That Yonder World

This conversation comes spontaneously, with an old friend Tao: a filmmaker.

Suddenly thought in the end of 2019, I had a talk with a woman named mimi. 

She was also a filmmaker.  

At the time she had a deck of photographs matching with poetry texts , and she told me she wanted to make "PoetryTarot" decks.

We played around. 

I asked a question:

Then I picked:

We discussed what this could mean. But none of us were really sure. 

As time goes by, from where I am in the 3D world, I can see now what it can possibly mean. 

Keep going keep going 

Find the forest of your heart

As if no return 

Bind farewell without ends  

Hold that flame 

  (photograph 2024.01.20.)

Ps:  I used to write a lot. Everywhere I lived.

I remember going to the second hand bookstore & squeezed my body into the tiny spot looking for books to buy to read, under a dim yellow light. That was like the old-world charm. Poetic and romantic. 

I read also tons since I was little.

My parents got divorced very early and I had a long period only I was at home alone. 

At first scared, then came to love it.

That seemingly dark place, like a cocoon, was the place that butterfly was made of. 

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Some years ago an UK curator contacted me, asking me if he could exhibit some of my text-visual-poetry works. 

I was excited, then showed him some of my notebooks. 

He liked it right away. 

I was surprised, as those scribbles doodles were like a mystery, sometimes even to the author herself years after. 

Unrecognizable fasthand seems to come from another world.

Mixtures of diary, performance ideas, costume drawings, poetry, street encounters etc. 

The curator wanted to exhibit them all!

Unfortunately it didn't work out. 

Pages went silently like a nice country lady sewing old socks, only the crackling sounds of fire could be heard on such a winter's day

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On the rebirthing days.

Without planning, writings and reading came back to me.

It's fluid again. 

Lots and lots and lots and oh so many ideas 

and things and this and that.

Like an ocean.

I am a sea. 

Yes.

I am a sea again. 

Siren of the backroads. 

Drawing journal onwards

True Colors: Drawings & Voices from the wounderland to wonderland (II)

*Last but not least, I want to add a spoken

 word reading based from something I wrote before but haven't been able to perform. 

It's like I could hear those words in my mind

and could wrote it down in details but my voice was yet to be unwrapped and expressed wholely. 

So I recorded this as I finishing the final project. A bit raw and not perfect. No rehearsal. And I made a video of it too :))

https://on.soundcloud.com/ANqNQ

True Colors: Drawings & Voices from the wound-erland to wonderland (I)

 A) Why did you choose your particular project?

The reason why I choose drawings as my main tool here:

Although I am a dancer/poet and a theater-person, I always wanted since a 

child to paint and draw. As a kid, I enjoyed making balloon like sun and put 

sunglasses on it, doodling stick figures. Me and my brother were sent by our 

mother to a drawing class to learn after school. I was excited.  My drawings 

were not like others: I wasn't good at copying realistically. I remember at the 

end of each drawing class, all kids were waiting for teacher’s critique and picks of

the day's bests. I waited for a long time. Days went by and almost all kids had been

picked but I was not. My brother got picked several times. Sitting next to him my eyes 

went from beaming with excitement of waiting for my turn, to gradual dimming of 

the lit and excitements were replaced with disappointment and self-awareness:

aware that I/my drawings/my perception was different, and this difference thus 

 resulted in being alienated, and not fully appreciated. 

When the first season of drawing classes ended, while in bath, my mom asking 

me if I wanted to continue the class, I said no, didn't want to feel rejected or 

disappointed again. And this disappointment went on both sides:

my side for not being appreciated as who I am; teachers' side for not making me like everyone else.

Many years passed by, I decided to take a basic comic drawing class again. 

First class was okay, we were learning some line sketches. Second was getting a bit

 difficult for me. Again I couldn't reproduce exactly what the teacher taught or wanted. 

Third class, when we practiced in the class, I couldn't draw a full anatomical shape, and 

the other adults in class seemed fine, the teacher got a bit anxious and upset then.

He took away the pen in my hand and started to finish up my drawing.

At that moment I felt shocked and frozen for a moment, and didn't know how to react.

I later felt a bit ashamed that I was incapable of finishing such a simple task.

But at the same time, the adult me felt the teacher’s action was not appropriate

for that situation. My inner voice and intuition told me I shouldn't feel ashamed.

So I quitted the class right away and didn't go back tolerating it like before.

I then wanted to take other drawing class but after searching I found nothing really 

suited me.

I don't aspire to be a professional painter, I simply like doing it.

I like the quietness it allows me to be in the presence. I like colors. I like to see an

empty paper filled with different colors and shapes and I find joy in it. Very simple.

I don't need any validation from people who are not open to something different,

or refuse even to ask me questions before they deny me/my presence. It is a 

projection of their inner self than who I am. So I like to choose drawings as my final 

project, because I love drawings. And I want to honor myself and share this love🙏

B) What did you do for your final project?

Different drawings relate to the topics we talked about.

Some are just pure drawings and others I put also words in them.

I have since before developed this way I call it poetry drawings or subconscious

drawings.

Because in my eyes the images might not at first directly relate to each other. And yet

when you look close enough and take deep breaths and meditate on them deeper, 

using ur inner eye ;), you would see the inner-connectedness in all of them. 

Just like all is connected in us :))

There is no judgment because deep down inside, we are all colorful, 

like flowers are all pretty.

In this collection for the final project, I also include the free-drip-drawing that I have 

done previously, because I feel it is related. 

The drip-drawing was done with different mediums, one can also see how I work 

with different materials and how I “dance”differently with them haha.

Thank you! 🙂