Nak Bou (b. 1984, Dallas, Texas) is a mark-maker based in Renton, WA. For him, mark-making is an intuitive and additive process whereby he creates but also responds to the lines of his images until they are complete. One might think that mark-making is purely an aesthetic response, devoid of narrative content. Yet, that’s not the case. In his latest exhibition, Water Shop now on view at 4Culture in Pioneer Square, Seattle, this sensitive and bold show features images from Bou’s youth, conjured through mark-making.
Somatic memory is a term often used to describe the way the body remembers traumatic experiences. However, what does one call the emotional sediment of mundane past experiences that quietly accumulate and weigh on our day-to-day selves? Through mark-making, Bou transforms the ordinary fragments of his younger years into visual echoes that speak to memory, place, and longing. In this interview, the artist elaborates on the freedom of mark-making and the nostalgia embedded in his practice.
DK: How has Water Shop been as an introduction to the arts community, but the Khmer community as well?
NB: Prior to Water Shop, I introduced myself to Sokha Dahn [owner of Mam’s Books] and met up with Karuna Long, [chef and owner of Sophon] to learn more about what they do. That was my first intro to Seattle’s Khmer community. I learned about their family and history here. I’m still learning about the community. It’s not as big as other communities in California but I’m learning more about the history of Khmer folks here, especially White Center.
Working with 4Culture, I realized how massive their work has been for the arts. I also checked out Anida Yoeu Ali, an artist from Tacoma. I got to meet folks through this show, and Pioneer Square Art Walk. It’s a great thing for the community.
DK: Experientially, could you describe what mark-making brings to your work?
NB: Mark-making, through drawing as a kid, was my main introduction to art. There is something about drawing a line; It’s not just writing your name. It’s the feeling through surface which is why paper and pen are my first choice before digital. I react to it. In a way like responding to something in your hands, like clay, or making food. That tactile feel of surface and pen. I base my thoughts on what I am doing with the pen and then that reaction creates an intuition that takes over. I get stuck in that joy in building something from scratch. From there, there’s a recognition of what comes next; building an element that leads to the next. I am moving along until I reach the end of the sheet.
My mark-making practice started in my sketch book and goes back to my formative years at community college. I worked with a teacher who taught me that reactive [approach] and then finding the subject matter. Mark-making is archaic and reaches back to building something with our own hands that inspires you to keep making. I pull from that thought, not from logic, or a pre-determined goal. Just reacting to my human instinct. That movement becomes a cycle with my hand, my brain, and my thoughts: an automatic flow.
In this work, I used some references, like for the portrait of my father. However, I find the work to be much more exciting and much more interesting to look at when it isn’t planned. I stop when the picture doesn’t need anymore. I get more of a flow state when I am in that place without boundaries.
DK: Thematically, Water Shop seems to arise from a reflection on place and memory. Could you expand on how place and memory feature in your artwork?
NB: With Water Shop, this title was loose enough for me play in. Anything could be in the water shop. I knew I would be able to pull images from nostalgia: my father, memories of him, and graphic design from old DVDs and VHS covers. I love the old vintage media [that were also sold in the shop]. The layout of the photos and singers. Also, around the store there were California lottery posters. I don’t discriminate against anything. High or low art, I am inspired by all of it to paint and draw. People at the shop, a jar of water, or people eating on their break, mundane visuals.
When I am mark-making there’s also a longing. Perhaps for the moments I had with my dad. At community college a teacher noticed there was a longing aspect to my work that I didn’t know then. Now I see I am moved by things that are fleeting. It could be from the nature of growing up with a parent who was much older. In high school my dad was in his 60s, so I knew there wasn’t much time left with him. That feeling of longing was in my work before I knew how to describe it. My dad was an artist too, he played the tro, a traditional Khmer bowed string instrument. He came across as the quiet tough guy, but he was a sensitive soul. I got my artistic side from him.
DK: What does it mean to you to create artwork that at once represents but also recreates Cambodian American narratives?
NB: The best way I can put it is, Ben Shahn, the author of The Shape of Content, talked about the importance of the private experience. Work that is authentic to you. To go into a narrower experience, not just your identity but you as a person, what moves you to an emotional state. He describes how important it is for an artist to go to that space and create there and then zoom out. Going to that private space makes you very universal. That’s the best way I can describe the Khmer identity of telling a Khmer story for the public.
These are images that move me. They are created from a meditative state of making something from my hands. I don’t really know much about where it is coming from or how it’s going to impact people, but I was moved to make these image. Whether it connects with a Khmer person or another person, that’s beyond me. This work is about me being moved by mark-making. But on another level, my nieces and nephews, mostly under age 12, look up to me, especially after attending an art show I had in Sacramento. Representing my heritage through the arts is a way to share stories and experiences to the community, especially to the youth.
DK: The resonance of this exhibition as a symbol of the presence, survival, and blossoming of Cambodian Americans in the broader American experience stood out to me. In addition to this view, how do you want this body of work to resonate with people not connected to the Cambodian American experience?
NB: I talk about this with my brother who is also an artist. I know some people might not understand the meaning behind the art, but it comes down to the instinctual level. Hopefully they’re moved by the work. [Something that] comes from the core, like music, color, shape, the human face… the [symbols] that I am using might not be fully legible, but the idea of making a mark is universal… Then maybe it can be an opportunity to discover more about [the stories] in the work. But my job is to be moved by the mark on the surface… Perhaps [the work] can be an opportunity to learn more or to be curious. That’s the best way that different audiences can approach the work. The usage of line, color, and negative space are universal. But the stories behind it, [this is an invitation] to take initiative to find out more.
Water Shop is on view at 4Culture May 1 – 29, 2025. This interview has been edited lightly for brevity.
