Today is a new day. My mom is flying home, after spending 2 weeks with me in Spain, to a different country. Obama is our new president elect! I'm filled with emotion right now and have high hopes for what Obama can do for Americans and people around the world. Racial lines are being blurred and proof is being made that all villages really do matter.
It is unbelievable to me that this happened in my young adulthood. I had always though, as a child, this wouldn't happen until I was in my old age, a grandmother maybe.
We are "bend[ind] the arch of history". Four decades after Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech, we are living the dream.
I feel like I can be proud now. I am proud to be an American. :)
11.05.2008
10.16.2008
Janet Cardiff and George Bures Miller--Artist Couple I Discovered at the Fruitmarket Gallery
A pair of Canadian artists who work with installations that deal with sound, storytelling, and experience. Stepping into one of their pieces is like walking into another world.
www.cardiffmiller.com/artworks/inst/video/killing_machine_vid.html
www.cardiffmiller.com/artworks/inst/video/killing_machine_vid.html
10.07.2008
the UK
Visited Goldsworthy's studio on Thursday. I was at the local B&B and received a phone call in my room. "Andy Goldsworthy's studio is on the line," I heard. I was jumping out of my knickers. I ran downstairs filled with glee thinking it was Andy himself on the phone...well...it was Eric, his assistant, but just as well. So I hopped on the bike outside and rode through the countryside to the next town where his studio was located in Penpont. Felt like I was living the life as the wind blew through my hair and pastures full of idyllic dairy cows passed me by. I had a dream the night before that I met Goldsworthy, so I knew it would be a good day. I seem to have "prophetic" dreams like this quite often.
Eric told me bits about Andy. He's apparently quite removed from the world, but a person like anyone else. Told me a story about a guy who told Andy he wouldn't make it, when he was young and just starting out, but then later asked him to do a lecture for his foundation after he did make it. Andy agreed to do the lecture, but then didn't show up at the last minute as revenge. Told me about how Andy turned red in the face when an old Scottish lady was more interested in Eric (because he was wearing a kilt with the pattern of the clan her family shared) than Andy after an exhibition opening at the Met in NY. This seemed to tickle Eric. Apparently, most of the arches aren't built by Andy but by Eric. He was hired by Andy 7 years ago after they had formed a relationship. Eric was working at a quarry where Andy got a lot of his stone from.
I saw the archives and learned just how important sketching, documenting, organizing, and always churning out work is...even bad work. I'm such a perfectionist that it's hard for me to do work when I think it might suck, but I just have to go forward anyway.
I think Eric really enjoyed talking to me. I really enjoyed listening. I even got a free copy of Rivers and Tides after my visit!
The next day, Friday, I was supposed to take the bus out of Thornhill into Dumfries and go from there to Manchester.
It didn't show up.
There I was, on the side of the highway in the middle of the countryside...waiting.
I was getting anxious because I was supposed to catch the bus out of Dumfries at 11:30. It was already 10:50. According to the timetable, it takes twenty minutes to get from where I was to Dumfries. I'll give it ten more minutes and if nothing shows up, I'll hitchhike.
10:55
Couldn't wait.
"Guess it's time to stick that thumb out," I announced to myself.
So out came the thumb.
Cars swam by. Drivers glanced at me and went on. "Guess being a young, harmless (and defenseless) Asian isn't helping me out this time," I thought.
A cyclist and his accompanying van passed me by. They were driving at a slow 25 mph as I smiled at them, thumb high in the air. Still though, no hope.
A couple minutes later, I noticed the same van coming back towards me.
"Heading to Dumfries?"
"Yes! I'm trying to catch a bus out there and mine didn't show up!"
I tossed my things in the back (or more accurately, hauled them in) and jumped up front. There were two of them. One had injured his ankle and was taking a couple of days off. The other, of course, was the driver. They were English. As we caught up with the cyclist I learned they were cycling south from the Highlands to raise money for cancer, leukemia specifically. Cycling for 2 weeks straight. Cool.
They were very nice men with hopes up for Obama. They told me that I can always count on the English to help and American out. This is one moment where I can happily attest to being an American in Europe.
Saturday, I went to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park with my dad's childhood friend and his wife. I really enjoyed myself and sharing art with them. I gathered some inspiration and learned more about Isamu Noguchi. Apparently, he's done theatre sets, playgrounds, sculpture, gardens, furniture, and lamps. Guess I've just got to do gardens, furniture and lamps now. He also believed that art could bring out much good in life...that it has a higher purpose necessary for the enjoyment of life. Was also very interested in the affect and history of space and place. He studied places of social gathering, leisure spaces, and memorials, places of myth and ritual, the pyramids and the gardens of Japan. I'd love to study this more as well. WWII had a significant impact on his work as well. I'll definitely read more about him and his work. He's also an Asian American like Maya Lin, someone I also admire. They're both genius though...and I'm just an Asian American. Darn.
Staying in Manchester with my dad's friend, Uncle Ronnie and Auntie Queenie. I sound like Amy Tan. It's fun to learn more about my dad, what he was like when he was younger, through his friend though. All I ever get to hear about my dad from my dad is how hard-working he was. I think I've given them an overdose of art though. Enjoying the food, the feeling of being home through the sound of Cantonese, TVB (a Hong Kong based tv station), and the smells of Canton cooking. And of course staying in their immaculate guest bedroom that feels like a 5-star hotel. Living in the lap of luxury for now.
Eric told me bits about Andy. He's apparently quite removed from the world, but a person like anyone else. Told me a story about a guy who told Andy he wouldn't make it, when he was young and just starting out, but then later asked him to do a lecture for his foundation after he did make it. Andy agreed to do the lecture, but then didn't show up at the last minute as revenge. Told me about how Andy turned red in the face when an old Scottish lady was more interested in Eric (because he was wearing a kilt with the pattern of the clan her family shared) than Andy after an exhibition opening at the Met in NY. This seemed to tickle Eric. Apparently, most of the arches aren't built by Andy but by Eric. He was hired by Andy 7 years ago after they had formed a relationship. Eric was working at a quarry where Andy got a lot of his stone from.
I saw the archives and learned just how important sketching, documenting, organizing, and always churning out work is...even bad work. I'm such a perfectionist that it's hard for me to do work when I think it might suck, but I just have to go forward anyway.
I think Eric really enjoyed talking to me. I really enjoyed listening. I even got a free copy of Rivers and Tides after my visit!
The next day, Friday, I was supposed to take the bus out of Thornhill into Dumfries and go from there to Manchester.
It didn't show up.
There I was, on the side of the highway in the middle of the countryside...waiting.
I was getting anxious because I was supposed to catch the bus out of Dumfries at 11:30. It was already 10:50. According to the timetable, it takes twenty minutes to get from where I was to Dumfries. I'll give it ten more minutes and if nothing shows up, I'll hitchhike.
10:55
Couldn't wait.
"Guess it's time to stick that thumb out," I announced to myself.
So out came the thumb.
Cars swam by. Drivers glanced at me and went on. "Guess being a young, harmless (and defenseless) Asian isn't helping me out this time," I thought.
A cyclist and his accompanying van passed me by. They were driving at a slow 25 mph as I smiled at them, thumb high in the air. Still though, no hope.
A couple minutes later, I noticed the same van coming back towards me.
"Heading to Dumfries?"
"Yes! I'm trying to catch a bus out there and mine didn't show up!"
I tossed my things in the back (or more accurately, hauled them in) and jumped up front. There were two of them. One had injured his ankle and was taking a couple of days off. The other, of course, was the driver. They were English. As we caught up with the cyclist I learned they were cycling south from the Highlands to raise money for cancer, leukemia specifically. Cycling for 2 weeks straight. Cool.
They were very nice men with hopes up for Obama. They told me that I can always count on the English to help and American out. This is one moment where I can happily attest to being an American in Europe.
Saturday, I went to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park with my dad's childhood friend and his wife. I really enjoyed myself and sharing art with them. I gathered some inspiration and learned more about Isamu Noguchi. Apparently, he's done theatre sets, playgrounds, sculpture, gardens, furniture, and lamps. Guess I've just got to do gardens, furniture and lamps now. He also believed that art could bring out much good in life...that it has a higher purpose necessary for the enjoyment of life. Was also very interested in the affect and history of space and place. He studied places of social gathering, leisure spaces, and memorials, places of myth and ritual, the pyramids and the gardens of Japan. I'd love to study this more as well. WWII had a significant impact on his work as well. I'll definitely read more about him and his work. He's also an Asian American like Maya Lin, someone I also admire. They're both genius though...and I'm just an Asian American. Darn.
Staying in Manchester with my dad's friend, Uncle Ronnie and Auntie Queenie. I sound like Amy Tan. It's fun to learn more about my dad, what he was like when he was younger, through his friend though. All I ever get to hear about my dad from my dad is how hard-working he was. I think I've given them an overdose of art though. Enjoying the food, the feeling of being home through the sound of Cantonese, TVB (a Hong Kong based tv station), and the smells of Canton cooking. And of course staying in their immaculate guest bedroom that feels like a 5-star hotel. Living in the lap of luxury for now.
9.30.2008
Demma the Pomeranian and the Attack of the Killer Sheep
I went hiking with Demma, my host's Pomeranian, and she managed to get us in trouble with the sheep. She liked to chase them down, you see. Oddly enough, with fear in their eyes, the wild sheep obediently ran away from Demma--a tiny black ball of joy-- as she raced towards them. At some point though, they realized that they, a large group of 7 robust mountain sheep, were running away from a small solitary fluff on legs. As if on command, they all turned around at once and began chasing Demma in the direction towards me. This made me nervous. Seven mountain sheep were headed towards me determined to prove their might. "Look what you've done Demma!" I shouted. My sister's ramblings of how to communicate to animals and images from the scene where the small African boy stood tall in front of the wild cat in The Gods Must Be Crazy raced through my head--I stood tall, stomped my foot, and let them know that I was the superior homo sapien though I was terrified inside.I could already see myself running away as fast as possible from the "killer sheep", as Icelanders commonly refer to them. My act was thankfully sufficient though, and I survived the day to be able to write this entry.
In the end though, Demma and I had an amazing hike with amazing views. :)
9.16.2008
Eldgjá
An excerpt from an entry:
Once I stop moving, I get cold. I'm sitting here in the middle of nowhere, alone in Eldgja, the fire gorge (pronounced Eldgao). Yesterday was my first day working here. It was a little scary. Well, that's an understatement, I was terrified. Being alone face-to-face with nature is something I can't describe. But there are a few tourists walking in and out throughout the day. So even if I can't see them, at least I have the comfort of knowing there is some sort of humanity in my near vicinity.
I did about 50 feet yesterday. Frankly, it looks quite beautiful.
A German man and his son stopped near me. He had found two rocks on different sides of the gorge and announced that one was from the American side, the other from Europe. "I'm just joking," he grudgingly added. He noticed my piece and asked if it was a border. "Kind of," I replied. Then he asked, "Where are you from?" "America," I smiled, stepping across to the opposite side.
He immediately went into this long spiel about how American politics are wrong, unjustified, just not right. I say this as if I see the matter softly, but in fact, his passionate words expressed to me exactly how pressing and unjustified U.S. politics are, not to mention annoying. The way we bully other countries around, make laws for the world, and then find loopholes around them to allow ourselves to do what we've clearly forbidden others to do.
Before he left, he told me my work was beautiful. That made me feel pretty good, encouraged to say the least. I was already starting to wonder if I was crazy for voluntarily choosing to come out here, alone, and haul rocks around--not much different than how I felt that time I was pasting sequin onto rubber snakes for my thesis.
Last night, I had dinner with Jon, an Icelandic tourist guide with an affection for all things Western, my hut warden Palli, and 14 old French tourists. Then we went back to the kitchen on his bus and talked about the rich and resented farmers of the past, Halldor Laxness, singers and non-singers like Garthur Holm and Garthur Toll, and the health fish oil provides. Apparently, Icelanders take a shot of cod liver oil every night. I tried some...hmmm....no comment.
The final product.
Menningarnótt
Stolen from Wikipedia:
Menningarnótt or "cultural night" is a yearly event held in Reykjavík, the capital of Iceland, usually on the third Saturday of August. It was created by the Reykjavík city council, and has now become one of the largest festivals in Iceland, rivalling the celebration of Iceland's national day on June 17th.It is estimated that as many as 100,000 people attend the annual concerts and festivities conducted in central Reykjavík, a staggeringly high percentage of Iceland's total population of 315,000 and Reykjavík's population of nearly 118,000.
The festival often consists of a main stage in the city centre and many smaller events mostly in the city's centre but also spread over the city. The highlight of the festival is often an outside concert on the main stage by 3-4 of the most popular musicians in Iceland followed by a rather glamorous fireworks show.
I was walking down the sidewalk of the main street of downtown Reykjavik when I noticed a store, completely barren except for the turf that was laid out on the floor. My kinda thing...I thought. So I asked the guy inside what was going on. Next thing I knew, I was part of the crew and had a spot as an artist at this soon-to-be art gallery slash internet cafe slash indoor park for Menningarnott.
With some knowledge of the aluminum/aluminium* smelting plants, which have been protested against due to their adverse environmental and health effects, I created this piece:
http://savingiceland.puscii.nl/?language=en
*The confusion over the aluminum/aluminium spelling arose because of some uncharacteristic indecisiveness on [Humphrey] Davy's part. When he first isolated the element in 1808, he called it alumium. For some reason he though better of that and changed it to aluminum four years later. Americans dutifully adopted the new term, but many British users disliked aluminum, pointing out that it disrupted the -ium patterm established by sodium, calcium, and strontium, so they added a vowel and a syllable. (Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything, currently reading :] )
*The confusion over the aluminum/aluminium spelling arose because of some uncharacteristic indecisiveness on [Humphrey] Davy's part. When he first isolated the element in 1808, he called it alumium. For some reason he though better of that and changed it to aluminum four years later. Americans dutifully adopted the new term, but many British users disliked aluminum, pointing out that it disrupted the -ium patterm established by sodium, calcium, and strontium, so they added a vowel and a syllable. (Bill Bryson, A Short History of Nearly Everything, currently reading :] )
8.18.2008
time
Week one and two went by quickly. I spent them doing a photo marathon with participants from 14 different countries. I was reminded once again of my conditional love for photography. It's like baking to me--I'm a cook, or at least I like to think of myself as one. Nevertheless, I met amazing people and had an unforgettable time shooting photos of Reykjavik.
This is Jean-Francois. He has a cure for everything and brings essential oils with him everywhere...even when camping in the middle of nowhere. He cured me of motion sickness with the essential oil of mint, zapped away my pimples with dabs of lavender, and showed me how to relax my senses with natural Angelic. We had shared great conversations on the topic of love and lessons on French including how to say,"Your eyes are beautiful." If you ever see on the shelves of a department store Jean Francois' line of perfume, Angelic...that was my idea.
I'll miss you Jean Francois!
Our work is now hanging in City Hall in Reykjavik. :)
Here I am putting up the show with less than 2 hours before it starts.
our group...taken after everyone was dragged out of bed.
...and my new family!
I'll miss you guys! Thanks for an incredible beginning!
high on life
I've been in Iceland for a month already and have only achieved one sad and lonely post!
Life has been amazing here in Iceland...don't really know how to explain everything with words...I guess it's pretty impossible.
I will update soon though! With pictures and all!
7.26.2008
Landing in Iceland
…a sleepless, anxious night
3 flights…twenty-four hours of travel…
LAND Reykjavik, IceLAND.
I was exhausted, but safely arrived at my hostel. The taxi driver *humm humm humming* rubbed my cheek gently, gestured with his hand at my youth, and sympathetically refused to take the last 200 Ikr of my 1200 Ikr fare. The joys of looking like a 15 year old…
I slept.
I woke, strolled the city, thumbed through books at the bookstore, and bought a copy of Haldorr Laxness’ The Fish Can Sing—a Nobel Prize winning Icelandic author. Loneliness was starting to creep in already—I had hardly spoken a word all day, so I decided to talk to myself. After only 4 hours into my 8,736 hour trip, I had already begun to talk to myself…
…I ran into Tash though! And her friend Heimir—a local of Reykjavik! Tash is an experimental musician from Melbourne who I met on the bus over from Keflavik. She’s been traveling around the world for two months now, recording sounds from her surroundings. Her music is beautiful. Heimir loves greasy American food. He’s leaving for NY tomorrow and is excited to eat his first Twinkie. He was nice enough to drive us around town and then took us to the studio of Sigur Ros.
It’s 11:30 pm as I start to walk back to the hostel, but still light outside.
3 flights…twenty-four hours of travel…
LAND Reykjavik, IceLAND.
I was exhausted, but safely arrived at my hostel. The taxi driver *humm humm humming* rubbed my cheek gently, gestured with his hand at my youth, and sympathetically refused to take the last 200 Ikr of my 1200 Ikr fare. The joys of looking like a 15 year old…
I slept.
I woke, strolled the city, thumbed through books at the bookstore, and bought a copy of Haldorr Laxness’ The Fish Can Sing—a Nobel Prize winning Icelandic author. Loneliness was starting to creep in already—I had hardly spoken a word all day, so I decided to talk to myself. After only 4 hours into my 8,736 hour trip, I had already begun to talk to myself…
…I ran into Tash though! And her friend Heimir—a local of Reykjavik! Tash is an experimental musician from Melbourne who I met on the bus over from Keflavik. She’s been traveling around the world for two months now, recording sounds from her surroundings. Her music is beautiful. Heimir loves greasy American food. He’s leaving for NY tomorrow and is excited to eat his first Twinkie. He was nice enough to drive us around town and then took us to the studio of Sigur Ros.
It’s 11:30 pm as I start to walk back to the hostel, but still light outside.
Check out Rökkurró...an Icelandic band I´ve discovered...lovely...
The Itinerary
July 22 - September 20 Iceland*
September 21 - November 14 Scotland*
November 15 - December England, Germany, Greece, Turkey
December - January Egypt*
February Italy, France
February-March Spain and the Canary Islands*
March Costa Rica*
April-June Peru*
July Brazil, Bolivia, Chile
*Countries I’ll be working in
My schedule is tentative, but you are all welcome to visit me along my journey! Just let me know where you want to meet on the globe!
The Proposal
A line of Egyptians, clad in white galabayyas blowing in the wind, intently follows a thin, sinuous line of dyed red sand by the pyramids in Giza.
A hundred strands of rope made of braided grass hang taut from tree to tree creating a wall across a moor in North Yorkshire. Villagers cannot see to the other side.
Lichens color the snow, creating outstanding colors against the stark white polar ice landscape. I dig a trench in the snow and fill it with colored lichens.
A hundred strands of rope made of braided grass hang taut from tree to tree creating a wall across a moor in North Yorkshire. Villagers cannot see to the other side.
Lichens color the snow, creating outstanding colors against the stark white polar ice landscape. I dig a trench in the snow and fill it with colored lichens.
Land art is a form of art that began in the late 1960s and uses natural resources, such as leaves, rocks, and soil as a medium. Much of land art, often referred to as earthworks, has been a response to environmental activism in hopes to create ecological awareness. I, however, will create land art as a tool to heighten spatial awareness.
With the Zeff Fellowship, I will travel to areas of extreme and exceptional environments, from rainforests and sand deserts to moors and glacial deserts, to sculpt and create lines in the earth using indigenous, natural materials as a medium to explore the simple gesture of the line. My decision to center my land art on the concept of a line is designed to allow me to experiment with how people of various cultures respond to an interruption in their physical environment in a very specific way.
Humans use lines everyday to guide and inhibit movement, from the lines on our roads to the imaginary borders between countries. A line is not just a mark. It is one of the most fundamental one-dimensional signs. A line can serve as a boundary, a wall, or even a path to follow, leading to a place or functioning as a sign of where someone has already been. It appears directed, in motion, and in a process of development. A line can curve, be built up, or even dug up out of the earth. It can be a difference in color, a difference in texture, or a difference in feeling.
With the Zeff Fellowship, I will travel to areas of extreme and exceptional environments, from rainforests and sand deserts to moors and glacial deserts, to sculpt and create lines in the earth using indigenous, natural materials as a medium to explore the simple gesture of the line. My decision to center my land art on the concept of a line is designed to allow me to experiment with how people of various cultures respond to an interruption in their physical environment in a very specific way.
Humans use lines everyday to guide and inhibit movement, from the lines on our roads to the imaginary borders between countries. A line is not just a mark. It is one of the most fundamental one-dimensional signs. A line can serve as a boundary, a wall, or even a path to follow, leading to a place or functioning as a sign of where someone has already been. It appears directed, in motion, and in a process of development. A line can curve, be built up, or even dug up out of the earth. It can be a difference in color, a difference in texture, or a difference in feeling.
What, though, psychologically constitutes a line that functions as a border, a wall? In what shape, size, form, or fashion must a line be until it is followed? Does this vary from culture to culture? Does the environment around the sculpted lines I create have an impact on how people react? If I take one sculpture and idea and create it in two different locations, how will people respond differently? Will they respond at all? These are all questions I hope to explore and answer as I spend my year creating various site-specific installations. In order to capture and study the ways in which people respond to the physical spaces I restructure, I will film the responses of people before and after the pieces have been installed. Along the way, I hope to discover the distinct relationships between people, their culture, their natural environment, and the ways in which they perceive the physical world.
By changing, displacing, sculpting, and interrupting, if even just for a moment in time, the natural environment, I also desire to bring people to grow more aware of what is around them, not simply physically, but also psychologically. Rather than presenting the viewer with a representative or monumental figure, the purpose of my environmental sculpture will be to alter the viewers’ perceptions of their environment by involving them rather than merely facing them. I hope to bring people to experience a place rather than to simply occupy a space.
My choice to use natural and indigenous resources stems from practical as well as aesthetic reasons. While natural materials are accessible, they will also allow me to work more closely with the environment. In this way, I can study the aesthetics of the natural world. Artists and architects have consistently used nature as a source of inspiration throughout history. Da Vinci used proportions based on the golden ratio, proportions found everywhere in nature from the shell of a snail to the length of the bones in our fingers, while architects, such as Antoni Gaudi and Santiago Calatrava, have applied many of nature’s amorphous forms in their buildings.
I am intentionally leaving my ideas and concepts for projects unresolved to allow the materials and places to dictate how they “want” to be used, not to mention the most crucial inspiration, being the people, culture, and land, with which I will engage. This is key to the concept of creating site-specific pieces in reaction to people and places. I will, however, be continually conducting further research before my journey on the geography, culture, and people of all the countries I plan to visit during my Zeff year, brainstorming visions of land art along the way.
The Zeff Fellowship allows me to take my visions and make them real. This unique opportunity will allow me to create land art—to make lines in the earth with natural, indigenous materials—in exceptional environments that will enrich my exploration into how people from diverse cultures respond and interact with their physical surroundings. By doing this I will foster new perspectives as an artist and an understanding of and sensitivity to spatial perceptions, various natural environments, and the people who inhabit them, so that in the future I will build structures that do not simply stand but are—in every sense of the word—experienced.
Essentially, I’ll be living out a dream in the next year…making art…traveling…seeing the world. :)
Thank you to Dr. Stephen Zeff for this amazing gift and to Rice University. And of course, to my family, friends, and mentors for all your support, help, guidance, and interest in the work I do!
6.24.2008
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