One of the first things you notice about Theda Tann is her smile and joyful attitude. Her love for God, heart for justice, and excitement for life are contagious and refreshingly authentic. It’s easy to see her spirit translate into her art. She describes herself as “a doodler that’s dabbling in different creative mediums,” with each piece she shares exhibiting a delightful whimsy and depth of story.
I met Theda through our work with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship/USA. Whether joking about our shared lack of emotional awareness as Enneagram Sevens; discussing our ethnic journeys in relation to Biblical justice; or doodling on our iPads, our friendship has expanded my heart and deeply blessed me.
Theda is a wonderfully busy woman. She’s currently a campus minister with InterVarsity at Brown University, prepping for summer-time (hopefully less virtual!) bonding with her students. She is an active member of various youth and justice advocacy organizations in Providence, RI. She has a few commissioned art pieces to keep her creative mind occupied, including a “doodle of flowers” for her cousin’s blooming business. She’s even planning her wedding on top of everything else!
It was a real honor to discuss Theda’s artistic journey, her experience as a Cambodian-American artist, and how she hopes her artwork can create spaces for those needing rest and joy.
Where did your artistic journey begin?
I attribute a lot of my love for doodling or creating things to ninth grade geometry. I was terrible at geometry class. The one thing I had in that class was a journal that one of my best friends and I would pass to each other week to week. It was a journal, diary where we would either write something or doodle something; a “doodle notebook” is what we called it. And the act of passing back and forth that journal for my entire freshman year and drawing in it was really fun for me. I had to read the entry before but it was also a way for me to just do whatever. There were no right or wrong answers, like there were in geometry class. It was space for me to draw and come up with stories and doodle. From there I continued doing that, on napkins, random journals, and different things, and I was like ah, this is really dope.
At the same time, I was always told by friends, “You should write a children’s book or draw some cartoons.” As stubborn as I am, I was like, “No, I’m not going to do that, because you told me to.” Instead I got an iPad and I started working on some digital art and creating personal journals. I was kind of influenced by you in some ways: I saw you with your iPad and thought, “This is really cool, I wanna try this,” and so I did. I’m easily influenced by other artists around me.
In some ways, that dawned Toodaloo by Theda. That also was in collaboration with some nonprofits in the area in Providence, especially the Youth Collaborative. It’s a small nonprofit based in the South side [of Providence] that works with youth to create artwork and things that they can sell at different markets. I became somewhat of a resident artist there, so I got to make some shirts and work on some other vinyls and stickers. That was really cool learning about the process of shirtmaking, making buttons, stuff like that.
I want to create when it feels joyful to me, because a lot of the other things in life are sometimes hard. My art is the one way in which I can spend time for myself. It’s also become a spiritual discipline, being able to create and being able to love people by creating things. That has been really sweet. I think about it in my time with the Lord. I want to spend time with God where He is, where I can rest and just be. That’s the same way I approach creating.
What’s your creative practice looked like recently?
I feel relatively new to art in some ways because I haven’t really taken this doodling-drawing path as seriously as I’d hoped to in the past. But with Covid, I wanted space for myself and a lot of that came through making time to create. While I did do commissioned stuff on the side, the primary focus is to do art when it feels like fun and not like work. I like some commissioned work because it pulls me to do some different things I wouldn’t normally do and try new things.
Something that I’m hoping to do in the next few weeks is try out different mediums. I miss working with my hands, like in art classes when I was in high school or even younger. I used to have a lot of DIY parties with friends when we were able to see each other in person. We would try painting in watercolor or working with clay. I just want to do that again. I want to create and explore things that I’m not typically comfortable with in order to see what I like.
When I was younger, any extracurricular activity was not really talked about in my family. It was more like you do the homework, and that’s it. I wish I’d had more time to explore, so I’m revisiting, or introducing in some ways, a childlike posture into my creative spaces. I recently got a terrazzo kit. It’s pretty much working with Jasminite, like a concrete substance. You’re creating this water mixture with this powder mixture. You place a pigment in it and stir it all together and lay it on parchment. Then you crack it up and you have these little chips of various colors. Do the process again, put it in a mold and, boom, you have a coaster or a vase or a small trinket tray. What’s cool about it is that when you’re able to wet sand it, you’re able to see the chips come through. I was like, cool, this sounds great! So I got a small kit to try it out.
You are an adventurous soul with a beautifully multifaceted identity. Do you find certain elements of your identity come through most strongly in your artwork or through the creative spaces in which you choose to engage?
Recently, I was thinking of what it means to be Khmer and be an artist, especially with rise in anti-Asian hate in the US. My last two pieces [posted to Instagram] were a self portrait on that. They allowed me to cathartically express my emotions. One was based on a post that Kathy Khang wrote recently: When I’m mad what do I do? I sort of just wrote into that. I also drew something that brought me joy: ya hon, a Cambodian dish.
I think my Khmer identity is definitely sprinkled in my work, but more than anything I really see the ability to create space for me to rest.
It is a great blessing to have art as an avenue to be. There’s a lot of permission in that creative space to exist however you are in the moment and out of that produce art.
I think about that often, especially as I’ve been working with youth, and particularly youth of color. My hope is that in my ability to care for myself, I can teach that to them too. I think finding rest and joy is a way of being resilient in the midst of some really hard bad things that are happening around us. It’s the one space I feel like I can be myself.
I remember working at Central High School. Often with my students, if we had downtime, we would draw together. And I would say, “I’m not expecting your art to look like mine or your doodles to look like my doodles. It’s fine if it looks differently.” I’m still in the process of figuring out what my own art style looks like!
I don’t know a lot of other Khmer artists. I know a few, mostly dancers or poets, and there are a few I know but haven’t connected with. In some of my circles, I feel like the “first, only, different.” That’s a quote from Shonda Rhimes. In my work sphere, in other communities I’m a part of, I’m the first Khmer artist that I know of. The only. I feel very different in those spaces.
How do you relate to that difference? Do you find it exciting? Challenging?
There’s times where, looking back, I’m pretty proud of myself for being able to be present. When I do stumble across another Cambodian person who is a Christian or another artist who identifies as Southeast Asian, it’s really cool getting to talk to them. But most times, it’s fairly lonely. Like I’m forging a path that has never been cut down or paved before. That feels very tiring in some ways.
I haven’t thought of it much in my artwork per se, because it’s just a newer space for me. But right now I have noticed, as I tag things and post on Instagram, I’m trying to hashtag Khmer artists. I want to see if I can connect with folks through different social media platforms. I’m wanting to do more of that work of connecting with people outside of and maybe even in Rhode Island.
Luckily over the past few years I’ve been able to connect with a lot of other Southeast Asian Christians and Southeast Asian folks that are advocates for justice. But I haven’t met any Christian, justice-oriented Southeast Asians that are artists. That’s a very specific niche group and I’m waiting for it, that’d be so cool if I could stumble across them, but for now, I’m that person. It’s tiring at times but it’s also really rewarding getting to look back and see even just one person I’ve been able to connect to. That’s dope.
In this upcoming year, I want to make more space for art. That’s something that I want to prioritize, because for so long it’s just felt like a secondary hobby. Art brings me so much joy and I want to do more things that bring me a lot of joy. This is something that I see as important, so why not invest more in the things that I love? Whatever that means. I just like it, so I want to do it.
My hope is that by doing so, by creating more and making more space for others, that I would be able to find more connections and even forge communities for other younger Southeast Asian Christian justice-oriented creators.
Right now, you do a lot of connecting with people through social media, particularly your Instagram account Toodaloo by Theda. Where did this name come from?
There’s power in alliteration, one, just gonna be frank. I think the “Toodaloo” part is so quirky. If you think about what “Toodaloo” means, it’s kind of like “See ya later, bye!” It’s a weird way of saying it, and every time I hear it, it makes me happy. A big part of my work is I love color and I love playing with different media. Any time folks see my work — my hope is that it makes them smile in some way.
I really like the name. Sometimes it’s just like that. There’s not this big crazy meaning behind it, besides the fact that I just love alliterations and I thought that word was so funny. Even writing the “t”s out— the word has a lot of loops and that just makes me happy, just looping along.
When you announced your new logo, you said there had to be a teapot. Why?
Part of it is recognizing that when people meet me, they have no clue how to say my name. Unless they’re Khmer, there’s no way they can get it on the first try. So I was just like, “This is hilarious, I’ll just throw a tea — duh in there.” That’s how I introduce myself, so a teapot made sense.
On the other hand, the teapot hearkens back to my acts of service, hospitality, how I want to care for people. I remember my freshman year of college, I was part of a small group on campus. It was just me with a senior and a junior and that was my Bible study, that was it. But these two upperclassmen always had tea, always offered it. And our small group was never just an hour; it was always like two or three hours, where we’d just hang out. I remember the kettle being on, this huge assortment of tea, and feeling so welcome there.
One of my hopes is that in the future, as I get my own place and things get better, I’ll be able to invite people over to have tea. I think it’s a way of inviting people — there’s so much metaphor with tea. There’s the piece with seeping and being able to sit. That helps the tea grow stronger, and I think as someone who bounces around a lot, being able to seep in something for a bit feels very nice. In drinking tea, there’s an aspect of slowing down. The logo also has these floral things coming out of the teapot; it reminds me of steam but also just a beautiful piece of growth. It’s the beauty that comes from sipping tea with a friend.
Were there other designs you considered besides the teapot?
Another logo idea I had was a picture of a porch. I love walking around cities and neighborhoods and I always love pointing out porches. Porches are an important thing from my childhood. A porch serves as a space where people can rest and relax, but you’re still outside, you’re still outward facing. So you’re connected to this home, a homebase, but it also serves as a pit stop.
I remember reading this book series as a kid called Sammy Keyes. She’s like the cool Nancy Drew; she had a skateboard, lived with her grandma, and she solved mysteries in her town. Every so often in the book series, as she was about to solve something, either a personal problem or something in the mystery, she would go to Hudson’s porch. Hudson was an older wiser dude who would serve food and such. These visits were a moment in the book where she would pause and have an epiphany or be able to rest and talk through her problems. Then she’d just scoot on out, off the porch, back into the world. So I love this image of a pit stop; sometimes I just need to rest for a bit. I have a lot of energy but sometimes I feel stuck. I think about that in my relationship with God too. I love creating space for folks to just receive and then continue with the fight. Whatever they need to do, solve their own mystery, right?
If I could choose any space to do art in, it would be a porch. Cars would be whizzing by, people would be walking, it’d be the fall, and I’d be there with some tea, just chilling in the afternoon sunlight.
In recent posts, you’ve talked about how creating with your hands in a time of grieving, in a heavy time, allows you to experience joy and express the words you can’t find. Could you say more about how your art has served you as you’ve grieved or been exhausted, particularly in light of the rise of hate crimes against the Asian-American & Pacific Islander (AAPI) community in the US?
This last year, it’s been really hard just being in my body, in some ways. With Covid, being virtual all the time, I’ve felt so discombobulated as well. Being able to work with my hands allows me to just be in my body. There’s obviously some artwork I’ve created that I haven’t posted because it’s just been for myself. Some of these pieces have been really cheerful. Others haven’t been.
Because I’m a feelings-suppressed Seven, it’s freeing to make art because I don’t have to come up with a solution to the problem. But I can do something; by busying my hand, it frees my mind too and allows me just to feel. One of my spiritual disciplines in the past was to go to the movies and watch something. There was something about being in a different story or seeing someone else go through something painful that allowed me to cry with them. Art kind of is that same thing for me. It’s a way for me to just feel what’s in my body and really mourn and grieve, which I in general suck at doing otherwise.
From the few pieces you do choose to share, is there a certain message you hope people receive?
When I post these personal pieces, my hope is that I can serve as someone who helps others that may have a hard time finding their own words. At least for my AAPI community, for my Southeast Asian community, I want to create a way for them to be seen and maybe to sit with their… whatever they have going on. I know that for my Southeast Asian community, they have their own inter-generational trauma that comes from their parents and grandparents. From living here [in the US] or just being a brown-skinned Asian in Providence. My hope is that in those small pockets of communities that I have influence in, they’re able to see my work and it gives them a chance to check in with themselves. When I posted those last two pieces, I did have some friends saying, “Ah I needed to hear this,” or “I really appreciate you writing this.”
Right now, the US is celebrating Asian Pacific American Heritage Month. Is there anything in particular you’d like to say to your AAPI community?
For my AAPI community, my big thing is find time to rest. Find time to experience joy. It’s so hard to do both of those things during this time or even have permission to do those things. But whatever that looks like — art has been my avenue — take it if that’s helpful.
Another thing is to learn your history. There’s so much of the AAPI history here in the US that’s so rich and so untold. Locally, learn about our family, learn about the work of Asian and Asian-American folks doing great things in our cities and our towns. Get plugged into grassroots organizations doing work in the area. Learn about and volunteer and seek help from some local and Southeast Asian nonprofits. Some of the ones in Providence I work closely with are ARISE and DARE. I’m also currently the interim board chair for PrYSM. There are lots of options if you look.
(See more information about each of these organizations below!)
Are there ways those of us outside of the AAPI community can care for folks like you within?
For non-AAPI communities, just check in on your Asian and Asian-American friends. Send them a Venmo for $15. Honestly, that goes such a long way, because sometimes I don’t even know what I need in the moment, but food is always welcomed. $15 for coffee or whatever is always welcome in my books!
In the same way, learn about the history of Asian and Asian-American people in the States. Support those nonprofits, give monetarily, volunteer, partner with those folks. These are all good things.
Any closing thoughts you want to share with us?
I believe that everyone’s an artist. Sometimes it just takes some patience and some really good instruction, but it’s so freeing. I don’t think there’s an age limit or a skill limit to doing this. Try something new and be okay with it not being perfect. Sometimes those are the best looking pieces, where it doesn’t look “right” – that’s something that’s been freeing for me.
I do this because I find joy in it and it is my own. I would love for other people who are oriented to things having to be perfect or who may need some more joy in their life, to maybe pick up a medium or just a small thing. Just start somewhere. It’s really fun!
I want to thank Theda for sharing her time, story, and heart with me in this chat. Her words were a beautiful reminder of art’s goodness and complexity. Sometimes we create to share deep thoughts, grieve loss, or express anger. Other times, we just want to make something because it makes us (and hopefully others) happy!
Follow and support Theda’s artistic journey…
- Follow along on Instagram @ToodaloobyTheda
- See her work and those she serves on The Youth Collaborative’s Instagram @theyouthcollaborative and Etsy shop
- Support her ministry with students at Brown University by donating through InterVarsity
…& find out more about the Providence-based organizations Theda mentioned
- Youth Collaborative website
- ARISE (Alliance of Rhode Island Southeast Asians for Education)
- DARE (Direct Action for Rights and Equality)
- PrYSM (Providence Youth Student Movement)
Remember, even as the world finds new rhythms of chaos, you have permission to jealously guard the nourishing and uplifting spaces of rest, for your sake and for those around you!
Tune in next month for another Chat with a Creative! Follow the blog or subscribe to Katie’s newsletter to receive an update as soon as it’s posted.
