Crap Job Market = Creative Opportunity

Drifting Creatives is the blog of a pair of new graduates from a university in Texas. This week they're spending time on the beach in Panama - and getting some work done while they're at it.

From their about page: "We are creative problem solvers, aka designers. One problem we are trying to solve is joblessness. What are we doing about it? We are taking our design skillz to the road. Too many small towns don't have access to smart design. We know we aren't a huge design firm, but we think we can help out."

Instead of worrying about jobs, they're getting out there, finding work along the way, and looking for solutions. Making connections online and in their industry. Going on the road leads to new perspectives.

Awhile back, England was going through a recession in 1981. In response to criticism & rising unemployment, Tory MP Sir Norman Tebbit said, "I grew up in the 1930s with an unemployed father. He didn't riot. He got on his bike and looked for work, and he went on looking until he found it."



Here's another bloke who got on his bike and looked for work during a difficult English economy. In the early '90s, Roy McClean [a.k.a. The Man, or my better half] rode a rickety Dutch bike from Delft to Rotterdam after his university graduation. The short-term jobs he picked up along the way offered eclectic experiences: as a soap-factory worker, he was filmed for a documentary; he was a model of Dutch efficiency while planting tulip bulbs; and working as a shop-fitter was a first-hand lesson in the socialist-capitalist divide. This trip was a cultural immersion that gave him flexibility and a wider horizon.

Uncertain times offer unparalleled opportunities for growth - kudos to Drifting Creatives who are finding success in unexpected places, and making great design along the way.

Sand in my Laptop

My coconut-wood hut on Koh Mak island, Thailand

Some photos from a quiet island.

Deserted beaches during the slow season are a great way to experience the pace of island life. Koh Mak's flat horizon bristles with palm and rubber trees, and down its sealed roads drive its quirky inhabitants. Some live there all year; most split their lives between Koh Mak and elsewhere. Almost none were born there.

The center of the island is covered in rubber plantations, owned by the "big three" families who were given the island by the King a century ago to keep it from the colonial claws of the French. At night you can sometimes see the latex tappers, who wear mosquito coils on their hats and lights on their foreheads.


Work-station window from my hut. I'm still shaking sand from my laptop

I worked in three-hour blocks, and every day was different. Some days I transcribed notes from interviews in Laos and Vietnam; on others I sketched from memory and photo references, or finished the last reference books from White Lotus.


The open design let in plenty of breezes - and sand too

Off-season beaches get half the sun and are half the price of the tourist peak from November-March. My $5 bungalow was shaken by plenty of storms during the first week. Rain dripped through the thatched roof. Sand flew through slats of coconut wood into my mosquito net. But I just pulled my blanket tighter and slept through it.

Rainy days are the best kind of weather to get the work done. And that’s why I was there in the first place: for a real working holiday.

Pretty as a picture

Sala @ White Lotus Press, May 2009

I painted the picture above with some brand new art materials - new to me, anyway.

Thai tea is traditionally flavored with tamarind, which gives it an orange color (cheaper versions use a lot of food coloring, but this tea's good quality). A German papermaker I met in Luang Prabang uses it in some of his paper designs, so I'm trying it for my current illustrations. It gives a warm tinge to the image. The blackish ink comes from bamboo charcoal created for Dong Ho woodblock prints in Vietnam. I enhanced the sala's white stucco with a handmade acrylic paste made with ground shellfish from Hai Phong, Vietnam (also used in Dong Ho prints). They give a lustrous iridescent finish.

I gave this image to the director of White Lotus as thanks for his hospitality - he hosted me in his library, office and garden-side diningroom for the past week. From the writings of 15th century Chinese sailors to 21st century French ethnologists, I read of new perspectives and people. An invaluable help to this paper-book project.

The next stage of this paper trail will be 11 days of seclusion on the off-season beaches of Ko Mak, eastern Thailand. There I plan to do two dozen illustrations for the book, and catch up on my notes from recent weeks.

For artists - and creatives - who could use a re-think of their relationship with money, check out Chris Guillebeau's new Art & Money Guide. His co-writer, Zoe, lives in Chiang Mai and is doing some great literary work there, too. When I get back to the online world, I'll join her team of Location Independent Creatives. We are just beginning to explore the possibilities and freedom offered by the internet. Through sites like Exile Lifestyle and Free Pursuits, people are becoming more aware that there's more than one way to live a life and combine it with their career(s).

This awareness couldn't come at a better time than now.

Location Independence Maps

This blog and the community I've met through Twitter are a great resource for a mobile, modern life.

Last week I was working from The Artists Place in Thonburi, the oldest part of Bangkok. Here's a map; the new skytrain stop of Wongwian Yai is just down the street, but prices are the same:



...and this week I'm working from White Lotus Press, staying in the guesthouse and sharing meals with the eccentric, charming publisher. It takes a rare person to discover and publish all these old works on Asia - we've had some delightfully long-winded conversations.

If you're ever in Pattaya, Thailand, feel free to stop by; they're happy to have visitors. It's definitely off the beaten track:



Next week I'll hit the beaches of Eastern Thailand with ink and brushes in hand, ready to finish the illustrations for my new book, The Paper Apprentice.

Split Existence

Hitting the streets with the Man in Seoul, 2004

This year, the Man and I will spend a total of 6 months apart. With visa restrictions & our work/travel schedules, we've only managed to plan a single meetup - next month. When strangers hear this, they do a double-take. They make noises that indicate I'm jeopardizing our relationship with my work, "tsk" and say they could never manage it, hinting that we won't, either [it's usually a man with a "real job" that travels for work, right?].

But those who know us well just sigh & say "Oh they're at it again." This photo album shows a few of the places we've been together - often while one of us visited the other when we lived in different countries.

It's not that we want to be apart all this time, it's just that we've realized what most nomads do after awhile - that you can't "have it all", all the time, in the same place at the same time. That our lives are works-in-progress, together & separately. That our careers require different locations for training and development, and also that we have different levels of tolerance for humidity, hassle, & searing SE Asian chillies.

This isn't a "Long-Distance Relationship"; it's a relationship built while living together, and enhanced & maintained with care over a distance. We met in Korea 6 years ago, and had already planned to move to Cambodia (me) and to China (the Man). Within weeks, we changed our minds and decided to stay in one place long enough - postpone our dreams - to see how it would work with the other person. Over years of online & domestic communication, in the livingrooms, bedrooms & internet cafes of several countries, we've created our own system of what works for us.

For an hour or two every day, we chat online, and use a webcam when we can stick one on top of a dusty computer. We probably look into one another's eyes more now than when we're living together; it's easier to focus on the other person, free from daily distractions. When I can't access a computer, I call him instead: from a night-time boat on the Mekong, from temples and airports and jungles and buses. In tears and with borderline heatstroke and occasionally with elation.

When your partner respects your dreams enough to miss holding you for a few nights, then you know you're spending your time with the right one. Many male writers say with a hint of condescension, "I couldn't have done this without my wife's assistance". My version goes something like this: "The Man knows I would've done this anyway, with or without his approval. Thanks for giving it before I thought to ask."

Choices

Every few months I'm told by someone who barely knows me, "Oh, you can be an artist because you're married. You don't have to worry about money."

It's always a woman who says this to me (though it's likely that plenty of men have thought it, too). She's always over 40, and had children at a young age, with a man she's been happy to leave. Often her teenage daughter's wrestling with career options, and mother wants to be sure that daughter doesn't make the same kind of choices that Mom did. A "respectable, lucrative" career is high on Mom's list for Daughter, and that of Artist is best left to mad geniuses or dilettantes. It's not a real career where a woman can survive, let alone thrive, on her own.

Well what comes to mind when I hear this?


Designer squat toilets at Talat Sao (Morning market) Luang Namtha, Laos

She doesn't know that my partner & I keep our bank accounts separate, which keeps finances simple; she doesn't know that I buy my own international health insurance and pay for my own plane tickets. I've learned how to budget during the past 15 years, living on wages that ranged from paltry to middle-class, in all sorts of economies. I don't need a man to support me, and never have.


It all comes down to choices. Here are some I've made to keep my flexibility high & my financial liabilities low.

Even better, take a look at this famous illustrator, a pioneering Female Nomad. She's still on the move at age 72, after over 20 years on the road. She's living proof that just because people say "You can't do that," they can be wrong. It takes careful planning, budgeting, and research, but we can turn life's obstacles into undreamt-of possibilities. And while it's great to have a man along for the ride, they aren't necessary for the journey in the first place. Sheesh.



Happy Mother's day this weekend. You couldn't ask for a more inspiring Mom than mine: she's been a Catholic nun and a high-school teacher & the driver of a flashy red Corvette, a salon member in France and a student at Oxford. And people wonder where I get it all from. (Dad's history's just as checkered, too.)

Strange Kindnesses

Donations mean good luck at Wat Lampang Luang

A few kind words mean more than gold, especially when one's hung over.

After a full rainy day of research at the Princess's library on the edge of Bangkok, I stumbled blindly down the street to Mak Yah . Muslim restaurants are the perfect spot to recover from a hangover: there's no alcohol to tempt you into another one.

The owner asked me how the meal was. I grinned in response, and he launched into his whirlwind of a life story in five minutes: how he was born in the troubled province of Pattani, lived in Germany & Sweden & Japan, where he met his Thai-American wife (the daughter of a Thai woman & an American serviceman on his R&R from the 2nd Indochina War), how with his southern good looks (european/malay/thai/arab), locals in Bangkok mistook him for a farang, so taxi-drivers charged him triple the Thai rate.

Before I left, he insisted I meet his wife, who had cooked the simple and spicy seafood meal. She gave me their restaurant card and mobile phone numbers "if you ever need advice or help in Bangkok, please call." I've spent months in the city, met hundreds of people there in different situations from classrooms to girlie bars, but have never had such a spontaneous encounter quite like this one.

Kindness is at its most striking when least expected.

YOUR World

Making bamboo paper in a H'mong village, Luang Namtha, Laos

If I'd given up the first or second time a Lao translator/tourist official said to me: "No one makes paper here now/this time of year/in this region," I wouldn't have found out that, actually, some people are making paper here, even at the very end of the dry season. And had I listened to them, I wouldn't have had this rare chance to try my hand at it - much to the consternation of village kids. You see, I had a lot of experience to catch up on - they'd started learning at 8 years old.

It's not that I have a problem with authorities - I just choose to make my own way through the world, rather than pay their edicts too much attention.

I was reminded of this when I read Chris's great essay, "Welcome to the Real World". For those of us who are more interested in creating the status quo than in maintaining it, that phrase is a rigid roadblock. I've never seen "the real world" as particularly relevant to mine.

One of the few times I had the phrase directed at me was nearly a decade ago, after graduation from a public Midwestern university with a BFA in Painting. Not exactly a recipe for success in my chosen, insanely-competitive field.



"How's the real world treatin' ya?" asked an associate professor, six months after my graduation. She was a paper/print artist, visiting my counter at Wet Paint for some Twinrocker paper. Pale-haired, Nordic-skinned, she looked starved for sun; winter had begun to weigh heavily on all of us.

"It's OK," I said, shaking off the blues with memories. "I went to Liverpool after graduation to volunteer at a teen art program, and ended up working with the Biennial fringe festival. No idea what I'll do next, maybe learn sculpture in Italy next year."

She had nothing else to say.



There's not a "real world", there's just YOUR world. Enough existentialism. Next step: On to World Domination.

Edges

By Kate Kretz. See more of her work here

Lately I've spent most of my time talking to papermakers in small villages, and travelling between big towns. Living life offline in Laos. I spend time online to keep up with R, with my publisher, and with colleagues at ThingsAsian. With the occasional foray into Facebook & Twitter.

The "Artworld" concerns that saturate my google Reader are irrelevant to what I see around me here, to my paper research, and in some ways to my personal work, which falls into a no-man's-land between "fine art", illustration, photography, and travel-writing. I'm not pursuing a conventional art career, and many of the directives for that field aren't relevant to what I do. But neither am I "just" a travel-writer.

I subscribe to around 60 blogs, most of them art-focused. This is how I stay free of the obligation to live & mingle with arty folk in London, Berlin, or Brooklyn. But in recent weeks I'll open my Reader and just click "mark all as read", after scrolling through a few of my favorites. I can't read through hundreds of blog posts after spending days reading several languages at libraries, landing on-the-spot sweaty interviews, or jostled by knees and cargo on long busrides.

This offline life is more present than wired life.

To write my Paper Apprentice book, I must be all here, in these places where the paper is made. Take in the scents of musty indigo-dyed shirts and fresh fish sauce. Notice things like the pigs loaded beneath fellow passenger's feet. I can't afford to be distracted by pixels and artworld egos. And - especially - distracted by my own.

Collection obsession

Kitikong in his Chiang Mai gallery

The other day, Seth Godin was talking about how artists can make a living, and some of the inherent difficulties. As he sees it, artists have a limited market for their work with any individual collector: "So, what's the problem? Share of wall. Unlike records or shoes, it's hard to buy a lot of art. Pretty soon, you've got no place left to put it, do you?"

But while Seth knows lots about business and viral marketing, he doesn't know much about the business of art, which works quite differently from your typical model. Collectors are an eclectic bunch. Some focus on the work of a particular artist; others pick and choose from an era or style. They buy for many reasons: some find just the right piece for their mantel; others swoon at a piece and have to have it at any price; some are seduced by a low price tag and a promising CV; and others simply buy for the bottom line investment (though these speculators have temporarily paused, leaving mainly what gallerists like to call "Serious Collectors", flattering their sophistication). More often than not, collectors want a piece of the artist's life, manifested in his/her work. And some can never have enough.

Kitikong, pictured above, is a smart, soft-spoken artist based in Chiang Mai. He prints his own work, and helps other artists print theirs. But he doesn't print the work of just any artist (ordinary artists are welcome to play around in his studio for 500-1000 baht/day if you know what you're doing), no, he's looking to work with high-profile or bankable artists who will add to the stacks of incredible work already jamming his flat-files.

You see, this printer is also a true collector. His name-dropping skills are on par with the hippest gallery-goers in London. He's plugged-in to the gallery scene throughout Asia, L.A., New York and Australia. He knows those whom he wants to work with, and has positioned himself to make this happen. (This artist recently made a series of prints at Kitikong's Chiang Mai-based studio/gallery, C.A.P.)

C.A.P. assistants - they live upstairs, life and work inseparable

Through an ingenious funding scheme, he has created a win-win situation for fellow collectors and artists, and also for himself and his assistants. Kitikong is a great example of how an obsession - because for the best, collecting art is a true obsession - can be turned into more than just decorating our living-room walls.

Looking forward to the unknown

No idea what's next: zipping through Laos jungle canopy a few days ago

A friend recently wrote: "I don't see much [reflection about HK] on your blog," and I responded "Typically there I try to look forward rather than back," and leave nostalgia to wine with a friend or two.

This trip so far has been a series of surprising discoveries; I never know what's around the corner, and hints crop up in unexpected places. Everyone I meet becomes a possible target: "Does anyone make paper around here?" I ask, and once local contacts get digging, they usually turn up results.

Last night I arrived in Luang Prabang, and am looking at options in this cultural hub; the region's also been a historic center for papermaking.

PS: Some hilarious tips on how to pack like an artist. You can tell that Anna has a second career as a web designer: the layout's meticulous.

Join my quest to become a paper apprentice in Southeast Asia, and follow me on Twitter. The twitter feed will have near-daily updates of my travels, and more detail than my weekly blog postings.

Today I'm headed to the relative wilderness of Laos. Lots of surprises in store over there - Laos has captivated westerners for centuries.

Pigeon-holes

Pots of paper pulp at a Thai village workshop

Do you define yourself with your job? By your relationships? When people ask you what you "do" for a living, what's the first word on your lips?

By western definitions, "Art" has been a pretty broad term for over a century, and "artist", for even longer - say, since the Renaissance. Growing up in an academically-minded Europhile family, renaissance images decorated our walls, punctuated our conversations, and lined our shelves.

It wasn't simply about the pretty pictures. What appealed to me most about these antique Italians was their pursuit of projects in multiple disciplines: architectural proposals and sonnets were not distractions from their visual work, but a complement to them. Their drawings, paintings and frescoes were informed by their other projects.

Recently I came across an ancient description of my "job title" from an old reference to my blog 5 years ago (that's an ice age in blog-years): "Artist, Photographer, Travel-Writer, English teacher...." I cringed; it looked like a litany of collegiate confusion, ten years too late.

"Artist" is a generous umbrella. It allows a range of expressions, from Dao Anh Khanh's performances to paintings of beer bottles. Somehow, though, Writing and Photography are considered such distinct disciplines that only a Writer can write, and only a Photographer can take professional-quality pictures.

More than once on this trip, fellow travellers have expressed bemusement that I've been given this project. After all, it's common knowledge that artists are barely literate and can barely balance their bank-books, let alone write "a real book". (They usually don't know that during university I sold 2,000 kinds of paper from around the world, primarily Thailand; that I've had extensive experience in making western papers; and that my artwork is currently paper-based.)

But fear of failing can't stop those of us who are used to facing it every day over morning coffee. With a smile.

My new website

EBriel.com

Thanks to the very talented Nguyet Vuong for putting this together.

What do elephants....



rivers...



coconuts....



and ducks have in common?



They're all a part of the papermaking industry in northern Thailand!



Here I'm learning to make paper with the Green family, near Lampang.



It's been a whirlwind of 3 weeks of south-to-north travel; research in dusty libraries; making paper in under hot tin roofs; and deciphering Thai handwriting to sort out what fibers make up the papers between my fingers.

Another week or so, then I'll head over to northern Laos from Chiang Rai. Will try to keep up weekly updates with pictures, but the very best material will go into the paper-book.

Home away from home

It's always good for a chronic travel artist to have one or two familiar spots as touchstones during an extended trip. Here's a selection of photos from my favorite pied-a-terre in Bangkok, The Artists Place.


View from my room last week, on the "Penthouse" a.k.a. rooftop. Hot summer winds whistled through three walls, it was the breeziest room I've had there yet


Rooftop garden with edible plants like kaffir lime leaves, basil, and sage


The Artists Place is in Thonburi, the oldest part of Bangkok. Life's a slower pace here; more khlongs (canals) and wooden houses have survived modernization



Many small sois (lanes) in the neighborhood are family-run shoe factories. Day and night, you'll see parents and grandparents cutting rubber soles and glueing shoes while kids scamper on polished tile floors and concrete streets


Local broom-seller on his bicycle



Every corner at the Artists Place holds an eccentric surprise



Including entertaining hand-written signs like this one


Unexpected sculptures


...and more sculptures - these linga double as door handles


The entrance has plenty of sunshine and mosquitos



and a ceiling that's grown organically into a spectacular fire hazard



Charlee, the owner, is usually around to welcome visitors. His english is charming and flawless, and the house is full of paintings by Charlee and other artists (including one by me)

The Artists Place isn't for everyone - the shared toilets with their 3-inch cockroaches are an affront to most notions of hygeine. But if you don't mind some creepy company during your showers, it could make for a memorable stay in Bangkok.

Paper-making in Ghana, or Free Flophouse in Paris

Floating steel fish, Hong Kong

Half the fun of travel isn't the sights, but the experiences you run into - sometimes literally - that aren't available anywhere else.

Here's one I found during my papermaking research - it's a unique cultural center next to the sea in Ghana.

This quote from the site sums up an eccentric spot: "We have potters, batik artists, welders, fantasy coffin makers, art galleries, drummers and many free spirits all contributing to the unique character of the place."

Found via this video


And if you're ever in Paris you should really spend a night at the famous Shakespeare & Co, while you can. This idealistic little spot won't be around forever: spend a week - or a month - in Paris and sleep for free. Work a single hour each day in the bookstore below, and read a book a day.

One "tenant" even wrote a book about the experience.

"my roots are shallow and travelling is part of my life"

Quote from the writer Anthony Sattin here.


Photo from the Mekong Delta for a photo-essay, I've Got my Eyes on You

Preparing for this 4-month trip and book project has been all-consuming in recent months, particularly since I moved to Sydney. I've been researching western and Asian paper-making techniques, paper-mills and -villages around the world, and am looking forward to getting my hands dirty soon.

In the meantime, I've written a book proposal, outline & itinerary, though I was never asked for one. Like a business plan, a book proposal is crucial to direct and contextualize writing and experiences. This has been a dream project - the publisher, (words-)editor and (image-editing) designer haven't made any specific requests. They've been flexible and have shown remarkable confidence in me.


PS: "If I knew what was going to happen, I wouldn't need to write it. The middle way, where you have a focus and a trajectory, is the happy way and the best editors understand this." Anthony Sattin.

Altered states

Part painting, part photograph: it's a hand-tinted print


When I decided to hand-tint blueprints for the Hong Kong book, I knew that there would be some puzzled reactions: is it a painting or a photo, or something in between? For centuries, hand-tinting has been a common way to enhance black-and-white photographs, woodblock prints, and etchings.

After weeks of experimentation, I found that blueprinting for less time (underexposing them in the sun) gave me more freedom when tinting. Instead of simply coloring the prints, I enhanced them, expanded their borders, and blurred distracting details. Beginning with blue adds a brilliance of color straight away, whereas black or sepia subdue it.

When I paint the photo-sensitive chemicals before exposure, I selectively apply them with a brush. Once it's hand-tinted afterwards, it's actually a twice-painted print.


For another perspective, Jeane Vogel talks about hand-altered photographs and their ambiguous position between painting and photography here.


One question I'm often asked is: "Are these your photos?" Of course! I would never work directly with another artist's images.


Art Residency alert: if you're interested in a relaxing, green space for art-making, then Compeung Village of Creativity could be for you. Their focus is on nature, community, and interactive installation art.

Some great photos of the center by Phan Hai Bang, an artist I met in Vietnam last summer.

What's next?

Blank slate: village house in Po Toi, part of my contribution to a forthcoming book

This is the question that the artist & art critic Carol Diehl asks here in her Art Vent blog.

I particularly like this paragraph:

"I believe that in the future (which, the way things are going, could be next week) we’re going to be less fascinated with human dysfunction (a la Dumas and Sherman) and seek more art that inspires us, has substance, puts us in awe of human capability."

Hear hear! Then she says:

"I hope that we’ll also figure out another way of experiencing art that doesn’t involve rectangular rooms, white walls, and track lighting."

Over the past few years I've struggled with the same concept. There's something so stiff about stuff that's made to hang on the wall. Simplistic. In Vietnam I discussed possibilities of collaboration with a sound artist.

"I want art to engage and involve, be more than this static thing that we look at while standing on our feet (although I dislike so-called “interactive art" even more), but has to do with its context and, like music, is woven into the fabric of our lives."


...or perhaps the lives of others very different from ours. Here's a fantastic example of a project in Kenya by JR. Not only do these images portray the inhabitants of the village, but the weatherproof material they're printed on serves another purpose: it protects their homes from torrential summer rains.

she finishes with: "I believe the era of the individual genius is waning, and instead collaborative ventures (between individuals as well as disciplines) will come to the forefront."



A unique kind of collaboration I discovered today:this Facebook portrait project by the painter Matt Held. via His paintings wouldn't exist without the initiative of Facebook; it's more egalitarian than traditional portrait painting, where the artist is using the model as a muse, or has been commissioned to paint by a patron.




For some virtual travelling inspiration, have a look at these artists. They gave free holidays to fellow residents of Jakarta, thanks to some creative Photoshopping.

Pycho Art

Council tower blocks, Aberdeen, HK

It's mid-winter in the northern hemisphere, and -7C in Minneapolis, where my family lives. Short days and long cold nights enhance introspection. Family and friends trudge through snow and skid over icy freeways on their way to work.

Every year, the cabin fever reaches its peak in early February, when after months of confinement we ache to feel the fresh breezes and sun of spring.

Northern spirits are restless and low this time of year, regardless of the world economy. Perhaps that's why there have been so many recent articles written for artists that all have versions of "Keep your head up!"

They boil down to a simple idea: it's all about your attitude - how American is that?


Perspectives on rejection

The encaustic artist Joanne Mattera gives a very New York-ish point of view on how the right perspective can find opportunities in rejection.


Optimistic attitude

Then an interview with the positively practical artist Anne Marchand. A key is her "sense of gratitude and wonder" that get her through the "inevitable droughts of being a creative person".


Art of selling art

and last but never least, Hazel has some insightful words on why the selling of art online is never to be confused with selling widgets on eBay.


Opportunity

For travel artists, here's an Art Residency Alert for you in Beijing, have a look at BDA Space. There are 20 studios available for artists in the capital of Asia's art world.
via re-title

blue frustrations

My roofless dream cottage next to the sea in Peng Chau, for a forthcoming book

When most people move to the bottom half of the world, their litany of concerns goes something like this: how will we get the furniture there, what car shall we buy, what x-rays/shots will I need, where will the kids go to school, etc. Mine center on how to work in a new environment.

How strong is the sunlight? (Sydney has strong UV and lots of sunshine - one reason I was interested in moving here)

What's there to shoot or sketch?

How important are the arts in its residents' priorities?

But a crucial question for many alt-process artists like me is: where's a printshop to make negatives? (see picture below - none of this happens without large-scale negatives)


Hand-tinted blueprint demo from the book

It's a rare print shop that's willing to risk its overheated machines and run my plastic transparencies through them. So far I've spoken with a dozen places in my neighborhood and in central Sydney, but haven't found anywhere that can make a successful print; the rare printers willing to try just shake their heads as my acetates jam their machines.

So with some deadlines looming this week, I've crossed my fingers and printed dozens of images from paper negatives, as architects used to do with their drawings. I've printed these images over and over, for different exposure times, at different chemical concentrations, onto various surfaces. Tracked blue footprints down our newly-carpeted hallway. Spattered the bathroom with cyan rinsewater. I'd hoped that with some tweaking I could get something beautifully blue.

Nope. Not a single image was serviceable, let alone satisfying. The paper simply blocked too much sun, so the prints had very little contrast. Instead, I've had to focus on other endeavors before I leave for Asia.

Still these attempts have gotten me out of my new neighborhood comfort zone: I've shot a new series and will print it - somehow - when I'm back later this year.

There's always a reason for whatever we're doing, sometimes we've just got to make it up as we go along.

You can take the girl out of Hong Kong....

but you can't take the HK out of the girl.

In a few short weeks I'll be back in SE Asia, on a mission to make some papers with masters in Thailand, Laos, and Vietnam. And stumbling through plenty of mulberry trees while figuring out how to beat the pith (inner bark) into the perfect papery pulp.

Hopefully I'll make a stop in HK on the way back, to take care of some loose ends, and stuff myself w/yum cha.

Until then the only substitute for Cantonese skyscrapers is our set of G.O.D. sheets.




...and here's the real thing

Travel Artist Profile: Mary-Anne Bartlett

Artist on safari

As the founder of Art Safari, Mary-Anne Bartlett seamlessly combines artwork with travel, for destinations from Antarctica to Zambia. A woman of many talents, she has also co-written a guidebook on Malawi.

Here she's written an excellent article packed with advice on how to travel. She categorizes sketching travellers into three types: the 'painting traveller', the 'artist on holiday' and the 'travel artist'.

Which one are you?

Flickr Photos & Videos tagged "Obama"

from my Flickr friends around the world


Indonesian Obama by Keith Kelly


A pair of videos & photo from the Inauguration concert in Washington DC, January 18th, by Sixinterr


Obama's car


Snipers setting up for the Inauguration concert



Officials get to climb fences

Election night celebrations, Chicago - by Dave2Quam





Obama in Cambodia - by Jinja





Election day antics at FCC Phnom Penh, by Keith








Dungeons & Dragons for Obama in Washington, DC - by Nguyet

Waiting.....

Workspace: 50s telephone table, laptop, and G.O.D. pillow


Travelling artists can take some tools with them, but others are just too big to bring on the road. I sent my cumbersome studio materials - large rolls of paper and transparencies, plexiglass, etc - in our big shipment from HK. The thing is, they're taking weeks to clear Sydney's notorious customs officials.

This is my current "studio space", with no art supplies - all the work I'm doing these days is on the computer, when I'm not shooting pictures or researching papermaking at Sydney's university libraries. A minimalist space, with few distractions.

I can't wait to start printing & photographing again, my hands blue with the dirty work of blueprinting. There are some tight deadlines coming up...

Words & Pictures

The art market is directly linked to the rest of our markets worldwide.


Charcoal drawing from installation by Dan Perjovschi via "We Make $ not Art.


Options...by Hugh

Travel Artist: Fritz Lang

Many years before Fritz Lang made the iconic film Metropolis, from 1911-13 "he travelled the world, visiting North Africa, Turkey, Asia Minor, and Bali. At the time he worked as a travel artist, painting postcards, travel scenes, and advertisements," according to this site.



These travels gave Lang first-hand experiences of life on the other side of the world. He would have tasted spices & exotic intoxicants of all sorts - including women, of course - and this influenced his later work. These new forms of urban architecture gave him a new perspective on western European cities.

Keep an eye out for the nearly full-length version coming out later this year.

Road Trip part 2: from Melbourne to Sydney

Continued from here

As I looked over the route that morning, I pointed at a little spot where the highway dipped towards the sea. "Hmm...Lakes Entrance, wonder what that could be? Let's go!" You can tell Australia's still a young country in its official language - names in English have far to go before capturing the spirit of a place in an original way.


Posing like I'm hosting a Lakes Entrance boat party


Posing like he owns the entire fleet

Still, some place-names go beyond originality - as one resident said of Eden, Australia: "This is one spot that lives up to its name."


When we arrived at the hastily-booked Crown & Anchor
after a long day's drive, the porch was inviting to tired eyes


then we walked down the hallway, and opened the door to our room....


to discover a huge bathtub in the middle of it!


this retro radio and radiator worked, thanks to modern wiring



and plugged into old fixtures with new electrics


this kind of craftsmanship seems fussy to some, but makes for a good shot



With the room came a bottle of champagne, so we wasted no time



it was much tastier than the Tasmanian stuff we'd tried on New Years Eve



An appetizing view over breakfast

But there was one thing R. had been looking for the whole trip and hadn't yet found....



R. pointing at the quarry. True to what we'd been told, they love golf courses: we saw at least fifty on this one



The next night we stayed at a hazelnut farm nearby. Here's a flowering hazelnut branch



R wouldn't look out of place in the Boundary Waters, a favorite holiday spot for many people in Minnesota, where my family lives


On our way back to Sydney, we stopped by this beach along the Sapphire Coast.


This week's been our first footsteps in this huge country we've begun to call home. Where are your favorite spots in Australia?

Road Trip part 1: from Sydney to Melbourne

We've just come back from a weeklong roadtrip along a small slice of Australia's southern coast. On the way to Melbourne, we stopped off at Canberra so R. could train with some of his Hong Kong sifu's other students, and stayed at Danilo's lovely house nearby.

The next day we drove to the seaside town of Aspendale, near Melbourne. When we saw this beachfront cottage, we had to take it.


R checks out a takeaway menu, casting a long afternoon shadow


This country-style kitchen is big enough for ten


Steps outside the kitchen


Enjoying a glass of wine from a vineyard we'd visited along the way



R. took this photo from our covered balcony: sunset over the sea, leading from Australia to Tasmania then south to Antarctica


The next day, R. had work to do, and the broadband wasn't strong enough for me to finish mine


so I took a stroll on the beach outside our door



and was surprised by colorful boat sheds


that broke up the blue, grey & brown of sea, sand and sky

We spent part of New Year's Eve in Melbourne, but I forgot to take pictures as we wandered around the Yarra river and through the side streets surrounding Victoria University.

The year ended with a glass of Tasmanian champagne, and '09 began with a coastal drive to Eden...

Happy Holidays from our sunny Southern Hemisphere

Pictures from our sunny Boxing Day wanderings through the Royal Botanic Gardens. Unlike HK which has thrown off one colonial yoke for $another$, Sydney hasn't felt the need to erase "Royal" from various gov't offices to become more modern (i.e. globalized).


R. hanging out under sandstone



waiting for the tram with our herbs for the balcony garden



Title of an exhibition in the Botanic Garden greenhouse


R. with the bridge overhead


One of the hundreds of bats in the trees above our heads

Ins & Outs of Hong Kong

Hakka boat amongst the trawlers, Aberdeen Harbor

I've just been interviewed over at Expat Interviews
, have a look at my parting (photo) shots of HK, and browse through other interviews from around the world. Whether you're wondering about visas or living costs, Expat Interviews are a great first-hand source of information when looking to move to another country.

100% Vietnamese Elegance

St. Joseph's cathedral in Hanoi is a popular meeting-place for locals and tourists alike. There's a sea of stationary motorbikes parked in front every evening, and as boutiques shut their doors, restaurants come to life.

If you stand in front of the cathedral and look up, you'll see a splash of bright yellow across the street.


The Hanoi House is upstairs, a resting place for travellers on their way to Sapa


The brilliant color makes it hard to miss. Inside, you'll find one-of-a-kind treasures: here's a lamp made of hand-dipped incense sticks.


This birdhouse has a couple of porcelain residents


Everything here is designed by the incredibly talented Tiep. He has fans around the world, from Spain to Australia. Here he is reading my book, giving me some space to explore his with my camera.


Tiep made these tiles - he has a kiln at the edge of town. Note the color variation from different composition of earths.


"When we were kids, we would perch on the mezzanine, twirl lotus buds into spirals, then drop them spinning down to the floor below. I designed these when thinking of those games; kids don't do that anymore, they have TV and internet now."


Hallway to the cafe


Table made of traditional chopping boards, transformed into fish


Whether sculpture or room divider or knick-knack holder, this bamboo structure's beautiful


This could be a shelf or an altar or a faux fireplace, all made of tiles

Some of Tiep's work from a boutique hotel in Sapa:


Decorative drum made of coins


Head vase


"These lights were inspired by the way women used to wear their hair in my grandmother's generation: they'd wrap it in fabric then twirl it around their heads."


Tiep molded these animals, then made these coffee tables that showcase local crops.


Birdcages made of local H'mong fabric from the surrounding hills

Tiep also runs a tranquil cafe overlooking Truc Bach Lake. Highly recommend it - stop by 17A Truc Bach Lake to sample some Vietnamese delicacies and sit at tables made of motorbike chains, lit by cocoon-like lamps made of unspun silk.

Weekend in Hanoi

Just returned from a long weekend in Hanoi. Stayed at The Artists Hotel, next to the Cinematheque.


Memories of Hanoi's Long Bien Bridge on fabric



Silhouette of tire pump from the far end of the bridge

As you can see, I finished off several pieces - here's a taste just for you. They're stretched on steel and Vietnamese bamboo: with metal structures above, humanity at the center, and the earth supporting it all, I thought of the living bridge that spans this busy city. It has a huge personality: what history it's witnessed, from its inception by Eiffel over a century ago, to the present.

Also managed to revisit some friends, then dropped the artwork off for Maison des Arts just before leaving.

Photos of objets d'art from a unique Hanoian designer coming up next...

Park Island, Part 2: Ma Wan Village

Continued from yesterday's post


Up and over a hill was another grave, this one dotted with fresh oranges and, curiously, lots of timber



I glanced up, and saw a pair of arched windows, unusual in HK, particularly in an island village, where homes are built to a spartan standard


and the entrance hinted at grand views from decades before


I crossed the threshold with some trepidation


Climbed the stairs, marveling at the fine rich wood



Thought, "I wouldn't mind having a window like this one, wherever we end up"


Further down the path was a house near the sea, the beginning of the oldest part of Ma Wan village. An ancient man wandered out of the house next door to this one, raised a fist and croaked orders in my general direction; he was more than a little senile


Did anyone still live in the fishing shacks? I wondered


Yep, somebody definitely lived in this one - they'd left their shoes neatly outside. And their door-guardians were still in good shape, too.


Someone had left their living-room door open. Note the ultra-modern Tsing Ma bridge overhead.

Typically, when the government decides to clear out a village to make way for redevelopment, villagers are compensated for losing their homes, or are given a flat elsewhere in HK. But more often than not it's only the elderly who remain, and they can't recreate their vital community in anonymous tower blocks. Canny villagers will often invest the $$, or rent out their new flats and live on the proceeds, while squatting in or near their old homes. These squats are equipped with all mod-cons like air-conditioning and satellite TV.


Kids-sized village transport, parked on the balcony


Here someone had parked their tiny village vehicle outside their house


These stacked sieves, commonly used around HK by the Hakka people, are great for drying seafood


I think these rows of planks were used as supports for drying fish; there were dozens of them right next to the water


Painting from a Tin Hau temple - portrays a scene from a few meters away



Salt-filled mats next to the pier, for preserving shrimp or fish


No cars or motorbikes: gives you an idea of the pace of village life


...but roller-skating is encouraged



In the small village square, freshly-caught fish dry in late afternoon sun


Next to the fish, a traditional rice grinder - perhaps for communal use?


From an abandoned home nearby, old-school facilities



This was once a kitchen; now the jungle's reclaiming the house


Metal doors gape, high above a forgotten warehouse


A group of high-school students were collaborating on a conceptual art project, using the houses for creative outlets & experiments


A student explained this poem she'd written on this door: "It's about the feelings I get in this old place, the wind and the sea, and I imagine what it would be like if I grew up here"

The few villagers in neighboring houses appeared mystified by all this youthful activity with paint pens and colored tape. They raised their eyebrows, but didn't comment.


Once this was....a series of sinks?


Some abandoned homes had mesh to prevent curious animals - like us - from getting inside


A miniature shopping cart parked outside someone's side door


A gorgeous mural, much better than those cheap-looking atrocities in nearby Ma Wan Park



Old kayaks stored in a crumbling wall


A fistful of kayaks



Veranda with a view - for the entire village


A local lady finishes her day's work


As the sun set, I made my way back through the park to modern Park Island, with its concrete highrises.

Eventually ended up spearing my Park'n'Shop sushi with bamboo chopsticks, amazed at the clear evening view, next to dozens of families & teens who were spending their Saturday night in a very village-like past-time: fishing from the pier.

Park Island, part 1: Ma Wan Highrise Park

Yesterday I ran into Darren on Lamma Island's Main St. He's an old HK hand, so I asked him for a good island to explore that sunny afternoon.

"Do you think Park Island's any good? No one seems to know much about it," I said. "When I talked to a ferry employee there, he said 'Oh, it's very modern.'"

In HK parlance, that's meant as a compliment, but I wasn't sure how photogenic it would be for my island-shooting assignment.

"Nope, I've never been there," Darren said, "but a friend said there's an interesting village, somewhere outside of the park and the highrises surrounding it. No idea how to get there, though."

So I decided to catch the ferry & explore for a day.


First impressions, arrival at Park Island: overpriced concrete decor


2nd impression, kitsch topiary next to water so polluted that all the real dolphins have asphyxiated


Park Island is a popular spot for wedding & graduation shots. Here, a bride crosses the underpass to Ma Wan Park, followed by her photographer



An indication of Ma Wan park's aesthetic: cute and colorful plastic



Plastic seagulls under the overpass


Kitschy park toilet signs



Another couple poses in front of a 3D mural. The murals are an ingenious idea: painted on two sides of the concrete, they appear to ripple as one walks by them. Unfortunately, they're poorly-painted, so this dilutes the effect.


(you get a glimpse of HK kids' daily lives in this picture: frowning helper, docile sister)
What's this kid up to?


These steam vents keep you cool in the summertime


And they're lots of fun to run through



A hint of what was to come: this vendor sold locally-dried seafood under the Tsing Ma bridge


Behind the too-cute park with its plastic signs and concrete walls, I saw this graceful old village house


Then a mysterious path


and this No Trespassing sign. But I quietly ignored it and continued on


Soon I passed this traditional grave and knew I was headed somewhere interesting

To be continued very soon....

Obstacles: creative conquering, not creative excuses

Today I commented on Anna's post on obstacles to art-making, on a day packed with personal speed-bumps. Somehow they made me even more determined to work through them by writing: to my publisher, to several arts people, travel agents, my partner, to bloggers I've never met before.


Night-time photos from a Star Ferry cruise we took this week, saying goodbye to Hong Kong

I can't tell you how many times I've heard "I don't have time" from people - this is why they can't make art outside of Sundays.


You've got to conjure up the time, it doesn't suddenly appear.

[here are some good tips for making the most of small blocks of studio time]

Work fewer hours at your day job,

stay up later, wake up earlier,



don't have kids for awhile, if ever;

choose an admiring partner - or none at all - don't accept anything less.


R, looking like he's walked straight out of a film noir set

work a flexible job; make yourself irresistible to potential employers for freelance/flex-time work.



All of these are choices many contemporary artists make to keep going full-tilt towards their work.



Space?

It's unfortunate that for much of the past half-century, professional artists have been expected to rent studios separate from their living spaces, in some of the most expensive cities in the world. (this I am hopeful is changing in the 21st century).





Small spaces tend to generate small work, yes, but when starting out, paying for those spaces can become a distraction from the making of it.

Make it wherever you can: in the living room or underneath a tree, in a museum or in a classroom.

While I'm in the process of moving our lives to Sydney, I'm temporarily using the concrete slab in front of our flat for exposing my blueprint photos. Next spring, I'll be making art in various spots in SE Asia. None of these spots are "studios" per se, but they're ideal for a nomadic artist, and combine living/working spaces.


You need understanding roommates when making a mess in the bathroom - even if it's "art"



it helps if your roommate's a male


Artists who are dedicated don't just say "I can't", they say "How can I do this somehow - or at least something like it?"


silk dress printed with rooftop water tower - view from the Long Bien bridge, Hanoi

Postscript:


Damien Hirst was the art director behind this video. You can see his influences in splashing paint & cow's blood. Sienna Miller's an overblown histrionic, but watching her crawl through high street stores filled with artfully-lit handbags reminds me of my first year here in HK, walking through slick & superfluous IFC to the ferry piers on the way home.

The Hours - See The Light

I've just set up a new project-specific blog for the book, called Book of Blueprints. Why? To give you a glimpse into the stories behind some of my favorite illustrations.



Naturally, the first entry's about the Star Ferry on its cover. Stop by when you've got the chance. You've never seen Hong Kong quite as blue and brilliant as it is in these pictures.

Yes We Did

Celebration sticker. Get a free one here

Way back in the day when I tried my hand at being a New York-based artist, I'd walk over the Williamsburg bridge and was often riveted by stickers & stencils of a somber-looking face. It was Andre the Obey Giant, but to me it was my green man, a presence that humanized this city where I felt so small.

ArtInfo gives us a glimpse of Shepard Fairey, the man behind the iconic red, white & blue Obama images. "Why would Barack Obama invite a graffiti artist with a long rap sheet to launch a guerrilla marketing campaign on his behalf?"

Read more in this article by ArtInfo

"Obama - OK!"

This said to me today first thing with a thumbs-up and a high-five, from Ah-Moy: the wildest cleaning lady at Colour My World. She'll put a grin on your face every day, and was especially happy that Obama won.


Hong Kongers celebrate Obama's victory (photo by Vincent Yu, AP)

"Hong Kong People" (as the local English-language newspaper refers to HK residents) have the bottom line on the mind more than most, but they DO know how to party! And there were parties aplenty last night, celebrating the USA's change in leadership.

But where was I? Hanging out at the atmospheric Philia Lounge for e.v.e.n.t's monthly Speak Up! showcase, to talk about my new book of blueprints and meet other artists/creatives in HK.

"After the festivities, it's time to get back to work" - a sentiment oft-quoted in newspapers about the president-elect's priorities.

And it's time for me to get back to work, too: press releases to be written, appointments to keep, framing to finalize, an international art festival to attend, final large images to print in coming weeks, travel arrangements to and from 6 countries...and a continental move before the end of the year.


More info on the book coming SOON - I mean in the next few days soon!

Urban or urbane? It's all about a good time

One of the many stencils I cut for the event


Recently I was invited by Bloomberg HK to facilitate a large-scale "urban art" mural (better known as "graffiti art" in less polite circles).


Some of the participants were spray-can experts already, and had lots of experience with marking walls

We plastered pictures and newspapers and sprayed stencils all over two planks of cardboard. Mixed up wheatpaste glue (made of water, flower & sugar) to stick up drawings and posters.


Some were hesitant, but had a good time after the first try

Thanks to lots of help with supplies from Colour My World and especially my assistant Tiffany, we had dozens of corporate painters stop by and try their hand at stencils, wheatpastes, and spraypainting.



Some didn't want to stop - this one kept going till sunset

The spray paint was especially popular; lots of kids couldn't get enough. The paint was water-based, so fumes weren't too strong, but Tiffany & I had breathed in lots of colors by the end of the day.

...and they're off - again!

Sydney Harbor

Well we're doing it again, moving halfway around the world. But this time we'll be heading south, where seasons and water-drains and fauna are all reversed beyond recognition. Who knows what'll happen to us down there?

In the meantime I'm offline for 10 days. I'm meeting my Dad in Rome then catching a train to Sicily to photograph some dramatic volcanic landscapes, smack in the middle of the Mediterranean.

yesterday

After a year of blog-linking & occasional email exchanges, I finally met my island neighbor Dr. Marcus Scheutz at his spacious seaview office in Cyberport. Hong Kong U has just launched a satellite campus there, and I stopped by to check it out and discuss design ideas.

Afterwards it was a scenic bus ride through Pokfulam and Central to my printer's in Sheung Wan. I had to make negatives for artists proofs, in order to submit them to the Ministry of Information & Culture in Hanoi (more on that soon).

Then off to Pacific Coffee off Hollywood Rd to meet up with my publisher who's always launching into new ideas, every time we meet. He had a new project for me, and also a large (A2-size) negative from one of my photos. It was a beautifully-printed transparency, thick enough to withstand even my rough handling under glass.


Then visited the essential oil shop in Sheung Wan where I get my cyan chemicals, to order a kilo of Ferric Ammonium Citrate


A few shops away I had a lush little salad of smoked salmon, avocado & mango with freshly squeezed orange juice at a little cafe on Jervois St.


I was drawn in by the interior paint job; after the faux-finishing work I've done it's always good to see how others handle a wall. More often than not in small restaurants, they tend to disappoint. These painters had kept their glazes dark, which made the texture pop out dramatically.


As the sun set I stopped by City Super in IFC for my favorite guilty secret: blueberry smoothie with a vodka kick. I headed upstairs to an underexplored spot with a million-dollar view, little blue bottle in hand.


Sculpture/skylight by a Korean artist on the terrace

The tables on IFC's terrace look like they belong to the poseur posh clubs next door, but if you look carefully, each table has a small label that says: "For the use of the general public."


lights beneath the sculptures


So I sat back for awhile before my ferry ride home. A private happy hour. I let slide to the floor my bag of half-defrosted frozen vegetables and "export shop" clothing finds for Roy & me, and sipped a frothy berry concoction as lights changed color beneath the trees.

Artists on the loose

Test with new materials: blueprint of Chinese-language newspapers on watercolor paper. Vendors do a double-take each time I buy a paper. "You can read Chinese?!" they ask.

Last weekend I stopped by the exciting, if laboriously-named, Jockey Club Creative Arts Centre. A brand-new artspace for artists and related organizations, it's located in Shek Kip Mei, Kowloon.

This is a pretty common tactic in cities around the world, where artists are employed as gentrifiers for a neighborhood by "bringing culture" to a place they might otherwise not frequent. (as though the place has no existing culture of its own) If this occurs naturally in the free-market system thanks to cheap rents on quasi-legal industrial spaces, artists have to leave the neighborhood once rents rise above their income levels, but in subsidized programs like this one, rents are affordable....until the HK government decides to take the building back. (It appears they plan to take back the historic artists spaces at Cattle Depot Artist Village, as they're no longer taking new tenants and many studios are now vacant.)

Artists of note at the new space were Ruby Woo's display of glass pastries and popsicles (unfortunately her site isn't working at the moment), John McArthur and his Spitting Gecko Studio, and Victor Tai Sheung Shing with his warm teak sculptures.

Traipsing through 9 levels of art gives you an array of examples as to how local artists display their work and make a living (a.k.a. market their work - but of course artists aren't supposed to talk about marketing too much, it reeks of selling out).

The successful late-summer sale by Damien Hirst of his work at Sotheby's has since sparked lots of talk about how artists are pursuing other options for marketing their work, outside the gallery system.

Some choose to make large quantities of stuff, and sell it on eBay. Others have gallery representation in a couple of cities, and sell independently elsewhere. Still others forego the gallery route completely, and build up contacts through their blogs and newsletters.

Hugh MacLeod draws on the backs of business cards, when he's not devising Web 2.0 marketing strategies for companies like Dell and Stormhoek wineries. Now he's making gigantic paintings that teem with energy, just like New York City - or maybe his brain. Read his thoughts on gallery-less marketing here.

Hazel Dooney is an Australian artist who has successfully used her website and blog to promote her work. Her thoughts on a brave new art world, leaving galleries in the dust.

And a long post on artists, galleries & the internet at MyArtSpace.com, if you've got the time for it.

Recently someone said to me, "Oh here in Hong Kong, as a westerner it's so easy to be a big fish in a small pond. In London or Sydney you'd be competing with everyone there."

What she didn't get was that I don't see this life I'm leading as a competition with anyone; other artists are my peers. And that, after having lived in a half-dozen countries, my viewpoint is not limited to the local by any means, unless I choose to focus on it. A professional artist in Kansas City or Kuwait is as worthy of my consideration as are the top sellers in New York or Beijing. I subscribe to three dozen art blogs, published in Europe, America, Asia & Australia. We inform one another and are part of the same worldwide market, regardless of geography.

Borders of states are now porous, thanks to the internet. You can attend a virtual opening in Berlin while living in Brooklyn, and chat with a curator in Chengdu. None of us are stuck simply where we are. How cool is that?!

Returning home to HK

Ah, autumn in Hong Kong. Temperature and humidity drop to lovable levels - it makes the city a fabulous walking destination, aside from the increased pollution from our factories over the border. (chokes)

Lots of projects coming up this fall. Aside from work on a couple of personal blueprint series, I've been commissioned to write a number of articles on my Vietnamese travels for ThingsAsian.com, have finalizing touches to do for the HK book, and will participate in a new book of digital (not blueprint) photos on Hong Kong. Payment for the last project is a new Canon 40D camera to replace the 30D which died when I slipped into a Sapan stream last month - whew!


View of the cloud-covered Mount Fansipan from my window, Sapa

It's really good to have a Canon sidekick again...life was really lonely with only my brain to snap images, rather than a trusty lens.

Here are a last couple of late-summer pix from Sapa. I'm determined to spend more time there in the future, just have to dream up the right project first.


My H'mong neighbors at a local internet cafe, Sapa

More travels coming up next month, this time headed to the west for the first time in years. More info soon!

Vietnam week 6: the accidental trekker

Chi & her sister

Sapa has a particular kind of magic. You can see a slice of it in this photo. Its mountains are living sculptures of rice terraces with rocky peaks. Clouds drift through villages and over roads, faster than fog, and just as quickly are gone.

These idyllic-looking landscapes are most inviting in Sapa's short summer, so I couldn't pass up the chance for a respite from the heat & hustling of Hanoi.


Chi's sister hanging out high & dry

Of course, this is Vietnam, and Sapa has its own brand of hustling. The lovely lady pictured above accompanied her sister (my guide) and me to their village, then pulled out a bag of assorted handmade trinkets, and said with a smile: "Buy from me?"

But how did I end up on this hillside with these H'mong ladies, sweating over slippery rocks and grassy slopes?


May

It was all thanks to May (pronounced "Mai", like "Chiang Mai") and her American husband Martin. I met Martin my first morning in Sapa while I sipped a ca phe da to wake up after the overnight train from Hanoi. He and May showed me around and cooked fantastic meals of H'mong rice, tofu, and vegetables.

"You want to stay overnight in my friend's village?" Martin asked one day. I hesitated, having planned to hire a motorbike driver and stop briefly in several villages instead: minimal sweating and more village variety. I looked down at my silk shirt and slippery sandals and asked, "Is it ok to wear this? I can't trek in these shoes though!" Martin waved off my ridiculous question and went off to find his friend.



Chi & her rice fields.

The next morning, I met my guide-to-be at the market. "Hi, my name Chi!" she said with a gigantic smile. She didn't look a day over twelve. "No, I'm eighteen and have a baby girl, you will meet her soon. Ready to go?" she asked.

I nodded, looking vainly for a motorbike. "Okay, let's walk," she said, and pointed her deadly-looking umbrella to our left. No point arguing with this H'mong Mary Poppins. Ever the clueless tourist, I followed on foot, wishing I'd picked up a pair of boots from the trekking shops in town.


Chi's husband & his brother, herding a buffalo home

"How far to the village?" I panted after awhile, as the paved path turned to slick rocks and a daunting incline of mud splattered with buffalo patties. "Maybe six kilometers more," Chi said over her shoulder. "You want my umbrella?"

So that's what these umbrellas were for: an ideal walking stick to guard against sun, rain, and treacherous trails up mountainsides.


Chi & her daughter Bam

It turns out their village was so small and remote, no motorbikes could reach the place. A cluster of homes - each one nearly self-sufficient with a small garden, buffalo, pigs, geese and dogs - made up their small community.


Neighbors in their indigo-dyed best

Chi had me hang out with the neighbors for awhile - she still had cooking responsibilities to her husband's family. The neighbors loved their rice wine, and were in their cups before sunset. Though I prefer to point my camera at unexpected objects rather than predictable portrait shots, they asked me to take photos and give them printed copies before I left.

Smoke from the bamboo fire filled the chimney-less house, and it was a relief to head back to Chi's less-smoky place for an early night.


Bam with the baby on her back

The next morning, Chi's daughter Bam marched around the house, wearing her "baby": a towel wrapped snugly in a harness just like the one she's carried in by her mom. Here she's sitting on a traditional rice grinder. In Hong Kong, they're sold as decorations. In Chi's village, it's a part of everyday life.


Ladies next door. Note the indigo-stained hands of the woman at center.


Chi's youngest sister-in-law

Chi said, "You know why she's not smiling? It's because the Vietnamese think a woman is most beautiful when she looks serious."


Bam & her aunt

Bam is named after a lovely local flower. Here she's chewing on some sugarcane.


Chi weaving hemp at her mother's house


Homestays are a lucrative business in parts of Vietnam, particularly in the northern hilltribe and Mekong delta regions. They're touted as an "authentic" way for travellers to experience daily lives vastly different from their own.

But how authentic are they really? Certain flashpacker homestays I saw on travels through villages close to Sapa town were simply guesthouses in villages, with meals cooked by a local family. Guests stay in sanitized homes with running water and concrete floors. But the village where I stayed, with its absence of toilets and bathing facilities, its dirt floors and chickens underfoot, was no more a genuine experience of Sapan hilltribe life than those village guesthouses.

Had I been invited to the village for a festival or by someone with whom I'd had some sort of prior relationship, it would've been a different premise for my presence there. As it was, I was a wealthy voyeur paying the equivalent of more than a month's local wages to spend the night with a family I'd never previously met.

I remembered my Cambodian student's embarrassment when, one day we walked with our cameras, he pointed out the illegal shack his family lived in next to the river. The Macedonian classmate in Bangkok who had no embassy to call on for help when he needed it most. The retired sailor in Cuba with whom I'd shared a cigarette: he'd had a wonderful one-night stand in Boston fifty years before, yet he would never be allowed to leave his country again.

We have escape routes and assumptions we never realize until meeting others who are denied them, but a homestay is a pay-per-view version of real human encounters.

Vietnam Week 5: Hanoi

Preparations

The highlight of my time in Hanoi actually took place outside of town: a birthday party for Anh Khanh. He owns a piece of land 50km outside the city, and a few dozen friends planned to celebrate the night drinking rice wine, barbequing, and dancing to a DJ after Khanh's performance. I'd met him a few days before, so he'd invited me along.


Khanh performing on one of his gigantic sculptures

This artist has been commonly described as "an ex-cop" or "the craziest artist in Hanoi", though neither label sums up his vision or his unique blend of improv performance; intuitive singing and dancing; painting; and sculpture. Khanh has been instrumental in pushing the boundaries of art in the conservative Vietnamese capital.


Hand shadows

Art in the old Capital

Hien is a self-taught artist; his family couldn't afford university tuition. He's working in the open-air studio behind his family home.

Hue is a hot & sleepy town in central Vietnam. It's got a reputation as a center of ancient culture, and seems pleasantly stuck in time, somewhere between now and a past that never quite was.

I loved the place, though haven't sweated that much since living in Siem Reap during the hottest time of year.

Hue's artists were easy to meet, once I'd run across the amazing Mr. Vu (sorry, no picture of the guy), who was well-connected to the younger generation of practicing artists.

Many of them had been trained in very traditional work - i.e. lacquer or silk painting - because that's all the schooling available there. But after graduation they branch out into more contemporary forms of art.

I'm looking forward to putting up some of their work on ThingsAsian's new Vietnamese art website!


Improv photo techniques revealed - I bought this one from an idealistic sage of an artist: Phan Chi

Vietnam Week 3: Central Vietnam

Roy with his dream Jeep, My Son sanctuary

Roy & I spent time together this week in Hoi An, Hue, My Son, and had an incredible feast of bun bo hue one afternoon in Danang.


River near Hoi An

Vietnam week 2: Down in the Mekong Delta

Rowboats slip silently between gigantic ferns in the Delta

memorable experiences this week:

* Editing a monk's english writings on Buddhist statues in his pagoda, Sam Mountain. He spoke with a pronounced French accent, though claimed not to understand French.

* The barefoot dentist at a Pharmacy who left his patient under the lamp to sell me a bottle of water.

* Hundreds of swiftlets' nests swarming with wings under the eaves of a waterstained colonial building-turned-karaoke bar/massage/sauna in Ha Tien

* Laughing in Vietnamese lessons on the beach in Mui Nai

* Being invited to teach an english class to ten-year-olds, Dragon Island, Mekong Delta

* Getting a friendly dose of hustling in Khmer once a local kid found out I spoke a little (Thach Dong Cave Pagoda), while in Kampuchea Krom

* Drinking "weasel coffee" on the To Chau River. Somehow smooth and bitter at the same time.