’s Artistic Vision: Cultivating Dialogue
Takahashi, an artist based in Pittsburgh, developed "The Perilla People’s Garden" as part of the 59th Carnegie International, a prestigious quadrennial survey of contemporary art on view through January 3, 2027. Her installation, comprising an outdoor garden and an indoor exhibition, acts as a living archive and a dynamic space for reflection. For Takahashi, who grew up with limited direct connection to her extended Japanese family or a strong Japanese community, perilla became her primary cultural conduit. She conceptualized the herb as an "ancestral tether," a vital link for Japanese-Americans and others in the diaspora, "separated from their homelands." This realization broadened to encompass people from Korea, Vietnam, and other regions where perilla holds similar significance, recognizing that each culture has cultivated its unique varieties, each a testament to shared heritage and distinct adaptations.
The garden itself is a carefully curated botanical tapestry featuring over a dozen perilla varieties. Sourced from the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s gene bank and specialist seed keepers like Truelove Seeds and Second Generation Seeds (known for their focus on culturally significant varieties), these plants serve as "a visualization or a representation of the different people who associate with these plants," as Takahashi describes. The 11 garden beds, arranged in the symbolic shape of a leaf, invited visitors to wander through a fragrant, living maze, observing the striking differences between flat, broad-leaf varieties and curly cultivars resembling mustard greens, or the ornately serrated hojiso with its deep green topsides and purple bottoms, contrasted against the softer greens of Thai nga-mon, Nepalese silam, and Bhutanese zintshinam.
A Commemorative Gathering: Unearthing Colonial Histories
A pivotal event in the garden’s public engagement occurred on August 15, when Takahashi hosted an ice cream party, inviting the community to share fresh perilla leaves and perilla gelato sprinkled with perilla seeds. The date was deliberately chosen for its profound historical resonance: Gwangbokjeol, Korea’s National Liberation Day, commemorating its liberation from Japan’s colonial rule (1910-1945). This gathering was 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." By bringing together two cultures bound by a fraught history yet united by a deep affinity for perilla, the event fostered a space for acknowledgment, dialogue, and shared experience.
Beyond the perilla, the garden incorporated plantings of garden balsam, known as bongseonhwa in Korea. This flower became a powerful symbol of resistance during Japanese occupation, immortalized in a popular song as a metaphor for the springtime rebirth of the Korean people. At the ice cream party, Korean-American chef Sunni Park, who also tends heirloom perilla seeds from her mother, demonstrated the traditional practice of grinding bongseonhwa flowers into a henna-like paste to dye visitors’ fingernails orange, securing the paste with a perilla leaf wrap. This act not only connected participants to a tangible piece of Korean cultural heritage but also underscored the resilience embedded in these botanical symbols.
The Exhibition Indoors: Language, Memory, and Migration
Takahashi’s installation extends beyond the garden into the museum itself, deepening the thematic explorations. A small room features audio recordings of her interviews with perilla seed keepers, interwoven with her personal narrative of the plant. These recordings delve into her family’s history in Japanese-occupied Manchuria, where her grandfather’s work on a railroad was "part of Japan’s settler-colonial presence." This personal reflection bridges the micro-narrative of family history with the macro-narrative of imperial expansion and its human cost.
Further challenging conventional narratives, Takahashi presents a series of text works printed on handmade perilla paper. These pieces directly interrogate the language used to describe both invasive species and immigrants, drawing potent parallels. Phrases such as "Noxious Enemy Weed" juxtaposed with "Aggressive Transplant Worker" highlight how xenophobic rhetoric often mirrors ecological anxieties, framing both non-native plants and non-native people as threats requiring control or eradication. This critical examination of language encourages visitors to reconsider the inherent biases in how we classify and categorize both natural and human populations.
Adding a sensory dimension, a handmade vessel within the museum emanates the pungent fragrance of mature perilla leaves. Designed to carry the garden’s evolving scents through the seasons—from the rich humus and first leaves of spring to the toasty, nutty aroma of fall seeds—it offers a continuous olfactory connection to the living garden and its symbolic journey through time.
Voices from the Diaspora: Cultivating Connection and Resilience
The project’s depth is significantly enriched by the perspectives of those deeply intertwined with perilla cultivation and cultural preservation. Chef Sunni Park, who served as the garden’s caretaker while Takahashi completed her Master of Fine Arts degree in Chicago, articulated her appreciation for the nuanced differences among cultivars, noting how the subtle Japanese and bold Korean varieties reflect their respective culinary traditions. For Park, perilla has always been a "steady companion" and a "doorway" to exploring her own culture, evoking memories of harvesting leaves for family dinners and preparing traditional dishes like ssam, kimchi, and banchan. "When I’m eating perilla," she shares, "I’m thinking of all my ancestors."
Kristyn Leach, founder of Second Generation Seeds, a farm dedicated to preserving culturally significant plants, brings another poignant narrative. Born in Korea but adopted and raised in the U.S., Leach reconnected with her heritage through cultivating Korean foods. Perilla was her initial choice, even before she had tasted it. "It felt like the equivalent of flying a Korean flag," she states, underscoring its emblematic power. Fifteen years later, she grows six varieties, not only for traditional Korean dishes but also incorporating it into modern fare like sandwiches and pizza. Leach frequently uses the metaphor of the Asian diaspora, comparing the scattering of people to the scattering of perilla seeds by migratory birds. "None of us are where we’ve historically been," she observes, highlighting perilla’s power as a "somatically freeing" presence for communities whose ancestral tethers have been "strained or severed." One variety she cultivates, ’38N,’ is named after the latitude that divides North and South Korea, coincidentally also passing through her Namu Farm in Sebastopol, California, further cementing its symbolic resonance.
Thao Tran, a farm organizer at Resilient Roots Farm in Camden, New Jersey, speaks to perilla’s welcoming presence for Vietnamese elders displaced from their homes and resettled as refugees. At Resilient Roots, where Vietnamese elders garden alongside local youth, they cultivate varieties like lá tía tô for both community consumption and seed saving for Truelove Seeds. Tran ponders the comfort and sense of belonging these elders must have felt encountering such a familiar and useful plant in a foreign land. "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," she reflects. Tran also offers a compelling reinterpretation of perilla’s designation as an invasive species in some regions, including Pennsylvania. While acknowledging its aggressive growth, she reframes this trait as a mark of resilience. "The plant evades capture or complete erasure because it is very difficult, once the seed bank is established, to actually get rid of it," she explains, transforming a perceived negative into a powerful metaphor for enduring cultural identity.
Ecological Dimensions and Future Horizons
Beyond its cultural and culinary roles, perilla plays an important ecological function. When its fields flower in late summer, they become a vital buffet for pollinators, particularly bees. The plant’s seeds, rich in nutrients, also attract various bird species. However, it is also important to note its toxicity to grazing animals, a factor contributing to its "invasive" classification in some agricultural contexts.
Takahashi’s extensive research for "The Perilla People’s Garden" included visits to the Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s herbarium, where she discovered perilla samples from the Pittsburgh region dating back over a century. This historical presence challenges the simplistic label of "invasive," prompting the question, "How much time needs to pass before it’s accepted that it lives here?" This query underscores the fluidity of categories like "native" and "non-native" and their often-political implications, mirroring the complex questions surrounding human migration and belonging.
As fall progresses, the perilla in the People’s Garden will set seed, completing its natural cycle and offering visitors a glimpse into its regenerative power. Takahashi views the seeds not just as the promise of future gardens but as a food source in their own right, and a symbol of ongoing inquiry. This project, she emphasizes, is merely the first iteration of her work with perilla, an opening to further conversation and exploration. She envisions transforming her extensive research into a book, allowing for deeper dives into the plant’s myriad stories. "I have even more questions," Takahashi concludes. "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 cultivated not just a collection of plants, but a dynamic, living space for critical reflection on identity, history, and the enduring power of cultural connection.
