Seeking Connection to Origin and Baring it All with Carina Ho
Electronic Artist, Music Producer, & Professional Dancer
The art of storytelling bears a few responsibilities. Between getting out of the way to let a tale speak for itself, weaving together the perspectives of real-life characters, and choosing where to simplify and expand, it can be the most joyous yet frustratingly non-linear process.
In the past couple years, I have been invited to people’s homes, studios, places of business, and inspiring third places - from community center gymnasiums to backstages and comforting corner bakeries - to discuss the most personal and pivotal moments in their lives.
These spaces are special for one reason or another - whether physically sacred, emotionally transformative, or otherwise significant to a guest’s creative journey. When I am in them, I am keenly aware of my presence.
“Leave no trace,” my inner naturalist whispers, reminding me that I am first and foremost an observer - a visitor in someone else’s world.
This is why it can be slightly confusing (yet magical) when one of these journalistic encounters unintentionally morphs into a more profound connection - blurring the lines of interviewer and interviewee through the collaborative act of exchanging life narratives.
So, as I present to you this story about a magnetic and unapologetic artist who does not shy away from real life’s darkness and sorrow in her work, I also introduce her as a friend - one who has welcomed me into her home on multiple occasions, given me the ultimate gift of sharing a slice of her life story onto these pages, and trusted me to layer her storytelling with my own.
Please meet Carina Ho, a.k.a. ONIKHO.
The Birth of ONIKHO
I met Carina Ho - an indie electronic artist, music producer, and professional dancer - at the Freight & Salvage Coffeehouse in 2021. We shared a stage (Carina singing her first single “Brave One” and me accompanying on the violin as a member of the Awesöme Orchestra Collective). Two large magenta lights, suspended above the stage, reflected on the side profile of her face as she held a microphone in both hands. Against the backdrop of cascading orchestra layering, she begun:
Be the brave one
Is what they say to me
But I want some
sweet sympathy
Who will make the cure?
No one knows
Just swallow it down
And keep the flow
One of these days
They’ll speak my name
One of these days
I won’t be the same
Like watching a stunning aura emerging from beneath rubble, her delivery of the song sent shivers down my spine - powerful yet tender.
In the ONIKHO blog, Carina describes it as the first song that she felt “really expressed the anguish that [she] was experiencing in the early days of [her] injury,” referring to the car accident in 2014 that took her mom’s life and left her paralyzed from the chest down.
While I did not know this backstory at the time, her performance resonated in my bones.
Let the world fall down on me
Let the world
Let the world
Let the world
Fall down
On
Me
“‘Brave One’ is a sober and dramatic tune,” Carina describes. “But more than anything, I hope people can connect with the sense of honesty I tried to convey…Whether someone experiences a tragic accident or simply goes through a hard patch in life, we all feel kicked down at some point.” (Personally, I have reached for this song many times during moments of loss.)
Producing music under the pseudonym ONIKHO, Carina’s music is a chemical concoction of momentous sounds - a dynamic blend of colors, textures, rhythms, and strong emotion. When she was 15, Carina discovered the CDs of Jimi Hendrix, Dave Brubeck, and Bill Evans at the New York Public Library and was mesmerized by the sounds of jazz, energized by the eccentricities of their scales, and exhilarated by the boundless possibilities of musical improvisation.
Today, ONIKHO’s music is haunting, ethereal, unpredictable, melancholic, and yes - even, silly.
“I want to be real about my experiences even though I will always feel the pressures of my own insecurity and others’ judgement and critique,” Carina shares. “The truth is that the unlucky hands I have been dealt will always feel a little painful, even though I know I am fortunate in many ways. A lot of my sounds tend to be on the sadder side because it is a way for me to channel the heavy things that I am feeling.”
Overwhelmingly, society tends to turn a blind eye on anything that does not fit a conventional standard of beauty or expectation - deeming whole communities and issues as unsightly and unworthy of time or resources. But, in revolutionary ways, art is often the mechanism to shine light on these parts of our human experiences that media and entrenched systems continue to erase. So, like many artists, Carina uses her mediums to share a truth.
Carina: “When I put these heavier things into the world through my music, it feels authentic” - not a redacted, shiny facade. “It makes me feel lighter as a person” and uplifts an important perspective. In the ONIKHO blog, Carina describes her feeling when producing “Brave One” as “an honest backlash against the weight I was feeling after my injury: of forcing that smile, of feeling afraid that people would leave, of pretending like everything was ok.”
“A lot of my sounds tend to be on the sadder side because it is a way for me to channel the heavy things that I am feeling. It makes me feel lighter as a person.”
- Carina Ho
After experiencing a tragic car crash that left her paralyzed and without a mother, Carina has coped by tapping into the freedom and power of singing, especially in the early days while tethered to a hospital bed or confined within her home - experiencing unimaginable pain and weakness.
“I felt liberated to belt whatever air I had in [her] punctured lungs, even if it didn't change anything.”
And, little did she know - even though voice lessons were not part of her repertoire of early arts education (which consisted mainly of ballet and classical piano) - this discovery of her singing voice during the darkest time in her life would play a life-changing role in her holistic identity.
Grounding in Her Roots
Growing up in New York City, Carina was shaped by her fiercely resilient single-mother and two sisters - one younger and one older. An immigrant from Taiwan, Carina’s mom was very hard on her and her sisters (oftentimes at the cost of being emotionally present), and pushed each of them to excel in extracurriculars. At the age of 4, Carina and her sisters were put in piano lessons and ballet classes; Carina was elated by the opportunity to express her inner diva. So, that’s where Carina’s artist journey began.
Except…that was not entirely the case.
“Actually, I had a somewhat immature attitude about the arts until I got injured,” Carina admits. “When I was young, [dance and music] were just fun things to do. I did not think they could be something that someone could spend their whole adult life doing - or that they could be connected to a deeper purpose.”
So, when did music turn into a passion and life path?
After experiencing the car accident that left her with body- and life-altering traumas, Carina questioned herself: What am I doing in life that makes a difference? Who cares? Why does it matter? (...all the existential questions)
And, during this constant questioning and amidst the necessity of adapting to a new way of living, Carina’s talents in the arts surfaced as a way to process this new existence.
In 2015, Carina seized a rare opportunity to join AXIS Dance Company, one of the world’s most acclaimed contemporary dance companies made up of dancers with and without disabilities. Not only was it a chance to reimagine what life as a dancer could be like with a disability, it also altered her entire understanding of the arts (dance, specifically) being reserved for certain able-bodies. It educated Carina on the importance of inclusivity in the arts (and exposed her to its beauty), and allowed her to discover the whole new world of inclusive dance (dance that integrates dancers with and without disabilities).
During her three years at AXIS, Carina co-created incredible performances with her fellow dancers and big-name choreographers, often coming face-to-face with audiences seeing inclusive dance for the first time in their lives - and subtle signals that this art had an impact on public opinion (i.e., inclusivity in the arts, rights and dignity of people with disabilities).
She recalls: “In one piece, I had another dancer on my shoulders…something I would have never imagined. It was very athletic…and the visuals were so cool.”
The flip side, however, was that it was a major struggle - every single day. In the beginning, Carina had the most difficulty adapting to (and accepting) herself as a dancer in a wheelchair, especially since the wounds (and loss) of her prior body and abilities were so fresh. “I was super weak and had no coordination…I had no idea how to move my body in a bulky chair. And, I kept looking in the mirror and thinking I looked so bad. So, I was resistant to it. I also got hurt many times.”
Most of the time, her body was in pain - “trying to keep up with the dancers without disabilities who could leap and twirl (like I used to do).” And, over time, this reality started to wear on her. “To be honest, at some point, [dance] did not capture my heart anymore or give me the free feeling that I used to get.”
By the end of her career at AXIS, it was apparent that she needed to turn to something else - perhaps, a different way to stay connected to this work. So, among other things, Carina applied to the prestigious U.S. Fulbright Fellowship, and was accepted as part of the 2018 cohort.
So, shortly after departing AXIS, Carina flew to Montevideo, Uruguay to begin her Fulbright Fellowship focused on developing curriculum and workshops in the field of inclusive dance, directing dancers from varied backgrounds, and partnering with organizations including El SODRE (the national dance conservatory) and La Universidad República. During this time, Carina also began to seriously invest in her craft as a professional musician and music producer, marrying the technique of her classical training with her deep love for jazz and her fancy for dissonant and ambient motifs.
Thus, flowing fluidly between the mediums of dance and music, Carina began on a journey to making meaning of her world with art as an integral part of it.
Fast forward to now, what are Carina’s reflections on the role of art in her life?
First and foremost, when Carina makes music now, she feels closer to her mom. After all, her mom was the one who pushed for her arts education and exposed her to the magic of both music and dance. From re-negotiating her relationship with dance after becoming paralyzed, to the power of learning to produce music and evolving her classical training into electric soul-baring tunes, Carina slowly used art to find a semblance of peace amidst a once-insufferable state. So, while young Carina viewed the performing arts as somewhat frivolous hobbies, they turned into powerful forces in her life. She has even slowly found a way back to loving dance again (albeit with off-days), and discovered new opportunities to meld both these creative pursuits together. For example, “We Sleep No More,” a 2019 dance film featuring dancers in power wheelchairs, was directed, choreographed, and composed by Carina - a true integration of her artistic passions.
Carina also produces multilingual songs that nod to her cultural and home context growing up as a first-generation Taiwanese American in New York City. “Diu diu dang (tunnel song),” for instance, is an electronic remix of a Taiwanese song her mother used to sing to her as a child. Originally a hymn of resistance, sung during the invasion of Taiwan by Japanese colonizers, the song is made up of lyrics that are onomatopoeias instead of actual Taiwanese words, which helped native communities evade the attention and language bans of the Japanese military.
Increasingly, Carina partners with other Asian artists to experiment with traditional and hybrid sounds that nod to her Taiwanese heritage. “My heart is in Asia,” she tells me. “Also, I think just generally, it's good for a human to feel close to their origin.”
One of these Asian artists is a Taiwanese American composer and multi-instrumentalist Angela Hsieh; Carina calls their genre of collaboration: “cinematic, electronic, folk, pop” (CEFP). How did they meet? Angela recalls “meeting at the Ivy Room for a mutual drummer friend’s set;” there, “Carina and I decided to schedule coffee and ended up talking for 5 hours…we just shared a lot in common, including our ties to Taiwanese culture and love for electronic and folk music.”
So, in more ways than one, Carina’s music is a bridge to her roots - beginning with music on a page and expanding into communal art-making with others with shared experiences.
“And I think just generally, it's good for a human to feel close to their origin.”
- Carina Ho
When I ask if there is anything else that grounds her as a person and as a creative person, Carina swiftly replies: “My cat, Moxie.” And, we both melt in smiles (the way one naturally must when talking about shared love for our pets).
Moxie is a 15 years-old calico who has been Carina’s constant companion through much of her post-accident recovery and journey. Moxie's presence was critical during the depths of Carina’s most isolating moments trying to recoup from unimaginable loss.
Carina shares that adopting Moxie introduced an intense, healing type of love into her life. “I think it is really powerful,” referring to her relationship with Moxie, “I just hug and put my face into her.” Softly, Carina picks Moxie up from her sunbathing spot on the concrete patio next to us and gives her a gentle, loving squeeze.
Creating in Community
Many artists know all too well the utter loneliness of sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper, clean canvas, or in an empty studio. Tick, tick, tick…watching the minutes go by…and doing and re-doing every creative thought or idea.
In some instances, magnificent art is created in solitude. Yet, many artists long for companionship, creative partnership, a commingling of juxtaposed inspiration, synergy, and fresh perspectives.
At the start of her music career, Carina often felt the aloneness of being a solo artist weighed on her. Aside from “using my sister and her husband as my litmus test [for songs]...especially dissonant ones in weird keys (to make sure they were not toooo weird),” Carina was mostly a one woman show.
Over the years, though, ONIKHO has sought radical collaborations with everyone from independent artists to entire bands and dance groups, filmmakers, and visual directors. And, just like her music, Carina’s deep commitment to community is entangled in a web of experiences (most of which involve loss and isolation). First, there is the premature and traumatic death of her mother; then, even earlier, the estrangement from her father. Secondly, there is the daily reality of living on “an island of disability” (the product of mainstream society continuing to isolate those who live with disabilities in a million systemic ways). So, creating connection and community with her art (instead of going at it solo) felt only right.
Carina: “I am definitely more intentional and proactive about building bridges now than I would have before my accident.” To say the least, beautiful collaborations have come out of this intentionality.
“I don’t have disillusions about fame…that’s not even something that sounds appealing. But, I do want to get to a point where I can regularly go into the world to tour and perform, and to connect with artists and communities of all backgrounds.”
According to composer, pianist, and recording artist Holly Mead, who joined ONIKHO (along with Angela Hsieh) on a 3-week international tour across Taiwan and Japan in Winter 2024, “the most exciting aspect of collaborating [with ONIKHO] is that I have no idea what we will create together next - whether it’s an ambient soundscapes album, a spoken word event underscored by improvised accompaniment, a live orchestral performance, or an indie synth-pop experience. I just know that whatever we do will be filled with joy and creativity.”
Holly met Carina through an initiative called Music in Place, a group of multi-disciplined professionals (artists, technologist, video editors, financial experts) based in the San Francisco Bay Area that was born out of the need to produce live broadcasts and music videos during the COVID-19 pandemic. Shortly after meeting, Holly invited Carina to her month-long solo (soon-to-be-duet) artist retreat in Elephant Butte, New Mexico. And, as they say, the rest is history.
As an accomplished artist in her own right, Holly rejoices in their artistic collaboration and the magic of creating art with Carina: “She doesn’t sound like anyone else because she is unapologetically herself. ”
Angela Hsieh, the Taiwanese American multi-instrumentalist who ONIKHO has been working with to reimagine traditional tunes, adds: “Carina is powerful, authentic, and inspiring…and her approach to creativity pushes me to be more creative.”
In fact, the success of both these collaborations (and friendships) with Holly and Angela is what fortuitously culminated in their international tour to Japan and Taiwan just a few months ago. In part a commemoration of the 10-year anniversary of Carina’s mom’s passing, the tour featured collaborations with local inclusive dance companies (e.g., Kobe, Resident Island Dance Theater (RIDT)) and other independent artists. A highlight Carina shared was “composing and performing new music for RIDT’s new choreography featuring a giant seesaw that dancers both with and without wheelchairs precariously danced on for twenty minutes.”
“We literally cold-called random strangers from across the earth,” Carina recalls of the tireless months she and her bandmates underwent to coordinate their cross-continental musical escapade. “In the case of Japan, I don’t speak the language, so I used Google Translate [to speak to artists we were working with]...and we made it happen.”
Her biggest takeaway? “[As humans] we always think that people are inclined to say no [to our ideas], but I think most times people are inclined to say yes…so you just gotta ask.”
Holly also credits the making and success of the tour to Carina’s “openness and enthusiasm for exploring new ideas and innate ability to take concepts and run with them.” So, without a doubt, we should expect many more wonderful globe-trotting adventures from Carina et. al. in the not-too-distant future.
Introspecting into the Future
Finally, with Moxie curled up below our feet, Carina and I conclude our porch-side conversation with some reflections on her creative goals and upcoming plans.
For one, Carina - like the next person - is working to overcome her imposter syndrome. “I don’t love hearing my own voice,” she admits. “I have literally taken things off Spotify because they felt too cringey…but I know I need to put myself out there.” Even while she is proud of the art she is putting into the world, there is always a part of her that wants to hide it. (We can most certainly relate)
Zooming out a bit, Carina is planning to draw from the energy of her recent Asia tour to architect a creative cadence for the next few years - ideally, taking a musical retreat or residency this year (to allow the time and space to create new works) then dedicating the following year to touring and sharing that music with the world...and then: rinse and repeat!
Last but not least, we explore what have been common threads in her coming-of-age journey as an artist. “A common thread is definitely my mom. [Among other things,] I credit her a lot for the way I was able to come back up to the surface and pick up the pieces of my life post-injury. And, I know that I am living a life that she would be proud of.” So, even though her mom may not have envisioned her as a career artist, Carina very much creates art in her mother’s image, strength, beauty - fiercely inviting the memory of her to flow through her works.
“There are many days that are hard…when I feel a lot of physical pain. I mean…just the everyday challenges of having a spinal cord injury suck. But, it has definitely driven me to do a lot of interesting things in my life that I might not have been motivated to do (or commit to)” - for the birth of ONIKHO could not have been without tremendous loss.
And, with that, I am motivated by Carina’s words to examine how even the most unfortunate of life’s circumstances (while they may not always come with a silver lining) forces one to re-discover and reimagine the life story we tell (and write) for ourselves.
Dear readers, thank you for curling up with our story featuring Carina Ho! And, if you haven’t had a chance to listen to her music, please check her out! And, to follow along ONIKHO’s upcoming journey of creating gloriously wacky music and launching international tours, stay tuned on ONIKHOmusic.com. Happy community gathering!