Home from school and you have one job…three cup rice, in the pot, rinse until cloudy turns clear, fill water to the first knuckle.

These lessons from growing up in Hawaiʻi are ingrained in who we are. Unintentional nuances that are so familiar, yet so unique to the memories of each individual. A commonality that seems to disperse more sparingly with each generation, making the interactions with each other all the more precious.

“First Knuckle” is an exhibit to experience kinship with those who seek a spirit of the past; mopping grandma’s cooking, cracking jokes with that drunk unko, scraping knees with friends — a culmination of shared thoughts and moments that enrich our understanding of how lucky we are to go home cook rice…and call this place our home.