Danielle deo Owensby

Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here is an evolving art project that mirrors the ever-changing nature of grief. 

Initiated in 2017, the project began with a journey to Thailand to honor my late friend Pannapa "Parn" Sriwanna, capturing images that reflected my initial sorrow and the landscapes she once cherished. Over time, the project has transformed, incorporating constructed scenes inspired by our shared photos, exchanged gifts, and my travel journal. 

As the project progresses, it continues to adapt and grow, reflecting the dynamic and ongoing experience of grief. Through this evolving work, I aim to express the shifting contours of loss and memory, offering a deep and personal meditation on the enduring impact of mourning.

Parn was a one-of-a-kind person. I feel honored for having known her and privileged to call her one of my dearest friends.

ป่านน้อย

Pannapa “Parn” Sriwanna (ป่านน้อย) walked into 4th period drawing class late on the first day of 10th grade. She was short, wearing a pair of jeans and a pink shirt, and her smile was contagious. We became fast friends. 

Parn was an exchange student from Thailand, hated the color green (which we always laughed about because our high school colors were white and green), and loved Daniel Radcliffe. We would walk to and from school together everyday, and on the weekends we would watch anime, go shopping, or lie around reading. She helped me with my math homework and I’d help edit her essays. Both of us liked Pokemon, so much so that we performed the theme song together in Drama Club.

When Parn returned to Thailand in 2008, we promised to keep in touch. And we did; we wrote letters, talked on the phone, and had Skype calls. Parn wanted to be an ambassador, and she got into one of the best universities in Thailand to become one. She would tell me all about her university life, and when I graduated from high school she joked I should study in Thailand. I promised I would visit.

Parn was diagnosed with lung cancer in 2010. I remember reading her message in that little Facebook chatbox and just wanting to hug my friend, but distance was an insurmountable wedge between us.

Parn passed away September 1st, 2012. Her family and friends honored her life back in Thailand, while I took my grief and held it close, having few to share it with. There were letters I never sent her, gifts for a package I was meaning to mail, and missed phone calls I would have given anything to return.

Five years after her passing, I was finally able to visit her homeland. I knew I wanted to make art about her while I was there, but grief had other plans for me. 

I walked everywhere, taking my camera with me, mapping out with my feet the places Parn talked about in our letters. I also went places maybe Parn hadn't been, but now I will never know for sure. My camera was a constant companion for my loneliness, trying to take as many pictures as possible to fill the hole Parn had left.

I also reached out to her family, who welcomed me and showed me places Parn loved and shared stories and pictures from her childhood. I stayed in her old bedroom and prayed at her altar.

There was grief, but there was also healing.

You Were With Me

Parn was a fan of the Japanese cartoon character, Doraemon. When preparing for my trip to Thailand, I found instant film with Doraemon decorating the borders. Not sure what I would use it for, I brought it along.

On my journey, there were moments where I could feel Parn's absence acutely. In those moments I would reach for my instant camera and snap a photo of my shadow, pretending she was there with me, showing me around, framed by a cartoon character she loved.

Only Half of the Pokémon Lip Sync Duo

In 2007, Parn and I, both members of the afterschool drama club, decided to do a lip sync performance of the Pokémon theme song. We were huge fans.

We each had our own part, as well as duet moments.

On June 5, 2017, on what would have been Parn's 26th birthday, I re-enacted our lip sync from my rented apartment in Bangkok.

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