By Dominic Wiharso
Illustration by Kathleen Halley Segal
We slipped into Watson Hall undetected by her in-progress senior thesis class. Faith Cheung, CC ’25, should have been with the rest of her classmates, but that day she had skipped a group critique with Professor Jon Kessler in favor of a dollar oyster happy hour at Elis Wine Bar. The only reason we decided to stop by at all before her amuse-bouche was because I insisted on seeing her studio space. We maneuvered the fluorescent, labyrinthine building for a while, until a descent down a flight of industrial stairs led us to our destination. Her studio was bare. There was nothing on the white walls; the only sign of life was a metal pot filled with dead leaves and a wilted dracaena house plant.
You wouldn’t know Faith was a prolific multi-media artist from the looks of her studio alone. But her apartment tells a different story: Decorated with her large-scale wooden sculptures, her bedroom is adorned with her drawings, prints, and photographs. A sign on her bedroom door reads “Sculpture II Installation - DO NOT ENTER.” The space, sparsely lit with warm lighting, felt more like her real studio. It was frenetically organized with contact sheets and in-progress collages strewn about her desk. Her newest body of work, however, was noticeably absent. “I'm happy it got thrown out,” she remarked. “It would hurt a lot to see that every day.”
Faith was referring to a monumental yet haunting life-sized shelf construction made of wood and draped with plaster-soaked burlap that looked like white gauze. Composed of four tiers, the structure was simultaneously solid and brittle. The shelves were ornamented with the symbolic residue of a transient relationship: plaster molds of her hands and dried rose petals. She laments how, this past spring, she was in a directionless relationship that she describes as a “purgatorial space that you just start to leave pieces of yourself around.” For Faith, the sculpture was a home to hold attributes of him that she couldn’t part with, like a memorial to harbor all of the detritus of a complicated relationship.
Making art was never the plan. “For the first 18 years of my life, I was more or less passively denied exploring any passions of my own,” the computer science major claimed. Faith’s first foray into art was with the oboe which, like many East Asian children, was forced upon her by her parents. Despite being obliged to pick it up, she found herself deeply moved by the beautiful solos she performed. Being part of an orchestral whole and contributing to the swell of music affirmed her affect-driven interest in art making. Classical music, however, was never her true passion. It wasn’t until she moved to New York that she found dance music—her true love.
The kaleidoscope of grungy clubs, neon lighting, and bass-driven dance music swept Faith into the nightlife scene in Brooklyn. There was a physicality to these spaces—where sonic movements were transformed into corporeal motions—that captivated her classically trained sensibilities. She recalls how the “social aspect of a bunch of people working towards something greater” made her come alive. I pressed her, wondering why she had to leave Morningside Heights to find these cheap thrills, and she joked how it had a “Lewis and Clark ass vibe.” As she rushed after the promised dazzling gold nuggets of perfect DJ sets and attractive young creatives, Brooklyn was the Western Frontier, her personal Manifest Destiny.
The exclusivity of these nightclub clubs, however, has troubled her. Since being elected as Bacchanal co-president for the 2024-2025 academic year, Faith has confronted the inherent power dynamics of music spaces. Music is beholden to clique-based, aestheticized scenes, where self-image determines one’s admittance to clubs, rather than genuine interest. I wondered what her ethos was in choosing artists for the Spring Concert. Do you choose blockbuster acts, or do you opt for a more eclectic lineup? How can you get both frat bros and indie snobs on board? Faith promised herself that she is going to put all of her wants aside because, at the end of the day, nobody cares who she wants to see. “If I really want to see them, I’ll buy a concert ticket.”
This year coincides with Bacchanal’s twenty-fifth anniversary, and the pressure is mounting for them to host the crème de la crème of spring flings. Unlike the traditional model of two openers and a headliner, the Bacchanal e-board is considering a longer line-up to incorporate a diversity of genres. Bacchanal is allotted five hours annually to put on an orgiastic spectacle of day drinking-induced bacchanalia, but unlike her predecessors, Faith wants to fill all five hours with non-stop musical acts. It seemed like an all too ambitious plan for an event with a tight budget. However, Faith assuaged my fears, noting that the money depends on the whims of an overly bureaucratic CCSC, and that this year we were in luck because she and Mariam Jallow, the CC ’25 class president, are “good friends.”
Faith began as a part of the press team for Bacchanal her sophomore year where she was introduced to Dennis Franklin, CC ’23, then Bacchanal concert chair. Bacchanal hosted music events throughout that year, including a rager at ADP which Faith transformed into a promotional video for the organization’s social media. Her work caught Dennis’ eye, and from there, they started going out together in the Wild, Wild West of Brooklyn raves. This friendship blossomed into a creative partnership which has now materialized into Level III: a sonically focused, multimedia collective. A recent profile by Office magazine, details its humble Columbia-apartment party origins and the evolution into a club-party-throwing, radio-show-hosting, editorial apparatus. Still, producing imagery for the democratically oriented group, Faith has remained true to her Bacchanal roots
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Level III’s mission has stayed consistent since its inception, and it aligns with Faith’s own belief in removing the barrier to entry for music spaces to democratize the party. “I respect Dennis so, so much. Like, he's genuinely one of my role models, and the way that he does it, I think is a really great example of that.” Faith sees Dennis as the mastermind behind the scenes, with a harmonious mix of DJ and venue selections that synchronize to create the most memorable nights. It is a place of no inhibitions, no hierarchies, and no self-consciousness that unites disparate groups across the city. As the collective becomes more mainstream, Faith is working on designing its Apple Music graphics so that the aesthetics can go “hand in hand with the music.”
Given Faith’s impressive artistic resume, it may come as a surprise that creativity hasn’t always come easy to her. Faith and I first bonded in Sculpture I where we first got our footing with wood-working, metal-working, and plaster. The progression in her art practice has been so apparent to me, and I wondered if these changes were part of her technical maturity or if her work has taken on new, ideological dimensions. Faith concurred, adding that “I think before in Sculpture I, it was definitely a vibe where you're kind of like, okay, I'm using a woodcutter for the first time.” But now, the metaphysical wall between her objects and her ideas has fully come down. What was once straightforward material handling and investigation has now become a full expression of her creativity without any medium-related constraints.
Faith is now developing a new body of work in her senior thesis, incorporating ideas from her site-specific sculptural explorations. Her sights are set on an amalgamation of moving images, soundscapes, projections, and sculptural interventions that allow her to flesh out the embodied quality of installation work. These concepts were born from a Sculpture II installation she created to mimic closed-off religious spaces, which she dubbed “cathedrals.” Set in a Prentis bathroom stall, she wanted to elicit contemplative moments of shame, where one has to sit with one's thoughts, allowing the artwork to assume the role of a confessional booth mediator. In an attempt to transcend the classical composition of painting, she has found her voice in sculpture
By the end of the semester, when the public is finally invited to witness the new artwork made by the seniors in the visual arts department, Faith’s studio will be full of new work. Perhaps the potted dracaena will be incorporated into a new installation; or maybe the space will be entirely unrecognizable, the walls covered up with photographs and projections. No matter the end product, I am sure that those who want to brush shoulders with New York City’s burgeoning creative class should make the pilgrimage to see where Faith is taking her work. And if you’re lucky, as I was, she will offer a cup of hot green tea.
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