Everest Strayer-Wong can’t stop thinking about food. Whether it’s a steaming bowl of congee, a plate of curry and rice, or her grandma’s fresh strawberry pie, her mind is enraptured by the sights and smells—the excitement of it all. The 22-year-old born-and-bred New Yorker takes these visions of her favorite dishes and translates them into fantastical illustrations, reminiscent of the mouthwatering foods in every Studio Ghibli film. “Drawing has always been a part of how I think about myself and what I do… when you draw a food, there’s so many different textures. If it’s saucy it’s so shiny, if it’s a curry it’s shiny but not that shiny because it has so many bumps in there. When you’re drawing [food], you can do a lot more brush variations. I just like the textures. It’s really nice.”
She imagines which dim sum dish would pair perfectly with which Chinese Zodiac, and assigns her interpretations of cartoon-y Asian beverages to different astrological signs (if you’re a Sagittarius like me, you’ll be delighted to know that we are peach Calpicos). She takes traditional Asian soups and compresses them into illustrated cubes of noodles, tofu, and green onions. Her art is a harmonious marriage of color and texture, with themes of her mixed-race identity and intrigue with astrology sprinkled throughout.
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I chatted with Everest to discuss how her family’s food history shaped her relationships with different cuisines, why she feels her art is community-driven, and what new food adventures (and illustrations) await.
Honestly, what I think it really is, is that in my spare time when I would go into the city, or when I was traveling, I was always trying to go to the grocery store. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I was hungry or that I needed to get groceries, but I always wanted to go and look at the pretty packages. When I was a kid—and this is going to sound really gross—but I used to save candy wrappers that I thought were really cool. I would rinse them out in the sink and prop them up on toothpicks to dry by the window. I had boxes of these weird candy wrappers that I thought were funny; they’d have funny faces on them or just the packaging was really cool. I don’t know, I found it really compelling. I had this one bag of popcorn that I saved that I got in Hawaii. It was seaweed popcorn, it’s called Hurricane Popcorn—
Oh, I know what you’re talking about!
You do?! Yes! I love that bag. I was like, “Wow, this is so cool,” I don’t even know why. I mean it was definitely the color scheme that got to me. Packages are so nice to look at—seeing so many different kinds of variations of the same thing.
So it’s the packaging that got you into drawing food, not necessarily the food itself.
Yeah. And now I’m really into collecting—do you know Popeye Magazine?
Yeah, the Japanese magazine?
Yeah. The streetwear one. Cause I like the thought of it not just being food, but having style. It’s like high end food packaging, and it sounds so silly, but the photographs in there are so good. Like Bon Appetit too—there was a time they were doing more artistic layouts of their magazine and they would zoom in super close on the textures; also great page layout and weird photo angles.
Do you think growing up in New York affected your perception of food? Just because it is such a diverse place and a diverse city.
That’s a good question. Growing up, I think [I was mostly influenced by] my family and my dad—my dad went to French cooking school and has always home cooked all my meals, which is something I took for granted. I thought every family always had home cooked meals but as I grew up I learned that some of my friends ate a lot of store bought foods. But my dad was always into making his own vegetable broths and stuff like that. My dad has been a pretty big influence in how I cook and think about food because it’s something that we always shared and were into because we like eating. It is kind of how I feel my dad showed love; he would always surprise us with a special dessert of chocolate souffles or cook my favorite mapo tofu if I wasn’t feeling too good. And also my grandma; she used to own a pie business when my mom was younger so she’s always making these really delicious desserts. Every holiday, my grandma always made a number of different pies: pecan, strawberry rhubarb, pumpkin, lemon meringue, blueberry tart. I spent a lot of my childhood cutting out cookies and making pie crust with my grandma, and after dessert she would always tell me to take a slice for breakfast.
What about being mixed-race? Do you feel like that has translated into your art? And if so, in what ways? Cause there’s also a lot of Asian motifs in your work.
Yes, Kat! Big mood. I have so many thoughts on this. Being mixed race has definitely impacted my artwork heavily. In terms of what I felt I was able to draw, or what I have drawn, it’s been very connected to what [relationship] I’ve been feeling with my mixed race identity. It really indicated what I was drawing because earlier on, I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood and those people didn’t really see me as Chinese or Asian. I don’t know—you’d get invalidated all the time like, “Oh, you’re not really Asian” or “what do you mean?” I think that impacted how I drew because I would stop myself from drawing more Asian motifs because I thought if people don’t think I’m Chinese, and that’s not how they’re going to see me, and then see me drawing Asian things and I’m not Asian… I guess because I also knew, because my family is Chinese, we’d talk about how, “Oh, that person is white and they only draw Asian things, that makes me feel weird.” Well I don’t want to be that person—someone who looks white, but only draws Asian things, and makes people who I care about feel weird. That definitely affected whether or not I could draw those things.
But then I started working for CAPAS [the Center for Asian Pacific American Students at Pitzer College] and I did some graphic design and I made food cubes, a variety of Asian soup cubes.
Wow, so that’s where it started?
That’s where it started. I mean my family is Chinese, and I spend a lot of times with my cousins, so there’s that community. But it’s different than being accepted by an outside community, if you know what I mean. I guess I felt like I really had a place in CAPAS [even] when I didn’t feel comfortable in my own identity and [felt] invalidated a lot of the time about whether or not I could be Chinese, if that even makes sense. To be really accepted at CAPAS and feel apart of that community led to a really big acceptance of myself, where I came from, and what had meaning in my life. I was able to say, “No, [my identity] is valid,” regardless of what other people think. Essentially, you can draw whatever you want and it doesn’t necessarily have to indicate something about your identity.
I think it changed for me [also] to see how people responded to my stickers. There were people who said, “Oh my God, I’ve never seen pho as a sticker and this means so much because… it’s special.” I think that meant a lot to me because I was making something I wanted to draw but also making something that people felt happy about. I guess I was serving my community in that way, even though it’s only stickers. I was thinking a lot at that time, like why art? How is it going to help people? And I think that stopped me sometimes. But then people seemed to find something there that wasn’t elsewhere and I think that made me feel more able to pursue art.
So your art is community-driven.
Yes, it’s community-driven in that sense. That’s like part one of my identity and art story. And then there’s identity and art part two, where I think I’m still questioning my validity. Cause even then when I was drawing those food things that were for my community, and I was accepted by CAPAS, I still kind of felt like I was lying to someone? Which sounds weird—but I felt like I was an impostor and I didn’t belong and I was trying to force my way. It felt like I had to introduce my art and immediately defend myself to people who would see it and receive it.
But then a couple summers ago I went to China for the first time, met my extended relatives, and studied inkbrush in Beijing. So that was a very impactful time for me—and I know it was only a two month trip, and it shouldn’t seem that big a deal. But there’s all these pieces I guess in my life that seem to come from somewhere and I saw where it came from… It was weird but it kind of gave me a sense of peace and in that I felt that I don’t really have to defend myself anymore. These people know who I am. And I come from somewhere.
It’s in your blood.
It’s in my blood and not something I should feel like I have to prove to people. It’s not something that’s up for discussion. I am what I am and you can take it or leave it. I think finally coming to that point enabled me to feel like I don’t have to exclusively draw things for my community, I don’t have to defend my position within the community, I can draw what I want and that won’t define who I am. That’s the true blue story.
So this is pivoting a bit, but another motif that seems to be in your work is astrological signs or zodiacs. Do you inherently believe in zodiacs and astrology?
I feel like I’ve always been pretty into astrology and zodiac signs. I used to read the Sunday comics and I would always read the horoscopes after that. I remember when I was younger I found out that there was a possibility I wasn’t actually a Gemini, but I was maybe a Taurus—I was so shook. It ruined my life for maybe three hours and then I realized my birthday was before the year cutoff so it was fine, I’m really a Gemini. I think to say I completely and wholly believe it is too much for me, but I think it’s a great proxy, if you will, to discuss your relationships and who you are with other people. I used to look up my compatibility with my roommates and it would just be really on point about how we miscommunicated and why we miscommunicated. We’d read that and be like, “Oh, okay, that makes more sense. I guess I won’t do this and if you don’t do that…” Yeah. It makes sense and it worked. I mean, I guess I believe it. I’ve definitely utilized it to make sense of how I should think or understand how people interact differently with their world than I might, so I can get along better with people.
It’s not foolproof, but it works as a guide.
Yeah, yeah. It’s not like, “Oh, I can’t be friends with you, you’re a Cancer,” [ laughs]. It maybe tells me ways that I can’t step on your toes or get along better with you.
So how do you determine what food you draw with what signs?
I have like a whole spiel on each of the signs. They’re all unique. I went through a different process for each to decide which drink went with which sign but generally [I talk to] the people I know who resonate with that star sign—I usually ask my friends and take [their thoughts] into consideration.
The peach Calpico for Sagittarius was very on point. It definitely resonated with me.
Thank you! Honestly, I love it when people who are that sign are like, “Yes, I really feel that.” I sell out of all my zodiac sign stickers at conventions so I think people who are that sign definitely resonate with it… It’s funny. I kind of love it because people get really into it. It’s a great way that I can talk to whoever comes up to my table at a convention or something and very quickly get to know them and be able to engage with them in a way that’s not just like, “Oh, so you’re going to buy this sticker.” We get to talk about how accurate it feels for their sign and I feel like I get a sense of how they think about themselves or see themselves. It’s a great way to get to know people, I feel. It’s a great ice breaker.
What are you working on right now? Or aspiring towards?
I’ve already done the Chinese zodiac and Western zodiac, so I’m kind of out of zodiacs [ laughs]. I’m working right now on this one hundred different food cubes design project. People can tag me in a food adventure and I might draw that as a cube. I drew the soup cubes for CAPAS and I never touched it for so many years—I was like, “I never want to do cubes again.” But then I kind of kept drawing them anyway and I still really like them. I think it’s like my same attraction to packaging. It’s like tiny and all contained in a small space. There’s so many varieties within that tiny containment thing. For me, the thought of there being one hundred different ones is very appealing—like a grocery shelf of 100 different kinds of cookie boxes. So like… I really want to do this because I’m thinking of all the different textures that would look good in a cube form. Sometimes projects lead themselves in ways that even I don’t expect. Like maybe someone will tag me in some sort of food that’s really ridiculous and as a cube it’s just going to look really cool.
That reminds me of in Japan where there are people who grow the watermelon in cubed boxes.
Oh my God, when I first saw that I lost my shit. When I first saw the cubed watermelon, I don’t know where online, but I googled it and saved like a hundred photos of different cubed watermelons. I don’t even know what I was going to do with them, they just looked so cool. I think the idea of seeing something in the shape it’s not supposed to be in is just, ugh, so nice.
The last question I have is my favorite question to ask people all the time: what is your death row meal?
Oh, wow. That’s so tough… My uncle makes these curry puffs called “galigok”—I don’t know if that’s a real thing. And I’d have my dad’s basil and tomato shrimp with tofu gan and then for dessert I’d have my grandma’s homemade strawberry pie with homemade whipped cream. Big mood.
You should make a cube food of your death row meal.
Oh my God. I would cube that.
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Eva Pascoe, founder of Cyberia, poses at the cyber cafe in London. All photos courtesy of Eva Pascoe, Ali Knapp, and Roger Green.
