Introducing: 함께 hamkke
An artist collective for artists of the Asian diaspora.
I will be starting an asian diaspora artist collective called 함께 hamkke.
함께 hamkke means together, collectively, as one.
For the first month of the Gregorian year, we will gather on the internet from all corners of the world to connect and share one piece of art we’ve been working on this month, of any medium, finished or in progress.
Bring your writing, bring your music, bring your poetry, bring your movement. Whatever you’re working on, bring it to the gathering so we can behold your art, find inspiration from one another, and encourage each other as we endure through creativity.
Our first gathering of the year will be:
If you are not a member of the Asian diaspora, support the collective! Become a Patreon Member today, or give a one-time donation to the collective, as a Supporter or an Investor. Your financial contribution will directly fund the sustainability and longevity of 함께 hamkke.
Thank you to all our Patreon and Substack Subscribers who continue to make this work possible. You all are the real ones. ♡
the story of 함께 hamkke
Over the last two years—after I lost 아빠, became pregnant, went through an identity awakening, gave birth, and became a mother—my life felt like it had exploded into space and I had no idea how to find my way back to writing, music, art, my dreams, or myself. So at the beginning of 2025, I started an artist collective called Asian American Art Club.
My original intention was to meet virtually with Asian diaspora artists once a month, dedicating an hour to making art together. But after my first gathering with my then-acquaintance-now-friend, scientist and playwright, David Quang Pham, where we just had an organic conversation over Google Meet while I was at home with Haejoon and he was on the train from Newark Airport, I decided to make our gatherings weekly and in person.
Out of 52 weeks of the year, I held 31 gatherings. David was at most of them.
For almost every week of 2025, David and I would meet at a coffee shop in Brooklyn and talk about art. We talked about what we were working on, what was inspiring us, what we were thinking about, and what we were struggling with that week. We read essays and scripts, went over fellowship applications, unpacked creative project ideas, and shared meals together. At the end of every meeting, I would take a picture of us to archive the moment. Outside of our weekly gatherings, we met up at art events and attended each other’s performances. The artist collective was a blend of support group, accountability partner, art exchange, and friendship.
Through the artist collective, I learned one, very important lesson:
Artists need community.
As a scientist and a playwright, the way David saw the world and approached his creative practice was so different from mine. They had their understanding of the world, through their specific lenses, from their specific perspective—as a diasporic Vietnamese queer artist, son of Vietnamese refugees, from Michigan. And I had my understanding, my lenses, and my perspective—as a diasporic Korean immigrant artist, daughter of post-Korean War parents, from Korea and Virginia. Every week, we would come to the table with all of these things and explore, chipping away at the marble of life. If we were looking at a giant mountain, David was looking at the mountain from one angle, and I was looking at it from another. By connecting each week, we could gain a more complete understanding of the world, our lives, and our experiences as artists of the Asian diaspora.
I attribute so much of my ability to find my way back to art to the artist collective. Our weekly gatherings became my accountability partner, my support group, my weekly inspiration, and my motivation to keep going. Our weekly gatherings were like gas in my creativity tank.
The artist collective gave me the courage to explore. Last year, I recorded my first audition tape for a film, I submitted my writing to my first publication and got accepted, I had my writing exhibited in an art gallery, I went back to Korea with my family for the first time in six years, I found the courage to move out of New York, and I finally decided to move back to Korea.
The artist collective brought me back to the stage. I read my writing on stage for the first time, Greg and I performed on stage for the first time since 아빠 died, and we attended and performed at open mics—something we hadn’t done since Greg and I first started making music together in 2015.
The artist collective sparked new creative ideas. It gave me the idea to go on weekly “field trips.” Every week, I would find an art event to go to, and from those field trips, I gathered understanding, questions, and wonder, I connected with other artists, and all of these things gave color to my life and fueled my creativity. I witnessed plays, I attended town halls, I went to open mics, I took dance classes, I attended artist talks, I attended gallery receptions, I visited glass-blowing studios. Field trips were a way to bring back childlike exploration to my life and my work.
The artist collective gave me the courage to keep going.
Through our weekly gatherings, I began to understand that artists make art together. As an extrovert, I especially need to talk my thoughts, feelings, experiences, and ideas out with people to better understand them and bring them back to my practice. I also need to hear the thoughts and ideas of others to inform and shape my practice. We don’t make art in a vacuum, and the things we create are a reflection of the art we absorb, the way we choose to live our lives, the environments we’re living in, the circumstances we find ourselves in, and the people we surround ourselves with.
Through our weekly gatherings, I began to understand that conversation is art. In a conversation, two or more people come together, and based on the thoughts, perspectives, experiences, and emotions that each individual brings to the table that day, a singular conversation is born.
What I want to do:
I want to build a community of artists
I want to connect with other artists of the Asian diaspora
I want to create a safe space where we can share our art with other artists
I want to draw inspiration from other artists and the work they’re doing
I want to create a loose structure for each gathering
I want to keep these gatherings consistent and sustainable for me
What I don’t want to do:
I don’t want to lead weekly gatherings
I don’t want to get burnt out from leading these gatherings
함께 hamkke is the next phase of Asian American Art Club. With my big move away from New York and my even bigger move across the world to Korea, I want to carry my artist community with me, amidst all of the changes in my life.
So that’s 함께 hamkke! I would be so grateful if you could join me in spreading the word. Click the button below and share this letter with your friends.
With love,
Jieun