U: Us

I love this piece of street art that I came across in an alleyway off Kensington Avenue in Toronto. Somehow I identify with the face at bottom right!

S: Shade

I saw this art project while wandering in Fitzroy Garden during a trip to Melbourne this past February. I liked it that the tiles with all the children's names seem to be snug and protected under the shade. Meanwhile, the shadows of the trees sway like they are dancing with the kids.

Evening Over The IJ

 

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Crossroads, Paris: Missed Opportunities

What should one do in an academic conference when no one on the podim wants to or is able communicate and everyone in the audience whispers discontent amongst themselves but nonetheless pretends that knowledge is being transmitted and worthwhile conversations are happening? I found myself in this dilemma on day one of the Crossroads conference. It's one of my favourite conferences because it always takes place in an interesting city (often truly a "crossroads" city like Istanbul and Hong Kong) and cultural studies remains one of the most interdisciplinary, socially engaged, and genuinely creative academic fields. Yet, lecture after lecture, from gifted intellectuals many of whom are giants in the field, very little efforts were made to engage the audience, let alone inspire, move, or just surprise them! In some cases, there was not even a transmission of ideas or information, either because of an incomprehensible accent, poor room acoustics, or just an inability to speak at a speed or in a manner attuned to the ear, not the eye. In many cases, it's sadly a combination of all three. Having given lectures to large groups, I understand how much effort it takes to truly try to communicate. It's often tempting to just read out a piece of writing that's there already, heading for publication, admittedly the "true" destination of the work. Yet, in a conference, one is given an opportunity to connect with people who might never read your work, whose only potential contact with one's ideas is just this moment, in the auditorium. When gifted with such a precious opportunity, an invitation from an audience to reach out, to enthrall, to persuade ... why do most academics, especially those who are most accomplished, choose to ignore?

 

 

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July 1 On The Thalys

The scenery whizzes by outside but I can only see fragments from my aisle seat on the Thalys from Amsterdam to Paris. My Canadian friends affectionately wish me a Happy Canada Day. I wonder how the July 1 protests have gone in Hong Kong. My best friend is about to undergo major surgery in New York. There is someone I miss in Vancouver. And pieces of my heart are left in Amsterdam.

Everyone on the train is engrossed in their mobile devices, fingers touching screen, eyes glued to flipping images. They seem connected to the world. I just feel fragmented. What lies at the journey's end? At least I am staying curious.

 

 

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Houseboats on Westerdoksdijk, A'dam

I love the domestic details on these houseboats: firewood, kids' bikes, hanging laundry. This is true Amsterdam living!

 

The Life and Death of Marina Abramović @ Carré, A'dam

Having only heard and read about, but not experienced, any of Abramović's famous performance works, I went to see the Robert Wilson production of her "autobiography" without too much preconceived expectations of what I should be seeing. I have to admit, experientially, it felt much more like attending conventional theatre than being in the middle of a performance piece. Still, as I took my seat, the sight of three black dogs milling about on stage amidst three "coffins" with the artist's face on them was bizarre enough that it left an immediate impact. The piece did not focus too much on the artist's works (only two black-and-white footage which at different times hovered above the stage, one of a skeleton pressing upon a young woman and the other of a needle moving close, too close, to an open eye, vaguely recalled the bodily violence of A's early works), but much more on her actual life: family history, childhood, love affairs. In fact, the most poignant moment seems to be about her bidding goodbye to her work, her presence becoming an apotheosis, from martyr to symbol to saint. Her presence throughout the piece seems strangely distant, almost immaterial. Is the artist now absent?

What left the most impact on me, not surprisingly, were Antony Hegarty's beatific voice soaring into the ether and Willem Defoe's indefatigable presence as the narrator who sometimes got into the middle of the action, whether as a dancing Serbian officer or A's one time lover and collaborator Ulay. Still, I was greedy for more. The production was truly a feast for the eyes and ears, but the rest of my body both dreaded and wanted more, but it was mostly left alone.

 

EYE of Amsterdam

I visited the new EYE film museum in Amsterdam for the first time on Tuesday. Although I miss the old film museum in the middle of Vondel Park, I have to admit this new venue is an impressive piece of architecture. Located right across the Ij from the Central Station, it is remaking the formerly quiet North into a veritable culture centre. Apparently, the famed Paradiso concert hall will also have an extension next to the museum in the future. It certainly looks like those cute little free ferries that whisk passgengers across the Ij will soon be a hub for music and movie fans' postmortem discussions!