The online TCK art gallery is a collection of art which has been created by TCK’s on the theme of ‘Home and Rootlessness.’ This is a complicated topic for TCK’s and the goal of this gallery is to explore that through art. Click on the pictures below for information and a description of the pieces. Please leave a comment on the art asking questions or saying why the piece is intriguing. A massive thank you to all who contributed.
The three in the slide show were selected as ones that stand out by TCK expert and author Michèle Phoenix.
Amelia Gibson – This is a painting I did during my A levels after I had only recently lost my home, friends, and world, to find it replaced with isolation, loneliness, confusion, and grief. The only way I managed to battle and work my way through the hopelessness was to hold onto scripture: the painting is based over the familiar verse in Psalms, “Why so downcast Oh my Soul? Put your Hope in the LORD” on the left, and the hymn, “Be still my soul” on the right. The two girls are both from Niger, and represent both the place of contentment in belonging (the girl hugging the teddy) and the need to still pursue Jesus into the unknown despite everything (the girl holding up her hand).
Anonymous – At 39 years of age, I discovered that I did not belong. I had no nationality. I was stateless. I felt like a bird floating with no place to land. I was rootless and confused. Can they do this? I was part of the Lost Canadians͟ of Bill C-37. I thought I was Canadian but I wasn’t. I have a Kenyan birth certificate, but I wasn’t Kenyan either, or was I? This pencil/pen/charcoal piece is trying to show my sense of confusion as I navigated the system to then eventually become a Canadian. Kenyan/Canadian TCK
Amelia Gibson – This second painting is of my brother dressed up in Fulani tribesmen material and spear. I titled it, “hidden foreigner”; one of the most painful parts of coming to the UK. Surrounded by people who look like you, speak the same language, dress similarly, but at the same time are nothing like you. Different interests, experiences, view of reality. It can bring on so much loneliness and questioning of identity; during this place, you wonder where, if anywhere, you belong.
Andrew Knight and Chris Carter – My home and my parents where in Uganda but I attended boarding school in Kenya, my heart was torn between both countries. This picture depicts that struggle and how I have continued to struggle identify where home is. It doesn’t help that I was born in the United States, which only adds to the confusion. The question of where I am from has always scared me.
Michaela Joy Browning – God gave me poetry for the hardest seasons of life. This piece, written between two very difficult moves, captures both the healing and the dread of that season. The ripped-up roots were still fresh in my mind, and I was anticipating another pruning of those roots, this time away from family. God was so faithful through everything! Even though I often forget to hold on to that hope of a final, real home, God is teaching me through this rootless life, that Christ is worth it all.
Aneurin Howorth – I grew up in East Africa to British parents. I never felt homeless until I went to the UK for university and realised how different I was to everyone there I was. Each time I returned to east Africa I felt more and more distant from the place I grew up. Now I don’t feel at home anywhere. At best I can find small shadows that can be blown away by the wind, like a cloud. Being a TCK is great at times, but can also suck.
Vania tong – “Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
Vania Tong – “Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
“Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
Vania Tong – “Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
Vania Tong – “Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
Vania Tong – “Home” is curated – a crafted experience that requires many different ingredients. And the magic of “home” happens when those ingredients are mixed together. Through the years, music – accessible and tailorable – has become a staple that grants me access to languages, cultures, memories, consolation, or any combination of those (combination = magic!) to fill my void. I’m known as “the girl who travels a lot” and have been confined to titles based on music preferences, but most do not reach my depths to know that I am actually working very hard to curate an experience that helps me feel, well, at home.
Nathaniel Song – I wrote this essay for an assignment my sophomore year of high school in which we were supposed to tell a story over time. At the time, I was really struggling with my identity and how I fit into a world which often didn’t align with my upbringing. I had reached a point where I realized I would be graduating high school soon and losing all these friends I had. This realization hit me hard and brought back all the grief and loss I had from my TCK childhood, and it took control of my life. This essay was as much a self-cry for help as it was coming to terms with who I am. It took this essay for me to understand I have extra baggage from my experiences as a TCK; it allowed me to sift through all I was still carrying, and realize it was not inherently bad.
Nathaniel Song – I wrote this essay for an assignment my sophomore year of high school in which we were supposed to tell a story over time. At the time, I was really struggling with my identity and how I fit into a world which often didn’t align with my upbringing. I had reached a point where I realized I would be graduating high school soon and losing all these friends I had. This realization hit me hard and brought back all the grief and loss I had from my TCK childhood, and it took control of my life. This essay was as much a self-cry for help as it was coming to terms with who I am. It took this essay for me to understand I have extra baggage from my experiences as a TCK; it allowed me to sift through all I was still carrying, and realize it was not inherently bad.
Kari Brinck – Controlled Drifting refers to my inner experience as a child, although our family’s constant moves were well planned and I was “used to it”, my inner world was chaotic. I was scrambling to survive as a developing child, constantly loosing what I just had acquired, constantly readjusting and loosing parts of my Self in the process. I became an expert drifter, able to float along despite it all. As an adult it has given me great skills and advantages in coping with an unpredictable world.
Melodee Jackson – Early January on the Pearl Street Bridge is a panoramic view of Grand Rapids, a city nearby my new home in America. When I displayed her, people talked about how the city had changed and about plans for change in the future. The vase is a memory of that place on a specific day in early January of 2017, captured permanently in stoneware. After graduating, I have never been back to RVA, the boarding school in Kenya where I grew up. I know that the home I knew no longer exists as it was. But I have memories.
Dan Shaffer – All the roads were long in my Third Culture upbringing in East Africa. Far away to boarding school. Long journeys with family meant a long time to talk and think since we didn’t have car radios or iTunes. Scenery that mesmerized when the dust wasn’t choking me. Wild animals that amazed and entertained. The journey of life continues. Long roads still abound. Raised in Kenya and Tanzania 1950-1967 Rift Valley Academy Class of 1967 now living in Albuquerque, New Mexico, Third World, USA Photo: “Encino, New Mexico, USA”
Spencer King – Home is like a collage. It is built by all the different places, things and memories we have gathered throughout life. It isn’t always one place and it isn’t always one building. Up close it looks like disjointed memories but from far away it appears as something beautiful to behold.
Rebekah Frost Flint – These are three of my “Home Poems.” Having been born and raised in East Africa, I experienced a long and severe inward struggle with homesickness after moving to the US for college. Poetry became a natural outlet for my grief and longings to be home and put down roots. These three were written 8 and 9 years ago, and they are still very dear to me. (These can be three separate entries, or if you prefer to present them together, that is fine with me. They are not listed in any particular order, and if you’d rather just include one or two of them, that is also fine.)
Rebekah Frost Flint – These are three of my “Home Poems.” Having been born and raised in East Africa, I experienced a long and severe inward struggle with homesickness after moving to the US for college. Poetry became a natural outlet for my grief and longings to be home and put down roots. These three were written 8 and 9 years ago, and they are still very dear to me. (These can be three separate entries, or if you prefer to present them together, that is fine with me. They are not listed in any particular order, and if you’d rather just include one or two of them, that is also fine.)
Rebekah Frost Flint – These are three of my “Home Poems.” Having been born and raised in East Africa, I experienced a long and severe inward struggle with homesickness after moving to the US for college. Poetry became a natural outlet for my grief and longings to be home and put down roots. These three were written 8 and 9 years ago, and they are still very dear to me. (These can be three separate entries, or if you prefer to present them together, that is fine with me. They are not listed in any particular order, and if you’d rather just include one or two of them, that is also fine.)
Iona Mchaney – Growing up on the mission field was an immense blessing. However, every vocation has a price. I wrote this piece to demonstrate how I cope with lost homes. I know I have an Eternal Home but the absence of my home on earth is palpable each day. The words are separated in this layout to show disjunction. Throughout my day I glimpse my past home, but will never see a complete picture again. Each item in the photo is from a different country that has contributed to who I am today, each from a home left behind.
Iona Mchaney – Growing up on the mission field was an immense blessing. However, every vocation has a price. I wrote this piece to demonstrate how I cope with lost homes. I know I have an Eternal Home but the absence of my home on earth is palpable each day. The words are separated in this layout to show disjunction. Throughout my day I glimpse my past home, but will never see a complete picture again. Each item in the photo is from a different country that has contributed to who I am today, each from a home left behind.
Iona Mchaney – Growing up on the mission field was an immense blessing. However, every vocation has a price. I wrote this piece to demonstrate how I cope with lost homes. I know I have an Eternal Home but the absence of my home on earth is palpable each day. The words are separated in this layout to show disjunction. Throughout my day I glimpse my past home, but will never see a complete picture again. Each item in the photo is from a different country that has contributed to who I am today, each from a home left behind.
Iona Mchaney – Growing up on the mission field was an immense blessing. However, every vocation has a price. I wrote this piece to demonstrate how I cope with lost homes. I know I have an Eternal Home but the absence of my home on earth is palpable each day. The words are separated in this layout to show disjunction. Throughout my day I glimpse my past home, but will never see a complete picture again. Each item in the photo is from a different country that has contributed to who I am today, each from a home left behind.
Iona Mchaney – Growing up on the mission field was an immense blessing. However, every vocation has a price. I wrote this piece to demonstrate how I cope with lost homes. I know I have an Eternal Home but the absence of my home on earth is palpable each day. The words are separated in this layout to show disjunction. Throughout my day I glimpse my past home, but will never see a complete picture again. Each item in the photo is from a different country that has contributed to who I am today, each from a home left behind.
I recently made a return visit to one of my childhood homes, Myanmar; a country I’d not returned to in 27 years. read more…
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Priscilla Lee – When I think of home, I think of the closet in the corner I played hide and seek in with my sisters, the stir fry dinners I made with my friends, the piles of books stacked while cramming for tests with my roommates, the end of the term clean ups, and the stacks of boxes we packed to move. This is home. Memories, a bit of nostalgia that I carry of a time filled with constant change and people who are no longer there.
Jaree Bell – “Mzee (Old Man in Kiswahili)” This is a woodcut print I completed my sophomore year of university. I love this piece because of the texture the wood gives to the face and the softness of the eyes. Reminds me of so many wise mzees in my life, whether they be from Tanzania, Kenya, South Africa, or America that have shared their wisdom with me and challenged me in so many ways.
Jaree Bell – “Uzuri wa Kilimanjaro (The Beauty of Kilimanjaro)” This is an oil and acrylic painting on canvas intended to illustrate the majesty of the tallest mountain in all of Africa and the breathtaking sunsets that set in East Africa. This painting is just a tiny glimpse really, of the majestic Lord who created it with just a word. Where the sun should be there are waves to represent the Indian Ocean I have grown up visiting on vacations. And the acacia tree in the bottom right corner I could not have left out. I created this piece to show the life and different aspects of nature our God has given humanity to enjoy and in their beauty— reflect their Creator.
Jaree Bell – The piece I am entering is an acrylic painting on canvas I did for a self portrait assignment in one of my university classes. It is one of three that consisted of a three-part self portrait. The first being, “how others view me” the second, “how do I view myself” and third, “that part of me which never changes”. This painting is how I view myself— often homesick and longing for my life in East Africa; thus the Africa-shaped hole in my heart. I was born in Nairobi, Kenya and attended boarding school in Kenya, but grew up in Tanzania.
Sora Yi
Naushin Thomson – I think it’s really cool the kinds of patterns you can find in the human body and how these are mirrored in nature, so I wanted to incorporate a bit of that in this piece by merging the roots of a tree with the bronchial tree in the lungs. The tree represents my life in particular, and each little paper crane represents the places I have called home in my life so far: green for Bangladesh, yellow for Ghana, blue for Scotland.
I often ate Ethiopian food with friends in Kenya. And when I moved to the States, the one food that we ate during our Kenyan reunions was Ethiopian food. It’s not just the flavour that is amazing, but also the complexity of the food that brings back memories. Ethiopian food is a communal food. You share the same platter with your friends and eat with your hands. But I also realized that I had grown in the States and learnt new things. That is why there are hands coming into the painting. It was a piece where the viewer also became a part of my culture. And this speaks to the fact that as TCKs, we are constantly changing.
Thanks again to all the contributors. Feel free to get in touch with them by leaving a comment or via the blog. Please follow the blog as we plan on doing more of these in the future. Don’t forget to share this on social media. Art is a very powerful tool for helping with processing complex topics, such as ‘Home and Rootlessness.’
If you are a TCK that has art that fits this theme please send it to noggybloggy@gmail.com with a one hundred word description and I will put it up.
The stories of Noggy Boggy 
I love this collection. I will share it on TCK Tunnel’s new Facebook Page. If any of the participants would like to share more in the future, I’d love to help showcase their work on TCK Tunnel’s page.
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Thanks! WIll pass it on. I love the vision of your site 🙂
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