Shanghai
Sojourn

1 May 2012 · Swatch Art Peace Hotel Artist in Residency Program

I live on the Bund, in an old building built by foreigners. There is history here, more than I can imagine. I try to connect to the past while looking at the towering present and future represented in the skyscrapers across the Pudong River. I am at the confluence of old and new, past and present. For over a century, these buildings have witnessed the connections between China and the rest of the world through economic and cultural exchange. Today, McDonald's and Louis Vuitton logos scream for attention from the mass of humanity that now wanders the area, snapping up pictures and products that exclaim, "We have arrived, and isn't this great?"

2 May 2012

My studio apartment is bliss. Hardly the simplicity of a monk's cloister in the Pyrenees, but I can adjust. Modern and clean juxtaposed against the ancient and stately Romanic pillars of the surrounding architecture. A dozen other foreign and local artists reside here too. We have all the freedom and passion to create something unique, fueled by this incredible mix of past and present. The paint is the structure, my inspiration is the gas. My task is to try and distill something of this amazing space and time into a single voice, which will represent my 'China Time Capsule'.

3 May 2012

Yesterday reacquainted me with the Bund area. Walking to Fuzhou Road to buy art supplies, I move back into streets and shops I have visited since 1984, when I first arrived in China. Despite all that has changed, so much stays the same. Crouching shopkeepers with bowls of lunch noodles eating behind their counters with ankle-high flesh skin stockings sprouting from their dark, flat shoes. Bargaining for the best price while knowing that the merchant, though feigning bankruptcy, has still made a tidy profit. The day rolls on and I return to my base on the Bund to begin sketching old and new buildings. In my studio I take out the new calligraphy brush and ink to begin once again a practice started long ago. I recall when I first diligently studied calligraphy in Taipei; long after my class at the university had ended I would brush letters into the night. Finally, at closing time, the custodian would come and ask me to leave, but by the way, "Why do you keep writing the same characters over and over again?"

4 May 2012

Reconnecting with River South Art Center and Steve Wang, I see my paintings of 2007 — my first large canvases in Shanghai. We discuss how our 'positions' and our 'preferences' often limit us. How we like this or dislike that, and how in so doing we do not cherish and feel grateful for what is actually here and now. We are all entitled to our opinions, likes and dislikes, but often for me they get in the way of really living fully in the now. Instead of pushing 'stuff' away, I would prefer to embrace and connect with it.

I am also thrown deeply into the decisions I must make for my 'China Time Capsule'. I return to my four-part 'Journey' series, which includes: Recluse, Depart, Contemplate and Return. This feels correct and now I must just determine the methodology and content for executing it. Part of me fears the structure I might put in place, which may inhibit the expressive and intuitive side of my work. But I trust that a balance can be found. Confidence and belief in what I do is key — since how can anyone else believe in what I do, if I don't?

5 May 2012

I live on the Bund, across the street from 20 million locals. Everyday, they walk down my street and cross over to the walkway that hugs the Pudong River. They come to look, shop and snap photos. The skyscrapers across the river from the old colonial building I live in light up at night for the world to see and exclaim, "China has most certainly arrived!"

6 May 2012

There is security in rhythm. In art, repetition is pleasing. We often strive to put some order in our lives with consistent schedules. Here in Shanghai, I try to meditate daily to set my intentions. But although grounding and stabilizing, repetition does not lead us to new places and ideas. Though pretty, it does not afford much breakthrough. My works here will be different from what has come before. Therefore, I can't just repeat the past. Straying into the enemy territory of the unknown is not always settling. There is anxiety, and doubts to subdue. I will need to keep going despite not knowing where I am headed. But I do this because invariably, eventually, when the work is done, there will be the possibility that, in the words of my inner voice, "something of merit will tumble forth".

7 May 2012

I explore my world around the Bund, a mix of old and new. Buildings constructed by foreign banks a hundred years ago, flanked by the ultra-modern architecture that only today China's wealth can afford. Millions of people crawl all over and around this Mecca for branded goods and perfect photo ops. There is a constant flood of people and energy, which feeds my sense of this place and informs my work. Like a sniper I sneak out into the caldron of activity just outside my door to capture 'traces' with pen and ink, returning with signs of life from outside my studio, eventually to be absorbed into my paintings. But more than documentation, I seek to reference the journey that all of us must take both externally and inwardly. We must leave our comfort zones in order to grow. Along the way, we may get bashed around and bruised, but we always emerge the better for it, only to repeat the cycle again. Some would say it is madness while others would say, "that's life."

8 May 2012

For a week I have looked out the windows of Bund 19 at the masses of people that mill about, a tsunami of bodies, many wearing red baseball caps. During this same period, I have observed just six birds. When I do, my heart skips a beat — inside I somehow realize what a rarity this is. Nature has all but been removed from this landscape through centuries of progress. Yet it fights back, sneaking into this stone and cement jungle, dipping in pools of water left by oversized air-conditioning units. So satisfying, amongst all of this, to discover 'signs of life'.

9 May 2012

Maybe all that really matters is our intentions. Take painting for instance. Does it matter what I paint or how I paint it? If the energy I put into the painting is meant to uplift and bring a positive outcome, will it do this of its own accord, or must I endeavor to infuse the work with this vibration or purpose? It seems that once you have the tools to create something, it is then all about what you really want to do with those tools. Are we trying to make money, gain fame or fuel our ego? Or are we trying to feed the world through our art? Are we trying to bring some light into the world and the hearts of others? If so, perhaps my blind stumbling will somehow produce something of merit after all, even when certain observers say, "My kid can paint better than that."

10 May 2012

Ten days into this residency and I still feel like a 7th grader. My studio has the smell of new carpet. It reminds me of my art class at Tilden Junior High in Maryland where I first learned about the works of Vincent Van Gogh and Peter Max. Here in Shanghai, I get to play again. I am doing work that is filled with 30 years of traipsing across China. Conversing with the other artists in the program gives me feedback and ideas that I have sorely missed since doing my Masters at the turn of the century. Here I am happy to get into the studio not just to work out of some obligation to create, but to be simply who I am and do what I want. I realize I can change and have. My paintings can do the same. I am grateful for this time to explore and this gift. It reminds me that the best things in life are often free.

11 May 2012

Yesterday I went swimming. Unlike one of the last times I went swimming in China at a public pool, the water was not green. In fact it was all very organized and the complex was like that of any other modern nation. A police officer swam, a housewife swam, a businessman swam and some sporty looking guy swam. Unlike previous travels in China where I noticed a complete lack of people taking part in exercise programs, today the locals have embraced the idea of keeping fit. Before, people got plenty of exercise just surviving life by taking buses, riding bicycles and walking. Today, with all the cars and comforts of life, the Chinese too are thinking about not just the bottom line, but also their waistline.

It's Monday and laundry day. Cooking my lunch today of rice and tofu, after messing up the frying pan and plates, I just left it in the sink after I ate. The staff doesn't do laundry but they do dishes. I really can't get over how much like college this is. Back in a womb of sorts, coddled a bit but left to do one's work and be responsible for the outcome. I feel grateful for this moment in time where I have a simple life, with a simple routine, while living in probably the most dynamic city on the planet.

12 May 2012

Only in Shanghai could you meet the folks you do. It is a Mecca for unique people. Last night I met, shared a meal with and later hugged Liu Wei. Liu is a 25 year old well beyond his years in character and spirit. I guess once you have had your arms blown off at the age of ten, and survive, the rest of life is a cakewalk. Or as he puts it, you either die quickly or live amazingly. He didn't die. He learned to sing and play the piano with his toes. Last year he won the TV contest, 'China's Got Talent'.

I love his hair, a kind of Japanese-samurai look, closely cropped on the sides with the rest of his locks pressed up towards the sky. It suits him. He laughs and talks deeply and easily. These days he spends much of his time motivating college students to discover their dream and work towards it. He is living his with gusto. We happily took photos together — which I seldom relish — and talked about going for a swim sometime. I realized that though I never consciously dreamed I would someday be painting in a huge studio overlooking the Bund, the current reality is pretty awesome. He was a real breath of fresh air and a positive reminder that "we should be careful of what we wish for, because we just may get it."

13 May 2012

If one could do this, then there would be something along the way that would be worth painting about. The downside of this is that the big life can eventually overload the system and the artist runs the risk of not knowing what to say or where to find the 'meat'. Despite this hazard, one must push on and search out the messages or images which deserve expression. There is a lot of stumbling in the dark and making friends with doubt and uncertainty. But wasting paint and time trying to find these kernels of 'importance' is an effort worthy of our life's work. It is a long race, one with many starts and stops — and one which requires daily effort. In the words of Chuck Close, who continues painting large wonderful canvases despite being confined to an electric wheelchair: "Inspiration is for amateurs. The rest of us just show up."

15 May 2012

Sometimes we have dogged determination to carry on. And sometimes we wonder why we do what we do. It is easier to continue as an artist when one's work is well received and one is excited about what one is doing. But often our work lacks inspiration or we find no satisfaction in working anymore. We get no positive feedback about our art and thus begin to doubt its value or validity. During these times, we sink low into self-doubt and wonder what else we could do instead. These times are real and they come and go. The artist's journey is a roller coaster of ups and downs. When internal and external feedback is not there to help us to move forward, we need to look elsewhere to find the reason to keep going. One last resort is to remember that when all else fails, we know that what we are doing is good and makes sense for the simple reason that we believe in our art and ourselves.

16 May 2012

After two weeks here, I have settled into a routine. I wake, pee, meditate, write, have breakfast, work in the studio, eat dinner, read a book and sleep. There are minor variations on the theme but you get my drift. Life has become simple. In some ways this is very good, especially for getting something done. Yet it also breeds contempt for the moment and makes me stop living each minute as a unique set of circumstances. So I will mix it up and get out more — see more — so that I have more to paint and write about. But I can't help but smile at how, though I travel halfway around the world to do something new and creative, I end up turning in on myself and doing what I do normally. I guess it is a need for consistency and grounding. I appreciate this and it helps me to move forward. But sometimes I realize that I must stop to smell new roses and paint outside the lines.

17 May 2012

My artist's journey becomes more and more about stumbling forward in the dark. I create something from a simple intuition or idea. Then I react to that something. Following this, I react to what comes up. At times, I have a 'Zen' moment when it all feels right. Though this is a wonderful feeling and sign, when it happens, I should stop. And sometimes I do. But often I carry on, emboldened by the feeling of satisfaction. But perhaps it would have been best to stop while I was winning, because what happens next is another round of battles on the field of my canvas. And I am in the fight again, searching for survivors and something that is worth agonising over. Around and around I go, coming up for air only to plunge back down again in the caldron of my swirling creative process. It is a mess. It is anything but defined and it is riddled with doubts. It holds nothing but all my attachments and insecurities. But it is the only way I know that will possibly lead me to something magical, something new and very exciting — something that speaks of the music in my soul.

18 May 2012

It is Friday and an end to a positive and productive week of painting. Monday sucked, I guess like everybody's Mondays. But fortunately I kept motoring along and have surfaced for air and not drowned altogether. Leaving the studio tonight I realized that I must stop second-guessing myself. I would like to trust myself more and not do something only to then undo it moments later when it doesn't seem exactly correct, right at that moment. I should allow my intuition more credit and concreteness if I am ever going to get anywhere interesting and new. I do think that is what my painting is all about: discovering brave new worlds, new life and new civilisations. To boldly go where no man has gone before.

19 May 2012

Each morning, hundreds of long barges filled with what looks like sand tug up the Pudong River past the Bund and into the interior of the Center Kingdom. There must be some major construction going on up river, or there are a lot of buildings going up. We hear of the latter and that countless condo cities are languishing throughout China despite the need for housing for 1.3 billion souls. It appears that the 'masses' cannot afford the apartments that were meant for them. And therein lies China's problem — it is pricing itself out of the market. Yesterday a convoy of three forest green stretch Bentley limousines cruised down the Bund while a photographer snapped images as if it was a parade of super-models. But who can afford these cars? Probably a hotel chain which caters to China's 1%. And even though 1% of 1.3 billion is a bunch, what about the others left behind? China is still a vast land with cities filled with people scratching to get by. The gap between the haves and have-nots is precipitously vast. And while throngs file past the branded goods signs daily, a few folks dive into the garbage bins to recover plastic bottles in the hopes of someday putting their offspring through school and creating a better life. While China booms for the few, the dregs are shared by the many.

20 May 2012

Today I had the great pleasure to be invited to attend TedX Shanghai. A panel of local and international speakers shared their views on 'What it is to be Chinese'. Many interesting interpretations and several heart-felt presentations moved me. I look forward to the possibility of someday being included as a speaker, but perhaps on a different subject.

21 May 2012

I later managed to get a swim in at an exclusive Chinese club. The wary eyes I felt peeled on me by the life guard told me that he was not all that sure about what I was doing at his pool. He circled me while I did my stretches, sizing me up. At one point he almost spoke to me, but then didn't. I think he thought I might drown and he would have to get his nice sweat suit wet. After my swim, there was a different feeling altogether from the staff. It was as if I could walk on water. I don't think they had ever seen a person with a disability swim before. As I left the pool, he made a special effort to personally hand me my crutches. I saw a light in his eyes.

22 May 2012

Thirty years ago, while taking courses at a college campus, I was faced with a decision. My class load was overcrowded and I had to delete at least one course. My schedule included Japanese calligraphy, fashion illustration, airbrush painting, stained glass making, oil painting and cartoon animation. Two other courses were piano and photography. At the time, I dearly wanted a future filled with international travel. My logic in deciding which course to drop went like this: a camera is small, light and much easier to travel with than a piano. So I dropped my piano course and never looked back. However now, having become a painter working in studios across the globe, though I am not burdened with lugging a piano around with me, I do have the challenge of storing, shipping and juggling large canvases the size of a piano. I guess I got what I wanted in the end and I was never meant to escape a career in logistics after all. Be careful what you wish for.

23 May 2012

In Taiwan, when I learned Chinese brush painting under a deeply talented and understanding Liang Dan-Fung, she taught us to grind our ink by hand. The process included putting a small puddle of water on an 'ink stone' and then to mill our ink-stick in the water until a deeply dark and satisfying color was achieved. This took several minutes and all the while it was suggested that the artist put his heart and intentions into the mixing. In a way, we were preparing ourselves for a battle that would soon ensue on the rice paper. We were also calming our soul and making ourselves empty like the bamboo so that we could channel something other than our limited selves into our work. I always found this a very enriching practice and continue to use it today, although I am mixing paints instead of ink.

Professor Liang also taught us how to hold and use the Chinese brush. With a steady hand and arm, unsupported, we were to move and turn our wrist while employing the brush. In calligraphy, as in painting, a line should not be 'edited' — what is done is done, and it is believed that brush strokes are a mirror of the artist's soul. Our lines reflect our inner energy, which appears in many permutations depending upon our level of self-actualisation. Today, I hold Western brushes the same way, and try to push my spirit into the fibre of the canvas. I used to ask many questions about art making to my professor. Could I do this and is it proper to do that? Invariably she would smile and say that I could do as I wished because, in her words, "We live in a free China."

26 May 2012

Eventually, our art becomes about depth — and how far below the surface we can go, before we must come up for air and return to earthly driven needs.

27 May 2012

Being an artist requires many talents. The most important is the ability to create artwork from the heart. This is of paramount importance. Following this, there is the urge to get one's works into the public domain. This takes marketing, logistics, public relations and accounting techniques — these are usually problematic for artists who tend to navigate more on the right side of the brain. Sadly, it seems that the artists who are better at these latter abilities acquire bigger followings and more success, while the artist smothered by his or her own creative endeavors often remains obscure and never rises to the surface of the public's consciousness. Life is not always fair and the spoils often don't go to those most deserving. But lack of recognition keeps humans from becoming too proud — and pride is one of the surest ways to tank the creative spirit.

28 May 2012

The urge to go home returns. Almost a month away and I start feeling out of sorts. Nothing is wrong yet something isn't right. I feel lonely, sure, but what is it really that 'home' means to us? It is safe and it is known. And we leave it because we get bored. So being away is my way of recharging the 'creativity pack', which I have done. Now I need to put those soundings into practice, which is the real work. And perhaps the reason I yearn to scurry back to my comfort zone at home. But inside I know that soon this anxiety and brooding will pass if I don't give in to it. And I will again be off sailing and whistling down the line with a cool firm breeze of new creative energy behind my canvas. Keep going they say, "Carry on."

31 May 2012

Today I had the pleasure of painting Mila, a Russian student who studies language in China. Agreeing to model for me in exchange for one of the paintings, she brought a Ukrainian girlfriend to chaperone. It was all very innocent and professional. I took a page from one of my fellow artists here at the Swatch Peace Hotel — also Russian — who has organized programs in several countries where he advertises for models to come to his studio to have their portraits done. He completes two or more works and then trades them for whatever the 'model' has to offer. When he moved into his new home in Shanghai, he needed household goods. So he traded paintings for bottle openers, bicycles, books and dozens of other items. He is trying to live a life without the need for money and he has come pretty close to achieving his goal. My challenge will be to figure out how to trade paintings for plane tickets. I am not sure if it will work, but I could call up Singapore Airlines and ask the operator, "Can I paint your figure instead of giving you my credit card number?"

1 June 2012

I have to ask myself: "Is all life synchronistic, or do I only notice it more here in Shanghai?"

2 June 2012

Today eight of our Swatch Artists took part in a joint exhibition at the Graffiti Park here in Shanghai. The event, organized on a shoestring in 48 hours, did not seem to have much potential public exposure, as it was to take place in an old industrial building buried in the back streets of Shanghai. But we thought, 'What do we have to lose?' So we went for it and organized our works and the show. A 58 RMB taxi van ride brought my 2.5-metre paintings to the venue where they were hung in a central location. Below, I was given a large blank wall on which to do a painting demonstration — this turned out to be the best part of my evening as I whacked out a contemporary Chinese landscape scene punctuated by tall skyscrapers and a sketch of the Bund. The crowd hung out until after midnight when we finally got to go for dinner. A wonderful close to a great day and exhibition — a reminder that, with low expectations, the world can throw us wonderful surprises.

3 June 2012

It's Sunday, a day of rest. I feel a bit like the Olympic swimmer training in the pool. Swimming thousands of metres to get ready for the big meet. After a set of ten 100-metre sprints, he is allowed to stop for a few minutes to catch his breath, before diving back into training. I give myself Sunday to recoup and regenerate some inner energy and spirit before attacking again the canvas on my studio wall. Like the traveller who departs from home, contemplates and returns, I see the cycle through to its conclusion. It is in this way that the athlete, the artist and the traveller make progress along the long and winding road to where it is they may not know. But they carry on, they move forward.

4 June 2012

Sports and arts are similar. Both require passion and commitment to a vague ideal, which may never result in anything tangible — and achieving deep personal satisfaction may be as good as it gets. We work our body, mind and soul, chasing often an elusive dream with only ourselves knowing when we have really pressed our limits and achieved something noble. External return on investment may never come, so the artist and athlete need to fuel their own furnace. Building up one's core so that we may achieve our best efforts, we concentrate and extend our reach in order to rise to a place where the boundary between our humanness and our infiniteness blur — and we achieve something we feel is special. Special perhaps to nobody but ourselves. But this is what happens when marching to the beat of one's own drum.

6 June 2012

Labelling our 'challenges' as impossible curtails our success in overcoming them. If we are already convinced of the insurmountability of our problem, then we often give up or don't even start. Without starting we do not have any chance to build momentum in order to make it through the rough spots.

Adapting, we make the most of what we have. We utilize our talents and resources to the best of our ability. In so doing we hone our skills and focus on what we have instead of what we don't have. Adapting means to figure out how to do what you want to do with what you have. There is always a way if we try.

Persevering, we take just the next step. We may look ahead, but we focus on the very next step and complete this one before worrying about the next one. One step at a time we climb the mountain. We cannot jump up a flight of stairs. We always have what it takes to take one more step, but trying to overcome the entire mountain at one time usually leads to discouragement. As Phillip II, King of Macedon said: "Divide et Impera."

7 June 2012

How can we find new solutions? In my view, we must start from a place of not knowing what the outcome will be. If we know the answer, or the destination, we will likely get there in time. But if we are looking for something new, then a different approach is required. For this I propose we must learn to feel, sense and find balance. We start with an idea or an intention, not a destination. Then we must have the courage to begin, to start 'blind'. We must trust we will find a path, a way or solution.

We must be able to change along the way, to adjust. We need to feel and adjust again. If necessary, we need to start all over again, to give up all that we have done or achieved in order to find something even better. We must be willing to give up good in order to obtain great. And then the hardest part of all — knowing when to stop.

13 June 2012 · Letter to a friend from far away

I am living somewhat of a dream. I often reflect on how lucky I am to be here and now, doing what I am doing. I have been in Shanghai at the Swatch Art Peace Hotel artist in residency program since May 1. It started out as a wonder and I was so tickled to be here. It eventually plateaued and like always staying in China for extended periods, my chi began to go south. However, as with all cycles, the pendulum has flipped and I am now on an upswing, painting in new ways with new and renewed energy. I live in a wonderful apartment and work in a studio large enough to house a family of 20. Along with a dozen other international artists, we occupy real estate on the Shanghai Bund that is priceless.

The energy here, not unlike Times Square, is high and constantly in flux, washing in and out like the tides. Elderly industrious folks who root through the garbage bins to recover all forms of plastic to recycle follow around wealthy tourists. It is a lesson in the contrasts of yin and yang and all this feeds into my art.

My series is one of 'Journey'. It began with a simple premise I developed while completing my MFA. It has to do with starting out as a grounded person — poet, artist, engineer, housewife — living in a stable, status-quo home environment. At some point, this no longer fulfils, and then some departure takes place where the person goes off somewhere. Along the road, they stop to contemplate the moon, sunset or navel before making the return journey home. So as you see, it is a version of Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey mixed in with my life. We are all creating self-portraits, I'm convinced. In the end, we are all left with our individual journeys of discovery and mastery, which inevitably lead us into being better people living bigger lives.

So here I am in the thick of things and "enjoying the ride most of the time."

16 June 2012

Perhaps it is in the staying with something long enough that we discover how to really work and, as a result, find something that matters. This training, this period, this extended battle within my studio wages on continuously. I am daunted by the task ahead — to stay with this journey and not let up. To see it through, only occasionally popping up for air before diving down again into the currents that whip me about and splatter my emotions across the canvas. It is a torture at times to have so much time. Time to either do, or to turn away. Time to pick up the brush, or time to say 'no'. But here in Shanghai, I have time. I have all the time I need, more than I have ever had before, to go deeper into this 'journey'. For this I am grateful. From the quiet moments left alone to ponder the seashells on the seabed before I must shoot back up to the surface for air — I am getting close, I know, to something I don't know. And I think that is good. And I think that is what it means to say and be, 'Yes'.

17 June 2012

For decades I have thought that putting my best foot forward into my paintings was the only answer. My misguided assumption was that painting was the pinnacle of my creativity and if during that time I were able to be at my best, then something special would be born. Other less glamorous activities such as washing clothes, eating lunch, making the bed paled in comparison to the 'virtue' and 'significance' of what I did with my brush.

But today, before I set foot in my studio, I had already lived a big morning — negotiating with a laundromat clerk, searching for a black-tie shirt, chatting with a man on a three-wheeled disability motorcycle, being pulled into a conversation by three strangers on the street about getting a local licence from the police. And it hit me while walking back to the studio: the 'Heroes Journey' series I am currently working on was also about all these individual local Chinese people who flock to the Bund to take photos with victory finger signs and cadmium red shoes.

So I see that I don't have to 'trap' my moments with brushes in front of a canvas to succeed. I must live honestly and deeply every moment, every step along this journey. Because as I have heard said by sages and sailors, "All people are the same, and we are all looking for that which makes us happy."

19 June 2012

So I am in the shopping district and it is pouring down rain. I walk gingerly along, doing my best to stay upright and not slip on the wet marble floor outside one of these mega malls. Suddenly, a street vendor zips up to me and asks if I am interested in a new pair of roller skates that can attach directly to my shoes. The only obvious answer I have is: "What the #@+*% are you thinking?"

21 June 2012

Like water dripping on rock, over time, progress is made. It is not in the one-off throwing of everything we have at a challenge that brings success. It is the daily concentrated simple practices and actions we take that eventually bring us to fruition and fulfilment.

23 June 2012

Shanghai is a caldron of people, places, emotions, passions, poisons, elixirs and dreams. Within this quagmire, I try to ground myself, lashing myself to the mast of this vessel, which rears up like a ship in stormy seas. Hanging on to the art, trying to go deeper into my soul, I try to clarify and express 'it' on the canvas with paint. Hoping the mistakes will add up to something, hoping that I will discover something that makes it all come together clearly. Searching for a vision and a way to sum this one big wild ride up. I dive back down into the fray, clinging like kelp to the sea floor — trying not to get bashed about only to realize that it is in the letting go that we are set free.

25 June 2012

The Yu Garden in Shanghai is anything but just a garden. Shops, stalls and restaurants sell everything under the sun and then some. Tourists both local and foreign wander the grounds snapping up photos and foodstuffs. If one happens to notice, and is willing to buy the 40 RMB ticket, another world opens up through an old stone gate — the inner gardens and lodgings of Shanghai's deputy mayor some hundred-plus years ago. Stately pavilions and ponds connected by stone stairways and bridges offer a glimpse into a life of leisure found in quieter times. One can step in and back to an era when eunuchs roamed the corridors. Like today, we spend an hour as nobles and aristocrats once did, enjoying the shapes and forms of a refined aesthetic that now slowly crumbles away with the changing priorities of China's modernising society.

27 June 2012

From the mega-city Shanghai, I fly to the equally crowded Shenzhen in the south. Leaving behind the rain and mountainous buildings, after deplaning I am whisked away to the countryside where I will speak at a conference tomorrow. Along the highway, I drink in the trees, the views of mountains and all this green. Almost two months trapped in the city has left me dry and lacking. But here, banana trees wave as we pass and the distant grey-silhouetted peaks make my spirit rise up. If we go too long without feeding on nature, we grow stale and are no longer connected with our True North.

29 June 2012

I am 279. This is my call number as an extra for the shooting of a futuristic film called "Her" by director Spike Jonas. Changing into some retro-futuristic clothing that doesn't suit me, I pose for mug shots. Laughing at the randomness of it all. American artist in Shanghai playing a bar scene in a futuristic film shot in the city by the director of one of my favorite films, 'Adaptation'. Well, if anything, Shanghai is all about random adaptation.

2 July 2012

We went to Suzhou today by train for a wonderful visit of several gardens. In the old city, ancient rock sculptures, pagodas, lotus and bridges interspersed with classical Chinese architecture. After a long day exploring, we headed back to the train station — however, when trying to buy tickets, I was told we could not get any without our passports, which we had failed to bring. Left with no alternatives, I approached a tall thin police officer supervising what seemed to be a woman having convulsions on the floor of the train station. Upon hearing my plight, he asked his colleague what to do. They both asked me to come with them and we went to their office where I was asked to wait. Things did not seem to bode well. The officer rooted around in his locker until he found a stack of ID cards. He asked how many male and female travellers we had. One man and three women, I replied. We were handed four official ID cards of what I could only assume were dead people — and off to the ticket counter I went with the tall officer who bought us our tickets. When I tried to pass him a 20 RMB note for his trouble, he waved me away with a smile. Now this was a 'China moment'.

4 July 2012

It is my country's birthday today and I am an extra on the stage of a movie shoot by one of America's top directors. Spike Jonas is shooting 'Her' in Shanghai, and for this they needed 100 bodies to fill various scenes. I am fitted out with burgundy awful pants and a green shirt while for dessert I have a shaggy wig, which the make-up lady says is divine. I think it sucks. My 'role' is to sit in a chair in a bar scene while Joaquin Phoenix and Olivia Wilde perform dozens of takes behind me. I am surrounded mostly by Russian actors and hungry mosquitoes. My 'date' across from me and I raise our glasses to each other while the colored water never reaches our lips.

It's not hard being an extra. A lot of hurry up and wait. Lots of repetition. On a toilet break I bump into Joaquin, telling him I liked his portrayal of Johnny Cash in 'Walk the Line'. He thanks me, takes a drag on his 100th cigarette of the night and it's back to the set and the slow ticking of the clock. After another four hours they have completed a two-minute scene. Any footage of me in this movie will feature my shoulder and the back of my wig. I will not likely be nominated for any awards. But before the shooting was over at 4am, I had the pleasure to speak at length with Spike Jonas about the comparison between China's leaders and those of the USA. Engineers vs. lawyers. Perhaps that sums it up.

8 July 2012

I may not know what it is, but I do know that there is a big difference between love and attention. In China, I receive tons of attention. Wearing shorts with my braces is an irresistible opportunity for the locals to stare. Their attention is glued to my legs. They stop, look, point and often ask questions. They are curious. They may also be afraid. But whatever they feel, I have grabbed their attention.

But despite the millions who acknowledge my existence every day, I need more than this. Though I cannot define what love is, perhaps because I get so much scrutiny, I require a major dose of love to create a balance of payments in my emotional quadrant. Whatever the case, the Beatles had it right when they sang, "All you need is Love."

11 July 2012

Polio galvanized Roosevelt through struggle and frustration. It also taught him compassion for those less fortunate. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, had he not contracted polio, perhaps America would not have had the same man as president. But his struggle with paralysis was something he hid from the world. He orchestrated all public appearances so that America did not see or know that their president was paralysed. Elaborate stagings were created to hide his infirmity. He struggled with polio alone, but exuded confidence and optimism to others. By faking it, he prevailed — and is thought by most to have been America's greatest president.

12 July 2012

As a boy, I had friends who knew what they wanted to be when they grew up and who often did actualise their boyhood dreams. It always amazed me that people were sure they wanted to be doctors or lawyers and then went about constructing that life for themselves. I on the other hand, besides wanting to be a rock and roll singer or an astronaut, had few childhood visions for my future. Along the way, my life has unfolded. Once in Tahiti on vacation, I stumbled upon a group of people making TV documentaries while they sailed around the world on a wooden boat and I joined them. Today, having attended a random dinner party a year ago, I am living a dream I never had on Shanghai's Bund.

My point is that my life and my art evolve on their own terms. I did not intend to be a painter or speaker when I was a boy, just as I do not know what my paintings will look like before I start them. Beginning the journey, I may have an idea or a simple goal in mind, but the roadmap and conclusion are determined in the process of moving forward. Thus, inertia is my worst enemy. Like a fish, I must keep swimming to keep breathing and to stay alive.

13 July 2012

Life is a process of throwing spaghetti against the wall to see if it's ready to stick (and eat).

16 July 2012

My friend and Shanghai River South Art Center owner, Steve Wang, introduces me as an artist who happens to also be an athlete. This contrasts how I once thought of myself as an athlete who was also an artist. I think Steve is right. From young, I tried proving myself physically to the world. Lying under my father's chair as he sat at the dinner table, my five-year-old arms attempted to bench press him off the ground. I succeeded in lifting him slightly. Paralympics and Ironman events were a natural extension of that same drive.

As a child, I used to embellish my English class reports with illustrations and elaborate penmanship. Art classes were fun and teachers always encouraging. On the back of a comic book there was an advertisement for an art school. To qualify, you needed to draw 'Winky' the deer — and so I did. Many times. Exhibitions and an MFA were just a natural extension of this passion.

18 July 2012

Monday morning and I will soon walk from my bedroom down the hall to my office. I will turn on the lights and air-con and probably some music. Like a Chinese calligrapher I will warm up by methodically mixing my paint. Approaching a work in progress or a blank canvas, after some time my strokes will become bolder and more confident as the day moves forward. Soon, I may be singing or whistling along with the music. If I am lucky, and the spirit moves through me, I may begin dancing as paint from tubes passes across my brush onto the canvas. And if I am really lucky and aware, I may know when it is time to stop.

20 July 2012

If I want to make good art, I think I must be a good and honest person. I must be true to myself and fair with others. Before I can create something pure and beautiful, I too must be this. Pruning away distractions which dilute the little energy I have to work with, I try to distill my life into the lowest common denominators. Simplify.

The artist prepares him or herself in order to be a vessel through which might flow morsels of wisdom and beauty, which combine into something that can feed the hearts and souls of mankind. The cleaner the conduit, the better the reception. Half the battle is preparing the weapon. The other half is feeling what it is that needs to be kept, and discarded.

22 July 2012

How do we go from good to great? In the words of Chuck Close, "we show up." We take thousands of small steps. Occasionally one of these little steps increases in stature but for the most part, it is a long slow burn. We gradually get better if we stay the course and stick with what we believe in. But it is not enough to just show up and put in the time. We need to focus and not just go through the motions. We need to feel what we are doing and concentrate in order to make progress. I recall, in 1985, listening to the Dalai Lama counselling 100,000 Tibetan pilgrims at a significant Buddhist celebration in Bodh Gaya, India. He told the crowd that it was not enough to just regurgitate mantras. The devoted needed to think about what they were endlessly repeating. In swimming or painting, if I want to get from good to great, I need to be fully present in the moment. Then I will know where to go and what to do next.

25 July 2012

Today Mila, the Russian 'student' who had posed for me, returned to collect one of the mixed media portraits on paper I'd agreed to give her as an exchange for modelling. Reviewing all four versions, the Ukrainian friend angrily rejected the painting I was gifting Mila and the situation quickly deteriorated. After much was muttered in her native language, she suddenly snatched the painting and after folding it in half, tore it into pieces, throwing everything on the floor. At this, losing my temper, I told them to get the #@%< out of my studio.

Shaking and stunned, I tried clearing the air of the bad energy, feeling that I had been violated. Shards of Mila lay on the floor. After a few minutes surveying the damage, it occurred to me that there was something interesting about the pieces. Sorting through them, I discovered that miraculously, Mila had been torn exactly down the middle. Interestingly, one half of her face looked happy while the other side looked angry. I was floored by the juxtaposition of Yin and Yang which had somehow been captured in paint.

I then realized that I could collage one 'side' of Mila into one painting and her other 'side' into another. I could make lemonade out of lemons and create something more meaningful in the process. It was an epiphany. I would never have had the courage to destroy my painting with the hope of incorporating it into another painting, giving it a second and more dynamic life. Thanks to an altercation with a naked lady, I was forced out of my comfort zone and learned not to be afraid to sacrifice something that I like to achieve something even better.

28 July 2012

Forty-three years ago, while living in Germany, my parents sent me off to summer camp in England. Camp Mohawk offered tents and plenty of outdoor activities. The problem was, upon arriving all I wanted to do was return home. The flight to Heathrow was bumpy and as we landed, I vomited all over the stewardess who was holding my hand. At the airport, my suitcase with everything I needed and my pocket money went missing. For the bumpy three-hour bus ride from the airport to the camp I lay on the back seat in agony. After checking into my tent, the camp director — a stocky older woman with the demeanour of a drill sergeant — listened as I related my recent journey from happy home to forest outpost. My story completed, I looked up to see her in tears. After some camp cafeteria food, I went to bed, longing to be returned home in the morning.

But the next day dawned anew and the last thing on my mind was to return home. I was thrilled to be at camp and to have the chance to live outdoors and eat s'mores over a campfire. I had the best two weeks of my short life and marched home with the 'Best Camper' award.

Yesterday, here in Shanghai, I felt like I did upon arriving at Camp Mohawk. I was exhausted and emotionally pummelled and really wanted nothing more than to return home. But as before, the dawning of a new day brought with it renewed excitement and possibility. And I now feel what lies ahead may be one of the best periods in my not so short life.

30 July 2012

31 July 2012

It's the Olympics now, and London is the place to be. The closest I get is catching a few events on the TV of my local diner. I relish the Games and what they encourage — greatness. Politics and profits aside, they provide a venue for humans to excel.

Shanghai is my Olympics this year. It is a training — a galvanising time. It is full of promise and doubts. But it is a unique moment in time where, as the athletes in London, I can see what I am made of. Eggplant and tofu arrive and I tuck in. Tomorrow I begin my 'Olympic Journey' series.

1 August 2012

By rights, I should not be writing this. I should be on a plane home. Three months ago I arrived in Shanghai with a 90-day residency before me. However, along the way, I was able to extend it for another 6 weeks, so you are not rid of me just yet.

Hard to believe it has been that long. The first month crawled along while the last month has swept by. I remain inspired to work here and that says a lot for something that must brew in the atmosphere. I really don't know what it is, but I work harder here than most anywhere else I have painted. Surely I will look back someday and realize that this was my Olympic Journey in paint. I continue to try to stretch myself and do that which I don't always do. As an old dog trying to learn new tricks, I can't say that it comes easy. Though there have been no tectonic shifts, I do feel some realignment has occurred. But today, I celebrate 90 days of a colorful palette.

4 August 2012

I have my rituals, which help to keep me regular in this ever-changing Shanghai mind-scape. Each morning I have breakfast and then retire to my office. Here in this rich silence, I plan my day and organize my thoughts. I take no phone calls and see no people. This is my time. I then flush the toilet and go to work in my studio.

5 August 2012

You know I need to get out more when finding the only lone dryer available on laundry day makes my week.

7 August 2012

It appears to me that we are all saddled with challenges equal to that which we can handle. Looking at the Olympians and Paralympians, they seem to win and reflect lives lived with struggle and success. However, not everybody wins and not all of us seem to be given our due. Some seem to work harder and have more setbacks than others; while some people seem to have everything, including perfect lives. But I don't think that anyone gets out of here without a fight. We are all battered and buffeted in proportion to what we are capable of. And we are all rewarded and experience joy and exuberance in proportion to what we put into the game.

8 August 2012 · Asian Anniversary

Today is my Asian anniversary. Twenty-eight years ago I landed in a rainy Chiang Kai-shek airport and moved my life from green California to a grey cement city called Taipei. Without family or friends I lived with local students in a leaky apartment on a metal bed. My courses in Chinese arts were fascinating but I was required to study Mandarin Chinese, which held no interest for me as I was only planning to be away from America for a year. My world in Taipei included serious studies and practices which would inform my artwork for decades to come. The people of Taiwan welcomed me, along with many other strangers, as we all shared our different talents.

After my year of studies, I ventured across the straits to the Center Kingdom and what would roll into a 16-month sojourn across China, through Tibet, into Nepal, around India, over to Pakistan and back into China. Along the way, I compiled boxes of sketches and paintings of 'Sacred Sites' I created visiting various religious sanctuaries. My belief was that though I could not read and learn enough about all I was seeing and experiencing, if I were to sit long enough drawing, I would absorb the essence of these amazing places.

Perhaps I have come full circle. But today a typhoon smashed into Shanghai and I am left wondering if this is the kind of punctuation mark every anniversary deserves. More importantly, I can only imagine that the next twenty-eight years will only get better.

10 August 2012

Shanghai is a beehive of activity, which I must confess I have become addicted to. Random interesting experiences fill up my days and I feel that my life is packed. There is a joy in incorporating opposites sprinkled with the satisfaction of completing tasks — mostly paintings. It is getting everything done and still having more to do. Places to go, people to see, things to do.

Yet I also feel a lack of grounding and a deep appreciation for all that is happening. I want to fully feel these moments so that they will enrich my life and make me a better artist and writer. I try to center myself with sheepish attempts at meditation. My painting process does provide an arena within which I embrace and hold my energy — where the swirling stops and I am in the moment. It is kind of a tai-chi dance in my studio, which probably keeps me from spinning out of control.

To truly live well and actualise all this, I must stop the bus long enough to digest and be thankful. Thank you, thank you, and thank you Universe.

17 August 2012

After 3.5 months I am still inspired and working well. So what is it? What drives me here? Why do I cherish time in my studio and go there willingly to work? There are plenty of distractions in Shanghai. The landscape and people are colorful. I have only a limited time here, but as this is my 20th residency in fabulous surroundings, this does not seem to be the cause either.

I am left wondering if perhaps after 28 years of flirting with China, we may now have finally started a relationship.

18 August 2012 · Tiger

Last month I met Tiger. He was sitting in Wagas Restaurant drawing while his parents worked on some architectural renderings. I watched for almost an hour as this child of ten occupied and entertained himself with deep concentration. As I was about to leave, I walked over to the family and asked if I could see what the young man was doing. Tiger perked up and launched into a detailed explanation of the drawings and futuristic furniture ideas he had created. We talked for a while and it was immediately apparent that this kid was special. Outside the restaurant, I invited Tiger to give me his impressions of a very large abstract painting on the wall. After asking me if the work was one of mine — which it wasn't — he explained that he liked the work because though it looked simple to do, it was not a simple painting. There was something going on within the built-up areas as well as the empty spaces.

A week ago, I invited Tiger and his family to visit my studio. They spent over an hour absorbing my art while Tiger expounded upon why he liked the work. I gave him a t-shirt with my painting and name on it after he had given me a book on the Bund. Yesterday, I received an email from Tiger while he was vacationing in Paris — a photo of him in front of the Louvre, sporting my t-shirt. I was tickled to know that this boy has perhaps gleaned as much inspiration from me as I have from him. And I am again hopeful for the future of China, when a boy named Tiger can humble an old salt like me.

19 August 2012

As a child, I watched as the first astronauts walked on the moon. I was impressed by NASA and dreamed of going into space. I too wanted the world to watch me land on a distant planet. Perhaps I may yet do this someday with my art.

But more practically speaking, I am grateful to the space program because of Velcro. Prior to its invention, I wore heavy braces with straps and buckles which took several minutes to fasten. With Velcro, suddenly, I could strip off these braces in a matter of seconds. As a child, this to me represented real progress. I may never get to the moon, but I can get dressed faster than you think.

27 August 2012 · Methodology

1) Set intention.
2) Choose images and color base.
3) Slap on color ground.
4) Add bold brush-strokes.
5) Prepare and collage images.
6) Add text.
7) Collage more images.
8) White paintbrush stroke.
9) Glaze oil paint over as necessary.

29 August 2012

Lesson 1: Being able to say 'no' to things you want and being able to say 'yes' to things you don't want.
Lesson 2: Knowing when to do Lesson 1.

31 August 2012 · Commission delivered

Three months ago I began the process of working on a commission for an international law firm with an office on the Bund. Yesterday it was time to deliver the painting — 1 × 4 metres — to their office at the Roosevelt House on the Bund. I am particularly pleased to have my painting at this distinguished address, in honor of my favorite American president, who as we know was also challenged by polio.

Like the cover of the Beatles' Abbey Road album, three bell-boys from the Swatch Art Peace Hotel in smart uniforms carried my painting across Nanjing East Road, stopping momentarily on the crosswalk for a photo-op. Crowds of people stopped to stare and take their own photographs as our entourage made its way south down the Bund. A gust of wind caught us as we turned the corner, but fortunately the men regained control of the painting before it ended up in the street. Finally, our team managed to hoist the painting up the last four flights of stairs and into the stunning new office. Placing the painting in position in the main boardroom, my job was finished — and I am pleased that everybody, including myself, was over the moon.

1 September 2012

My time in Shanghai winds down. Clinging to the last moments of this amazing ride, I try to wrap up what seems like a lifetime of work before the chapter closes. The process forces me into the moment, and I realize that 'now' is all we ever have.

2 September 2012

The Swatch Peace Hotel world changes with new faces coming and old ones leaving. The dynamic is different from when I arrived. Grateful I am for the communion and sharing I have had here with other artists. I no longer paint in a bubble, but have other eyes through which to see my progress. This is invaluable and keeps me from finding myself in darkened downward spirals, which I often experience when left alone with my work for too long. Sharing the journey with others brings light into the process.

4 September 2012

It feels like trying to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste out of the tube. You get down to the end and try as hard as you can to coax the last remaining solution out before you throw away the container. Here in my studio, I try to get the final dabs of passion and insight out of me and onto the canvas before I close this chapter and reach for a new tube of Crest.

13 September 2012

We gathered for my going away party at the local Chinese restaurant often frequented. It was the largest gathering for such an occasion since I have been at the residency. I guess a lot of people are going to be happy or sad to see me go. I will miss them too — and this moment in time when we could be all that we really are.

14 September 2012

In 24 hours I will be on a plane to Tokyo. Leaving here feels like leaving home, college and something incredible all at the same time. Melancholy would be the word I am looking for. Saying goodbye feels so sad, yet this is the only way we can ever invite in new and wonderful experiences. It is all a cycle of coming and going. I just get stuck clinging on to the past for a little longer than I should.

15 September 2012 · Departure

As China Eastern Airline flight 523 lifts off towards Tokyo, my Swatch Art Peace Hotel Residency draws to a close. Yesterday, my watch stopped running. Perhaps the universe is gently closing a chapter of my life, which will prove to be a turning point. Too much has happened to recount. One hundred and thirty five days in Shanghai and I am a different person.

On my last night in town, I visited with my ten-year-old friend and his family for dinner. Tiger is a wonderful young boy turning into a true gentleman. He said several things over the course of the evening that I hope will guide the rest of my life. He said, "Don't hurry and don't worry" and, "People who smile live longer." I believe this about sums up all one needs to know to live a good life. Thank you Shanghai and thank you Tiger. Dzai jen.

16 September 2012 · Postscript — Tokyo

The Eagle has now landed in the House of the Rising Sun. The four months in the Center Kingdom with an overall diet of chaos slowly recedes in sharp contrast to the orderly nature of our current residence. Having burned my candle at both ends since May, now is a time to consolidate and sit while riding the bullet train to the next destination.

In Tokyo I can use the crosswalk and not worry that a car will drive over me. Getting into an elevator or train car is not a contact sport. People move about in relative silence, not even using hand-phones on the subway. The human being is more important than the car here. Countless men with uniforms, caps and gloves direct traffic and humans on their way. Construction site cranes stand at attention in neat order when not being used. Elsewhere, there is an attitude of doing things that are 90% there. Here, you give 110%. Perfection is acceptable.