Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ a Place to Call Home Ruth

Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ A Place to Call Home

Ruth (Ru-Hwa) Liou BFA (Hons)

Exegesis submitted as partial requirement for Doctor of Philosophy (Fine Art) University of Newcastle

July 2014

Attestation of Authorship

I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and that, to the best of my knowledge and belief, it contains no material previously published or written by another person nor material which to a substantial extent has been accepted for the qualification of any other degree or diploma of a university or other institution of higher learning, except where due acknowledgement is made.

I give consent to this copy of my thesis, when deposited in the University Library, being made available for loan and photocopying subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968.

Ruth (Ru-Hwa) Liou

Table of Contents

P a g e

Note on Transliteration of Chinese Characters ii Acknowledgement iii Preface iv Abstract v List of Illustrations vi

Chapter 1 Introduction 1 Chapter 2 Contextual Review 8 Chapter 3 The Ambivalent and Indecisive Identity 21

Contemporary Artists Analysis ~ The Visual Voice 35 Preamble 36

The Search for Oneself Chapter 4 Hossein Valamanesh ~ Search of the Present Self 39 Chapter 5 Greg Leong ~ A Call to Remember 47 Chapter 6 Lin Hwai-Min ~ Dance into the Liminal 54

The Search for Home Chapter 7 Mona Hatoum ~ There’s No Place like Home 68 Chapter 8 Do Ho Suh ~ Mobile Home 77 Chapter 9 Guan Wei ~ Looking for Home 87

At the Cross-Road Chapter 10 Reflection and Discovery 96

The Passage of Research and Findings Chapter 11 ‘I’ in the Liminal ~ A Place to Be 121 Chapter 12 Conclusion ~ A Place of Belongingness 172

Bibliography 179

Note on Transliteration of Chinese Characters

The customary order for Chinese name of persons, place and terms in this research is followed in both Wade-Giles (a Romanisation of Pinyin was used in the first half of the 20th century in the English-speaking world) and Hanyu Pinyin systems (invented in 1950s and adopted as a standard in mainland China in 1958). This research paper uses different spelling systems when a specific spelling was used by the original author or the original reference is quoted, or the reference honours the preferred spelling of China or Taiwan, as appropriate, or it is the preferred spelling of the person who is referenced.

The traditional way of recording Chinese names is surname first, such as Deng Xiaoping, Mao Zedong, Jiang Jie-shi and Ma Ying-jeou. This approach also applies to those who are less westernised and/or if it is their personal preference to hold to their origin convention, for example the name for: Guan Wei and Lin Hwai-min etc., otherwise, they would be written in western style as for: Greg Leong, Do Ho Suh, Yi Fu Yuan and Ien Ang etc. in the paper. The difference between Taiwan and China in spelling names is that the common practice in Taiwan is to place hyphenation between the two characters of the first name. Some historical well-known persons in western countries were specified in both Wade-Giles spellings system after the first use of the Hanyu Pinyin, such as Jiang Jie-shi (Chiang Kai-shek). The popular name of places like Beijing etc. have long been used internationally therefore Romanised Pinyin system (Peking) is not given.

In this exegesis the Traditional Chinese characters were used.

Acknowledgements

I acknowledge with thanks the University of Newcastle for granting the Scholarship and Research and Training Schemes Grants which assisted this research. Many people have assisted me and given me guidance throughout the journey of my research in composing both written and creative works. I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude and appreciation to the people who have supported me.

My deepest gratitude goes to my supervisors, Dr Trevor Weekes and Mr Brett Alexander who have offered their expertise and professional advice and assistance in the writing and creative work, while providing me with great space and trust that allowed me to explore my research direction and expand my creative development. Along the journey they kindly nurtured me, and at numerous times have told me to “hang in there” when things have been difficult.

Equally, I owe a tremendous debt to my editor Ms Pamela Whalan, whose understanding of academic writing style, has guided the writing safely throughout the editorial process. As English is not my first language her ability to help me express complex concepts clearly was invaluable. I thank her for her great patience, encouragement, understanding and humour.

During the production of my creative work I have received excellent technical assistance from staff in both the School of Creative Arts (formally Fine Art) and the Architecture and Built Environment (ABE) workshops. They generously shared their superb professional knowledge and expertise assisting me in constructing research art projects. I would like to thank Mr Michael Garth of Creative Arts who was my mentor for the first years of this project, Mr Kenneth Oliver, Domanic Lieb, and Daniel Sneddon, of the ABE workshop. They were an excellent team and great fun to work with.

It is usual to thank the researcher’s family members. My family in Taiwan has no understanding of why I am doing this, they have no knowledge of Fine Arts and they would never be able to read this paper, however, I wish to acknowledge my deepest thanks to my younger sister Ru- Nan (儒男) and younger brother Ru-Jung (儒軍), who, over the last few years, have been taking my role as eldest daughter to look after our mother who has a terminal illness, while I am completing my studies. Without their forgiveness and understanding my selfishness in pursuing my higher academic studies would be impossible.

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Preface

To comply with the Rules Governing Research Higher Degrees of University of Newcastle, Policy number 00826 (last amended 28 Aug 2009) – Examination of Theses in the Creative Arts Guideline; this practice-based research thesis in Fine Art consists of a substantial creative presentation, presented as an exhibition and accompanied by a scholarly written work of critical analysis titled: Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ A Place to Call Home.

The rationale of this exegesis is to provide supporting textual research for the original creative components. This exegesis is framed by the relevant theoretical discourses in Cultural Studies, Social Sciences, Anthropology, Post-Structuralism and Post-Colonialism articulated within contemporary cultural and social contexts.

Abstract

Concepts of Identity, Culture and Home have become fluid in a contemporary globalised world. No longer can one hold a static assumption that these concepts are coherent and unitary. As a migrant, and later in life an artist, who has been living in Australia for thirty-five years, the question ‘Where are you from?’ always highlighted my ‘double-consciousness’ and provoked me to consider ‘who am I?’ My own acceptance of ‘otherness’ intensified my desire to explore through my creative arts research the concepts of self and belonging.

My research perspective is drawn from a personal migration experience. It is a testimony to the psychological complexities experienced by people displaced to live in an unfamiliar culture and the affects this displacement has on ones sense of self. It considers theories that examine whether displaced people can ever be fully assimilated into a new and different culture and enquires whether ‘liminal space’ is a transitory or permanent location for the displaced person’s identity configuration?

The research project reconnoitres and conceptualises a personal justification of hybrid/cultural identity configuration and metaphysical belongingness in a liminal space - a psychological space of ‘neither here nor there’ realised through sculptural installation. It explores and identifies an understanding of accumulating differences that mark the split, incomplete, hybrid positions in the fissure of liminality of those transnationals who are placed between two or more divided geographies, socio-graphics and cultural identities in the ‘in-between-ness’ and beyond. Through a critical analysis of six contemporary transnational artists whose experiences of displacement have shaped their sense of identity, belonging and their creative arts practice I find a common ground to convey my own insight and feelings of ‘being in the third space’. My research shows how the search for a concept of home, identity and belongingness informs the work of the artist and a longing to express these effects and understandings manifesting itself through a visual interpretation.

List of Illustrations

Page

1. Hossein Valamanesh, Longing Belonging, 1997. 654 x 600cm. 41 www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au (24/7/2008)

2. Hossein Valamanesh, Shadow of a Cloud, 1992. 270 x 270cm. 43 Earth, Acrylic on jute, felt hat, pine, cedar. www.qoqnoos.com (24/7/2008)

3. Hossein Valamanesh, On the Way, 1992. 270 x 270cm. 43 Earth, Acrylic on jute, felt hat, pine, cedar. www.qoqnoos.com (24/7/2008)

4. Hossein Valamanesh, Knocking from Inside, 1989. www.adelaidecitycouncil.com 44

5. Hossein Valamanesh, Growing Up, 1989. Wood, sand, steel, ceramic, water. 46 185 x 45 x 280cm. www.qoqnoos.com (24/7/2008)

6. Greg Leong. Made in China (II) www.mrag.org.au/cityofthearts/visualart.html (14/9/2008) 48

7. Greg Leong. The Sojourners, 2005. http://basement.craftaustralia.org.au/articles/20050630.php (14/9/2008) 49

8. Greg Leong. 'Australian'. 1998. www.api-network.com (14/9/2008) 50 Detail of Chinese characters for Australian, (Green) Pauline. (images no longer available)

9. Greg Leong. ‘Australian’ 1998. (Green) Pauline. (images no longer available) 50 www.utsgallery.uts.edu.au/gallery/past/2001/federation_1101.html (14/9/2008)

10. Greg Leong. 'Mother of Australia', 1999. (images no longer available) (14/9/2008) 50 Manchu shoes I. Pauline's Superior Shoes 1999. Velveteen, brocade lining. 15x8.5x21cm.

11. Greg Leong. Australian (Red) - Bridal Ensemble 1999. (images no longer available) 52 Silk brocade, Thai silk, lace fused on polyester satin, screen-print and metallic thread machine embroidery on polyester satin. Jacket: 88 x138cm. Skirt: 88 x 99cm.

12. Greg Leong. 'Xuangbei' (Double Sorrow), Detail of jacket border design, Australian (Red) 52 Jacket: 88cm x 138cm, www.api-network.com (14/9/2008) (images no longer available)

13. Lin Hwai-Min. Legacy, 1978 (2003 in China). 59 http://www.epochtimes.com/b5/3/8/21/n362752.htm (24/7/2008)

14. Lin Hwai-Min. Wild Cursive. 2005. (24/7/2008) 62 http://www.totheater.nl/kalligrafie-met-dansers/

15. Lin Hwai-Min. Wild Cursive. 2005. 62 http://www.ballet-dance.com/200512/articles/CloudGate20051121.html (24/7/2008)

16. Lin Hwai-Min. Cursive. 2005. 62 http://calligraphy-expo.com/rus/about/News.aspx?ItemID=518 (24/7/2008)

17. Lin Hwai-Min. Cursive. 2005. 62 http://www.hkw.de/en/programm/projekte/veranstaltung/p_10729.php (24/7/2008)

18. Lin Hwai-Min. Moon Water. 2003. 63 http://gapersblock.com/ac/2010/01/22/cloud-gate-dance-theatre-of-taiwan-moon-water/ (24/7/2008)

19. Lin Hwai-Min. Moon Water. 2003. 64 http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/gallery/100131/GAL-10Jan31- 3676/media/PHO-10Jan31-202060.jpg (24/7/2008)

20. Mona Hatoum. The Light at the End, 1989. Angle iron frame, six heating elements. 71 166 x 162.5 x 5cm. http://thepandorian.com/2009/10/welcome-to-the-world-of-mona-hatoum/ (5/10/2008)

21. Mona Hatoum. Home, 1999. Wood, stainless steel, electric wire, light bulbs, computerised 72 dimmer unit, amplifier and two speakers. Table dimensions: 77 x 198 x 73.5 cm. http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/05 (5/10/2008)

22. Mona Hatoum. Details of Home, 1999. (5/10/2008) 73 http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/06

23. Mona Hatoum. Doormat II, 2000-2001. Stainless steel and nickel plated pins, 74 glue and canvas. 3 x 72.5 x 42 cm. http://kirstyhall.co.uk/2008/11/20/pin-artists/ (5/10/2008)

24. Do-Ho Suh. Seoul Home/L.A. Home/New York Home/Baltimore Home/London 79 Home/Seattle Home, 1999. Silk, 149 x 240 x 240 inches. http://image.slidesharecdn.com/dohosuh-100513033511-phpapp01/95/do-ho-suh-4- 728.jpg?cb=1273721737 (5/10/2008)

25. Do-Ho Suh. 348 West St., Apt A, New York, NY10011, 1999. 82 Grey. Nylon. http://covetgarden.com/blog/2013/3/22/do-ho-suh-at-the-ago.html (5/10/2008)

26. Do-Ho Suh. Detail of 348 West St., Apt A, New York, NY10011, 1999. 82 http://www.papermag.com/2012/04/alamo_draft_house_new_york.php (29/8/2008)

27. Do-Ho Suh. The Reflection 2004. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. 83 http://dailyserving.com/2011/04/do-ho-suh-new-works/ (29/8/2008)

28. Do-Ho Suh. The Reflection 2004. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. 83 http://images.exhibit-e.com/www_lehmannmaupin_com/10214462560c9e984.jpg (29/8/2008)

29. Do-Ho Suh. The former entrance of Suh’s family home in Korea. 83 http://www.designboom.com/eng/interview/dohosuh_gate.html (29/8/2008)

30. Do-Ho Suh. The Reflection 2004. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. 84 Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York. http://www.brooklynrail.org/2008/03/artseen/reflection (29/8/2008)

31. Do-Ho Suh. Doormat-Welcome, (Amber) 1998. Edition of 5. Lehmann Maupin Gallery 85 http://www.pbs.org/art21/images/do-ho-suh/doormat-welcome-amber-1998 (29/8/2008)

32. Do-Ho Suh. Details of Welcome (Amber), 1998. Polyurethane and rubber. 85 (with different sizes, titles and years.) 1¼ x 28 x 19 inches. http://www.pbs.org/art21/images/do-ho-suh/doormat-welcome-amber-detail-1998 (29/8/2008)

33. Guan Wei. Looking for Home, 2000. Acrylic on canvas 24 panels, overall 290 x770cm. 89 From book: Dinah Dysart, Natalie King and Hou Hanru, Guan Wei. (29/8/2008)

34. Guan Wei. Ned Kelly Encounters the Troopers in the Mystic Mountains, 2003. 91 Ink on rice paper 70.5 x 173cm. http://www.turnergalleries.com.au/artists/guan_wei.php (29/8/2008)

35. Guan Wei. Unfamiliar Land, 2006. Acrylic on canvas, 24 panels, overall 267 x 677cm. 92 http://www.cacsa.org.au/?page_id=2291 (29/8/2008)

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36. Ruth Liou. The Pier, 2001. Oil on board. 30 x 25cm. 100

37. Ruth Liou. Arriving and Departing, 2004. Oil on board. 25 x 18cm. 100

38. Ruth Liou. Mt. View, 2005. Oil on canvas. 35 x 30cm. 100

39. Ruth Liou. Mt. View II, 2005. Oil on canvas. 40 x 35cm. 100

40. Ruth Liou. Paul, 2001. Oil on board. 135 x 65cm. 101

41. Ruth Liou. Memory of Newcastle, 2005. Oil on canvas. 65 x 35cm. 101

42. Ruth Liou. Bushell’s Creek, 2003. Oil on canvas. 120 x 90cm. 101

43. Ruth Liou. Spud Paddy, 2002. Oil on canvas, (three panels). 180 x 60cm. 101

44. Ruth Liou. Mt. View V, 2005. Oil on canvas. 42 x 35cm. 101

45. Ruth Liou. The visible and invisible, 2005. Mild-steel, powder coated. 200 x 150cm. 103

46. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on timber. 104 (Size varies. Bronze figures from 7cm to 17cm.)

47. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. 105

48. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. 105

49. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. 106

50. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. 106

51. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace I, 2005. Photo: Ruth Liou. 108

52. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace I ~ Youth, 2005. Dried lotus leaves, copper & fibreglass. 109 100cm diametre. Photo: Ruth Liou

53. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace I ~ Decaying, 2005. Willow timber, nylon net & fibreglass. 109 100cm diametre. Photo: Ruth Liou.

54. Ruth Liou. New Birth, 2005. Cigarette filters on shallow frame. 110 x 80cm. 110 Photo: Ruth Liou

55. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace I ~ Decaying & Rebirth, 2005. Mild steel on rice. 160 x 100cm 110 Photo: Ruth Liou

56. Ruth Liou. The Lotus Trace II, 2007. Photo: Ruth Liou. 112

57. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II: The Circle of Life, 2007. Chinese herbal medicines, 113 copper and mixed paint materials. 220cm diameter. Photo: Ruth Liou

58. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. White fungus & Shen-di. Photo: Ruth Liou. 114

59. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 115 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

60. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 116 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

61. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 116 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Trevor Weekes.

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62. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 117 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Trevor Weekes.

63. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 117 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

64. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital 118 embroideries and screen-prints, high 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

65. Ruth Liou. The Threshold and Trace of Identity, 2014. Photo: Ruth Liou. 122

66. Ruth Liou. The Bell, 2014. Photo: Gillean Shaw. 123

67. Ruth Liou. The Threshold, (detail) 2014. Photo: Gillean Shaw. 126

68. Ruth Liou. WIP of metal part of knocker with hinge welded on. 127 Cast-iron. Photo: Ruth Liou.

69. Ruth Liou. WIP laser cut (a small sample) for the pattern. Photo: Ruth Liou. 128

70. Ruth Liou. WIP pattern making for foundry to cast in iron. MDF board and beeswax. 128 Photo: Ruth Liou.

71. Ruth Liou. WIP pigmented and varnished view. Photo: Ruth Liou. 129

72. Ruth Liou. WIP joining sheet-timber for knockers. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

73. Ruth Liou. WIP machine sanding the joined sheet-timber. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

74. Ruth Liou. WIP CNC cutting the joined sheet-timber. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

75. Ruth Liou. WIP stack and glue 3 layers of CNC cut pieces together. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

76. Ruth Liou. WIP joinery of stacked pieces. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

77. Ruth Liou. WIP pieces joined. Photo: Ruth Liou. 130

78. Ruth Liou. WIP edge shaping by router. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

79. Ruth Liou. WIP edges completed view, then sand by hand and machine. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

80. Ruth Liou. WIP carving process. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

81. Ruth Liou. WIP hand sanding of carved section. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

82. Ruth Liou. WIP carving completed. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

83. Ruth Liou. WIP after hand sanding, machine sanding the edges. Photo: Ruth Liou. 131

84. Ruth Liou. Ruth Liou. The Threshold. 2014. Photo: Ruth Liou. 134

85. Ruth Liou. WIP of the Doorway. Photo: Ruth Liou. 135

86. Ruth Liou. WIP of Doorway pieces. Photo: Ruth Liou. 135

87. Ruth Liou. WIP to secure and bolt the bottom part to the post. Photo: Ruth Liou. 135

88. Ruth Liou. WIP of the Doorway. Photo: Ruth Liou. 135

89. Ruth Liou. WIP of the Doorway. Photo: Ruth Liou. 135

90. Ruth Liou. WIP of washers. Photo: Ruth Liou. 136

91. Ruth Liou. WIP of Doorway. Photo: Ruth Liou. 136

92. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness, (detail). Beeswax and mixed medium. 138 Photo: Ruth Liou.

93. Greg Leong. JIA. Photo: Andrew Charman-Williams. 142 http://www.realtimearts.net/article/issue57/7224

94. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness. (detail). Photo: Ruth Liou. 143

95. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness. (detail). Photo: Ruth Liou. 145

96. Ruth Liou. ‘I’ in the Liminal, (Uluru, Australia) 2014. Photo: Ruth Liou. 151

97. Ruth Liou. ‘I’ in the Liminal, (Pagoda, Taiwan) 2014. Photo: Ruth Liou. 153

98. Ming Dynasty Chinese Bell in Beijing Bell Museum. 155 http://www.ausbell.com.au/asian_bells.html

99. The West Hill Bell. Bronze. Zhe-Jiang province, China. 157 http://photo.hanyu.iciba.com/upload/encyclopedia_2/16/04/bk_160410a17e1ed959bc2d3efd1bb39a08_O07gpC.jpg

100. WIP of the Bell. Cedar and pine. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

101. WIP of the Bell. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

102. WIP level down to the blue line. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

103. WIP shaping the body of the Bell with planer. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

104. WIP chisel the rim to level with the body. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

105. WIP CNC router final shapes the circle of the dome. Photo: Ruth Liou. 159

106. WIP refine the dome by hand with spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou. 160

107. WIP refine dome shape by hand with spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou. 160

108. WIP plane the bell body with planer. Photo: Ruth Liou. 160

109. WIP final shaping by hand with spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou. 160

110. WIP metal bits and the dome. Photo: Ruth Liou. 161

111. Un-hulled Lotus nuts. Photo: Ruth Liou. 167

112. WIP ‘I’ in the Liminal – The Bell. (detail). 167

Introduction

Chapter 1

‘What is our identity?’ and ‘Where do we belong?’ These questions are so often put together, and to answer one hitches on to the answer of the other. It seems like the being of our identity is reordered into the conditions of belonging and vice versa. ~ Nikos Papastergiadis 1

The contemporary world is in a state of flux. Both political upheaval and ease of travel have led to greater movement and resettlement of people. The scale and complexity of this mobility has become the key feature of our world and has led to fundamental changes in our understanding of culture, identity, integration and sense of belonging within the community. As the world changes around us we change with it. Perceptions of self in time and space are transformed. Even those who have never left their homeland are affected by this restless epoch. We do not live in a borderless world, but the proliferation of global movement blurs national boundaries and has a profound effect on our spatial and empirical experiences in the way we understand our sense of belonging in the world. Relocation affects the migrant’s sense of belongingness. Historically people often understood their sense of belonging through fidelity to a nation-state and this conferred a clear and unambiguous form of belonging. Presently for many such a form of belonging has never been a straightforward process.2

People move for many reasons whether their relocation is an act of free will or forced by necessity. When people move from their homeland their perceptions can be altered allowing them different and multiple perspectives of who they are, how they position themselves and how they are positioned by others. Migrants question their perception of home: is it where they came from or is home in their new found environment? The increasing population mobility of our contemporary era permeates boundaries of nation-states. The concepts of identity and domicile have become fluid and uncertain for people who have shifted; these people at all times are embedded in ‘double-consciousness.’3 Migrants straddle boundaries of here and there, past and present, constantly ‘negotiating’4 a new self and new life in the peripheral of the dominant –

1 Nikos Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2000), 212. 2 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 1-10. 3 A concept was first developed by American sociologist W.E.B. du Bois, to describe the felt contradiction between social values and daily experience for blacks in the United States. In a contemporary sense it is an awareness of one’s self as well as awareness perceived by others; and it describes an individual whose identity is divided into several facets. http://www.encycloedia.com/doc/1O104-doubleconsciousness.html (accessed 13/2/2010) 4 Negotiation implies struggle. For Stuart Hall, displaced people actively struggle with dominant meanings and modify them in numerous ways because of their social status, beliefs and values. Marita Sturken and Lisa Cartwright, Practices of Looking: an introduction to visual culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 361.

a site of ‘neither here nor there’ – of ‘between-ness.’ Culturist scholar Kathryn Woodward has suggested in Identity and Difference that the contemporary concerns about identity are contested at different levels – global and local. National and ethnic identities are focused in the global arena and personal identity is a local concern.5 The movement of people across the globe produces identities which are shaped and located in and by different places. These new identities are not located in one ‘home’ and cannot be traced back simply to one source.

Migration produces plural identities. Identity has become central in questioning history, social movements and changes. Identity matters. As individuals, people want to find out who they are in terms of how they see themselves and how they relate to the world in which they are living. As Kobena Mercer stated: ‘identity only becomes an issue when it is in crisis, when something assumed to be fixed, coherent and stable is displaced by the experience of doubt and uncertainty.’6

I came from Taiwan, a country where people already live in two or three sub-cultural groups although this is less obvious than in countries like Malaysia and Indonesia. I have been living in Australia for thirty-five years. I have faced layers of double identity. Am I Chinese or Taiwanese, Asian or Australian? On a recent visit to Taiwan I found myself an outsider on both counts. The discovery of the ‘otherness’ in Lacan’s notion – ‘mirror phase’7 through my art practice alerted me to the fact that I am not, nor is ‘my art’, ‘Chinese’ as I thought. The awareness of ‘difference’ was more apparent when I moved to a country where my physical appearance became a fundamental indicator for others to determine my identity. Overtime, I experienced that my appearance could cause feelings of difference, alienation, racial discrimination and outsider status. These discoveries intensified my ambivalent consciousness, outsider-ship and ‘otherness’ that have affected me as a person, and as an artist. As a migrant and artist, this research investigates my personal validation of my hybrid identity and metaphysical belongingness formed through multi-transitional experiences. The core concepts of this research are focused on the construction of identity and my sense of belonging from the perspective of a displaced person.

5 Kathryn Woodward, ed. Identity and Difference (London: Sage Publication, 1997), 13–20. 6 Kobena Mercer, “Welcome to the Jungle: Identity and Diversity in Post-Modern Politics” in Identity: community, Culture and Difference, ed. Jonathan Rutherford (London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1990), 43. 7 A split recognition, a notion borrowed from psychoanalytic theorist Jacques Lacan, that the infant’s ego was the first recognition of themselves as autonomous beings in the mirror, the image perceived to be both the self and different (other). This Poststructuralist thought is used to understand how Identity is formed and comprised with the ‘other.’ In Marita Sturken and Lisa Cartwright, Practices of Looking: An Introduction to Visual Culture (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 75.

Central to my practice based is a body of creative artworks informed by knowledge gained through theoretical research, and my own personal migration and transcultural experiences. The aims of this research are: - to define my hybrid cultural identity and articulate my new ‘becoming’8 self; - to identify different reasons of displacement that affect an individual’s sense of belongingness; - to correlate my hybrid identity and my sense of belongingness with other artists who have had similar transitory experiences; - to examine the concept of ‘home’ and how the meaning of home is perceived in the psyche of displaced people; - to define whether theories of Identity configuration reinforce or challenge my position; - to create artworks that invoke through visual metaphors, the concept of in-between- ness.

This research project is a personal justification of my hybrid identity and metaphysical belongingness, the following questions are explored throughout this research: - How does the migration process affect a displaced peoples’ identity configuration? - Can transitional and transnational experiences alter one’s perception of self and sense of belongingess? - Can one choose one’s cultural identity? - Should one’s cultural identity be a product of self-assessment? - What is the displaced person’s emotional attachment to their former home? - Is the liminal space a transitory or permanent location?

The Method The method involves philosophical, theoretical and practical aspects of the research. This research explores the influential philosophies and concepts of Post-Colonialism, Post- Structuralism,9 Anthropology and Postmodern studies within Social Science studies which are associated with the effect of the migration process. These philosophies and concepts are hybridity, [cultural] identity configuration, psychological sense of belongingness and the effect of in-between-ness on the displaced. The key theorists in these fields are: Homi K. Bhabha, Edward Said, Stuart Hall, Nikos Papastergiadis, Kathryn Woodward, Deleuze, Lacan and Victor

8 Deleuze’s ‘Becoming’ is the operation of self-differentiation, the elaboration of a difference within a thing, a quality or a system that emerges or actualizes only in duration. In Elizabeth Grosz, “Bergson, Deleuze and the Becoming of Unbecoming,” Parallax 11, no.2 (2005): 4-13. 9 A radical intellectual movement emerged in France during 1960s, critiquing Structuralist theories in laws, codes, rules, formulas and conventions that structure human behaviour and systems of meaning.

Turner. The rationale of this research is to critically analyse the works of six displaced contemporary artists, who have been through migration or transcultural experiences, to define whether their transitional experiences fit into the pattern of the migration process and to observe whether these experiences have altered their perceptions of self and their sense of belongingness in their creative language. The outcomes of gained research knowledge and insights are then conceptualised and used to create iconic sculptural objects to validate the concepts as my response to the research questions and the title of this research: Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ a place to call Home.

The Mapping of Chapters Chapter 2: Contextual Review is an outline of the core theories and concepts on Identity: identity theories, cultural identity, hybridity, in-between-ness and liminality. It considers concepts of home and how concepts of identity and home are interrelated, conceptualising different forms and meanings of home and how these concepts vary across cultures, social realities and individual ideals and how the effect of relocation from one’s country of origin alters one’s perception of home. Together they provide the background and the structural framework for this research. These theoretical notions provide the context in which the sculptural installation discussed in Chapter 11 was created as the central outcome of this research. Chapter 3: The Ambivalence and Indecisive Identity, details the complex history of Taiwan and Chinese relationships and how this complexity has made it difficult for me to position myself as either Taiwanese or Chinese. In Chapters 4 to 9: Contemporary Artists Analysis ~ Visual Voice, I analyse the background and artwork of six transnational contemporary artists. I compare them with my own personal experience of displacement, examining how different kinds of displacement affected the individual’s Identity and Home/Belonging and identifying how these artists have positioned their new ‘self’ in the new milieu; and how their visual language responds to the ‘home’ they left, the ‘home’ they now reside in and their sense of belongingness. Within this analysis there are two divisions. The first is titled The Search for Oneself, the aim of this section is to define how the artists identify and reconcile their identity or selfhood after the transitional and transcultural shift. This division includes the artists Iranian born Australian Hossein Valamanesh; Hong Kong born Australian Greg Leong; and Taiwanese choreographer Lin Hwai-Min. The second division is titled: The Search for Home. It demonstrates and depicts how individuals’ different displacement reasons have influenced their psyche and perception of security and belongingness toward the home they left behind and the home they settled in. The three artists analysed in this division are: Palestinian born Mona Hatoum; Korean born American Do Ho Suh and Chinese born

Australian Guan Wei. Chapter 10: Reflection and Discovery follows my art journey. This chapter illustrates how my own life journey has evolved and shifted. It follows the evolution of my journey to a pathway in Fine Arts and how my multiple transitional experiences have enhanced my sense of ambivalence. Chapter 11: ‘I’ in the Liminal ~ A Place to Be, illustrates how the theoretical concepts have been applied, and aligned with my personal perspectives in terms of response to my research topic: Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ A place to call Home expressed in visual form through my studio practice. This chapter details the reasons for, and meanings of, the use of symbolic and cultural representational objects in my art work that validate and justify my personal exploration of concepts of Threshold, Identity Construction, Cultural Identity, In-between-ness, Differences, the Liminality, Place and Metaphysical Belongingness that locate a place in which ‘I’ belong. The creative component consists of a number of sculptural objects these are:  A pair of oversized Doorknockers, (made out of cast-iron and timber); signify power and control and the relationship between the inside and outside.  A Doorway (three metres high made in hard-wood) acts as both a functional and a symbolic object for supporting the Doorknockers and signifies a ‘threshold.’ It simultaneously depicts inside and the outside, the prohibited and unrestricted, and is a passage with potential for transformation.  A series of beeswax objects consisting of: o A pair of child’s shoes representing the beginning of a journey through life. o A segment of staircase indicating the state of transition, the liminality of departing and not yet arriving, and ‘in-between-ness’ – the ‘third-space.’ o A figure that is split and multi-faceted, to indicate that our identities are made up of different components, always in progress and never complete. o Multiple beeswax objects of different shapes and forms representing the ‘experiences’ that we take on in constructing our identities in life.  A carved Chinese temple bell; a non-functional culturally significant object representing me, culturally and ethnically, the ‘I.’  Two hand drawn mural of iconic land-marks: the Twin Pagodas of Kaohsiung in Taiwan and Uluru/Ayers Rock in Australia. They are placed on opposing sides of the gallery walls. The temple bell is centred between these murals. These murals indicate the past and present places where I belong. The placement of the temple bell in between them signifies belongingness to both, and to neither and is intended to evoke a sense of ambivalence of the ‘in-between-ness’, the experience of familiarity and foreignness that indicates a place of liminality.

 Natural gumnuts are placed under the temple bell to indicate the current locality where I reside.

Chapter 12: Conclusion ~ A Place of Belongingness is a critical reflective summary and justification for the configuration of my Hybrid Cultural Identity – my ‘becoming’ self and locating a place to belong. It draws on the results of my theoretical concepts research and analysis of the work of six contemporary transitional artists to support my own perception and understanding of the transitional experience that has reinforced my position and changed my artistic expression and perspective on the concept of Home.

Contextual Review

Chapter 2

In the traditional thesis the literature review is a critical summary involving a survey and evaluation of published academic data. This exegesis is a written component to accompany the major component of my practice based research in visual arts and provides an overview of the key theoretical concepts from various disciplines that I researched and found relevant to my research topic by justifying, reinforming and/or challenging my position. This review provides a thorough investigation of relevant concepts, and shows how I have adapted these concepts and used them in my studio practice. This contextual review chapter provides a solid basis for my research investigation.

Identity Identity is a complex, problematic term and has been contextualised across many schools and disciplines10 and each one holds its own definitions and theories within its own tradition over time. According to Chris Barker, Identity concepts from a historical point of view have been contested through three intellectual movements: 1) the ‘Enlightenment’ Subject11 in which Western philosophy placed the rational, conscious individual at the centre of the universe that follows the idea presented in Descartes famous phrase ‘I think, therefore I am’; 2) the Sociological view - the Social Subject poses the idea that the individual has become socially constructed, and is not autonomous and self-sufficient, but related to others through the inner and outside social world mediated with values, meanings and symbols; 3) the postmodern Self – ‘the subject’12 is reflexively co-ordinating itself into a unity of shifting, fragmented subject with multi-identities. 'Identity' and 'Subjectivity' are often used interchangeably.

To explore Identity is to find out how we see ourselves (Self-identity) and how others see us (Social Identity). Subjectivity is about finding that the sense of self involves personal feelings and thoughts. In social context, language and culture give meaning to our experience of ourselves and our choice of a particular identity. It is the ongoing process of identification with what we want to be, which is separate from the self, thus the self is permanently divided within itself.13 In Stuart Hall’s (1932-2014) 'Who Needs ‘Identity’?’ he noted that, in contemporary

10 Few examples are: Culture, Social Studies, Psychoanalysis, Anthropology and Social Science studies. 11 As it refers to the Modernism philosophers include Rousseau, Bacon, and the socio-economic theory of Marx, Weber, Habermas and others; who are after universal truths. 12 The ‘subject’ is a position defining the possibility and the source of experience and by extension, of knowledge, whereas the self is the mark of a social identity. 13 Woodward, Identity and Difference, 39.

social theory 'Identity' refers to the recognition of a person or thing.14 It is a strategic and relational entity that is 'marked out' by symbols and does not signal a stable core of the self. Subjectivity demarcates the site of feeling and consciousness. Again its contemporary usage does not signal a unitary identity or source of agency, but a consciousness determined, regulated and produced by social relations and language. Identities are wholly social constructions and cannot ‘exist’ outside of cultural representations and acculturalisation. This individualistic sense of uniqueness and self-consciousness is Western thinking; however it is not shared to the same extent by people in a culture where the selfhood is inseparable from collective kinship relations and social obligations.15

Throughout the social movements in the 1960s, Identity in Cultural Studies has been divided into two perspectives of Essentialism and Anti-Essentialism. Essentialism claims identities as being stable truths, believes a timeless core of self, with one clear, authentic set of characteristics.16 A universal fixed ‘essence’ can be found, for example, ‘femininity’, ‘masculinity’, ‘black’, ‘Asian’ etc. In Essentialist views, identities are ‘naturally’ given. In contrast, Anti-Essentialism denies the existence of authentic and original identities based in a universally shared origin or experience. It rejects a singular, unitary and coherent entity where truth cannot be found. Anti-essentialism assumes that the forms of identities are constituted and made rather than found.17

This latter view evolved with the radical and critical intellectual movement of French Poststructuralist theories of the mid-1960s. Poststructuralist identity theory was to liberate the subject from Essentialists notions of fixity and purity in origin. It rejects identity as coherent unity connected to truth in biology and innate qualities, kinship and shared history. It believes that identity is plastic and cannot simply define ‘a thing.’ It is flux, socially and discursively constructed which alters meanings according to time, place and roles.18 Therefore, the Poststructuralist view of identity is fluid, never fixed and subject to others, acting in response, always in progress and open-ended, constructed through ‘language’, ‘power’, ‘difference’ and the subjectivity is constructed through ‘performance.’19 Thus, identity is a structured

14 Stuart Hall, “Who Needs ‘Identity’?” in Questions of Cultural Identity, ed. Stuart Hall and Paul du Guy (London: Sage Publication, 1996), 1-17. 15 Chris Barker, Cultural Studies: Theory and Practice (London: Sage Publications, 2000), 165-69. 16 Defined as ‘assume a common origin or a common structure of experience or both.’ Lawrence Grossberg, “Identity in Cultural Studies: Is that all there is?” in Questions of Cultural Identity, ed. Stuart Hall and Paul du Guy (London: Sage Publication, 1996), 89. 17 ibid. 18 Chris Barker, Cultural Studies, 8-11 & 165-169. 19 Michel Foucault’s Discourse is a form of knowledge–power relationship, and a system of linguistic usage and codes that produce knowledge about particular conceptual fields. It is through discursive formations that knowledge of the world is possible; discursive knowledge is power and everyone lives within the parameters discursive formations allow. (Refer Jae Emerling, p.220). Whereas Jacques Derrida’s notion of ‘differance’ (sic) indicates the meaning in language is always different and deferred, never quite fixed or complete, so there is always some

representation. More specifically, we are differently positioned by social expectations and constraints and we represent ourselves to others differently in each context. In this sense, we are positioned as well as positioning ourselves accordingly.20 Thus the social context can engage us in different social meanings.

Cultural Identity Cultural identity is a central issue for immigrants as well as for the politically victimised; regardless of how much time has elapsed since leaving the country of origin, there is constant negotiation of their lives in-between cultures. The construction of their identity exhibits notions of dual attachment, hybridity and difference in their host community; it is necessarily multiple, fragmented and fluid. These experiences are complex and diverse, are navigated within multiple layers of ethnic, racial, familial, gendered, socioeconomic and educational contexts.21 Cultural theorist, Stuart Hall indicates that, “‘difference’ is ambivalent”; the notion of difference is integral to the understanding of the cultural construction of identities; difference can be constructed negatively as the exclusion and marginalization of those who are defined as ‘Other’ or as outsiders; and, too, it can be celebrated as a source of diversity, heterogeneity and hybridity where the recognition of change and difference is seen as enriching in social movements which sought to reclaim, for example the change of sexuality.22 Similarly Nikos Papastergiadis has asserted; ‘identity is constructed through a negotiation of difference, and that presence of fissure, gaps and contradictions.’ In this most radical form, the concept stresses identity is not the combination, accumulation, fusion or synthesis of various components, but an energy field of a different force.23 From these views, the ground of dislocated peoples is ambiguous and shifting, located in the space of the two places. Post-Colonialist Salmen Rushdie appropriately commented on this: Our identity is at once plural and partial, sometimes we feel that we straddle two cultures; at other times, that we fall between two stools.24

In Mansuri’s view, culture is most constructively conceptualised in individualistic terms; and culture does not construct one’s identity but is the source providing people with a sense of who

slippage. Performance Theory was founded by poststructuralist and Feminist Judith Butler’s Gender studies, where she stressed that the gender is socially constructed and performed. 20 Woodward, Identity and Difference, 22. 21 Fethi Mansouri and Michelle A. Miller, “Migrant Youth, Cultural Identity and Media Representations,” in Youth Identity and Migration: Culture, Values and Social Connectedness. ed. Fethi Mansouri (Australia: Common Ground, 2009), 46-57. 22 Stuart Hall argued in Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices (London: Sage Publication, 1997), 238-239. 23 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 170. 24 Salman Rushdie, Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991 (London: Penguin Books, 1991), 15.

they are, their becoming and belonging, that culture is a process, unfixed and not bounded.25 The concept of identity emphasises one or more social variables, which include ethnicity, race, nationality, gender, social class, language and so on. The entire identity process is conflictive as opposed to harmonious. Global changes and shifts in political and economic structures are in the foreground of identity questions. The struggle to assert and maintain national and ethnic identities and the culturally constructed identities are contested in particular ways in the contemporary and Post-Colonial world. According to Stuart Hall, identity should be seen as a ‘production’, which is ‘never complete, always in process and always constituted within, not outside, representation.’26 From this point of view it problematises the very authority and authenticity to which the term ‘cultural identity’, lays claim. At first, culture is to be seen as a process, in a constant state of flux. Culture refers to shared values, ideals, language, beliefs of a group of people regardless of race and ethnicity. In this postmodern world, Cultural Identity is either chosen or adopted. No one is without culture; equally, not everyone is obtaining the same cultural experience within a shared cultural context. Gilroy says that the experience of migration is the shift in perspective; for the migrants it is not ‘where you’re from’ but ‘where you’re at’ which is central to their everyday life.27 However, in Stuart Hall’s analysis of the colonial experience he perceives two views on Cultural Identity. The first view is that Cultural Identities are constructed through memory, are made within the discourses of history and culture; not an essence but a positioning. There is one self-reflecting shared history and culture, a collective ‘one true self’, hiding inside the many other ‘selves.’ We are represented through a shared culture which people of the same ancestry hold in common; a stable, unchanging oneness. The second view perceives a significant and critical point of difference which constitutes ‘what we really are’ – due to the intervention of history – ‘what we have become.’ In this sense, Hall asserts that cultural identity is a matter of ‘becoming’ as well as of ‘being’; it belongs to the future as much as to the past, is not something which already exists.28 This second view implies instability and foreignness. Hall further states, identity is ever changing and with no fixed idea because history has made its mark upon us. In this sense identity has history and transcends place, time and culture. Our cultural identity flows from what we have encountered [becoming] and undergoes constant transformation and evolution [the being]. This implies that the time spent in a place has a great influence on the construction of identity.

25 Mansouri and Miller. “Migrant Youth, Cultural Identity and Media Representations,” 47. 26 Stuart Hall, “Cultural Identity and Cinematic Representation,” in Black British Cultural Studies: A reader. Houston Baker, Jr., Manthia Diawara and Ruth H. Lindeborg (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1996), 210. 27 Paul Gilroy, “It Ain’t Where You’re From, It’s Where You’re At … The Dialectics of Diasporic Identification,” Third Text 13, (Winter 1990/91): 3-16. 28 Houston Baker, Jr., Manthia Diawara and Ruth H. Lindeborg. Black British Cultural Studies: A reader (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1996), 210-212.

Hybridity A common feeling among migrants is that they hold dual cultures, names and dual attachments with a hyphenated identity, and their identity is in some form of ‘hybrid’ state. Among different academic disciplines the term ‘hybrid’ is better equipped to understand different points of view, and may be said to be ‘subversive’ in its use. The term ‘hybridity’29 has been extended from its original meanings to contemporary cultural theories that refer to the mixed or hyphenated identities of persons or ethnic communities. As a topic Hybrid Identity exists in many academic disciplines from cultural studies to literature, gender studies, Post-Colonialism and beyond. For anthropologists and sociologists the term refers to ‘syncretism’ of the evolution of commingled cultures from two or more parent cultures.30 Sociologists Cohen and Kennedy consider hybridity principally as the creation of dynamic mixed culture, whereas in the Post-Colonialists view, hybridity is a site of transformation and change, where identity construction is through negotiation of differences that call into question Essentialist fixed identities.31 Hybridity frequently refers to the mixed cultural traits of the individuals to account for the complex social phenomenon of intercultural identity and identity formation in the ‘zones of cultural overlap.’32 But this claim is only a partial view and is not infallible. Mansouri stresses more clearly that Hybridity is represented as the optimal model for conceptualising the role of culture in identity formation that: Hybridity includes an ability to competently navigate between two cultures without having to choose one over the other or feeling compelled to relinquish part of oneself. The concept refers to the mixed cultural trails of individuals … [that meet at] border zones. It is within these borderland areas that different cultures meet, to either negotiate the processes of intercultural cohabitation to produce new cultural reservoirs and ways of belonging or to compete for hegemony and control.33

I agree with Mansouri’s view on Hybridity. People like me who have dwelled in between border zones are constantly confronted by the internal juggling and negotiating of our identities in between two sides of culture. This concept of hybridity confronts and problematises the boundaries. As cultural scholar Ien Ang has remarked: hybridity implies an unsettling of identities and puts our encounters at the border – where self and other, the local and global, Asian and Western meet with the potential for inter-cultural conflict. It indicates the very

29 Hybridity was inscribed in nineteenth-century discourses of scientific racism. It served primarily as a metaphor for the negative consequences of racial encounters. The term gained considerable acceptance in contemporary cultural theory as a model for cultural identity. Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 169-170. 30 Robin Cohen and Paul Kennedy, Global Sociology (London: MacMillan, 2000), 377. 31 Joel Kuortti and Jopi Nyman, ed. Reconstructing Hybridity: Post-Colonial Studies in Transition (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007), 3. 32 Donnan Hastings, “The Anthropology of Borders,” Elsevier Encyclopaedia of Social and Behavioural Sciences (2001): 1290, doi: 10.1016/B0-08-043076-7/04687-8 33 Mansouri Youth Identity and Migration, 47.

condition of in-between-ness and can never be a question of simple harmonious merger and fusion; but living with difference.34 Speaking from my personal experience and perspective, hybridity is both a burden and a delight; by swinging and shifting in between it generates internal conflict and ambiguity, in one context we are ‘this’ [eg. apply Chinese values], at the other context we are ‘that’ [apply Australian values]. This shift in the between-ness also rewards us with freedom in our choice of what to take on and represent to the others, enabling us to fit in and belong. Hybridity is not a fusion or binarism of the two, nor is it confined to classification of difference; and its ‘unity’ is not found in the sum of its parts, but emerges from the process of opening.35 This rhetoric of hybridity, is fundamentally associated with the emergence of Post- Colonial discourse and its critiques of cultural imperialism, the effects of mixture upon identity and culture. The foremost theorist of hybridity, Post-Colonialist Homi K. Bhabha has named this, the ‘Third Space’ of enunciation – liminal space which gives a new thrust to the meaning of hybridity.

The Third-space ~ in-between-ness For Bhabha, hybridity is the ‘Third space’ which enables other positions to emerge.36 This unsettling space highlights the ‘in-between’ and ambivalent. It draws out the uncertainties that hybrid identities are not clearly defined for displaced people as ‘this or that’ but rather are simultaneously ‘both this and that’, and ‘neither this nor that.’37 The hybrid identity is a contextual entity that is partially fluid and partially solid; composed of several parts that could be recognized as ‘almost the same, but not quite.’ Stuart Hall has revealed certain truth in this: “people belonging to such cultures of hybridity have had to renounce the dream of ambition of rediscovering any kind of ‘lost’ cultural purity, or ethnic absolutism.”38 Of this unsettling and ‘impure’ culture of today, hybridisation reveals the irreducible of the origin and ultimately the on-going discovery of the entanglement of our lives today. This liminality experience is itself always already in withdrawal, always already fading. To be at the threshold is always already to be moving across. In an article in Asian Studies Review Ien Ang says that hybridity is not the solution, but alerts us to the difficulty of living with differences; their ultimately irreducible resistance to complete dissolution.39 This ‘between and betwixt’ position could possibly be a partial double view that makes our understanding of different cultural, racial and other perspectives easier. Thus, this in-between, the ‘third space’ enables the double-conscious

34 Ien Ang, “Together-in-difference Beyond Diaspora, into Hybridity,” Asian Studies Review 27, 2 (2003):149-150. 35 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 170. 36Homi K. Bhabha. Narrating the Nation (London: Routledge, 1990), 211. 37 Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 227. 38 Stuart Hall, David Held and Tony Mcgrew eds. Modernity and its Futures (Cambridge: Polity Press. 1992), 310. 39 Ien Ang, “Together-in-Difference beyond Diaspora, into Hybridity,” 149-150.

displaced people to recognise the production of the multiple, hybrid identities of their classification: ‘Australian Chinese’, ‘Australian Italian’, ‘Malaysian Chinese’ within a multicultural society. However, these people do not belong to or possess each single classification in its original sense; instead they only possess a part of each. Therefore, displaced people in these in-between spaces face a passage that is partially open and partially closed, never fully connected, but half way in and half way out.

As detailed by Papastergiadis, the ‘Third space’ is ambiguous and paradoxical as it refers to a ‘zone of identity processing.’ It falls in the fissure, the gap between the cultures of the coloniser [foreign] and the colonised [the native/local], where migrants and other Post-Colonial subjects go through a process of recasting their fixed sense of identity. It constantly oscillates between the axioms of foreign and familiar. He further specifies that the hybridisation strength is not based on the capacity to hold together all the earlier parts or fuse together all the divergent sources of identity, but is found in the way they hold differences together in a new position that is not only the sum of two parts but something more. This process of reconstruction of identity may be positive and empowering, but its transgressive character and location in the ‘Liminal Space’ of borders and boundaries, also specified by Bhabha, “poses potential dangers as it generates a new, hybrid subjectivity.”40 Hence, Bhabha’s Post-Colonial notion of ‘Third Space’ is a metaphor for understanding the dynamics of identity negotiation in minority communities, which takes place in the in-between or ‘Liminal Space’ of culture. Thus, as emphasised by Meredith Doran: The fixed identities of the traditional societal order do not hold sway, and hybrid identities can be performed and affirmed, through re- appropriation and transformation of cultural symbols, including language, which are made to mean in new ways.41

Liminality The term ‘Liminality’ has its own historically significant referential derived from the Latin word ‘limen’, meaning threshold. It represents a period of ambiguity, of marginal and transitional state. Its first reference was in Ethnography in 1909 by French Ethnographer and Folklorist Arnold van Gennep (1873-1957) in his exposition of ‘The Rites de Passage’ in 1909

40 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 192-195. 41 Meredith Doran, “Negotiating Between Bourge and Racaille: Verlan as Youth Identity Practice in Suburban Paris,” in The Negotiation Identities in Multilingual Contexts, ed. Aneta Pavlenko and Adrian Blackledge (Clevedon: Multilingual Matters, 2004), 96.

(translated into English in 1960)42 which was later expanded by Anthropologist Victor Turner (1920-1983) in his ‘The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure’(1969).

In van Gennep’s studies all rites such as birth, puberty, death, initiation ceremonies and funeral rites are marked by a threshold progression of successive ritual stages; these life-crisis or class rituals referred to the mark of the transition of one phase in the development of a person to another phase. He studied process of the rite that is shifting from one social status to another that consists of three stages: the first stage of Separation, when a subject is detached from an earlier stabilised social structure and conditions; the second stage of liminal (margin), the ritual subject is in an ambiguous state; no longer in the old state and has not yet reached the new one; and the third Aggregation, the ritual subject re-enters the social structure with a new stable state with its own rights and obligations.43 In this sense, Gennep is an Essentialist as he believes there is one static stable state or social structure. For van Gennep, a liminal or threshold world is a space between the world of status that the person is leaving and the world of status into which the person is being inducted. Whereas for Victor Turner, during his studies of the African Ndembu tribe’s ritual process and performance, Turner was interested in the second phase of van Gennep’s passage model – the Liminal – a space of transformation between phases of separation and reincorporation, Turner see this as a phase that marks the passage of the subject through a cultural realm that has few or none of the attributes of the past or coming state – an invisible status.

For Turner, the central or liminal phase is the most critical. It is a period of ambiguity, or marginal and transitional state, as the ‘liminal personae’ (threshold people) are in ‘social limbo’, representing moments ‘betwixt and between’ of the fixed cultural categories, and are secluded from everyday life, stripped of their usual identity and their constitutional social differences (eg. male or female) while being on the verge of personal or social transformation. He noted that the ‘liminal personae’ are characterised by a series of contradictions and ambiguities even ‘invisibility’ during the limina period. Having departed but not yet arrived, he/she is at once no longer classified and not yet classified; neither one thing nor another or both; neither here nor there or may even be nowhere. Turner’s conclusion states that the passage from lower to higher status is through a limbo of status-less-ness – a stage of no one, before the transition has become a permanent condition.44

42 Mathieu Deflem, “Ritual, Anti-Structure, and Religion: A discussion of Victor Turner’s Processual Symbolic Analysis,” Scientific Study of Religion 30, 1 (1991): 1-25. http://deflem.blogspot.com.au/1991/08/ritual-anti- structure-and-religion_29.html (accessed: 22/8/2012) 43 Victor Turner, The Forest of Symbols (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967), 94. 44 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (New York: Aldine de Gruyter, 1995), 95-107.

Liminal Space in Post-Colonial literature In Post-Colonial literature, Liminality is strongly associated with the concept of cultural hybridity, where hybridity is perceived as ‘zones of cultural overlap’ where differences interact to initiate new signs of identity. Bhabha has borrowed and further developed the term ‘Liminal Space’ from anthropologist V. Turner and has given a different light to terms of cultural identity and hybridity. Bhabha’s liminality is a state of being in-between here and there, in-between places and cultures, strongly related to the concept of Cultural Hybridity in all social and cultural transitions and as such has a great effect on migrants’ lives. For Bhabha, liminality as an ‘interstitial passage between fixed identifications represents a possibility for a cultural hybridity that entertains difference without an assumed or imposed hierarchy’45 This means within this space there is a kind of equality without a peripheral and a domain chain of command, everyone is integral with differences and negotiating in the between-ness. They become different to what they were as they pass through this period of transition but never feel ‘there’ – caught in between - neither ‘this’ nor ‘that’, ‘here’ nor ‘there.’ Homi Bhabha explains further by offering a metaphoric term ‘stairwell’ to describe how Post-Colonial subjects negotiate their hybrid identities in the ‘Third Space’. He said: The stairwell as liminal space, in-between the designations of identity, becomes the process of symbolic interaction, the connective tissue that constructs the difference between upper and lower, black and white. The hither and thither of the stairwell, the temporal movement and passage that it allows, presents identities at either end of it from setting into primordial polarities.46

Thus, the concept of the ‘liminal space’ suggests the idea of ambiguity and ambivalence. In Post-Colonial studies especially for Bhabha, the liminality is important as a category strongly related to the concept of Cultural Hybridity, negotiating across differences of race, class, gender and cultural traditions. The liminal space is a ‘hybrid site’ that witnesses the culture differences, interaction and production, rather than just reflection of cultural meaning. Hence, the notions of Hybridity and Liminality are theoretically relevant and central to my practice-based research into concepts of Identity and Belongingness, as expressed in the form of visual language which is discussed in Chapter 11.

Home and Identity

Home is where one starts from! ~ T. S. Eliot 47

45 Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994), 4. 46 Ibid. 47 T. S. Eliot, “East Coker V,” The Four Quartets (Orlando: Harvest Book, 1971), 23.

The concept of Home appears very often in discussions of place, self and identity. The concept of Home has been recognised as multidimensional with diverse even contradictory meanings in the research of various disciplines, in Sociology, Anthropology, Psychology, Human Geography, History, Architecture and Philosophy. The meaning of home may involve a fixed physical space but certainly involves sensual, ephemeral and emotional fragmented attachments. Migration affects one’s identity and home desire; the concepts of Home and Identity are the most interrelated in defining one or other. Homi Bhabha indicated that: ‘Identity always presupposes a sense of location and a relationship with others; and the representation of identity most often occurs precisely at the point where there has been a displacement.’48 Displaced people are often mindful of ‘who they are’ because they are defined by others as ‘different’; their “sense of home [is] often liberated from a physical fixed space to a state of mind”49 and the “memory of home becomes static in one’s mind to long for.”50 Home connotes embedded-ness and belongingness, bodily and spiritually constructing our sense of who we are, our desire to feel that we belong. In this research I often interchange the word ‘Home’ with the word ‘Belongingness’ because they both convey the same idea.

The meaning of home and our relationships with it vary in historical and cultural context, social reality and our sentimental attachment and understanding towards home. The meaning of home differs among professions, ages and genders. According to Papastergiadis, home is a place where personal and social meanings are grounded; the space of house may be defined by its material structures whereas the home is divided by symbolic boundaries, so it is more of a symbolic space than a physical place.51 Over time, the meaning of home has changed. As Papastergiadis analysed: Home in the traditional sense is a form of memories, a stable site of identification; whereas in the modern sense home is more temporary arrangements and shifting. The traditional home was a place of integration and conformity whereas the modern home is a place of self-expression and freedom.52

Displaced people are always in search of and longing for familiarities of the past in the new found place (eg. food, music and old photographs etc.,) seeking emotional comfort. Papastergiadis further stated that the migrant desires repetition and difference and the migrant home always combines the sensual experience of novelty and familiarity. For displaced people, ‘home’ is far away. It contains a bag of memories kept in the attic. Papastergiadis is referring to

48 Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 193. 49 Mary Douglas. “The Idea of a Home: A Kind of Space,” Social Research 58, 1 (Spring 1991): 289. 50 Tabassum Ruby, “Who am I and Where Do I Belong? Sites of struggle in Crafting and Negotiating Female Muslim Identities in Canada,” in Home/Bodies: Geographies of Self, Place, and Space, ed. Wendy Schiessel (Canada: University of Calgary Press, 2006), 36. 51 Nikos Papastergiadis, Dialogues in the Diasporas (London: Rivers Oram Press, 1998), 2-3. 52 Papastergiadis, Dialogues in the Diasporas, 9.

a quote of John Berger’s “Home is no longer a dwelling but the untold story of a life being lived.” 53

The passage between past and future is always accompanied by the sought for confirmation of home.54 In the social and philosophical sense, home is embedded in human consciousness with diverse sentiments. For some, home is a secure point of reference, a reassuring stability, for others it is often a fragile, frequently torn and fading image.55 In Schiessel’s research she stated: home could be one’s heavenly attached nest or as brutal as prison without bars, especially for some females [children and the weak] or politically targeted people.56 Mary Douglas emphasised: having shelter is not having a home, [and] happiness is not guaranteed in a home.57 For Shelly Mallett, home could be a physical structure and virtual place, a repository for memories of lived space; but memories of home are often nostalgic and sentimental, home is not simply recalled or experienced in positive ways. When considering Home and Gender issues, Feminist writers often identified home as a site of oppression, tyranny and patriarchal domination of women, violence and sexual abuse in the home environment.58

On reflection the concept of Home leads to questions of the form and meaning of home in relation to philosophical, spiritual and cultural sense in our lives. In the conceptual sense, our ‘journeys away from home establish the thresholds and boundaries of home’,59 home, as an open doorway for us to leave and return represents the relationship between ourselves with our surroundings, and remains as a fixed threshold of our lives.60 In its spatial sense, home is divided; inside and outside, private and public, inclusive and exclusive. In its less imaginary ideal, meanings and forms of home vary between cultures. In the individualist Western culture home could be defined as where one’s belongings are, whereas in the collective of the Eastern home it is always family oriented and bonded. At an individual level meanings of home vary at different stages of life and across, gender and professions – the sense of home of a child is different to that of a housewife and the image of home in an architect’s mind is different to that in a writer’s mind.61 For other cultures, home could be in different forms, home for the Aboriginal Australian is in front of a camp-fire under the stars; the Japanese set the bedding for

53 Ibid. 4-10. 54 Iain Chambers, Culture after Humanism: History, Culture, Subjectivity (London: Routledge, 2001), 165. 55 Charlotte Troy, “Home Sweet Home,” 102 An Anthology. (Hong Kong: C.T. Editions, 2004): 102. 56 Ruby, Who am I and Where Do I Belong?, 36. 57 Mary Douglas, “The Idea of Home: A Kind of Space,” in Home: A Place in the World, ed. Arien Mack (New York: University Press, 1993), 262-3. 58 Shelly Mallett, “Understanding Home: A critical review of the literature,” The Sociological Review 52, 1 (February 2004): 63-75. doi/10.1111/j.1467-954X.2004.00442.x/pdf (accessed: 20/8/2012) 59 Ibid. 78. 60 Troy, Home Sweet Home, 132. 61 Stanley Cavell, introduction to Home: A Place in the World, ed. Arien Mack (New York: University Press, 1993), 6.

resting by rolling away and back each morning and night. For others, home has some structure in time and space; it has aesthetic and moral dimensions. Mary Douglas suggests that homes have more complex orienting and bonding depending on the ideas that individuals are carrying inside their heads about their lives in space and time: the home is the realisation of ideas.62 The nomads’ home has a different set of conventions; nomads carry their ‘home’ wherever they go in search of the next suitable location. To them home is transitional, but they have a strong and unique sense of belonging. In contrast, urban people see home as a private, enclosed physical dwelling. Nomads dwell on land that belongs to everyone; ‘home’ is in the cosmos of their sphere of psychic.63

Therefore the concept of Home is akin to the concept of Identity. It is a fluid multi-faceted and shifting concept requiring constant negotiation, like our identities, always in perpetual flux. The end phrase of the research title: – ‘A place to call Home’, provides a momentary escapism in wonder suggesting that metaphysical belonging can be a permanent spatial home.

62 Mary Douglas, “The Idea of a Home,” Social Research, (Sprint 1991): 290. 63 Nick Batzner. Ideal House (of Pier Paolo Calzolari artwork) p.102. [online source could not located.]

The Ambivalent and Indecisive Identity

Chapter 3

Life must be lived forward but can only be understood backwards. ~ Soren Kierkegaard 64

Humans make sense of the world through the narrative of human experience. Making meaning of human existence is linked to thoughts, feelings and the interpretation of action.65 The stories of our past are the backdrop of our identity. The constructivist view of self is that our life is the product of our narrative rather than some fixed, but hidden, ‘thing.’66

The Ambivalence Identity I was born in Taiwan and have resided in Australia for more than thirty years. I have always struggled with my identity. When asked by others: “what is your country of origin?” or “where are you from?” without hesitation, I always replied ‘Taiwan’. But when questioned further: “Oh, you are ‘Taiwanese?’67 I realised my identity was more complex. I felt more like rejecting, than accepting, the fact that I was Taiwanese. What made it even worse was when a misplaced knowledge of modern history was applied: “So, you are Chinese!” I had to hide my sense of rage and reply politely: “Well, yes and no, I am Chinese but not ‘the Chinese’ from China”.

In Australia my sense of identity did not get simpler. When I was questioned about my nationality, especially by Caucasian Australians, I felt that my answer was incomplete if I answered ‘Australian’ as with my accent, everyone knew I had only provided a partial answer, and I do not look ‘European’. To satisfy such queries, I would specify my dual identities, Australian and Taiwanese, even though my Taiwan nationality lapsed many years ago. Nevertheless, my ethnic identity has often been generalized as ‘Asian’ in the Australia political scene.

The complex history of Taiwan has made it difficult for the people of Taiwan to identify themselves as one group because the cultural and ethnic backgrounds of those who inhabit this island have remained separated by political prejudice and power over many generations.

64 Goodson, F. Ivor. et al., Narrative Learning (Hoboken: Taylor & Francis, 2010), 1. 65 Donald E. Polkinghorn “Narrative and Self Concept,” Narrative and Life History 1, 2 & 3 (1991) 136. 66 Jerome S. Burner, “Acts of Meaning” (the Jerusalem-Harvard Lectures), (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990), 12. 67 A term only referring to the early Chinese settlers and their offspring who came from China to the island prior to 1940. The majority of those settlers were from Fujian province south of China speaking Ming-nan dialect. They see themselves as the ‘People of this Province’- the native of Taiwan.

The purpose of this chapter is to provide an overview of the complex history and political background of Taiwan. At present the people of Taiwan are in the midst of transition as they struggle to define a collective identity for Taiwan and its legitimacy internationally. The emergence of ‘Taiwanese Consciousness’ on the island in recent decades has highlighted the ‘Otherness’ and brought forth the contesting authenticity of ‘Taiwanese’, in opposition to ‘Mainland-Chinese’.68

The Geography and People of Taiwan Taiwan is an island situated on the south-western coast of China separated by the Taiwan Straits. It was first sighted by Portuguese navigators as blue-green mountains jutting out of the Pacific in the mid-15th century. They named it: - Ilha Formosa – the ‘Beautiful Isle’. Hence, it was known to the West as Formosa for the next four centuries.69

The earliest indigenous inhabitants on the island are the Austronesian (Malayo-Polynesian) people of fourteen tribes70 who have dwelled on the island for 10,000-20,000 years. Since the beginning of the 17th century, these indigenes have been forced to the central mountains, a range which covers two-thirds of the island and towards the eastern side of the island by alien colonizers who gained benefit from trading local resources, agriculture and commodities. Each invasion involved violence at the expense of the indigenous inhabitants. The first Europeans to colonize the island were the Dutch traders (1624-1662) who utilized the island as a base for commerce in the region; then the Spanish (1626-1642) who were driven out by the Dutch; and briefly the French (1884-1885). Concurrently there were steady influxes of Han Chinese refugees from the Ming (1386-1644) to Qing (1644-1911) Dynasties. In 1683, the Manchu Imperial Government of the Qing Dynasty in Beijing declared Taiwan as a province of its empire. Although the indigenes and the Han Chinese settlers on the island were both faced with foreign invasion, it was the Han Chinese who dealt with the foreign powers. These early Chinese settlements (so called ‘Taiwanese’) sprang up along the Western coast. By the twentieth century, Han culture was deeply rooted on the island. Many indigenes have been assimilated into the Han-immigrant communities and many ‘Taiwanese’ have both Han and indigenous ancestry.

68 ‘Mainlanders’ was named by the ‘Taiwanese’ to denote those Chinese who came from China after1945 and their descendants, to distinguish the differences for they are the ‘People from outside the Province.’ 69 General information of Taiwan was sighted from: The Overseas Office Republic of China (Taiwan Embassy) (中華民國駐外單位聯合網站.) http://www.taiwanembassy.org/fp.asp?xItem=71212&ctNode=2243&mp=1 (accessed 23/9/2009) 70 They are: Amis, Atayal, Bunun, Kavalan, Paiwan, Puyuma, Rukai, Saisiyat, Sakizaya, Sediq (Seejiq), Thao, Tsou, Truku andYami. Council of Indigenous Peoples. http://www.apc.gov.tw/portal/?lang=en_US (accessed: 23/4/2014)

Modern History: Assimilation and Acculturation of Taiwan since Japanese Rule 71

Until the late 19th Century, the people of Taiwan never thought to identify them as ‘Taiwanese’ in a national identity sense, as the concept of nationalism did not exist, however this changed under the Japanese colonisation. In 1895, Taiwan was ceded to Japan under the Treaty of Shimonoseki when the Qing Dynasty was defeated in the first Sino-Japanese War. Over the next 50 years Japan ruled the island and polarized the people of Taiwan into two identity groups, the Taiwanese and Japanese. As the colonial map of Japan was limited to Taiwan and did not include mainland China, identity in the minds of Taiwanese stopped at the boarder of the island and not beyond.

Initially, the Taiwanese intelligentsia rebelled against the Japanese occupation and proclaimed the establishment of the “Democratic Republic of Taiwan”. This failed within six months when Japanese troops crushed all resistance. For half a century Taiwan was treated as an extension of Japan. The Japanese imposed policies to assimilate Taiwanese by granting Japanese citizenship and legal rights as Japanese citizens; there was compulsory Japanese-language education, and the adoption of Japanese names, customs and religious practices; in return supporters of the Japanese were rewarded with land and provided with educational opportunities for their children in an attempt to foster Japanese Nationalism. Punishment was severe for those rejecting their system. As a result, many Taiwanese elite were Japanese educated, considering themselves as sub-Japanese through their assumption of a Japanese identity.72 This allowed them privileges, social status and educational prospects. This privilege also extend to artists and architects who with high achievement in arts also were sent to Japan to study Modernism and Impressionism and on their return, they became the pioneers for Taiwan’s modernity art movements.73 Those who qualified could gain further higher education in Japan, although such higher education was limited to the study of Medicine, Commerce and Arts. They were forbidden to study of Law and Politics. Those who did not forsake their Han-ness and lived out Confucian traditions refusing Japanese assimilation remained uneducated peasants.74

Though Taiwan was under an oppressive Japanese Imperialism, it lived through half a century of highly developed industrial capitalism and transformed into a modern country in Asia. It had advanced industrial and transportation infrastructures, sophisticated banking and business

71 He,Yinan. “Identity Politics and Foreign Policy: Taiwan’s Relations with China and Japan, 1895-2012,” Political Science Quarterly 129, 3 (Sep 2014). 72 See details in He, Yinan. 73 Yuko Kikuchi ed. Refracted Modernity: Visual Culture and Identity in Colonial Taiwan (University of Hawaii Press, Honolulu, 2007), 3-4, 6. 74 Like many others, my mother and her siblings remain illiterate as my grand-father did not allow his children to bow to the Japanese teacher.

practice and a good health program.75 Even Modern Art and Literature were introduced including Western-Japanese hybrid architecture; but the majority of the country remained in agricultural production. Despite the economic progress, the Taiwanese were still engaged in protests against persistent discrimination that denied their positions of authority in all sectors of society. Suppression and suffering went on for years, though a brief and bloody conflict began in October 1930 in central Taiwan, Nan-tou County (南投縣). It was known as the Wu-she Uprising (霧社事件). A tribal Chief, Mona Rudao, led hundreds of warriors in all-out war against the humiliating treatment of the Japanese. Ultimately the uprising was suppressed through the use of poison gas bombs dropped from aircraft. By 1937 Japan had taken both Korea and Manchuria into its empire and the second Sino-Japanese War (1937 – 1945) began.

The Historical and Political Connections between Taiwan and China In China, at the turn of 20th Century, a group of young intellectuals led by Sun Yat-Sen (1886- 1925, 孫逸仙 also known as 孫中山) formed the Chinese Nationalist Party (Kuo-Min-Tang, or KMT), in an attempt to stop their homeland being divided by greedy, invasive Europeans and Japanese. In 1911, after 11 bloody attempts over 17 years, they overthrew the weak and short- sighted Qing Dynasty and established the Republic of China, which ended over two-thousand years of Imperialist China. The new government continuously faced internal turmoil, battles with Warlords (1916-28), the Civil War with the Communist Party (1929-1949), and the second Sino-Japanese War (1937-1945) which caused concern for the World War II Allies, because China was one of the fronts in the Asia-Pacific region. In December 1943, US President Franklin D. Roosevelt, ROC leader Generalissimo Jiang Jie-she (蔣介石 Chiang Kai-Shek 1887- 1975) and British Prime Minister Winston Churchill met in Cairo and released an unsigned joint communiqué, known as the “Cairo Declaration”. In this agreement they formed the Three Great Allies to fight and resist the aggression of the Japanese with the purpose of making Japan return all territories stolen from the Chinese, such as Manchuria, Formosa and Pescadores, to the Republic of China.76

When Japan announced its surrender in August 1945, the Nationalists of ROC troops and administrators unconditionally accepted Japanese surrender and declared Taiwan a province of the ROC on behalf of the Allied Powers on 25 October 1945. In 1949, the ROC government under Chiang lost the Chinese Civil War to the Communist Party of China. The outcome of this was that the Nationalists of ROC Government, both military and civilian, retreated from

75 Kikuchi, ed. Refracted Modernity: Visual culture and identity in Colonial Taiwan, 7. 76 Office of the Historian. ‘Milestones: 1937-1945, The Tehran Confrerence, 1943,’ Bureau of Public Affairs, United States Department of State. https://history.state.gov/milestones/1937-1945/tehran-conf (accessed: 15/8/2013)

mainland China taking refuge in Taiwan.77 In 1954, the United States (US) sensed the possibility of a conflict in the Taiwan Straits and the US President Dwight Eisenhower signed a joint communiqué and Mutual Defence Treaty with the ROC to reaffirm solidarity and to provide United States military protection. Over six decades, the island ROC, Taiwan and the continental PRC on mainland China had coexisted as separate sovereign states with radically different directions. Taiwan advocated political freedom and China did not.

The Contemporary Taiwanese Identity Divergence Upon the arrival of the Nationalist Government (the KMT), it was apparent that the cultural identity of Taiwan was distinct from that of mainland China. It was a blend of Japanese and Chinese cultures with strong Japanese influence. The KMT imposed Chinese identity on the people of Taiwan as their national identity through education in history and language teaching.

The Nationalist Government in Taiwan was aware of the need for security. It faced threats from the demands for Taiwan independence by Taiwanese with Communist sympathies and from an attack from the communists of mainland China. To preserve its defence, it became an authoritarian government and established military control over the island. On the 28th February, 1947, the government annihilated many of the Japanese-Taiwanese elite protesters and imposed severe restrictions under ‘Martial Law (1949-1987)’78 as a way to suppress the political opposition and to sustain, secure and unite the ‘new’ nation. At the same time it introduced a modern education system, modernised infrastructure and built its defensive capabilities.79 Simultaneously, the government underwent re-Sinification by imposing political and social programs designed to eradicate Japanese influence and to nationalise the Taiwanese people as citizens of a Chinese nation. This forged a common identity, a national Chinese cultural identity, from multiple identities based on homeland, religious sect and surname group.80 Under this policy it introduced assemblies with the National Anthem in schools and at many civil occasions. It promoted ‘Mandarin’ as the national language to be taught in school, and it prohibited people from speaking their local language ‘Tai-yu.’81 Anyone found speaking their local dialect was punished.

77 About two million refugees, predominately Nationalist military, the urbanite and business community retreated to Taiwan. It was the latter who managed the transition in Taiwan from an agricultural to a commercial, industrial economy. 78 Under Martial Law, the KMT government suppressed freedom of thought and speech, imposed publication censorship and assembly, forbade political party formation and restricted overseas travel. 79 Ian G. Koggard, “Countries and Their Cultures: Taiwan.” http://www.everyculture.com/Sa-Th/Taiwan.html (accessed 26/4/2011) 80 Ibid. 81 A general term refers to the native ‘Taiwan-dialect’ of Ming-nan dialect spoken by early Chinese settlers from Fujian province in south of China.

The act of imposing austere political and social programs highlighted who was ‘Taiwanese’ ‘the people of this province’ (本省人), and who was not, ‘the people from outside the province’ (外省人) on the island. The White Terror period82 is deeply rooted in many local ‘Taiwanese’ minds – especially those who are Japanese-Taiwanese. They remember with bitterness the Nationalist, Chiang and Mainland Chinese, who came to the island in 1949. Such hatreds still exist to the present.

In 1971, Taiwan’s once most trusted supporter, the United Nations (UN), announced its preference for Communist Beijing to join the UN, therefore excluding Taiwan from the UN.83 Ultimately, the US switched its diplomatic recognition from Taipei to Beijing in 1979 with the US and PRC Joint Communiqué, it announced the change and agreed with the ‘one China’ policy and Taiwan as part of China84 but the US continued to supply Taiwan with military weapons. Suddenly Taiwan found itself an illegitimate nation and alone in the world. It was a wake-up call for many people in Taiwan to look inward and to define who they were. What and how could Taiwan sustain its position in the international arena? As a consequence it evoked a second wave of ‘Taiwanese Consciousness’85 forging the construction of a local, cultural consciousness about Taiwanese Identity. Taiwanese people began to reflect on their history, focusing on the local, the people and their life on the island. A search for their roots was underway. They felt they needed to recover a collective memory and repossess the native ‘Taiwanese’ voice and an identity representing the local people of Taiwan. This was when there was a sudden rising of the Taiwanese cultural elite, most of them being Japanese-Taiwanese offspring who had been marginalised and had lost their social status under the Nationalist regime. They demanded equality and challenged the Nationalist ideology, proposing to sever all connections with mainland China.

By the end of the 1980s, the Nationalist Government in Taiwan had gone through an historical and political transition. It changed from the authoritarian to the democratic and to localization

82 The White Terror period was when the government started a large-scale campaign to purge the island of political activists during the 1950s who had spoken opposition to the government policies. Both Taiwanese including Japanised elite and intellects, and mainland Chinese were arrested, charged with attempting to overthrow the government and sentenced to death or life imprisonment. Some who were arrested were indeed political spies but most were unjustly accused. See Robert Kelly, Joshua Samuel Brown and Andrew Bender. Taiwan (London: Lonely Planet, 2007), 37. 83 The ROC was a founding member of the United Nations (UN) established in 1945. It lost its seat in 1971. In 1979 the UN included Beijing as recognition of only one ‘China’, and discontinued formal ties with Taiwan. The US also abrogated the 1954 Mutual Defence Treaty between the two countries. See David J. Phillips, On This Day-Volume 2, (Lincoln: iUniverse, 2007), 236. 84 “Background Note: Taiwan,” Bureau of East Asian and Pacific Affairs. United States Department of State: Diplomacy in Action.7 Jul 2011. http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/35855.htm (accessed 14/1/2012) 85 ‘Ironically, the Taiwanese Consciousness firstly emerged as an expression of Chinese national sentiments against Japanese Colonialism of the early 20th Century.’ Explained in Weiming Tu, “Cultural Identity and the Politics of Recognition in Contemporary Taiwan,” The China Quarterly 148 (Special Issue: Contemporary Taiwan Dec. 1996): 115-1140. http://ww.jstor.org/stable/655519 (accessed 27/1/2012)

(or Taiwanisation). Martial Law was lifted. The government consented to opposition political parties and it repealed restrictions on travel and investment in Mainland China. The opening of a door that had been closed for 40 years was welcomed by those Chinese who had fled the mainland in 1949. For the first time they could ‘go home’ to visit and prosperous business enterprises in Taiwan could invest in China. In 1996, for the first time in Taiwanese history, the people of Taiwan had the power to elect a President. In 2000, Chen Shui-Bian (陳水扁)86 the first non-KMT Nationalist of the Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) – a party advocating Taiwanese Independence - was elected as President (2000-2008). It was a powerful political validation for the ‘Taiwanese’ who now believed they were politically ‘Taiwanese’ and did not belong to China. Hsiou states: The lifting of Martial Law in 1987 has generated a second wave of native consciousness, with an urban and modernist outlook. With DPP rise to power it was noted a revival on the ‘Taiwanese’ own culture and identity. … Taiwanese increasingly identify Taiwan as their own country, while considering Chinese cultures to be their origins and roots.87

The DPP political agenda was to set up a local cultural and political entity, to break cultural and political ties with China (from both the ROC and the PRC), to determine the people of Taiwan as citizens of Taiwan and not citizens of the ROC. The constitution of the ROC in Taiwan specified Taiwan as part of China and people of Taiwan as citizens of ROC as part of its ideology.88 However, over time political development has changed. The DPP accepts the differences of a diverse nation. The DPP has re-defined and accepted its national/cultural identity to be ‘Taiwanese’ and opposes the ‘Chinese’ who still insist they are citizens of the ROC.

The DPP government (2000 to 2008) abolished the school assembly and promoted the Tai-yu dialect, together with other ethnic languages, on public media. It revised history records and text books and introduced local culture into the school curriculum. The DPP is mixing the local identity with the cultural identity. It split cultural unity and separated the native Taiwanese and the Mainlanders, making the difference more apparent.

86 Chen, Shui-Bian was found guilty of corruption of US$31 million and sentenced to life in prison. Previously, the DDP and the ‘Taiwanese’ accused KMT and Chiang Kai-Shek Government of corruption, but in fact, they only enjoyed their entitlements during their terms. Tania Branigan. “Taiwan court jails former president for corruption,” The Guardian (Australia edition.) Posted 11/9/2009. http://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/sep/11/taiwan-jails- former-president-corruption (accessed 30/9/2009) 87 Hsin-Huang Michael Hsiao, “Taiwan Identity and China: 1987-2007.” Posted 19/3/2008. http://www.opendemocracy.net/article/democracy_power/china_taiwan_identity (accessed 7/1/2009) 88 We were educated in school that China was ‘occupied’ by the Communists, and our nation – the ROC would re- take it to be united as one China of a free country.

The Nationalists failed to impose a united national Chinese cultural identity over the years. The Taiwanese as a whole shared a double identity both Chinese and Taiwanese making an unavoidably ambivalent state. In their article The Double Identity of Taiwanese Chinese: A Dilemma of Politics and Culture Rooted in History, Li-Li Huang , James H. Liu and Manling Chang state that China and Taiwan shared a common root, but because of the political separation of the past 100 years, this cultural commonality and political division has become the source of cross-straits difficulties and a dilemma for the search for Taiwanese identity. It further states: - Because of the history, Chinese identity and Taiwan identity for people in Taiwan are parallel rather than nested (Liu & Ho 1999). Each has cultural and political elements. In practical terms: both may be considered as national identity, although only one is formally recognised as such by most nations. For most of recorded history, Taiwan identity has been subordinate to Chinese identity, but with recent political developments, the two stand side by side. Either or both can be used to provide direction for culture and political issues in Taiwan's future.89

With the emergence of a Taiwan-centric consciousness, the rising political freedom and an awareness of Taiwanese identity in the 90s, the people of Taiwan as a whole are still confused with their identity and whether they see themselves as ‘Chinese’ or ‘Taiwanese.’ This confusion was evident in the Nationalist Ma Ying-Jeou (馬英九) second-run Presidential election in 2012.

In the second half of the 20th century, under the Nationalists, Taiwan transformed from a predominantly agrarian economy into a vigorous, industrialized economy. It has earned its name in the Asia region as one of the ‘Four Little Dragons.’90 Today, the culture of Taiwan is a blend of Chinese classical, Taiwan folk, aboriginal and Western modern cultural influences.91 Taiwan has a population of twenty-three million people composed of many ethnic groups. Broadly it breaks up into 84% of the early Han Chinese settlers and descendants (the Taiwanese),92 14% of mainlander Chinese who came to Taiwan in 1949 and their descendants with 2% counted for the Indigenes.93 Based on this population analysis the majority of the Taiwanese still hold onto the belief they are Chinese and opposed to the DPP activists.

89 Li-Li Huang, James H. Liu and Manling Chang, “The Double Identity’ of Taiwanese Chinese: A dilemma of politics and culture rooted in history.” Asian Journal of Social Psychology 7 (2004): 150. 90 A term used in reference to countries that have highly developed economies with high growth rate in Asia: Taiwan, South Korea, Hong Kong, and Singapore. http://www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog.php?isbn=9780674315266 (accessed 27/1/2012) 91 Ian S. Koggard, “Countries and Their Cultures.” http://www.everyculture.com/Sa-Th/Taiwan.html (accessed 7/1/2009) 92 Includes 10% of Hakka ethnics. 93 Ian S. Koggard, “Countries and Their Cultures.”

Over the years, the Nationalists have maintained a kind of ‘secure’ society for the people of Taiwan to enjoy the growth from post-war economic development, liberation and modernisation. The rise in democracy, with DPP on the political platform of Taiwan, has caused tension with mainland China openly saying internationally that it does not allow Taiwan to be ‘Independent’ from China, and if necessary military force will be used.

Researcher Wu Nai-the (吳乃德) at Academia Sinica, a forum held in Taipei to mark the 10th anniversary of the “1996 Missile Crisis”94 on 12 March 2006, presented a survey in two parts the first of which looked at Taiwan in the period from 1991 up to the 1996 missile crisis and the second of which looked at the period from the crisis up to 2004. It shows that in: 1991 – 13.6% of people viewed themselves as Taiwanese, 43.9% identified as Chinese. 2004 – 45.7% of people viewed themselves as Taiwanese, 6.3% identified as Chinese. People viewing themselves as having double identities remained relatively steady from 49.7% to 45.4% respectively.

This study shows the Chinese consciousness has steadily decreased, but an increase in people who identify themselves as Taiwanese does not necessarily translate into an increase in Taiwanese Nationalism. Rather, its cause is a purely political divergence. According to Wu’s analysis he stated that: … Taiwanese nationalists … defined as those who consider Taiwan an independent political entity and would never want Taiwan to unite with China, even if both sides had no social differences …, and this opinion grew very fast after the 1996 missile crisis. ….95

Wu further stated that people in Taiwan are still confused about, and struggle to define their identity and are easily affected by political, social and economic circumstances. Taiwanese people are frustrated by the political rivalry from China which is the cause of confusion both inside and outside of Taiwan. Therefore, the national cultural identity for the Taiwanese as a whole remains open which leaves people of Taiwan in limbo.

My Background and Indecisive Identity I was born in Kaohsiung, an industrial port and the second biggest city in the south-west of Taiwan. My father was a Naval Commander Colonel. He was born in North-East China and was

94 China test fired several short-range ballistic missiles into Taiwan Strait during the 1996 presidential election campaign as it disagreed with the democracy and independence movements. This threat destabilised investor confidence, stock markets fell and large sums of money left the island. Explained in Weiming Tu, “Cultural Identity and the Politics of Recognition in Contemporary Taiwan.” The China Quarterly 148, (Dec 1996): 1115-1140. 95 Rich Chang, “’Taiwan Identity’ Growing: Study,” Taipei Times. Posted 12 March 2006. http://www.taipeitimes.com/News/taiwan/archives/2006/03/12/2003296948 (accessed 4/3/2009)

one of the Nationalist military KMT followers to come to Taiwan in 1949. My mother came from a farming family that has resided in Kaohsiung, Taiwan for generations. I was too young to find out before my father passed away about his home and life in Mainland China and his hidden sorrow of the separation caused by the civil war back in China which bestowed much hardship on Chinese lives. All I could recall was the story from overheard fragments of conversations between his friends and from a few pages of his diary written in his early days when he was on the run. After my grand-father was killed, probably by Communists, my father was hunted because he was the only male descendant of my grand-parents, so the family urged my father to run for his life. Under his maternal uncle’s influence my father joined the local guerrilla militia. At times when he got a chance and when within an accessible distance, he was able to ride home to visit his family. He knew the passwords of both sides and had to wear reversible clothing, changing into enemy uniform to enable him to get through the woods, and then changing back when he got to the other side. The family had also set a secret signal for my father when it was safe to visit by putting a bamboo cloth-line on the tree, to indicate that enemies were at home and it was not safe to return. I do not know how long this situation lasted. His troops gradually retreated too far away and it became impossible to visit home again. Eventually he ended up in the Nationalist military. In 1949 he followed the army forces in a full retreat when the National Party ROC was defeated after years of Civil War with the Communists of China. With assistance from the United States, the Nationalists took over Taiwan. My father left his widowed mother, sister, wife and three-year old boy behind. He was only twenty-four years old when he arrived in Taiwan.

At the beginning, the people anticipated that it would be a temporary settlement and they believed that once they (the nation) had rebuilt their energy and forces, together with American military assistance, they would fight back and re-take China so they could go home. They waited for ten years on the island before Chiang Kai-shek announced that they were not going to fight the Communists, instead they would secure where they were and rebuild their lives and a strong nation on the island. For many the painful reality was difficult to take. They had lost their last hope. It became a permanent separation from home and the country they used to have. They found themselves as refugees in a foreign land striving to survive.

The KMT followers brought with them two million sad stories. The majority of them were urban, educated, of wealthy descent, young, single and male. Many were sent off by their family to protect their lives from the Communists. The communication blackout between the two nations brought hopelessness and a strong sense of nostalgia for the many homeless people and living conditions were harsh. Many committed suicide as an escape. I remember that up until the 1970s any popular songs or writing that evoked nostalgia or the sadness of separation were

prohibited in an attempt to eliminate unstable social morale. One of my neighbours was imprisoned never to return. During the White Terror period96 people learnt to suppress their grief, disappointment and homesickness. This was why I never heard my father talk about how he missed his family and his child in China.

The Connection and Disconnection with Taiwan I am a Taiwanese second-generation Mainlander Chinese. I grew up in a naval forces residential neighbourhood, one of the satellite communities built around the naval base. In the early days, these naval communities had many facilities that the ‘Taiwanese’ who resided on the outskirts of the neighbourhood did not share, for example, we had our own cinemas, parks, daily markets, shops and schools. We were cast by the local ‘Taiwanese’ as ‘foreigners’ with names like ‘outside-province-people’ and ‘the pig.’97 I was not aware of this until the late 1980s in Australia when a Taiwanese friend explained it to me. This may be due to the fact I could not speak the local Ming-Nan dialect, and lived separately to the locals and never had a chance to mingle with these Taiwanese to gain deeper understanding. In the same way, when I was young, I was not encouraged to gain knowledge of or practice the local customs and culture, but only Chinese culture, even though the majority of the mothers in the naval community were ‘Taiwanese.’ Amazingly, I never heard any mothers in the neighbourhood attempt to correct our views or impose on us the local culture, obviously, these women (including my mother) had different feelings towards mainland Chinese and they would have been cast-out from their families for marrying ‘outsiders.’98 Even more ironic was that inter-marriage with the Taiwanese was not approved by the family. This was the norm in our generation.

Therefore, from an outsider’s point of view, we, the Chinese and Taiwanese as a whole seemed to live and share the same cultural narrative and ethnic background so we ought to have a common view and identity. But this was not the case. We were two separate groups.

During my last three years of high school, my family sent me to study at a Japanese style commerce high-school in a Taiwanese district where 90% of the school students were

96 I was young and unaware of what Martial Law was. I felt no threat or fear when I was growing up during the White Terror era. Ironically, I felt safe and protected from the invasion of the Communists. Perhaps my generation was ‘protected’ from the harsh backdrop and ‘brain-washed’ with some relevance. 97 Taiwanese often referred to themselves as ‘sweet potatoes.’ It is not only a reference to the shape of the island of Taiwan which looks like a sweet potato but it also had a symbolic meaning remembering their hardship under Japanese colonisation, when they had to eat sweet potato to survive because the rice they farmed was sent to Japan to feed soldiers. Because the appearance of sweet potato and taro are similar they use these two terms to signify the difference between Chinese from the mainland and the local Taiwan people. To call the mainlander ‘pig’ inferred that they came to the island and made a ‘mess’ like pigs normally do. 98 On the recent trip home, I asked my mother why she married my father, she said “I wanted to ‘choose’ who I want to marry with” – meaning that she rejected the arranged marriage tradition.

Taiwanese. It was the first time I stepped out of my community and travelled daily, which gave me the opportunity to explore their local culture, markets, food and their lives. There were so many differences between us but we still harmoniously played and studied together. I found great friendship and these were the happiest years in my childhood. There were two incidents I remember clearly which illustrate how people suffered and were marginalized in a society that was constructed under a political ideology. During the first week of the accounting class I panicked when the teacher, every now and then, used ‘Tai-yu’ to explain principles. It was totally foreign to me and I did not understand at all. I told my Father that this was the result of preventing us from learning the Taiwan dialect. Another incident I observed one morning, unexpectedly, at the end of our assembly. A middle-aged man went on to the stage holding a book of our 三民主義 the ‘Three Principles Philosophy of the People’ in hand and announced, in a kind of confession to the whole school that: he is out [of prison] “… I am clean now, I have been brain-washed, I will only be loyal to the Nationalist Republic of China, I will be a good citizen etc.” Later, I realised he was one of the teachers. At the time I did not fully understand the consequences. This shows what danger and fear many Taiwanese people lived under in such a politically sensitive society.

I have been living in Australia much longer than I lived in Taiwan. I knew very little of contemporary politics, cultural progression and the social system of Taiwan before engaging in this research. I have not been ‘growing’ along with Taiwan’s progress. I have become an outsider, unfamiliar with my birth-country.

In the years since my migration to Australia I rarely visited Taiwan. When I visited in 2011, I was never able to go out without being accompanied by a family member. I did not even know how to purchase a ticket to places. I found myself more of a stranger in my birth-country than in my foster country. Many things have changed in Taiwan since I left. People in Taiwan are more inter-mingled than 30 years ago. People of similar background to me can communicate in Tai- yu and are free to inter-marry. One by one the military residential communities have been demolished, rebuilt and made available to everyone and are free of defined boundaries.

I, too, like many people of Taiwan in the recent past, could not decide which cultural/national identity was my own, and my ‘thoughts’ have not yet adjusted as many Nationalists have progressively become Taiwanese. Even though I know now it is the correct way of thinking according to the present political developments, it is as though my memory of my birth-country and ‘myself’ is ‘frozen in time’ and unchanged.

When I migrated to Australia in 1979, again, I found myself in a very similar political landscape to that in Taiwan. I am different to the others and feel as though I have double identities. It has taken me 35 years to become ‘familiar’ and to forge a new image. These 35 years have weakened my ties with my country of origin making me lost and ‘unfamiliar’ in my birth country; but I still know who I am. It is difficult to describe but my identity is composed of elements of the culture of my birth nation and the culture of my adopted nation.

Contemporary Artists Analysis ~ The Visual Voice

Preamble

Nostalgia is a universal human sentiment and is experienced when people associate with the past. It is felt more strongly by people who have shifted from their familiar surroundings. Whether their move was temporary or permanent, voluntary or victimized; manifestly, remembering the past is a means for people to forge a new self and identify themselves in the new location. Globalisation has certainly provided a more pluralist consciousness. Displaced people have a foot in two worlds with a double-consciousness of the past and present, old and new always inducing a sense of disorientation and disturbance as they search for a sense of belonging in their new place of residence while continuing to explore issues within their cultural memory. This is what Homi Bhabha identified as ‘the ‘in-between’ spaces which provide the terrain to initiate new signs of identity’.99 These spaces are fluid because no culture remains static; it always embraces the new and recounts the old in between blurred boundaries which are eternally discovering the absent, the ambiguity and the anguish.

Art has a critical function in both our understanding of self and in depicting our sense of place in the world. The following Chapters 4 ~ 9 will look at the work of six relevant contemporary artists who have experienced working in a cultural environment different to the one into which they were born. It will examine the way in which one’s physical and visual language can be deeply shaped by the individual displacement of the artist in global and political milieu. These chapters will embody two main research concepts – ‘Identity’ and ‘Home’. They will examine the ways in which these artists have used their work as a vehicle to cross cultural barriers, and how it has been instrumental in reconstructing their ethnic identity. The reasons why the artists have been displaced have affected their perception and their ways of seeking ‘Home’ through their visual language. These artists to be discussed have a culturally hybrid identity developed through a similarity of cultural and social concerns and philosophical and spiritual beliefs with which I identify.

The first two Australian contemporary émigré artists are the Iranian/Australian, Hossein Valamanesh, and the Hong Kong born Australian, Greg Leong. The reason for including them is that they both have been settled in Australia for about three decades, which is about the same amount of time as I have been settled in Australia and we have had time to gain some understanding of Australian culture. The element of their art practice that I relate to most closely is their inventive narration through the use of ethnic cultural symbols and objects which they amalgamate with local elements as a means of identifying themselves with the local. Whether

99 Bhabha, The Location of Culture. 1.

making a personal or political statement they have created a distinctive individual visual language in the art arena of contemporary Australia.

The third artist whose work I will examine is the Taiwanese contemporary choreographer, Lin Hwai-Min, with whom I share the same country of origin and culture. Due to the ambivalence of Taiwanese identity we do not share the same ‘Taiwanese’ background in our psyche, however, the troublesome cultural identity and history of being ‘Taiwanese’ (as a refusal to be Chinese) are expressed in Lin’s works.

The other three artists whose work will be discussed are: Palestinian exile artist Mona Hatoum; Korean born American migrant Do Ho Suh; and political asylum seeker Chinese born Australian Guan Wei. They have been selected because their experience of the transcultural and their dislocation has influenced not only their social identity, but the way in which they respond to the dimension of the space they are in as they create their work. Whether their relocation was a personal choice or was forced upon them politically, their artistic narratives and their philosophical views have been reconstructed as their sense of self has been influenced by adaptation to the culture in which they have found themselves. In the case of each of these artists the reasons for relocation have affected their willingness to negotiate and construct a new form of cultural identity and belongingness in which they create their work.

The Search for Oneself

Chapter 4

Hossein Valamanesh ~ Search of the Present Self The Iranian/Australian, Hossein Valamanesh, was born in Tehran to Azerbaijani parents in 1949. He grew up in a very remote area of Iran near the Pakistani border. In 1973, at the age of twenty four, Valamanesh immigrated to Australia during the social and political upheaval under the Shah’s regime. He arrived in Perth and in 1975 he moved to South Australia where he settled. Valamanesh is a graduate of the Tehran School of Art and of the South Australian School of Art. While studying in South Australia he met and married Australian ceramicist Angela Burdon.100 Valamanesh’s works have been exhibited and collected by major public galleries in Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Poland and Japan. He has been represented by the Greenway Art Gallery in South Australia since1993.101 He has been commissioned to create public art on numerous occasions by Australian state governments and by public bodies in other countries. He has received two Australia Council grants and has been artist in residence at educational institutions in South Australia, Queensland, New Zealand, Pakistan and Germany.102

In my opinion Valamanesh is arguably the most poetic contemporary artist in Australia. His works blend Iranian cultural memory with an indigenous sensitivity to the Australian landscape. His works encompass diverse media including drawing, painting, photography and sculpture and site-specific installation. His works incorporate personal symbolism using the authentic and symbolic properties of materials. He incorporates the four elements of fire, water, earth and air in his works by using simple objects that translate into self-exploration and influential visual metaphors.103

I first experienced the work of Hossein Valamanesh at his 2002 exhibition at the Sydney Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA). The title of the exhibition Tracing the Shadow104 suggested the poetic nature of his work. The way in which cultural and spiritual concepts were conveyed was compelling. I appreciated his minimalist approach using earthy materials and

100 John Neylon & Erica Mychalenko, “Hossein Valamanesh: A Survey,” (education notes for the exhibition) 29 June-26 August 2001, South Australia Gallery. http://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/2001/EDO1%20Valamanesh%20Ed%20Kit.html(accessed 14/7/08) 101 Valamanesh has also exhibited with Sherman (Goodhope and Hargrave) Galleries (now Sherman Contemporary Art Foundation since 2008 (SCAF)), in 1996, 1999, 2001, 2002, 2004 and 2006. 102 Paul Carter, Hossein Valamanesh: volume 3 (Australia: Craftsman House, 1996), 1-10. 103 Art Gallery of South Australia. http://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/2001/EDO1%20Valamanes%20Ed%20Kit.html (accessed 19/12/2008) 104 Catalogue: Tracing the Shadow – Hossein Valamanesh Recent Works, Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney, 15 February – 28 April 2002.

simplicity of display and the exhibition provided me with much to reflect upon and contemplate. Valamanesh’s works have enlightened me and the essence of his work remains a strong influence.

In 2001 the Art Gallery of South Australia hosted a major survey exhibition of Valamanesh, spanning more than twenty years of his work, showing sixty pieces and the documentation of seven permanent and ephemeral public installations. Ken Orchard, in his review of the exhibition commented that Valamanesh is: - … a very rare artist indeed who confers upon his materials such an uncanny sensitivity, clarity of purpose and unfaltering lightness of touch ….105

Valamanesh’s works are about the journey of personal discovery and search for a sense of place and belonging. Cultural transition from Iran to Australia was not easy. The confusion and frustration was exacerbated by the language barrier and he began to wonder what he was doing and how he could come to terms with this new life. A breakthrough occurred in 1974 when he joined a touring arts group called The Round Earth Company and travelled to Western and Central Australia working with Aboriginal communities at Warburton and Papunya for several months. This profound experience with the desert and its people provided an opportunity for Valamanesh in searching for a sense of place and connection. It was a turning point in his art as he discovered the use of local organic materials. Of this experience he said: I was totally unaware of the depth of the culture and the landscape. The feeling of landscape at times was very close to the dryness and rugged desert of some parts of Iran. At first, this part of Australia was new to me, then somehow … I could understand it to a certain extent. I felt a certain closeness to it without trying to say I grasped it totally. …it allowed me to appreciate the way people related to the land and I began to feel less isolated in Australia.106

Since then natural materials such as sand, twigs, stones, mud, paper-bark and leaves, including lotus leaves, have played a fundamental role in Valamanesh’s work, enabling him to remain true to his Persian heritage while respecting the ancient Indigenous culture and landscape of Australia. He transforms these local materials, incorporating them with archetypal personal symbolic objects such as the ladder or his own silhouette or shadow. Using these tools he has developed a meditative and poetic language that explores issues of cultural identity, place, history, memory and the relationship between humanity and the natural world. His timeless and poetic sculptures are the result of his philosophies that have developed through his life

105 Ken Orchard, Hossein Valamanesh: A Survey, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide 29 June – 26 August 2001. Artlink, 21, 3 (2001). www.artlink.com.au/articles.cfm?id=2154 (accessed 19/12/2008) 106 Graeme Sullivan, Seeing Australia: Views of Artists and Art writers (Annandale NSW: Piper Press, 1996), 82.

experience and his interest in Sufism.107 His beliefs and his professionalism have enriched his artistic practice and his personal life. He is strongly stimulated by the great medieval Persian poets such as Rumi108 and Attar and also by Indigenous Australian song lines.109

His longstanding interest in Eastern philosophies, especially Sufism and Buddhism, deeply inform Valamanesh’s work. An understanding of the artist’s beloved poet Rumi can help one to understand with deeper meaning the ideas contained in Valamanesh’s work. These poems focus on themes of love, personal identity and spiritual enlightenment.110 Iranian culture and Sufism were not widely understood by many who have been brought up in a Western culture and so critics often wrote about Valamanesh’s works in either vague or overly complex ways without an understanding of the core of the artist’s vision. Ian Hamilton’s press review stated: …rugged earthy beauty, … [but] consistently presents deceptively simple visual experiences and leaves interpretation to the viewer.111

Hamilton also wrote about the work Longing Belonging, 1997 (illus.1) shown in an exhibition at Greenway Gallery saying: … the burial ground, where the eye is led to an infinity as vast and meaningless as the seemingly depthless space of the burial hole … and feel not everything is connected.112

www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au

illus.1. Hossein Valamanesh, Longing Belonging, 1997. 654 x 600cm.

107 Sufism is an ancient and contemplative form of Islam – a mystical branch of Islam. 108 The great Persian philosopher, writer and poet, Jelaluddin Rumi (1207-73), founded the Mevlevi Order. http://www.lesartsturcs.com/whirling-dervishes/(accessed 19/12/2008) 109 Sherman Gallery (now SCAF), Paddington, Sydney. http://www.shermangalleries.com.au (accessed 19/12/2008) 110 Catalogue: Tracing the Shadow – Hossein Valamanesh Recent Works. 111 Ian Hamilton, “Hossein Valamanesh,” Artlink 25, 3 (2005). http://www.artlink.com.au/articles.cfm?id=2138/hossein-valamanesh/ (accessed 19/12/2008) 112 Ibid.

Hamilton did realise the need to appreciate Rumi’s poetry to gain a deeper understanding of what Valamanesh was saying in his art. He recognized Rumi’s earthy sentiment and humour and saw the connection between the work of poet and sculptor, saying: In many ways, Valamanesh’s art is similarly beyond intellect, or intellectual explanation. They are elemental; each one [is] a small (sometimes not so small) poem. … [viewing] Valamanesh’s … [is like] viewing installments of an epic poem.113

Further research by Hamilton on Sufi mystic poet -Jelauddin Rumi poetry, may help towards an understanding of the way Valamanesh approaches his work, he stated: - … most of the poems of Rumi … put vast space where you thought you were standing. Like grief, they flip normal, rational perspective to sudden mystery and clarity. … like short poems from other lineages, they require a lot of emptiness, room to wander, sky, the inward space of patience and longing. They are small doors that somehow are the region they open into.114

In Valamanesh’s art archetypal form and objects are symbolic in meaning of a highly personal nature and often reused. One of the objects frequently made by Valamanesh is a ladder. There were many versions of a ladder. When I saw his ladders in the Sherman Gallery (SCAF) exhibition, I puzzled over these images until I read the lines of Rumi’s Fragments and Ecstasies which Hamilton quoted in his review on the Valamanesh exhibition at Greenaway Art Gallery, Adelaide, and then I understood Rumi’s humour upon which Valamanesh drew: The madmen have seen the moon in the window; they are running to the roof with ladders. 115

Included here are some of the symbols Valamanesh uses in his work. They may help the viewer move to a deeper understanding of the message he communicates. Silhouette/shadow – Another layer of self, identity and duality, ‘black bodies’ entrapping a ‘spark of light’ (Gnostic and Manichean Sufi belief) Carpet – Loss, transmutation, and duality of meeting place. Flame – Life, warmth of family, cleansing, hope, faith, metamorphosis. Ladder – Leaving behind cultural origin, climbing to the new. Water – Life. Bowl – Womb, religious offering. Earth – Mortality, survival.

113 Ibid. 114 Ibid. 115 Ibid. This poem was extracted from Rumi – Fragments, Ecstacies. (further support notes on this Rumi’s poems were found in Jason Espada, ‘My favorite Rumi.’ http://www.abuddhistlibrary.com/Buddhism/H%20- %20World%20Religions%20and%20Poetry/Poetry/Rumi/My%20Favorite%20Rumi/My%20Favorite%20Rumi.pdf.

Shoes – Travel, connection to place. Lotus – Enlightenment, presence of divinity. Door – Hesitation, temptation, security, welcoming, respect, freedom, the liminal, old and new ideas and experiences.116

The works selected for discussion provide critical references in support my research. The work Longing Belonging, 1997 (illus.1) has photographic documentation of the performance act of a small campfire lit on the centre of a traditional Persian carpet in a tract of the Australian Mallee landscape. The actual burned carpet is laid on the gallery floor below the photograph that hangs on the wall. This is a symbolic gesture suggesting transition from one place to another, from one culture to another culture. It indicates both a sense of decay and rejuvenation, and interlinks the cycles of nature. The carpet represents Iranian cultural traditions. It is powerful imagery. The carpet is comforting, a connection to his previous life in Iran. Placing it on the Australian earth and setting it alight was a ritual act embodying a sense of cultural transition and regeneration, both a letting go and a remembering of the past and a connection with the present. Fire shapes the landscape and has the power of creation. The flame suggests cleansing and new possibilities, thus, it symbolizes a connection with and a creation of a new life in the new country. A camp fire for indigenous Australians is a gathering place at the end of day, a ‘home’ under the stars – a cosmic home. Valamanesh merges his past and his present through the redemptive power of fire; there is loss, reconciliation and renewal that is powerful and enduring. The work is born out of the artist’s search for a sense of place and belonging, forging a new identity through self- realisation from both the conscious and the unconscious: man and the universe are inseparable.

www.qoqnoos.com www.qoqnoos.com

illus.2. Hossein Valamanesh, Shadow of a Cloud, 1992. illus. 3. Hossein Valamanesh, On the Way, 1992. Earth, Acrylic on jute, felt-hat, pine, cedar. Earth, Acrylic on jute, felt-hat, pine, cedar. 270 x 270cm. (image is not longer availiable) 270 x 270cm.

116Art Gallery of South Australia. http://www.artgallery.sa.gov.au/2001/EDO1%20Valamanes%20Ed%20Kit.html (accessed 19/12/2008)

Valamanesh’s art is not simply about the establishment of duality of culture, nor is it only shaped by nostalgia for the past or the desire to reconstitute his previous life in a new country. It is the reconciliation between cultures. Often Valamanesh uses symbolic objects to do this. In Shadow of a Cloud, 1992 (illus.2) and On the Way, 1990 (illus.3), part of Valamanesh’s exhibition works of Tracing the Shadow which I saw at the Museum of Contemporary Art Sydney in 2002, he captured a great impression of vulnerability and the intensely personal which influenced me. He uses objects such as a felted Iranian hat, knitted fibre Persian shoes and a loaf of bread wrapped in a silken cloth to signify his cultural origins as he carries his belongings on his journey.

The silhouette/shadow is a recurrent motif in the works of Valamanesh and has become a signature of his. In reality, personal identity is subject to change and the living process reconstructs identity as it foregoes the old for the new. A person’s shadow echoes footsteps. It is a homogenized shape, a form of human-trace signifying existence. The shadow has no personal features so personal identity is irrelevant. The shadow seems to indicate no future or past but the very moment of the present self as the light strikes us. I have used the image of the silhouette of a human form in a number of my previous works. Instead of painting the shadow as Valamanesh did, I made it into a tangible, sculptural form. See (illus.45~50) I found that the shadow comprises more than a person’s identity, one’s inner soul or the physical body. The absence of something intensifies its meaning. Without identifiable features all races are equal in their humanity.

www.adelaidecitycouncil.com

illus. 4. Hossein Valamanesh, Knocking from Inside, 1989.

The work Knocking from Inside, 1989 (illus.4) is a site-specific public work situated at the ASER Complex, Adelaide. A door leans against broken sandstone columns on the ground which was not shown on the photo taken, with a negative image of a human figure cut out from the centre. The positive figure is reassembled and positioned on top of the stairway in two halves revealing a gap right through the figure. The ‘doorway’117 is the entrance between the material and the spiritual world; it allows passage from one state to another state. In this work Valamanesh indicates a renewal of the split-self of one’s very existence. This is the core of Poststructuralist Identity theory and what anthropologist, Victor Turner refers to as ‘limina’, an experience of passing through the threshold, the liminal person, split to enter into a new state, new status. One of Rumi’s poems is etched on the granite nearby to re-enforce the meaning of the work. I have lived on the lip of insanity, Wanting to know reasons, Knocking on the door. It opens. I’ve been knocking from the inside.118

Was Valamanesh searching for answers or reconciliation of his present with the past? The work may be his understanding that the answer is within the self; that the self as limina has gone through struggles to become enlightened, the new-self emerges only when a door is knocked upon. It may seem Valamanesh’s work is based on the same theory and understanding as mine, but my work displays a fragile, itinerant split-figure which is different to his.

Valamanesh’s works are more complex in meaning than just his search for cultural identity and sense of place. In the work titled Growing Up, 1989 (illus.5) a head and shoulders silhouette made from earth covers a wooden ladder. The shadow of the ladder is solid yet there is no trace of a shadow of the human form. At the end of the shadow of the ladder stands a ceramic bowl filled with water – a reference to ‘life’ and the ‘womb’. This work is a self-reflection seeking purification of self. His works provide personal insight. He has opened himself to his new environment connecting with Aboriginal art, using local materials relating to the land. He once said in an interview, that he was “… inspired by nature [more] than other artist’s work”. And during the same interview, when he was asked … “you have been here since 1973, do you feel Australian …?” he replied: “In earlier times I did miss Iran a lot, but I am very well settled here and feel like part of this place. I still love to visit Iran when I get the opportunity.”119

117 From Rumi’s poem Dance of the Dervishes, Dervish literally means ‘doorway’ to divine, known as ‘Whirling Dervishes’ Sufi’s prayer dance – sema). See William Haviland, Harald Prins, Dana Walrath, Bunny McBride. Anthropology: The Human Challenge. 13 ed. (Belmont, USA: Cengage Learning, 2010), 598. 118 Neylon and Mychalenko, Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide.Online education kit. 119 Klaus Kinski, “Interview with H. Valamanesh: The Rug Project,” Design Federation. Posted 27/08/2008. http://www.designfederation.net/interviews/interview-with-hossein-valamanesh/(accessed 19/12/2008).

www.qoqnoos.com

illus. 5. Hossein Valamanesh, Growing Up, 1989. Wood, sand, steel, ceramic, water. 185 x 45 x 280cm.

His statement refers to the Poststructuralist theory of a fluidity of hybrid attachment to both cultures where he is at, the present and past. Poetry is timeless and, except for the boundary of language, it transcends the materialistic world and enters an imaginative, spiritual realm as a voice of personal narration. Philosophers ask questions about our existence. Valamanesh not only recognizes the question he imposes upon himself but he also imposes it upon us. Knocking from the Inside implies that we dwell in a concealed world of ‘insanity’. When the door opens it lifts us into the larger world of the cosmos. The question of identity is an empirical account of how people actually construct their sense of self in real social relationships and Valamanesh maintains his personal heritage. Valamanesh’s timeless, poetic works are a personal journey of self-discovery and spiritual realisation, unlike the personal and artistic journey of Greg Leong, whose work will be discussed in the following chapter. Leong’s self-realisation of his identity is through the historical tracing of his lineage from early Chinese in Australia.

Valamanesh has established himself as one of Australia’s best known contemporary artists. He uses materials with sensitivity by using ephemeral elements that suggest transience as he reflects on the fragility of life and looks internally for universal truths and answers to his present reality. Valamanesh’s works are “to be felt, rather than read, speaking to the spirit in a direct way and not to the intellect.”120 Even though it is his own personal journey based on memories and experiences he invites us to share in it and contemplate our own intimate relationship with self, inner-self, others and the environment. My art practice is similar, drawing on my hybrid identity and spiritual insight into the self to find a space in which I feel content to dwell.

120 Ken Orchard, “Hossein Valamanesh: A Survey,” Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide. 29 Jun – 26 Aug 2001. Artlink 21, 3 (2001). www.artlink.com.au/articles.cfm?id=2154u (accessed 4/8/2008)

Chapter 5

Greg Leong ~ A Call to Remember Many artists have found a need to trace their cultural origins to find their personal cultural ‘truth’; however, Greg Leong’s need to do so has been less urgent. It has been more necessary for him to clarify his position as the descendant of the early Chinese settlers in Australia.

Leong’s background is predominately rooted in a mix of Eastern and Western culture. Leong’s maternal grandfather migrated to Australia as a businessman and set up a general store in Blackheath in New South Wales. He married a local half Chinese, half Australian woman and they had four daughters one of whom was Greg Leong’s mother. She was born in Cobar, New South Wales, in 1918. This was a time when there was a fierce anti-Asian ethos in Australia and Chinese settlers kept to themselves with little chance of assimilation into Western culture. Leong’s grandfather was denied permanent residency in Australia so he returned to Hong Kong with his family when Leong’s mother was 14. She found herself an outsider in Hong Kong. Her grandmother had apparently been cast out by her Chinese family who considered themselves humiliated when she married a man of a different race. Greg Leong’s understanding of Australian culture was deeply coloured by his mother’s unhappy experience of being Chinese in Australia.121

Greg Leong was born in Hong Kong in 1946. He was awarded a B.A. and M.Phil. in English Literature from the University of Hong Kong. He worked as a teacher, poet, radio broadcaster and actor in Hong Kong television and in arts administration. He also gained post-graduate qualifications in arts and leisure management at the Polytechnic of Central London in 1975 and worked briefly in youth music administration for Youth & Music, London. Leong moved to Australia at the age of 35 and he designed costumes for various theatrical productions. He completed a BA in Fine Arts and an MA in Fine Art and Design at the University of Tasmania and a PhD from UNSW (CoFA). Leong is also an accomplished academic and writer, contributing to various symposia and publications. He has acted as a consultant to various bodies including the Tasmanian State Government.122 Before his re-training in visual art Leong was the Director of Tasmanian Regional Arts from 1982 to 1988. From 1996 to 2001 he held a position as Textile Lecturer and Head of the Textile Studio at the School of Art at the University

121 Helen Gilber, Tseen Khoo and Jacqueline Lo Diaspora: Negotiating Asian-Australia (Australia: University of Queensland Press, 2000), 58-59. 122 Polly Leonard, “A Chinese Australian Heritage – Boys who sew,” The Crafts Council, December 2003. http://archive.craftscouncil.org.uk/boyswhosew/greg.html (accessed 21/01/2009)

of Tasmania, Launceston. In 2008 he was appointed Director of Burnie Regional Gallery of Tasmania and in 2013 Leong became the Director of Theatre North, Launceston.123

In addition to his writing and roles in arts administration Greg Leong has established himself as a contemporary artist in Australia. He works across various media including textiles, performance (karaoke cabaret), digital photography and site-specific installation.

In comparing Leong’s work to mine, his works have obvious political implications, mine does not. Leong searches for a larger cultural identity for the Chinese in Australian history, a history that I have less connection with. He places the experiences of Australian Chinese settlers in historical and contemporary contexts and he questions the origins of Australian identity and authenticity. In his work Made in China (illus.6) Leong wittily gives a symbolic Australian icon, the male flannelette shirt, a Chinese feminine touch by sewing on patches of lace. The flannelette shirt which is an element of Australian masculine identity is actually made in China. His abiding interest in cultural diversity is reflected in his diverse background that gave him the opportunity to explore issues related to cultural heritage, to the relationship between Australia and Asia, to the double sided ‘Chineseness’ and to images of Asian male sexuality.

www.mrag.org.au/cityofthearts/visualart. html

illus. 6. Greg Leong. Made in China II.

Leong’s works are often designed to raise awareness of Chinese-Australian heritage in Australian history. They display shifting notions of belonging and desire based on his personal experiences and illustrate generations of sadness of being Chinese in Australia. His cultural and personal family history has motivated his creative artistic narrative. Leong’s work is more about

123 Elaine Harris. “One man’s multifaceted impact on art in Tasmania,” ABC Northern Tasmania. Posted 2/1/2013. http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2013/01/02/3663236.htm (accessed 19/12/2013)

reclaiming a national identity space for generations of Chinese settlers throughout Australian history than about finding a personal sense of cultural identity.

In exploring his Chinese-Australian heritage Leong uses a hybrid of Australian and Chinese iconography to generate multilayered meanings. His work is an absurd drawing together of incompatible elements to create “a deliberately uncomfortable hybrid and an emblem for those whose fate is displacement.”124 He combines traditional Chinese costume, text and symbols and places them in an historical and modern political context. Leong’s textile works are a mix of two cultures, East and West, and represent his difficulties in being accepted within either culture, given that he was brought up in Hong Kong which was a mix of Eastern and Western culture. Titles of some of his works provide an overview and understanding of Leong’s perspective on political racist issues and on his personal cultural identity issues. These titles include: Remembering Chinese 1999; Federation! But who makes the nation 2001; Jia (Home) 2003; Boys Who Sew 2004; and The Sojourners 2005.

http://basement.craftaustralia.org.au/articles/20050630.php

illus. 7. Greg Leong. The Sojourners, 2005. http://basement.craftaustralia.org.au/articles/20050630.php

The Sojourners, 2005 (illus.7) was created while Leong was in residency at the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory to celebrate the historical legacy of Chinese settlement in Darwin and its environs. In the work Leong commemorates the journeying, arriving and staying – the metamorphosis of the Chinese sojourner – the traveller who has decided to move on no further. This was a collaborative community work in which members of the community made, from fabric representing the four seasons, more than two thousand flowers rich in Chinese symbolism: plum blossom; peony; lotus and chrysanthemum.125 At first sight this ephemeral art is reminiscent of ritual practice associated with Chinese funerals. Leong used this idea to

124 Leonard, Chinese Australian Heritage. 125 The project was a joint-partnership between Territory Craft, Museums and Gallery of Northern Territory and the Darwin City Council. Exhibition 2 May – 30 June 2005. Craft Australia newsletter, by Greg Leong 30 June 2005. http://basement.craftaustralia.org.au/articles/20050630.php (accessed 21/1/2009)

farewell the old while celebrating arrival. It is a celebration of death of an old life so that a new life may begin.

(web image no longer www.utsgallery.uts.edu.au/gallery/past/2001/fed available) eration_1101.html (web image no longer available)

illus. 8. Greg Leong. 'Australian.’ 1998. illus. 9. Greg Leong. ‘Australian’ 1998. (Green) Pauline. Detail of Chinese characters for Australian, www.utsgallery.uts.edu.au/gallery/past/2001/federation_ (Green) Pauline. (web image no longer 1101.html (web image no longer available) available)

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illus. 10. Greg Leong. ‘Manchu Shoes I: Mother of Australia', 1999. Pauline's Superior Shoes 1999. Velveteen, brocade lining.15 x 8.5 x 21cm. (web images no longer available)

His works became even more a political commentary after the establishment of Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party in 1997. In the following works (illus.8~10) which were created after the advent of Hansonite politics, it is Leong’s amusing artistic vocabulary that comments on a renewed ‘Australian’ identity. Leong’s theatrical costumes relate to his Chinese-Australian heritage. They examine his personal history without self-pity, indeed the commentaries tend

towards the hilarious.126 He uses digitized images of Pauline Hanson inside the shapes of three Chinese characters. The characters mean Australian. The Pauline Hanson digital images are also sewn on to Qing shoes that are used by female characters in Chinese Opera. These images of a political figure, whose party stood for far right ideals, superimposed upon traditional Chinese clothing, question the nature of authentic Australian cultural identity.

One’s identity is not as static as it looks. For Poststructuralist, and Feminist Judith Butler’s Gender theories, identity is constructed in the power of language and performance in relation to the others. Textiles and garments are recurring media in Leong’s visual and dramatic expression. His concept-driven works often signify his ethnic identity by using instantly recognizable garment forms that place his work within a cultural and social context. The press release for Heavenly Body 2008 implied that Leong’s garments are representing a hybrid of both Australian and Chinese iconography. His digital prints laced with sordid beauty simultaneously reveal and play with the complexities of being both gay and Asian within the Australian imagination. Leong’s works address the idea of ‘putting on’ and ‘dressing up’. They involve impossible changes of gender, sexuality, race and culture.127

Leong’s inaugural performance, JIA: a tale of two islands, 2003 (JIA is a Chinese phonetic for “Home”), explored his Chinese-Australian background through interweaving fabric and personal story. JIA incorporates diverse visual concepts including an original Peking Opera brocaded gown and graphics incorporated into a display of screened images woven together via chitchat and song in a karaoke cabaret style. I saw Leong’s exhibition: Made in China and Golden Threads at the Maitland Regional Gallery in 2005 with the karaoke reproduction performance. The commentary is hilarious and jostling as Leong traces the emotional and intellectual hazards of his journey from Hong Kong to Tasmania. The target is obvious. The work involves Pauline Hanson’s racism looking for a policy and the incipient excluding engagement with the unfamiliar. Sue Moss comments on the work: - Leong’s journey resonates with other iconic Chinese-Australian figures from public life and the arts, including William Yang, Dr Victor Chang, Bill O’Chee … Jenny Kee. JIA can be read as an implied paean to the success of these figures, uses elements of Leong’s own journey, tracing family connection and memory.128

126 UK Wolsey Art Gallery. Exhibition title: Boys Who Sew. 13 Nov 2004 – 9 Jan 2005. http://www.visualarts- ipswich.org.uk/archive/level2/2004/boys_who_sew.asp (accessed 19/1/2009) 127 Heavenly Body, 2008, Greg Leong. Gallery 4A. The Asia-Australia Arts Centre, Sydney. http://www.4a.com.au/heavenly%20bodies.htlm (accessed 19/1/2009) 128 Sue Moss, Real Time Arts Magazine, 57 (Oct-Nov 2003): 29. http://www.realtimearts.net/article.php?id=7224 (accessed 5/2/2009)

In Australian (Red), 1999, (illus.11) Leong uses his mother’s bridal dress as part of his body of work ‘Remembering Chinese …’. Australian (Red) comments on his mother’s feelings of displacement as an Australian born Chinese woman, who felt that she belonged to neither culture. On the front of the garment is a Chinese character of ‘Shuang-xi’, a symbol for ‘Double Happiness’ seen at Chinese weddings. On the back of the garment is the semantic opposite, a doubling of the character for ‘Sorrow’ (illus.12). This ‘Double Sorrow’ character, devised by Leong, represents the double sorrow of those who experience cultural displacement.

(web images no longer available) (web images no longer available)

illus.11. Greg Leong. Australian (Red) - Bridal Ensemble illus.12. Greg Leong. 'Xuangbei' (Double 1999. Silk brocade, Thai silk, lace fused on polyester satin, Sorrow). Detail of jacket border design, screen-print and metallic thread machine embroidery on Australian (Red) (web images no longer polyester satin. Jacket: 88 x138cm. Skirt: 88 x 99cm. available) (web images no longer available)

Leong’s works and writings have examined the position of the Chinese in the construction of an Australian national identity. In his essay accompanying the body of work Remembering Chinese, Leong commented that it was “… an examination of the tension between the cultural identity we construct for ourselves … and that constructed for us by others.”129 It implies a struggle as Asian Australian artists define a personal sense of cultural identity expressed through their work. Leong’s ‘Chineseness’ was defined through his self-conscious search for a ‘place’ of belonging. In speaking of ‘place’ he says: … for many immigrant artists, is necessarily a site of hybridity, because there is a constant dialogue between what we might consider the ‘original homeland’ and the ‘adopted homeland.’ … For many Chinese who have never lived in China, who have no ‘genuine’ understanding of an indigenous ‘Chineseness’, the original homeland is only a myth of which we have not first-hand experience.130

129 Gilber, Khoo and Lo, Diaspora, 58. 130 Ibid.

This myth of the original homeland is true for the Chinese of Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, Vietnam and Taiwan, as well as for those born in Australia and other countries. The term ‘Chineseness’, also has been challenged by Indonesian/Chinese-Australian cultural thinker Ien Ang in ‘On Not Speaking Chinese’.131

Like many overseas Chinese, the Hong Kong born Greg Leong often identifies his ‘Chineseness’ by the use of Chinese written text in his artwork as a sign of his Chinese origins. The Chinese languages have only one written text made official by the First Emperor of the Qing Dynasty in 220BC. It is the official system of signs identifying the uniqueness of a culture and Leong uses it as an act of affirmation of his cultural heritage. He states that being born outside of China he could not claim the same ‘authenticity’ as those Chinese born in China.

The preposterous and painful ironies of cultural transportation are at the heart of Greg Leong’s work. He has been able to satirize the expectations that transfer from one culture to another. He sees personal identity evolving through a system of learning, acquisition and packaging. Leong’s work demonstrates the Poststructuralist concept that identity is not coherent and fixed but constructed through relational performance.

Leong and I share a very similar background of Chinese-Australian hybrid cultural identity. We both came from what are considered to be ‘Westernized’ East-Asian countries – Leong is from Hong Kong and I am from Taiwan – but we have different reasons for forming our artistic concepts and producing our artworks. I do not have the historical link with local Chinese history and therefore do not have the urge to illustrate Chinese-Australian history, to look for bonds or to signify the differences. We both want to make sense of our hybrid identity and to do this both Leong and I have the desire to retrieve and link with the past by identifying with our Chinese cultural origins and placing and emerging ourselves in this local landscape. As a result my works designate the ambivalence of belonging and rejection, dislocation and immersion. Leong’s works comment on race and politics.

The next artist whose work I discuss uses his art to comment on cultural identity and historical and political suppression. The artist is Lin Hwai-Min, a Taiwanese choreographer whose work speaks of the suffering experienced by Taiwan-Chinese settlers. Leong and Lin both make political statements in their art but use very different strategies in delivering their artistic dialogue and aesthetic appreciation.

131 Ien, Ang. On Not Speaking Chinese: Living Between Asia and the West (New York: Routledge, 2002). Ang offers a critique of the increasingly aggressive construction of a global Chineseness, and challenge Western tendencies to equate ‘Chinese’ with ‘Asian’ identity.

Chapter 6

Lin Hwai-Min ~ Dance into the Liminal The third artist to be discussed is the internationally renowned contemporary Taiwanese choreographer Lin Hwai-Min (林懷明) - the founder and artistic director of Cloud Gate Dance Theatre of Taiwan. The inclusion of a choreographer is evidence of the boundless formal aesthetic that exists in all the creative arts. Choreography not only explores narratives through time in a given space, it is also a sculptural form in motion. Its fluidity and relentless corporal flow of movements produces momentary spatiotemporal three dimensional spaces not evident in static sculptural installations.

Part of my research is prompted by my own quest to define my cultural identity. I include Lin’s work to delineate how and why our point of view and our belongingness as ‘Taiwanese’ and our ‘Chineseness’ is expressed through our art. Having grown up in the ethnic and political complexity of Taiwan before migrating to Australia, the authenticity of my own origin as ‘Taiwanese’ is not convincingly affirmed, even though my mother is Taiwanese.132 Lin and I shared the same birth-place, cultural memory and ethnic background; it was for historical and political reasons (illustrated in Chapter 3), that I could not claim to be, as Lin would definitely assert - ‘the true child of Taiwan.’ However, this indecisive ideal for Taiwan’s national identity has surfaced again in the 2011 presidential election. Should Taiwan people see themselves as ‘Chinese’ or ‘Taiwanese’? This dilemma is still very real to all people of Taiwan.

Hwai-Min Lin was born in 1947, during a tragic moment in Taiwanese history,133 in a small old town in south-central Taiwan- Chia-Yi (嘉義). In 1945 Taiwan ended fifty-one years of Japanese colonisation after Japan was defeated in World War II. The Nationalists (Kuomintang), formed as the Republic of China (ROC) Taiwan, assumed rule. Many Taiwanese were well assimilated by the Japanese and remained loyal and supportive of imperial Japan. On the 28th February 1947, just days after Lin was born, anti-mainlander violence flared and in retaliation, an island-wide massacre occurred. The Nationalists launched a campaign of terror to suppress the rebellion. Twenty thousand Taiwanese died and among them many Taiwanese elite.134 As a result Martial Law was imposed and remained in place for the next forty years until 1987.

132 My mother was Taiwanese born as opposed to my father who was Mainlander – Chinese. Taiwanese increasingly identify Taiwan as their own country, while considering Chinese culture to be their origins and roots. 133 The history of Taiwan is illustrated in Chapter 3, The Narration Setting of Taiwan. 134 Resil B. Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication Arts. http://www.rmaf.org.ph/Awardees/Biograph/Biography LinHwai-min.htm (accessed 24/7/2008)

Lin was raised in a bureaucratic, culturally modern, outward-looking and privileged family. He was the eldest of four brothers. His family roots go back seven generations to the first significant wave of Ming Dynasty Chinese settlers in Taiwan, prior to the Manchus who seized the island in the seventeenth century, then called The Formosa. Lin’s great-grandfather was a learned man, a poet and businessman who founded a factory and a bank and ran a Chinese school during the Japanese colonial period. His father, Ching-Sheng Lin, has a law degree from Tokyo Imperial University and briefly worked for Toshiba but he returned to take care of the family business when his father died. Lin’s mother, Chen Pen-Pen Lin, was also a remarkable woman for the time. She was a graduate of the Tokyo Economics College.135 Lin’s father was drafted to serve in the Kuomintang government as part of the Nationalist leader Chiang Kai- Shek’s move to incorporate local Taiwanese elite into his government. He held many Ministerial level positions and in 1993 he was appointed senior adviser to the President of Taiwan.136

Lin was interested in literature and history. At the age of fourteen he published his first story and at the age of eighteen was signed as a contract writer with one of Taiwan’s biggest literature magazines. By the age of twenty-two he had published work in a number of the country’s biggest newspapers such as United Daily News (聯合日報), and China Times (中國時報). He had also published two novels in Taiwan.

Due to the influence of his parents, Lin developed diverse interests in both Chinese and Western literature, philosophy and classical arts with a great appetite for the latest trends in films and theatre. His reading ranges from a Chinese forbidden book by Lu Hsun (Xun), to works by American writers F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway, Russian writers Leon Tolstoy and Fyodor Dostoyevsky, biographies of Gandhi and American dancer Isadora Duncan, as well as works by Federico Fellini, Akira Kurosawa and Samuel Beckett. The influx of Western values and ideas and their emphasis on individuality and freedom of choice caused conflict in Taiwanese Society - a society that is predominantly Confucian and traditionally oriented. In Chinese culture the first male child of the family would be strictly disciplined and assume much responsibility. His interests in the academic studies of Literature and History were dismissed by his father who made him study Law, believing Lin ought to follow in his foot-steps. After a year struggling studying Law Lin was determined to transfer to Journalism. By this time, Lin had already cultivated a great interest in and success with his writing.137 Western cultural influences

135Ibid. 136Ibid. 137 His second book of stories published in 1969 is his most famous. It is a Taiwanese rendering of the ‘Lost Generation’ theme, Cicada (蟬) which struck a responsive chord in a young generation increasingly alienated from

were making inroads into Taiwan and Lin saw himself as part of the wave of modernism in literature, the avant-garde circle and artistic experimentation. Under Martial Law all forms of artistic expression were under strict censorship. To portray Taiwan in any other way than officials decreed was taboo. Freedom of speech was denied. This constrained Lin as a writer.

Hwai-Min Lin’s passion for dance began when he was five years old after he saw the famous British film The Red Shoes (1948).138 As an upshot of this he took dance lessons from a young age and his family were tolerant of their little boy’s dreams to be a dancer. After all they were aficionados of Western classics such as Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake and Verdi’s La Traviata. In 1969 a turning point happened when Lin left Taiwan for the United States on a scholarship to study journalism at the University of Missouri. In Missouri he received a fellowship to study at the University of Iowa’s International Writing Program under poet Paul Engle. Part of his university program allowed him to study modern dance under Marcia Thayer, as well he joined a dance ensemble. Lin wrote: “I … spent more time in the (dance) studio than at the typewriter.”139 After he completed his Master’s degree in Fine Arts in Iowa in 1972, he enrolled at the Martha Graham School for Contemporary Dance at the Merce Cunningham Studio in New York. Graham’s highly theatrical dance style and her use of ancient myths and religious themes to express the deepest human emotions was a formative influence on Lin’s development. While he was in New York he supported himself partly with odd summer jobs in hotels and restaurants and soaked up the atmosphere of artistic stimulation and integration into the seventies. However he remained ambivalent about becoming a professional dancer. Deep down, he felt that he was too old for it.140

He responded to the call of ‘responsibility’ and returned to Taiwan by way of Europe in 1972. Back in Taiwan, Lin was actively involved in writing, choreography, teaching and cultural activities. He found himself in the midst of the ‘identity’ politics where artists and intellectuals were calling for Taiwan to develop and define its own culture.

In 1973, a year after his return, he established the first modern dance school in Taiwan (the first in any Chinese-speaking country) named the Cloud Gate Dance Theatre. It was a brave choice to stand against his culture and his family’s expectation; most of all, a male dancer at that time was unheard of in Chinese society.

the high political propaganda of the Cold War. http://www.rmaf.org.ph/Awardees/Biography/BiographyLinHwai- min.htm (accessed 24/7/2008) 138 A film based on a story by the 19th century Danish writer Hans Christian Andersen, directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. Lin saw the film eleven times in total in his youth. 139 Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award. 140 Ibid.

In a review, theatre critic Christina Soriano describes Lin’s postmodern dance repertoires as blending elements of Eastern theatre and dance with Western dance techniques, referencing many different dance styles in both the Eastern and Western traditions and creating an arresting style that has elicited widespread praise for their uniqueness. As Soriano has commented, Lin’s dance movement vocabulary is an intercultural, aesthetic blend of non-formulaic and unpredictable ways, stepping in and out of ballet, Chinese Opera, Tai-chi, Chi-gong, modern dance, martial arts and even incorporating other Asian dance styles. Combined with rich soundscapes his dance fuses and synchronizes all worlds.141 His dance can often be described as seductively luscious, eerily beautiful, inimitable and sensorial.

Under Lin’s directorship of the Cloud Gate Dance Theatre he transforms ancient aesthetics into thrilling, modern celebrations of motion. Lin became the pioneer of avant-garde dance in Taiwan, bringing a new form of modern dance to his country. He also communicated Taiwanese dance to Westerners through his ‘Asian-ness’.

In Western culture identity is aligned with birth-place and/or nationality but this is not necessarily the way in which Taiwanese people define their identity. Because of the turbulent political history and numerous foreign occupations Taiwanese must struggle to define their cultural identity. This affirms the Poststructuralist concept that identity is changeable in nature. We can determine and express who we are and the choice is ours.

When I was growing up in Taiwan I was immersed in Western culture. As Taiwan modernised there was an influx of foreign popular culture that one could not avoid. I learnt foreign folk music and lullabies in school music lessons, rarely learning about Chinese or Taiwanese musical culture. Similarly Lin observes: “…we know how long China’s Yang-Tzi river is and other countries’ rivers are, but we don’t know ours.”142 With my Western influences I questioned how Westernised I was and how ignorant I was of Taiwanese culture.

Nostalgia for Chinese culture is evident in Lin’s and my visual creativity, it was part of our culture to remember and respect our ancestors’ origins; yet the indefinite nature of Taiwanese and Chinese heritage makes our cultural identity difficult to define. Lin’s realisation of such difficulty of definition came after he had been to China in the early 1990s where he could not help but be conscious of his ‘outsider-ness’ and discover that he ‘is not Chinese.’143 Further to our differences and similarities, we both travelled afar for different reasons, and acquired Art

141 Christina Tsoules Soriano, Wild Cursive, Theatre Journal 60, 2 (May 2008): 311-312. http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/tj/summary/v060/60.2.soriano.html (accessed 26/4/2011) 142 Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award. 143 Ibid.

training in Western countries and yet long for the beauty and elegance of classical Chinese art forms to identify our Chineseness. However Lin made a return ‘home’ to his roots where he has a strong connection with the local culture, history and people; whereas, I remained abroad. We have both made a sharp turn in our professional choices in life, after having fulfilled expectations imposed by family (Lin at 26 of age and I at age of 41) based on our beloved aesthetics and ultimate endeavours to create visual beauty.

I do not deny what Stuart Hall has characterized as cultural identity – ‘one’s cultural identity always constructed through memory and made within the dialogue of history and culture;’144 which means one’s cultural identity is reaffirmed through the trace of shared histories and cultures. But this affirmation is purely an internal and subjective process; one may have learned the local language, practised local customs and joined the local society after having been resident for many years or one may have been born and lived all one’s life in a land alien to the customs of one’s family; and one’s belongingness involves more than a willingness of wanting to belong and needing to belong. ‘Belongingness’ is easily broken down by political issues and the perceptions of others. A change in economic circumstances or a change in government policy can also affect one’s sense of security as belonging to the community in which one lives.

The choreographies by Lin Hwai-min which I will comment upon are: Legacy, 1978 (illus.13), Wild Cursive, 2005 (illus.14~15) and Moon Water, 2003, 1998 (illus.18~19).

Lin’s choreography often draws from traditional Asian culture for inspiration and material to create works with innovative forms and contemporary relevance, which have prompted praise from international critics. Lin’s compositions are known for ‘a repertoire of exquisite beauty’145 which captures the hearts of ordinary people. In his choreography he blends Chinese cultural elements with Western contemporary dance techniques to create a unique style. His dance fuses a repertoire of the elements and spirit of East and West. He has broadly studied Chinese opera movements in his native Taiwan, modern dance in New York and classical court dance from Asian countries.

144 Stuart Hall, “Cultural Identity and Cinematic Representation,” in Film and Theory: An Anthology, ed. Robert Stam and Toby Miller. (Malden: Blackwell Publishers, 1999), 707. 145 Amitha Amranand, “The Body Rebels”, Bangkok Post, 7 October 2009 http://www.bangkokpost.com/opinion/opinion/25183/ (accessed 26/4/2011)

http://www.epochtimes.com/b5/3/8/21/n362752.htm

illus. 13. Lin Hwai-Min. Legacy, 1978. (Reproduction in China, 2003.)

Legacy (illus.13) was created in 1978 (2003 in China) using an entirely original, personal vocabulary. It was the first theatrical work to ever tackle the history of Taiwan. It was inspired by the journey of the first Chinese immigrants who began building their settlement in Taiwan from 12th to 17th century. This composition depicts the struggles of the Taiwanese, portraying the early pioneers crossing the Taiwan Straits from China. To ‘read’ this work through critic’s reviews, one would identify the uncertainty of its exploration of issues of Taiwanese and Chinese (double) identity. Legacy has developed into an aesthetic and symbolic representation of the turbulent times of Taiwan. Lin said: I was eager to bring out the work, hoping that the dance, the audience, and the whole society could gain strength from it and could be reassured of our own power through the footsteps of our ancestors.146

The obvious difference in our art practice is our art forms. Lin has always employed traditional forms to make contemporary statements. Besides the cultural information his productions were also to portray the colonisation of the island by Japanese and ‘Chinese’ (the late comers) immigrants, the atrocities of the Kuomintang, and it aimed to reveal the imperfections of memories and humanity in the nation. In Legacy Lin was searching for his identity through dance. His true subject is not so much the history of Taiwan as an exploration of the indefinite nature of Taiwanese heritage that makes it difficult to define his cultural identity.

When American President, Nixon, visited China in 1977, Taiwan sensed that it had lost the support of America. Taiwan became more ‘isolated’ in the international context and this has made Lin ‘think about Taiwan’s history, about his own past and the larger story of the Chinese

146 Amitha Amranand, “The Body Rebels”, Bangkok Post, 7 October 2009, http://www.bangkokpost.com/opinion/opinion/25183/ (accessed 26/4/2011)

Diaspora.’147 He immediately started working on Legacy. Legacy premiered on the 16th December 1978, on the very day that President Jimmy Carter announced that the United States was breaking diplomatic ties with Taiwan.148 It was an emotional moment when the Taiwanese felt betrayed and cast adrift. Thus Legacy struck a deep chord among the Taiwanese when it premiered in Chia-yi, the city where Lin was born. There were six thousand people in the stadium weeping and shouting, at a vision of their own story.149 It was a combination of feelings; people perceived the performance to be a portrait of their oppression and a reclamation of the lost memories of the Taiwanese from the massacre in 1947 until 1978 marking thirty years of suffering.150

For a time Cloud Gate Dance Theatre productions were quite political, examining aspects of Taiwan’s history that had been repressed. After 20 years of exploration, now, according to Lin, the work is all about ‘chi’ or ‘energy.’151 We can see the change in the two works described below: Wild Cursive and the Moon Water.

I have seen the Cursive II, when visiting Taiwan in 2014. Wild Cursive, 2005 (illus.14~15) was the third part of the Cursive (草書) trilogy (illus.16~17).152 It is the result of a long journey into the ancient practice of movement and spirituality inspired from the aesthetics of Chinese calligraphy,153 the highest classical art form in Chinese culture before ink-brush paintings.154 After studying Chinese calligraphy masterpieces, Lin found that despite the differences in styles, all the brush works share one common element, the focused energy with which the calligraphers ‘danced’ during writing.155 Cursive II was communicating the beauty of the ancient art of calligraphy, illustrating the original movements, exploring the lighter shades of the black ink in a meditative mood, as a means of evoking the serene quality of porcelain from the Sung Dynasty, soft as flowing ink on rice paper. The complexity of energy is further enhanced by the music of John Cage. Unlike Cursive II, Wild Cursive blazes with an untamed,

147 Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award. 148 Taiwan lost the China seat in the United Nations in 1971. I remember clearly that when it was announced, I sobbed alone in my junior high school. I realised that we did not have US support anymore. In 1979 the United States transferred diplomatic recognition from the Republic of China to the People’s Republic of China. 149 Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award. 150 Ibid. 151 Jenny Gilbert, Dance: Cloudgate Theatre of Taiwan, Sadlers Wells, London. 24 June 2007. http://www/independent.co.ul/arts-entertainment/theatre-dance/review (accessed 26/4/2011) 152 Cursive premiere 2001, Cursive II, 2003 and Wild Cursive III, 2005 (Berlin 2006).Cursive (Cao-Shu 草書) is a running or swift style writing derived from Li-Shu 隸書, the strokes are connected and characters are written contiguously. 153 There are five typestyles in Chinese Calligraphy, Namely: Cao-Shu 草書 (Cursive), Kai-Shu 楷書(Regular), Xsing- Shu 行書(Semi-Cursive), Zhan-Shu 篆書(Seal style – a pictorial form of a character based on hieroglyphics) and Li- Shu 隸書 (Official style). 154 Chinese scholars in the past mastered first in writing, poetry, painting and musical instruments. It is believed that without good brush skills, one could not paint well. 155 Cloudgate Dance Theatre of Taiwan, Wild Cursive – the final chapter of Cursive: A Trilogy. Première: 19 November 2005. At National Theatre, Taipei, Taiwan. http:www.cloudgate.org.tw/eng/English/pop/wild_cursive_tex01.htm (accessed 26/4/2011)

vibrant energy. Lin drew choreographic ‘ideas from the pinnacle in Chinese cursive (草書) – Kuang Shu (狂書)156 the ‘wild calligraphy’ aesthetics frees characters from any set form and exposes the spiritual state of the writer in its expressive abstraction.’157 This work is both commanding and seductive. In a theatre journal review, Christina Tsoules Soriano wrote:

… Wild Cursive brought the calligrapher’s unkempt brushstrokes to life through a stunning palette of movement invention and rich set and sound environments that were anything but untidy in design. It was accomplished with … natural sound score by Jim Shum and Liang Chun-mei, along with guttural, organic exhaling sounds coming from the dancers, birds tweeted, cicadas chirped, drums beckoned, wind and foghorns blew, temple bells chimed, water dripped and waves crashed. … [it seemed to cause] “the dancers to stir up these sounds, provoking them to happen … .158

It presents a rich sensory experience for the audience. Wild Cursive (illus.14~15) was reviewed by Gaven Roebuck and he comments that Lin integrates Chinese Opera, tai-chi, martial arts and meditation with modern dance and ballet, amounting to a unique dance style, giving the dancers a stage presence that is majestically elegant. They are right on the cutting edge of the modern dance scene.159

Drawing from both Eastern and Western cultures for expression, Lin is exploring the hybrid nature of Taiwanese cultural identity. In my work I use a range of Chinese motifs while acknowledging Western influences by incorporating Australian motifs to reinforce my cultural identity. I also use space as a major element to define a ‘site’ in my work, to evoke memories and experience through a range of symbolic images set in a given space. In my art installation my aim is to create a metaphoric resonance as viewers enter the space and move among objects. My objective is to provoke physical and intellectual experiences of the ‘in-between-ness’, of familiarity and unfamiliarity, making the viewer have the experience of a displaced person.

156 Kuang Shu 狂書 is an expressionistic and highly abstract form of Calligraphy associated with drunkenness and spontaneity; part of Cursive 草書. 157 Cloud Gate Dance Theatre of Taiwan, Wild Cursive – the final chapter of Cursive. 158 Soriano, Wild Cursive. 159 Gavin Roebuck, Wild Cursive, 20 June 2007 http://www.thestage.co.uk/reviews/review.php/17236/wild-cursive (accessed 2009)

http://www.ballet- http://www.totheater.nl/kalligrafie-met-dansers/ dance.com/200512/articles/CloudGate20051121.ht ml

illus. 14. Lin Hwai-Min. Wild Cursive, 2005. illus. 15. Lin Hwai-Min. Wild Cursive, 2005. http://www.totheater.nl/kalligrafie-met-dansers/ http://www.ballet- dance.com/200512/articles/CloudGate20051121.html

http://calligraphy- http://www.hkw.de/en/programm/proje expo.com/rus/about/News.aspx?ItemID= kte/veranstaltung/p_10729.php 518

Illus. 16. Lin Hwai-Min. Cursive, 2005. Illus. 17. Lin Hwai-Min. Cursive, 2005. http://calligraphy-expo.com/rus/about/News.aspx?ItemID=518 http://www.hkw.de/en/programm/projekte/ver anstaltung/p_10729.php

Through his fusion of the rich repertoires and vocabularies of choreography from both East and West, Lin has created an arresting style that has elicited widespread praise. Through his hybrid creations he has revealed boundless possibilities of expression and has openly presented to the world his identity - a hybrid identity of this contemporary era. Lin has refused to neatly fit his own personal experience into fixed categories, as he said in an interview: ‘my story has all along been a mixture of Taiwanese-Chinese, Western and Japanese influences.’160

The Moon Water1998, 2003, 2015 (illus.18~19) is inspired by a Buddhist proverb: ‘Flowers in a mirror and moon on the water are both illusory,’ and the graceful Chinese martial arts of Tai- Chi. It is the practitioner’s ideal state: that ‘energy flows as water while the spirit shines as the moon.’ The choreography is accompanied by selected compositions of Bach’s cello suites. Mojares says that Moon Water illustrates Lin’s shift to a more austere, essential form.161 It is a metaphysical exploration that uses tai-chi, the Chinese physical exercise that harnesses internal energy, to recall the swell and ebb of a river through the motions of human bodies.

http://gapersblock.com/ac/2010/01/22/cloud-gate-dance-theatre-of-taiwan-moon- water/

illus. 18. Lin Hwai-Min. Moon Water, 2003. http://gapersblock.com/ac/2010/01/22/cloud-gate-dance-theatre-of-taiwan-moon-water/

The stage setting in this piece is quite extraordinary. The stage flats are floor to ceiling mirrors. The stage is then flooded with water, transforming it into a vast liquid mirror analogous to the philosophical proverb: the ambiguity of reality and illusion. Audiences can watch the patterns the dancers make from various angles. The work asks the question: ‘which is the reality and

160 Resil B. Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication Arts. http://www.rmaf.org.ph/Awardees/Biograph/Biography/LinHwai-min.htm p.18 (accessed 24/7/2008) 161 Ibid.

which is the illusion?’ As critic Resil B. Mojares writes: “…the phrasing of the dance and the use of the space could be put in a textbook on contemporary choreography… [and is] a dream of a show, one of the most ravishing things, I have seen in a theatre.”162

http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/gallery/100131/GAL-10Jan31-3676/media/PHO- 10Jan31-202060.jpg

illus. 19. Lin Hwai-Min. Moon Water, 2003. http://media3.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/photo/gallery/100131/GAL-10Jan31- 3676/media/PHO-10Jan31-202060.jpg

Anna Kisselgoff stated in Dance Review: “Moon Water – is anything but a conventional dance piece, and its production values have a metaphoric resonance and is a meditation in itself. Moon Water evokes a spiritual journey towards the purification of body and soul.”163

Moon Water is wholly original, a personal and non-political piece. The dance is fresh, stunning and sublimely beautiful. What makes Lin’s work compelling is the way he creates, through the medium of dance, sounds, and images – an artistic piece that transgresses and exceeds cultural and temporal boundaries and yet emerges as something quite powerful and organic. Lin’s fusion of diverse influences contains examples of multiculturalism, interculturalism, deconstructivism and Postmodernism in dance. Lin does not present us with theories about his works, although it is clear that he has an accomplished dancer’s absolute sense of what his works can do. He believes that dance is not just about telling stories but they must be experienced. Lin says: “I want to seduce a physical reaction from my audience.”164

162 Resil B. Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award. 163 Anna Kisselgoff, “Moon Water: The syncretism of Tai Chi and Bach,” New York Time. Posted 20 November 2003. http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9B07EEDF173BF933A15752C1A9659C8B63 (accessed 23/10/2008) 164 Resil B. Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award.

My enthusiasm for Lin’s work is drawn from our similar philosophical and emotional approaches in realising our artistic vision. His practice is a visual dialogue searching for a language to express human feelings and desires. He uses the body as an instrument, grounded as living motion: as a sculptural form moving in space. His repertoire of movement includes elements from both Asian and Western cultures. I relate this to my own creative practice in drawing, painting and sculptural installation. Both of us draw from ancient culture and history to combine vision and feeling, focusing on the present, evoking a sense of time, space and place. Our works manifestly correlate with expression to seek out meanings of life in an attempt to identify who we are.

I deeply admire Lin’s rendering of Eastern sensitivities and tenderness. The Western approach to art is often seen by the East as explicit, direct and outward. This is in complete opposition to the Eastern approach to art. The Eastern emphasis is on Daoism – presenting the two opposites – ying and yang. This can be seen in Lin’s work when he combines dance with martial art, a blend of feminine and masculine, gentleness and forcefulness. It requires one’s sensitivity to soften and smooth out the sudden change between the extreme contrast of movement, subtle and sharp, passive yet dynamic. His works demonstrate the sensitivity of the East, pay attention to great details and small details. Western Ballet keeps the body elevated without contrast and pause in between, the inner emotion only shown in theatrically exaggerated dance forms. Lin’s dance keeps the flow through the lower half of the body, by keeping it grounded and crawling. The containment of movement makes his work inward and reflective. Lin has united the very best elements of East and West into an extraordinarily individualised stage expression, entwined with profound aesthetic sensitivities to draw out both the ugliness and the beauty of our shared Taiwanese history and humanity. His most successful accomplishment is that while utilising his Western art training he still holds on to his cultural origin. This confident self-realisation allows him to bring boundless beauty and perfectionism to his performances.

After his first period of predominately political expression and his second period of admiration of the beauty of Chinese culture, more recently Lin has declined interpretations to confine the meaning of his works to a particular time or place. In succeeding dance compositions he bemusedly rejects facile essentialisms: … I didn’t intend it to be Chinese. Then again, what is Chinese? I think I have stopped knowing what is Chinese. … I’m moving in and out of cultures as I make my pieces. … the true subject is not Taiwan or Asia, or myth or history, but ‘the landscape of the human heart.165

165 Resil B. Mojares. The 1999 Ramon Magsaysay Award.

Lin’s refusal to allow his work to be pigeonholed as ‘Chinese’ could be the result of political influences. When the ‘Taiwanese’ party, the DPP formed, its political agenda was to promote independence and break cultural and political ties with the ROC which represented ‘Chinese’ nationalism. During that time, there was a move to evoke a ‘Taiwanese’ consciousness to link culture and identity with the island where the Taiwanese people dwelled. The split political ideals induced an ambiguous sense of self, a double consciousness and multifaceted identity which confused and made it difficult for people to comprehend cultural and national identities.

The notion of identity affirmation is subjective and subject to change. Like Greg Leong and Hossein Valamanesh, part of Lin’s artistic premise is to advocate and remind us of his authenticity and cultural identity. Similarly my research aims are to define my own culture identity. Leong uses irony to bring awareness, to commemorate and re-claim a ‘dinkum identity’ for Australian/Chinese under the White Australian Policy.166 He calls for our consciousness to ‘re-remember’ forgotten Chinese histories in the formation of an Australian national identity. In contrast, Valamanesh is much less political. His works are a personal search of the soul, tracing his past to connect with his present, but Valamanesh’s Iranian culture is heavily embedded in his artwork. Lin reminds his fellow Taiwanese of ‘who they are’ rather than ‘what they are’; reminding them of their strengths gained from their suffering and turning ugliness into aesthetic pleasure. He is uneasy to agree to a fixed cultural definition which may well involve a split nation identity. Like Lin, I believe that one could easily refuse to accept a fixed cultural definition and should choose one’s cultural identity purely through one’s self measure, through political influences and beliefs.

166 Established in 1901 with the Federation of Australia and operational until 1973.

The Search for Home

Chapter 7

Mona Hatoum ~ There’s No Place Like Home Artists are often thought of in terms of their origins, even when much of their life is spent elsewhere and the major body of their work has been produced in places other than their country of birth. Shirin Neshat was born in Iran, Shazia Sikander was born in Pakistan and Mona Hatoum was born in Lebanon. All have been described in academic curricula, lectures and in press articles as ‘Islamic’, yet they share neither nationality nor religion and have been educated, live and practice their art in Western cultures.167 This chapter deals specifically with the work of Mona Hatoum.

Mona Hatoum was born to Palestinian Christian parents in Beirut, Lebanon in 1952. Due to the Arab-Israel conflict and the creation of Israel in 1948 her parents, like the majority of Palestinians were forced to flee their home in Haifa and settled in Lebanon but they were never able to claim Lebanese identity. Hatoum’s family, like all other exiles, suffered tremendous loss and existed with a sense of dislocation in a new country. Her father gained work in Beirut as a British civil servant in the British Embassy. This entitled his family to hold a British passport.

In 1975 when Mona Hatoum was on a two week visit to London the outbreak of civil war and the closure of Beirut airport cut her off from home and family and forced her into further exile. The war lasted for fifteen years, ending in 1991. For Hatoum a short wait for the stabilization of the political situation in Lebanon became a life lived far from her home.

While Hatoum was in London she attended the art school of Byam Shaw from 1975 to 1979, then the Slade School of Art from 1979 to 1981. She steadily built up her international reputation. Her works have been exhibited widely in Europe, the United States of America, Canada and Australia. She has worked as artist in residence on the DAAD program in Berlin168 and was the winner of the prestigious Sonning Prize of the University of Copenhagen in 2004.169 In 2008 she was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of the United States in Lebanon. She currently lives and works between homes in London and Berlin.

167 Fereshteh Daftari, “Islamic or Not” in Without Boundary: Seventeen Ways of Looking (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2006), 10 – 27. 168 DAAD (DeutscherAkademischerAustauschDienst), a German Academic exchange service. The residency was 2003-2004. 169 Hatoum major survey exhibition at Hamburger Kunsthalle, 26 March – 31 May 2004. http://www.hamburger- kunsthalle.de/archiv/seiten/en_hatoum.html (accessed 5/10/2008)

The destruction of the traditional Palestinian society in 1948 forced Palestinian culture into dispossession and exile.170 The total Palestinian population worldwide is estimated to be about 10 million people, over half of whom are stateless and lacking citizenship in any country in which they dwell. Women retain a strong role in Palestinian society. They have traditionally been expected to take a significant role in both home duties and agricultural activities. The Palestinian sense of pride and the sorrow of loss can be clearly seen in the poetry of Edna Yaghi,171 the last two stanzas of her poem Palestinian am I are quoted below. They should give some understanding of the background of displacement and pride that Palestinians such as Mona Hatoum feel. No one can take my identity away from me, Not tanks or guns or bombs meant to desecrate me and kill me. My country lives in me. I am the cry of liberty No matter what they take from me, They can’t take away my identity or my dignity. Palestinian am I.172

I first saw Hatoum’s work Over My Dead Body at Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney in 2005. Her work made me aware of her practice which was greatly informed by the imposed state of exile and its influence continued throughout her 30 year career. Hatoum’s work has been chosen for inclusion in this section ‘The Search for Home’ because her transnational relocation experience has been different to that of the other two artists whose work I examine in the following chapters in which I explore the way transitional experience affects individual psychology and sensibility in identifying the present self in the new environment, and how individual artists deal with the attachment to the past. The concept of ‘home’ is part of my research. I seek to identify the social, political and cultural dimensions of the artist’s concept of ‘home’ in order to determine whether the sense of belonging and place, home and identity, is affected differently by their different transitory experiences.

Much of Hatoum’s work consciously generates a sense of anxiety where the viewer is torn between allure and nausea and is often thrown off balance.173 The core of Hatoum’s work is

170 Edward Said’s comment on Palestinian culture was noted: “to write of Palestinian culture is to write of dispossession and exile.” in – Palestinian Culture, http://www.salaam.co.uk/themeofthemonth/may02_index.php?l=12 (accessed 24/10/2008).) 171 Mrs. Edna Yaghi is an American freelance writer specialising in social and political affairs in the Middle East, and an aspiring poet. She lives in Los Angeles. http://www.redress.btinternet.co.uk/yaghi.htm (accessed 3/2/2010). 172 Edna Yaghi, “Palestinian am I,” Islamic Poetry Organization, 5 November 2006. http://www.islamicpoetry.org/viewpoem327.htm (accessed 24/10/2008).

profoundly informed by her experience of a doubly imposed state of exile. She investigates the physical, cultural and emotional displacement of her fragmented and vulnerable identity. Hatoum’s works often challenge viewers’ preconceptions and can be emotionally disturbing.

In the 1980s Hatoum was known as a performance and video artist. She was strongly involved in confrontational issue-based performance analysing power structures of bureaucratic institutions, feminism and relationships between Third World Countries and the West. In those early performance works she often used her body as a way of investigating notions of imprisonment and oppression, strongly drawing attention to the politic struggles of the Palestinian. She described her performances as being “fuelled by anger and a sense of urgency.”174 For Hatoum space and body are fundamentally related. As an exile her cultural space has always been discontinuous – at a point of disjuncture – neither here nor there – ‘liminal space.’175 She has been negotiating a position for the body within a state of simultaneous presence and absence, in conflict with extreme physical and spatial disruption.

Since the late 1980s, Hatoum’s art practice has moved away from performance of physical struggle narrative, and shifted into broader meanings based on her family’s experience of exile and the double exile imposed upon her through politics and war. Hatoum’s work depicts her mental state. It is an emotional response to the effect of how the wars jeopardised her life. Her work offers us a vision of anger and violence, beauty and comfort intermixed with a sense of loss and fear, yet still probing the fractured dream of home.

Hatoum’s work matured when she established herself as an iconic sculpture and installation artist in 1989 with a work entitled The Light in the End, 1989 (illus.20), exhibited at The Showroom Gallery in London. Her installation works continue the social themes that she addressed in her performance works and she imbues them with symbolic meaning. She invites us to question our own identity and to confront traditional power, the injustices of the modern world and controlled violence. Her double exile background causes her to deal with feelings of dispossession, displacement and oppression, her artworks release a sense of helplessness, hostility and instability.

173 Imogen Corlette, “Mona Hatoum: Over My Dead Body”, Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney. 23 March – 29 May 2005. http://www.mca.com.au/content/media/1560/MONA%20HATOUM%20release.pdf (accessed 12/11/2008) 174 Donna Brett, “Implicating the Audience in Exile”, Real Time 66, (April-May 2005). hhtp://www.realtimearts.net/article (accessed 6/10/2008) 175 Refer full description in Chapter 1.

Hatoum and I have had very different transitory experiences. Emphatically we have a different approach in expressing our sense of belonging. Hatoum often found readymade objects or manufactured work whereas my works are mostly made by my hand.

Hatoum’s sculptural settings often imitate domestic or institutional furniture. They represent political ugliness but in the most aesthetic and poetic way. They are ultra-cold with a threatening edge, revealing an undercurrent of hostility. They address the problem of reality itself and its uncertainties.

Three of Hatoum’s works have been selected for discussion. They deal with similar issues to the works of Do Ho Suh discussed in Chapter 8 and support the view of this exegesis that motives vary with life experience and circumstances. The three works discussed below are: The Light at the End, 1989. (illus.20); Home, 1999. (illus.21~22); and Doormat II (Welcome), 2000-2001. (illus.23).

http://thepandorian.com/2009/10/welcome-to-the-world-of-mona-hatoum/

illus.20. Mona Hatoum. The Light at the End, 1989. Angle iron frame, six heating elements. 166 x 162.5 x 5cm. http://thepandorian.com/2009/10/welcome-to-the-world-of-mona-hatoum/

The installation work of The Light at the End, 1989 literally had the potential to shock. In a dark corner of a reddish painted room six vertical lines of yellow/orange light suspended on a gate- like metal frame turned out to be unguarded electric heating bars. This posed a physical risk to all. The multiple meanings of red and yellow warm lights seductively draw people forward.

They seem comforting but the unguarded heating bars expel a violent character. This work was reviewed in the White Cube Hatoum catalogue thus: “… turn her into a secular Saint Lawrence of today, her creativity doomed to martyrdom on an aesthetically perfect virtual grill.”176

The bar gate has a twofold meaning. A gate can be seen as a blockage to intruders and a safety boundary to protect the inhabitants. A gate can also be seen as a sign of imprisonment and a limitation of freedom. The installation of Light at the End 1989 is a reflection of what Hatoum perceives personally and is a comment on the universal experience of those living in exile and how they feel about the treatment of their compatriots at home. The work addresses the violent character of the war and persecution, and the instability associated with separation from homeland.

Hatoum often plays with words in the title of her works. The Light at the End, 1989 is an example of a title that is ironically opposite to what the work says. For one whose philosophy of life means conquering difficulties to see the light of hope at the end Hatoum’s work seems to promise this light of hope but the reality that she presents is a destiny of torture and death. The work realistically signifies the painful world of Hatoum – a home with no return.

http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/05

illus. 21. Mona Hatoum. Home, 1999. Wood, stainless steel, electric wire, light bulbs, computerized dimmer unit, amplifier and two speakers. Table dimensions: 77 x 198 x 73.5 cm. http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/05

176 Ishbel Klet, trans. “Mona Hatoum – Being Involved,” White Cub. 2004, http://www.whitecube.com/artists/hatoum/texts/99/ (accessed 5/10/2008)

http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/06

illus. 22. Mona Hatoum. Details of Home, 1999. http://universes-in-universe.org/eng/nafas/articles/2008/mona_hatoum/photos/max_hetzler/06

Another ironic title is that of Home, 1999 (illus.21~22). This was created while Hatoum was in San Antonio. It was an assemblage of kitchen utensils joined together with electric wire. A buzzing, fluctuating electric current was driven through the objects illuminating light bulbs concealed within the objects. In an interview with Jo Glenross in London 1999 Hatoum said of this work “… it serves both mesmerizing and lethal, all the objects became live – electrified, and to name it Home was to shatter notions of the wholesomeness of the home environment, a domain where feminine resides.”177 In a Real Time article Donna Brett stated: The domestic nature of much of Hatoum’s work undermines our initial reaction of familiarity and safety, as we recognize that what appears to be safe is in fact dangerous, sharp or foreign. For the exiled, this situation is understood, felt and breathed. For Hatoum it is a daily reality expressed in her work as a metaphor for the politics of location and dislocation.178

Indeed, much of Hatoum’s work narrates around home subjects normally associated with warmth and female nurturing; instead, they are charged with menace. In this work Hatoum challenges us with physical and mental disturbance to contradict the expectation of the notions of home and family as a nurturing environment.179 Hatoum’s experience of exile is instinctively deep-seated in her artistic expression. She has recast a harmonious domestic scene into a space of torture and threat. Home, 1999 is a solid symbol of home as hostile: the home is no longer

177 Antonio Fernandez Lera. Mona Hatoum, trans. Jo Glenross, Centro de Arte de Salamanca and Centro Galego de Arte Contemporanea. CASA (The British Council, 2002): 73 – 75. 178 Brett, “Implicating the Audience in Exile”. 179 Lera. Mona Hatoum.

offering refuge or a place of tranquillity and rest – “…neither a fantasy of a homeland nor a fictional home offers a secure point of origin.”180

Hatoum’s Home is literally unwell. It shows no trace of warmth and affection for her homeland, unlike Seoul Home (illus.24) Do-Ho Suh’s reveries of intimate space. Even though his reveries are grasping at remote memories, his ‘home’ provides a poetic way of expressing a place filled with magic and delight. The difference between transnational migrants and exiles in perceiving their ‘home’ was well explained in a remark made by Edward Said in his essay “Reflections on Exile”, as quoted in the exhibition catalogue White Cube Mona Hatoum 2004: “The exile knows that in a secular and contingent world, homes are always provisional. Borders and barriers, which enclose us within the safety of familiar territory, can also become prisons.”181

The sculptural object, Doormat II (Welcome), 2000-2001 (illus.23), is one in a series of prayer carpet/mats that she began in 1995. This work was selected to draw attention to the fact that it contains the word ‘welcome’ and to make a comparison with Do-Ho Suh’s Welcome doormat made in 1998-2000.

http://kirstyhall.co.uk/2008/11/20/pin -artists/

illus. 23. Mona Hatoum. Doormat II, 2000-2001. Stainless steel and nickel plated pins, glue and canvas. 3 x 72.5 x 42 cm. http://kirstyhall.co.uk/2008/11/20/pin-artists/

Traditionally, Islamic carpets are a metaphor for paradise or a heavenly garden; to the Muslim the prayer mat is seen as a gate leading to paradise. Viewing Hatoum’s Doormat II from a distance the surface seems densely rich, as black and as soft as velvet, suggesting that it would be luxurious and comfortable to walk on. In fact her doormat is made from thousands of

180 Ibid. 181 Edward Said. “Reflections on Exile”: The Entire World as a Foreign Land (London: Tate, 2000), 36. http://www.whitecube.com/artists/hatoum/texts/99/ (accessed 5/10/2008)

stainless steel and nickel-plated pins. In a domestic setting a doormat is placed immediately outside the entrance to a house and constitutes a welcome to visitors. Hatoum’s doormat/carpet is unconnected with her Christian faith and unrelated to her ethnic origin, and the intention is both personal and universal.182 The mat is neither generous nor inviting. Instead it indicates a home of danger and pain, and one can only view it from a distance if one wants a false sense of comfort.

Hatoum’s practice has been explicitly informed by her point of view as an exile; she has neither fantasy homeland nor fictional home. Hers is the experience of coming from an embattled background with a constant restlessness and sense of dislocation. Many who are exiled or who integrate into another culture or nation can be discouraged due to malfunction at many social and political levels and there can be a great feeling of rejection or “otherness”. The exile resides at the periphery of the dominant. Defining a space for themselves often allows exiles to see the world around them from a third perspective – the self and the others.

Hatoum’s double political exile dramatized her concealed emotions of instability and detestation with fragmentation. This is strongly reflected in her visual art practice and has developed in her a highly visual language characterized by disquiet and subversion.183 Strategically she set out to channel her communication to be influential and confronting. She also serves as a voice for the collective experience of those living in exile. For Hatoum home is unreachable and not a safe place to rest: the doormat denies access rather than facilitating entry: and deadly reality, not hope, is situated at the end of the tunnel.

Living in a troubled world forced on her by politics Hatoum’s works are highly influenced and rooted in the political situation. Besides Hatoum’s political exile providing her with no ‘home’ her working life has her constantly on the move, in and out of one culture after another. This has made Hatoum particularly sensitive to matters pertaining to power relationships and questions of identity; and the notion of a broader cultural and geographical identity and sense of belonging.

Hatoum appears to avoid the sensitive question of her own identity in her works. This may be due to her fragmented life that causes her not to feel the need or have the ability to identify herself; because she does not see herself as ‘this’ or ‘that’. Like Lin, Mona Hatoum rebelled against being over-identified with her biography. In a 1998 interview with Janine Antoni, Hatoum expressed her frustration about how people like to define her work with her own

182 Fereshteh Daftari. “Islamic or Not” in Without Boundary.17 183 Hoxton Square, “Mona Hatoum: Greater Divid”. White Cube, exhibited 24 May – 22 Jun 2002. http://whitecube.com/exhibitions/mona_hatoum_grater_divide_/ (accessed 5/10/2008)

cultural history, as if each of her works should represent her as Arab, Palestinian and female.184 However, Hatoum’s painful dislocation which made her unable to claim a home or relate to her culture of origin has made her works global rather than ethnic. She found her artistic, assertive voice in London – far removed from her ethnic roots – and this has heightened her sense of in- betweenness. Her works are cold and cruel in their origins but they are executed and presented with a high degree of artistry and professionalism. According to John Carson, Head of Carnegie Mellon's School of Art, it is more appropriate to reference Hatoum as an international artist than as an artist in the Western contemporary form because her subject matter is broader in scope and reference than those working exclusively with a framework of Western culture, and Hatoum deals with global and universal themes, he further added: … her work is challenging and uncompromising. It confronts us with many of the more uncomfortable personal, psychological and political aspects of living in a troubled world.185

184 Alix Ohlin, Home and Away: The Strange Surrealism of Mona Hatoum (this is an expanded version after first being published in Art papers, Atlanta, May-June 2002.) http://www/daratalfunun.org/main/activit/curentl/mona_hatoum/2.htm (accessed 5/1/2011) 185 John Carson, “Mona Hatoum” Carnegie Mellon University School of Art, 28 Sep 2007. hhtp://www.cmu.edu/news/archive/2007/September17_LepperLecture.shtml (accessed 16/9/2008).

Chapter 8

Do Ho Suh ~ Mobile Home Do Ho Suh is one of the artists selected for case study in this exegesis because of his experience of voluntary migration to a country that has significant cultural differences from his homeland. He is also selected because, as I do, he incorporates Eastern beliefs into his visual art. This chapter examines the way he responds to and reflects upon the issues of nostalgia, home, identity and boundaries in his work.

Do Ho Suh was born in Seoul, South Korea, in 1962. He gained a BFA and an MFA in Oriental Painting from Seoul National University, graduating in 1987. After fulfilling his two years of military service, which is mandatory for all Korean males, he migrated to the United States of America where he completed a BFA in Painting from Rhode Island School of Design in 1994 and an MFA in Sculpture from Yale University in 1997.186

Do Ho Suh’s reason for leaving his home country was a personal choice in pursuit of change. He did not, at first, consciously acknowledge that he was motivated to seek change so that he could achieve goals of independence. In South Korea, since the 1960s Suh’s father has been influential in both Korean traditional painting and a pioneer of the Mungnimhoe Art Movement and Modernism. Like many other countries in Asia, Korea’s social order and structure is heavily influenced by Confucian ideology and principles. The society is orderly and emphasizes deference and reverence to the hierarchy: official to ruler; son to father; wife to husband. The society values filial piety, loyalty, self-reliance and respect for scholarship and learning. With this cultural background as a guide Suh and his younger brother were ‘expected’ to follow their father’s footsteps by studying the traditional Korean scholarly arts of painting, poetry and calligraphy. Therefore, Do Ho Suh was working in the shadow of his father. In an ART: 21 interview when assessing his life and career, Do Ho Suh said he needed to move out of his father’s sphere of influence to gain independence as an artist.187

Suh was exhibiting his contemporary ink paintings in Seoul before his migration in the late 1980s. Since completing his Master’s degree at Yale University he has exhibited internationally in Japan, the United States of America, London, Italy, Australia and Korea. Like many international artists, Do Ho Suh leads an itinerant life. He divides his time and travels

186 Stephanie Smith. “Do Ho Suh: Part Two – Reflection,” exhibition 29/11/2007 – 2/2/2008, Lehmann Maupin gallery. (NY Exhibition Press, 2007) http://www.Lehmannmaupin.com/artists/do-ho-suh/ (accessed 4/9/2008) 187 “Do-HoSuh.Seoul Home/L.A.Home – Korea & Displacement.”.ART:21 (Season 2, 2003). http://www.pbs.org/art21/artists/suh/clip1.html (accessed 4/9/2008)

intensively between New York and Seoul. He tentatively calls New York ‘home’ and does much of his work there but his visits to his family in Seoul also inspire his work.

Migration has been one of Do Ho Suh’s manifest themes. Both his migration and his term of military service in Korea have had great impact on his work. His migration has influenced his sensitivity to the spatial and has enabled him to elaborate on the different dimensions of personal space and identity in Eastern and Western culture. Because of Suh’s voluntary migration status, he frequently travels between Korea and the United States. This has allowed Suh to perceive the individual and the collective sense of values from both sides, enabling him to inquire into the boundaries of individuality and seek to discover what makes an individual feel contented.188 His works suggest how to determine cultural identity across two cultures and to define a space in today’s increasingly global society. His work explores the theme of place having great relevance and influence in the construction of identity in liminal space – a theme that this exegesis aims to explore.

Suh’s sculptures are often architectural environments, beautifully and meticulously crafted, and they resonate his transnational ‘in-between-ness’ and displacement experiences, by using Post- Colonialism concepts. Suh began his international career by using fabric to recreate life-scale architectural interiors: he uses forms and metaphors related to architecture and chooses materials as a means of rendering psychological, physical and emotional spaces to make his memories tangible. Whether they address the dynamics of personal space versus public space or explore a fine line between strength in numbers and homogeneity, his site-specific installations question the boundaries of identity. Formally, Suh’s works are conceptual. In Haeyoung Youn’s essay: Considering Do Ho Suh’s Installation Art within the Context of Asian Democracy, Youn says: Suh’s works move away from Minimalism by connecting intimately with viewers and creating an interpretive closeness.189

My research focus is correlated with Suh’s in many ways. By sharing a similar cultural, religious and migration background our transcultural experiences of displacement prompted us to respond and to reflect upon our feelings and visions in a similar way. Also, I am interested in how I perceive and feel things within my new environment and how I discover and place myself as an individual in Western society from the point of view of a migrant with an East-Asian heritage.

188 Artkrush “Interview with Do Ho Suh 1/10/2008” http://artkrush.com/173851 (accessed 3/11/2008) 189 HaeyoungYoun, “Considering Do Ho Suh’s Installation Art within the Context of Asian Democracy,” International Journal of the Arts in Society 1, 6 (2007): 97-105. Available online: http://www.arts-journal.com (accessed 18/9/ 2008)

I have selected four of Suh’s works for discussion. They invite a direct comparison with the works of Mona Hatoum providing comment on the themes of home, identity, space and boundaries. They show how life experience can elicit such different responses to the same issues from artists as they reflect upon the same themes.

The works by Do Ho Suh that I will comment upon are: Seoul Home/L.A. Home/New York Home/Baltimore Home/London Home/Seattle Home, 1999 (illus.24); 348 West St., Apt A, New York, NY10011USA, 1999 (illus.25~6); The Reflection, 2004 (illus.27); Doormat: Welcome (Amber), 1998 (illus.31~32).

http://image.slidesharecdn.com/dohosuh -100513033511- phpapp01/95/do-ho-suh-4-728.jpg?cb=1273721737

illus. 24. Do Ho Suh. Seoul Home/L.A. Home/New York Home/Baltimore Home/London Home/Seattle Home, 1999. 149 x 240 x 240 inches. Silk. http://image.slidesharecdn.com/dohosuh-100513033511- phpapp01/95/do-ho-suh-4-728.jpg?cb=1273721737

Seoul Home/ L.A.Home/ New York Home/ Baltimore Home/ London Home/ Seattle Home, 1999 (Seoul Home/L.A. Home ...) (illus.24) is an emotional response to Suh’s childhood home in Seoul. Suh reproduced his family house, which originally was a replica of part of an historical royal palace. It was a traditional kind of “Scholar House”190 built in 1828. Suh took precise

190 This kind of house normally serves scholars in the historical sense in East Asian culture. It is usually painted in jade or blue, symbolizing the universe or the sky to enable the scholar to sense the universe in a greater space while they study.

measurements of the entire structure of his childhood dwelling and had it sewn to its exact dimensions in diaphanous celadon green silk. The fabric renders at full size the latticed woodwork, tiles, windows and door frames of a one-room dwelling. Seoul Home, 1999 was created as a result of a state of disorientation in the new country. Suh longed for a specific consolation space in this recreation of his Korean family home.

Seoul Home/L.A. Home …, 1999 was exhibited by suspending it from the ceiling. It seemed to float on air giving it a dream like quality – a home from afar – a memory of a place which was drawn from his ethnic identity. It is indeed a memory of a place for it can be folded, packed and transported, fitting into two suitcases – perfect for an artist on the move. Seoul Home/L.A. Home …, 1999 dematerialises to a “lyrical husk.”191 It stimulates imagination and invokes nostalgia combining an enduring cultural memory and personal attachment in a pared down emblematic way. In his review Frances Richard wrote: … Seoul Home... memorializes a cultural and personal attachment but in such a pared-down, emblematic way that private narrative disperses. Suh's vision of ‘intrinsically transportable and translatable space’ takes for granted a world in which the peregrination of an artist who commutes between Seoul and New York while preparing for exhibitions in Venice and LA makes perfect sense. But if theories of nomadism and globalization have matured to the status of received truths, their formal enactment becomes proportionally more important: It's hard to deny that concepts like subjectivity and nationality are fragmentary, rhizomatic, virtual, but it's also hard to create for them concise visual figures as such. Seoul Home... does this … .192

The choice of medium is multi-purpose. To fabricate in silk allows for lightness and transportability but it also entails the heritage of a classic East Asian culture. The fabric architectural installation elicits one’s awareness of ambiguous boundaries by turning an intimate personal space into a public space. The physical and solid references of the architectural are lost and replaced by fragility and a different reality in the absence of architectural solidity. Suh has made his memories tangible.

When we are physically and psychologically displaced we long for a place of comfort in which we can rest our exhausted body and emotional pain. Instead of going home, Suh has actively dealt with his longing by making his home and his memories of home portable, repeatable and unforgettable. According to Suh: - “… the house allowed me to land softly and safely in this foreign country.”193

191 Frances Richard, “Home in the world: The art of Do Ho Suh,” ArtForum, Posted Jan 2002. http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m0268/is_5_40/ai_82469549/ (accessed: 9/1/2009) 192 Richard. “Home in the world.” 193 “Interview: Do Ho Suh,” ArtKrush. 1 Oct 2008.

In comparing my work to Suh’s, I detect both difference and similarity. The main difference is in the sense of attachment to the new country. It is defined by the time lived in the place. Suh was still a relatively new migrant to his adopted country when he made this work. He has always travelled frequently between his two homes. Suh’s works strongly reflect his emotional attachment to his old home and at the same time illustrate the cultural difference by comparison between the two homes. I have been living in Australia for thirty years and rarely return to my country of origin. I am grounded. However, there is a difference in our making of art. Many of his works are done by assistants whereas mine require much personal physical input. The similarity in the way we approach our work is in our sentimentality and sensitivity towards our past and our new environments. We both define ourselves and create our sense of space because of our change of place. We both use materials that render symbolic concepts together with poetic thinking and a literal approach to object making and believe that our existence orients within the axis of culture and location – where we construct our split identities and yet find our sense of belonging.

In contrast to Seoul Home, 1999, I have included Suh’s next work – 348 West 22nd St., Apt A, New York, NY 10011, 1999 (illus.25~26), to show how Suh differentiates between his memory of his home in Seoul and his New York dwelling place. 348 West 22nd St., Apt A, New York, NY 10011, 1999 is a full scale reproduction of Suh’s Chelsea apartment in New York, constructed with remarkable specificity. It is fabricated in smoky grey nylon, suggesting the Capitalism of the West – cold and unbreathable: sterile and depressed. His New York apartment structure is positioned on the ground enabling viewers to enter and walk through the apartment, observing the fireplace and bookshelves, the kitchen fittings and the refrigerator. It is complete with such small details as light switches and doorknobs. I saw another version of his nylon New York apartment in pale blue and pink colours at MCA, part of Biennale of Sydney 2002. In comparison to Suh’s re-creation of his home in Korea, his depiction of his New York dwelling has no sense of wonder, only an absence of reality. This structure suggests why Suh only tentatively calls New York “home”.194

194 David Winton Bell Gallery, “Seoul Home” exhibition: 8 Nov–21 Dec 2003 http://www.brown.edu/Facilities/David_Winton_Bell_Gallery/suh.html (accessed 24/7/ 2008)

http://covetgarden.com/blog/2013/3/22/do-ho-suh-at-the-ago.html

illus. 25. Do Ho Suh. 348 West St., Apt A, New York, NY10011, 1999. Grey. Nylon. http://covetgarden.com/blog/2013/3/22/do-ho-suh-at-the-ago.html

http://www.papermag.com/2012/04/alamo_draft_house_new_york.php

illus. 26. Do Ho Suh. A detailed view of the bathroom in 348 West 22nd Street, NY 10011,USA–apt. http://www.papermag.com/2012/04/alamo_draft_house_new_york.php

The next work to be discussed is The Reflection, 2004 (illus.27~28, 30). It was a replica of the main entrance of Suh’s family home in Korea (illus.29) The Reflection, 2004 was sewn in translucent aqua-blue nylon mesh. It is two mirrored parts. The second identical gate is sewn upside-down right beneath the other one like a reflection, divided by a flat sheet of the same material, stretched and occupying the entire floor space. This separates the room space into two floors. Princenthal has indicated it gives the illusion of a gate floating like a reflection in the

water, conveying a mood of pulse-slowing serenity.195 This was another novel response to an immigrant’s nostalgia.

http://dailyserving.com/2011/04/do-ho-suh- http://images.exhibit- new-works/ e.com/www_lehmannmaupin_com/10214462560c 9e984.jpg

illus. 27. Do Ho Suh. The Reflection, 2004. illus. 28. Do Ho Suh. The Reflection, 2004. Close up. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. http://dailyserving.com/2011/04/do-ho-suh-new- http://images.exhibit- works/ e.com/www_lehmannmaupin_com/10214462560c9e984.jpg

http://www.designboom.com/eng/interview/dohosuh_gate.html

illus. 29. Do Ho Suh. The former entrance of Suh’s family home in Korea. http://www.designboom.com/eng/interview/dohosuh_gate.html

195 Nancy Princenthal, “Art in America,” March 2008. http://www.lehmannmaupin.com/artists/dohosuh/#/press-artists/do-ho-suh (accessed 8/10/ 2008)

http://www.brooklynrail.org/2008/03/artseen/re flection

illus. 30. Do Ho Suh. The Reflection, 2004. Nylon and stainless steel tube. Edition of 2. http://www.brooklynrail.org/2008/03/artseen/reflection

The Reflection, 2004 was first shown in the glass-walled lobby of the Hermes headquarters in Tokyo in 2004. As critic, Monty Dipietro noted in The Japan Times electronic article on 26th January 2005: … without the attachment of walls, the gate suggestive of intermediate, an indistinct space – neither inside nor outside, public or private. As a Buddhist, he believes in reincarnation, and associates life itself to a transitional space, a passageway from one place to another – the ethereal qualities of Reflection communicate rather well.196

The gate can be read as a divider, a transitory space reminiscent of a door, and the door is the most symbolically loaded element in any architecture. In all cultures, a door is used to control the physical atmosphere within a space, to separate interior spaces for privacy, convenience, security, and safety reasons. Like the door, the doorway is symbolically endowed with ritual purpose and metaphorical sense. It offers a portent of change. The gate-way portrays a transitional space, an intermediate and ambiguous space that reflects its dual aspects – the negative and the positive, the past and future, the reality and illusion. It reflects the Zen philosophy of truth and reality only being reached through the comprehension of opposites. The Reflection, 2004 is a most powerful work and admirably reveals Suh’s duel cultural and migrant background. It profoundly exemplifies how Buddhists perceive the meaning of life as transitory,

196 Monty Dipietro, “Do Ho Suh: Time to reflect on transition,” The Japan Times. Posted 26 Jan 2005. http://www.buddhistchannel.tv/index.php?id=5,697,0,0,1,0 (accessed 1/7/ 2008)

moving between the reality of this world and the world after death. His work also contains metaphors of a double-consciousness from living in two cultures; it evokes the in-between-ness – a mid-point that somehow, may be the reality.

http://www.pbs.org/art21/images

/do-ho-suh/doormat-welcome- http://www.pbs.org/art21/images/do-ho-suh/doormat- amber-detail-1998 welcome-amber-1998

illus. 31. Do Ho Suh. Welcome, (Amber), 1998. Polyurethane rubber, illus.32. Do Ho Suh. Details of 1 1/4 x 28 x 19 inches. Edition of 5. Welcome, 1998~2000. http://www.pbs.org/art21/images/do-ho-suh/doormat-welcome- http://www.pbs.org/art21/images/do- amber-1998 ho-suh/doormat-welcome-amber- detail-1998

Another sculptural object made by Suh – Doormat: Welcome (Amber), 1998 (edition of 5, made between 1998~2000) (illus.31~32) demonstrated a different displacement experience to that of Hatoum. His voluntary migration as opposed to Hatoum’s forced migration has had profoundly different effects on Suh’s perception of belongingness and acceptance in the new environment. In this work Suh explores the fine line between strength in numbers and homogeneity and questions the identity of the individual in today’s increasingly transnational, global society. This Doormat is made up of hundreds of two-inch high miniature rubber human figures holding up their hands to support a thick sheet of clear-glass for people step on. The figures do not have specific features. The black figures form the word ‘Welcome’ in a surrounding field of amber figures. His mass miniature figures with arms aloft are suggestive of the strength of collective humanity and reinforces the idea of ‘welcoming’. This is in stark contrast to Hatoum’s Doormat II (Welcome), 2000-2001 (illus.23) which was the work of one who was forced into exile. Viewing Suh’s Doormat from a different angle, one could also interpret it as a cynical expression of what capitalism is built upon, where the great numbers in collective communities seem welcoming but powerless to resist under a breakable glass.

The consolidation of fluid motion into manifest form defines the art of Do Ho Suh. His works are a spatial, psychological and biographically unfolding and expositional. His migration and his extensive travel between his native and his adopted countries has transformed his perception of the personal space dimension and makes it possible for him to compare societal values in the

two different cultures. His sculptural installations that are monumental in scale were born of the artist’s removed perspective.197

Do Ho Suh grew up in a country involved in civil war, military coups and political uprisings198 but Suh’s interpretation of his longing for a ‘home’ is different to that of Hatoum. Do Ho Suh’s works are pleasing and comforting to look at, they express a yearning for his old home but there is none of the pain or threat in his manifestation of the concept of ‘home’ that we find in the works of Mona Hatoum. Hatoum’s migration was forced upon her. Her rejection of home as a place of refuge is a different experience of exile from that of Do Ho Suh whose migration was voluntary. He travels freely between his two homes, in both of which he is welcome. Examining the works of these two artists shows how their personal experiences of migration and exile influence what they express and how they express it.

An examination of Suh’s work has provided me with a clearer vision of the relevance of issues in my own art practice. Like Do Ho Suh and Valamanesh, I often use symbolic cultural objects or signs to suggest my cultural identity. While using relatively complex production processes my work remains minimal. We both want to consider issues involving identity, home, space and boundaries but Do Ho Suh spends considerable periods of time in his homeland while I have had little contact with my country of origin for the last thirty years due to my personal life’s evolution. My perception of home, space and boundaries is therefore quite different to that of Do Ho Suh and so although Suh and I are exploring similar issues, the ‘I’ in the between-ness space, my work will express quite different emotions. A different interpretation of ‘seeking for home’ and uncertainty of identity can be seen in the political asylum seeker Guan Wei whose work will be discussed in the next chapter. Suh communicates his concepts and visions with a simplicity of artistic dialogue that in no way compromises the profundity of his message. My works, too, are spatial and my narrative is positioned around issues in a social and cultural context to offer a dialogue of psychological and biographical unfolding of how the ‘I’ is constructed in a space where I feel I belong.

197 Christine Starkman, “Infinite Points of Contact: how the age-old tension between individual and society drives installations that embody humanity’s awesome potential,” Art Asia Pacific 59 (Jul-Aug 2008), 120. 198 Andrea Duffie, web document: “Uniform Uniformity: Interacting with Do-HoSuh’s High School Uniform. http://gallery.unt.edu/exbinaries/4-255-22Jan2009044400.pdf (accessed 18/2/2009)

Chapter 9

Guan Wei ~ Looking for Home Guan Wei was born in 1957 in Beijing, China. He graduated from the Department of Fine Arts at the Beijing Capital University in 1986 and came to Australia in early 1989 as artist-in- residence at the Tasmanian School of Art, University of Tasmania. As a result of the Tiananmen Square massacre in June 1989 he gained political protection and permanent residency in Australia in 1990. As art journalist Janet Hawley noted in a Sydney Morning Herald, Good Weekend article on 12th July 2008, Guan Wei was helped in his bid for asylum by author Nick Jose and the cultural counsellor at the Australian Embassy in Beijing.199 He settled in Sydney, Australia in 1990.

Guan Wei grew up in the China of the Cultural Revolution (1966 – 1976). This was a time when traditional Chinese culture was rigidly controlled by the state. It was a time when the authoritarian Communist social regime put major emphasis on a lowest-common-denominator approach to social protocol and culture.200 Individual expression of thoughts and emotions was taboo, so, during his formative years as an artist Guan’s life and art were rigidly controlled by the political state in China. When China opened its doors to the West in the late 1970s a generation of artists was suddenly exposed to twentieth century modernism and there followed a period of energetic creative engagement and experimentation with a variety of styles. Guan, in particular, experimented with surrealism.201

Guan came from an artistic and literary family. His father had been of the professional class but during the cultural upheaval he became an opera performer with the Beijing Opera. With this background of traditional Chinese history and culture and his proficiency in traditional Chinese calligraphy and painting, Guan’s visual language drew on both his traditional culture and on the new influences to which he was exposed as the Cultural Revolution drew to a close. He was able to draw on Chinese fable with humour, knowledge and wisdom and a sense of the ridiculous.

Since settling in Australia Guan’s profession has flourished. Guan has undertaken numerous artistic residencies in Australia, Berlin, Singapore, New York and Taiwan. He has received a

199 Janet Hawley, “The Art Revolution”, Sydney Morning Herald, 12 July 2008, Good Weekend, 26. 200 Lynne Seear and Julie Ewington, Brought to Light II: contemporary Australian Art 1966-2006 (Brisbane: Queensland Art Gallery Publishing, 2007), 292-299. 201 Dinah Dysart, “Guan Wei: Cultural Navigator,” in Guan Wei, ed. Dinah Dysart, Natalie King, Hou Hanru, (Australia: Craftsmen House, 2006), 15.

number of grants from the Australia Council and has gained a significant reputation as a contemporary artist in Australia and overseas. He constantly seeks new opportunities and experiences that will extend his art.

By immersing himself in Australian culture while maintaining his Chinese heritage in his artistic expression he has been well accepted in the Australian art scene. Guan’s acceptance as part of the art scene in Australia can be seen by the way in which critics have labelled him during his journey as an artist from his arrival to the present. He was first labelled as a ‘Chinese’ artist, then as a Chinese-Australian artist, an ‘Australian’ artist, and finally as ‘a model of Australian Multicultural artist’. This last label was given to him when he represented Australian in the Third Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art in 1999. One of the stated aims of the Asia-Pacific Triennial was: - to raise awareness of Australian contemporary art practice and of Australia as a multicultural country.202 Guan’s work fits well into such an aim.

Guan’s migration to Australia and exposure to Australian culture and traditions have provided him with an external vision and an ability to address multicultural issues in his art practice. His art embraces a high degree of political and cultural engagement. Guan’s paintings are surreal in style, quirky in humour and ironic. His visual language remains recognizably Chinese, but his subject matter is universal: immigration, cultural tolerance and environmental issues.203 His work potently embodies social reality, political awareness and the environmental dilemmas of our time with a rich cultural repertoire of symbols. Guan has discovered a unique form of hybrid artistic narrative method to reinterpret events that have occurred in this land. He is a thinking artist and a factual story teller. In his paintings Guan employs wobbly, ghost-like, droll, naked figures as commentators, uniting his Chinese heritage with Australian and European folklore, signifying geographical and cultural differences that form his own style. In traditional Chinese culture the ‘self’ is always held in reserve. It is often presented in a borrowed voice.204 Guan’s artistic visual manners are understandably rooted in the traditions of the Beijing Opera where the performer’s face is covered by heavy, mask-like make-up to separate the person acting from the character. The body of the performer acts as an instrument only to deliver the singing voice and gestures, not the performer’s personality.

Although Guan and I do not share the same reasons for migration or use the same genre Guan’s inventive visual language provided me with an opportunity to explore some personal questions. How adequate, or inadequate, does an immigrant artist feel being titled with their country of

202 Ibid. 14. 203 Ibid. 26. 204 This is an extension of the Chinese etiquette that says that looking directly into another’s eyes is both challenging and disrespectful.

origin in their adopted country? How inappropriate is it to include all people of Chinese descent as ‘Chinese’? What is expected of such ‘Chineseness’? How does Guan’s journey help me to understand my cultural identity in my personal voyage of migration from Taiwan to Australia? Where should I call “home”? Does home really need to exist as a geographical location? Guan is a significant example for me on how to define my own cultural identity and concept of ‘Chineseness’ in our increasingly borderless world. Over the years I have seen a number of Guan’s exhibitions, only to name the two here: Other Histories: Guan Wei’s Fable for a Contemporary World at Powerhouse Museum, Sydney 2006-7. The Journey to Australia at MCA, 2013.

The three works I have selected for discussion in this chapter are: Looking for Home, 2000 (illus.33); Ned Kelly Encounters the Troopers in the Mystic Mountains, 2003 (illus.34); Unfamiliar Land, 2006 (illus.35).

In general, Guan’s oeuvre is characterized by a series of distinctive formal elements including a vertical format and a divided picture plane. He uses a unique visual language comparable to that of a cartoonist and illustrator. With a strong graphic sensibility he tells a story, inviting viewers to use their own aesthetic imagination to decode playful references. The work, Looking for Home, 2000 (illus.33), was created in his third period, the “Environmental Time”. It was first exhibited in Singapore in 2000, an outcome from a residency at LA SALLE-SIA College of the Arts, Singapore.

From book: Dinah Dysart, Natalie King and Hou Hanru, Guan Wei. 2006

illus. 33. Guan Wei. Looking for Home, 2000. Acrylic on canvas 24 panels, overall 290 x770cm.

Looking for Home, 2000 is a dream-like space. It allows the viewer to drift along with the naked figures in the dark night among route lines and arrows which act as a guide for searching to find the way. His trade mark naked, droll figures are marked with acupuncture points connoting an Eastern culture and he contrasts this with the astrological star signs of the West floating in a Southern hemisphere sky. The four eastern characters denoting directions of North, South, East

and West also appear. The work reflects his philosophy, metaphorically encompassing a yearning for place and belonging.

The 1989 Tiananmen demonstration has paved the way for significant political and economic reforms in China. It was largely accredited to Deng Xiaoping’s (1904-1997) socialist modernisation ideal, also known as the ‘socialist market economy’ which advanced China into one of the fastest growing economies in the world, vastly raising the standard of living since the 90s. One of his perceived catchphrases during his southern tour in China in a 1992 speech was: – “to get rich is glorious”.205 The phenomenal growth in China has attracted many. Even those who were seeking asylum and dwelling abroad returned home. Like many other Chinese artists and intellectuals, Guan Wei, who made his home and career in Australia, returned to Beijing in 2008.206

Dislocation and a life of wandering is now a global phenomenon. In 2008 Guan chose his own journey home and this enables us to appreciate the work Looking for Home, 2000 in a new light. It can be read as if it were a biographical sketch of doubt and wonder in searching for ‘home’ in 2000. His return to China shows that, despite his acceptance of his new home in Australia, he still felt distanced from this newly adopted country. Having grown up in a nation that had closed its doors to foreign influences and modern values for fifty years he would have faced great culture shock and would have had to make enormous adjustments to live in a country of Western tradition. It was when China’s political and economic platform changed again in the 1990s that many Chinese who went abroad in search of a better life made a return to the familiar. Guan’s Australian citizenship provided him with a second doorway. He had to decide whether he was better off living in the more relaxed atmosphere of Australia or returning to his country of birth where there had been a dramatic change of ideals. He grew up in a land of strict Communist ideals that purported to seek the common good and equal distribution of wealth. China in the 1990s was following, not Mao’s philosophy, but the philosophy of Deng Xiaoping who announced that “to get rich is glorious”.207

Guan’s restlessness and alienation in Australia is visualized in Looking for Home, 2000 through his floating figures. Even though critics have often claimed that Guan has artistically embraced Australian culture, this embracing implies rational planning and execution rather than emotional involvement. Guan’s work has never been able to conceptualise his reverie with a poetic view of

205 Jeffrey Hays, ‘Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms’ 2008, Facts and Details.http://factsanddetails.com/china.php?itemid=372&catid=9&subcatid=59 (accessed 13/2/2010) 206 Janet Hawley, “The Art Revolution”, Sydney Morning Herald,12 July 2008, Good Weekend, 19. 207 Charles Merewether, “Everyday life and imagines of the Modern,” in Eye of the Beholder, John Clark (Sydney: Wild Peony, 2006), 170.

any home he had. For Suh and Hatoum whether they have a home to return to or not, both express in their work a sentiment about their home that is ‘unforgettable’ and for which they are constantly longing. They are able to articulate and deliver emotion explicitly in their visual language. Guan does not have this clear vision of a home. His is an ongoing search.

One’s intimacy and devotion to ‘home’ is manifested differently by migrants, exiles and political protection seekers. Their individual experiences have led them to express their sentiments towards their roots by the production of very different works. Binghui Huangfu, the exhibition curator for Looking for Home: Guan Wei, at Earl Lu Gallery, LA SALLE-SIA College of the Arts Singapore, wrote: The paintings look for the spiritual resting place that we all seem to need. They hint that ‘home’ may be a different place for each of us.208

http://www.turnergalleries.com.au/artists/guan_wei.php

illus. 34. Guan Wei. Ned Kelly Encounters the Troopers in the Mystic Mountains, 2003. Ink on rice paper. 70.5 x 173cm. http://www.turnergalleries.com.au/artists/guan_wei.php

Guan maintains his Chineseness in his visual language in the Ned Kelly Encounters the Troopers in the Mystic Mountains, 2003 (illus.34), (hereafter referred to as Ned Kelly), one of the Ned Kelly series created within his fourth period “Australia, Politics”. Ned Kelly was an outlaw hunted by the police: an heroic figure in the Australian Colonial era. In Ned Kelly, Guan has appropriated the image of Ned Kelly created by the painter Sydney Nolan and inserted it onto a reproduction, classical Chinese landscape scroll. However, Guan has modified the story by plotting the escape of Ned Kelly from the troops into a peaceful and harmonious Chinese village setting. Kelly is heading home, welcomed by cheering allies. Guan is at play. Guan said of this painting: I have made Ned Kelly migrate to China … recasting the legend in an unexpected environment, … how it feels to be a migrant in China (as opposed to Australia) and … invited a redefinition of his identity.209

208 Binghui Huangfu, foreword to “Looking for Home: Guan Wei,” LaSalle-SIA College of the Arts, Earl Lu Gallery. 2000. P.5. 209 Natalie King, “Chinese Whispers: The Work of Guan Wei,’ in Guan Wei, ed. Dinah Dysart, Natalie King, Hou Hanru, (Australia: Craftsman House, 2006), 67.

The Ned Kelly series was unusually executed on one scroll: a reproduction of traditional Chinese classical landscape painting in the Ming Dynasty style. It is ink on rice paper in a horizontal format, which is an unusual format for Guan Wei. This work was selected particularly because of its use of rural background settings. It is an example of the way in which Guan has strategically merged two of the most powerful signifiers of the two countries, China and Australia, into one setting. His eclectic visions confront our contemporary notions of displacement, a very Poststructuralist concept that everything is not static but unfixed. Ned Kelly indicates cultural distinction and geographical displacement which highlights cultural confrontation, negotiation and hybridization in our contemporary world.

Philippa Kelly of Artlink has stressed Guan Wei’s search for balance. She quotes him as saying: “Harmony is the marrow of eastern philosophy”. Kelly considers that the balance between elements of the work and balance between the visual and the conceptual induces calmness. The constantly reinvented traditional Chinese references create a new language that invites dialogue.210

http://www.cacsa.org.au/?page_id=2291

illus. 35. Guan Wei. Unfamiliar Land, 2006. Acrylic on Canvas, 24 panels. 267 x 677cm. http://www.cacsa.org.au/?page_id=2291

Cultural split is a transnational phenomenon. It is the fact of people simultaneously involved in two places and two cultures; the intimate coexistence of two worlds, two lifestyles. Guan explores his ‘double-consciousness’ in experiencing the phenomena through cultural contact and integration. Unfamiliar Land, 2006 (illus.35) is again a single epic painting broken up over twenty-four separate canvases in two rows.

210 Philippa Kelly, “The China Phenomenon – Thinking About Guan Wei,” Artlink 23, 4 (2003). http:www.artlink.com.au/articles.cfm?id=2124 (accessed 29/11/2008)

In Unfamiliar Land, 2006, Guan has ironically reconstructed Australian “histories’. It stretches across time and space, recounting the formation of human societies in general and Australian society in particular, ranging from exploration and colonization to contemporary migration. Guan relates characters and elements from different eras and cultures and has them in an imaginary space. He uses traditional Chinese style sea patterns borrowed from blue and white porcelain and integrates this with land marks. Plants and animals from China and Australia reside harmoniously in contrast to the mythic horrors of sea monsters. The Chinese mariner navigator Zheng co-exists with Australian settlers so that one cannot identify who came to whose terra firma. Guan’s works have socio-political and art history awareness. Unfamiliar Land, 2006 is one example of Guan’s own migration and translocation experience from his native China to Australia – an extreme change from the East to the West. Individuals who transpose their lives from one culture to another will never be seamlessly assimilated.

Guan’s strength is in his ability to reveal alternative narratives by mapping global subjects of displacement, diaspora and the anxiety of belonging. He has discovered a unique iconographic style incorporating humour and theatrical imagination in stating his position in his new adopted country. His commitment to multiculturalism and Asian awareness is relevant to contemporary art practices in a diversified society. Guan’s canvas is a testing ground for cultural exchange and convergence of West and East via his particular visualisations.

The physical transition from Beijing to Sydney and return could change Guan’s perception of permanence. The new environment cultivated different sentiments and opportunities which enabled Guan to discover a hybrid visual language to narrate the cultures surrounding him. In spite of his transculture and double consciousness of the two cultures the essence of Guan’s work is never disconnected from the native culture – from his ‘Chineseness.’ Guan believes that one should stay close to one’s roots and does not see himself as becoming a western-style artist or working outside of China for too long.211 In recent years Guan has been moving back and forwards between China and Australia and make ‘home’ in both places. He straddles the betwixt and between. His roots may be sufficient for him to return ‘home’ but not necessarily to a home permanently in one place. He may have found his belongingness in limbo.

I believe that one’s personal endeavours to achieve success in a newfound homeland do not necessarily guarantee a sense of ‘belongingness. Valamanesh (Chapter 4) and Guan Wei both based their work on a similar concept by connecting their memory of their place of origin with their current location. Both migrated due to political conflict in their country of origin and both

211 Dinah Dysart, “Guan Wei: Cultural Navigator,” 13-14.

have achieved success in Australia. The difference between Valamanesh and Guan is that Valamanesh has found a sense of security and contentment in this country, which has led him to a spiritual search of the inner-self, using philosophical poetry as an art vehicle to convey a sophisticated narrative uniting his past with the present, defining his presence in the world, beyond time and space – boundlessly harmoniously. Guan lacks this poetic narrative.

In conclusion, I share one commonality with all the artists selected for commentary. It is the experience of ambivalent phenomenon; the experience of living between two cultures. Our artworks are representative of our struggles as we resist, accept and define our belongingness and cultural identity. It is a tumultuous journey for people who come from dual-racial or multiracial backgrounds searching for their cultural identity and belongingness. There was a point of threshold where we stood, either voluntarily or by force, there was a zone of zero, a liminal space; where familiarity with one side vied with foreignness on the other. Moving beyond this threshold we constructed the splitting of self and changing the unknown into the familiar. Returning, we could find only unfamiliarity in the familiar. Displaced people are in limbo but are consciously objective about who they are.

As we step at a point of the present, we all know who we are; by stepping into the past, we know who we were and into the future, we know who we will be(come).212

212 Ruth Liou. Diary entry.

At the Cross-Road

Chapter 10 Reflection and Discovery

The journey of life starts with the unknown, endowed with the baggage of wonder, searching for reasons; while it leads us towards our ultimate destination, along the way ~ at the crossroads we make choices based on our values and perceptions, but such choices could even lead us into another sphere of the unknown!213

Reflection This chapter traces my art journey and how it has led to my current art practice. During my childhood I had little exposure to art. The education system in Taiwan when I was a child was very limited in regards to creative art subjects. Creative arts were rarely encouraged and were viewed as a hobby or passing interest. My interest in art was therefore not nurtured from an early age. I enjoyed art and craft but was given no special encouragement or tuition so it is not easy to identify a tangible thread from my childhood that connects to my current art practice. I was always fascinated and excited by nature, humanity and beauty but I was a quiet child and had not met anyone who shared these feelings or who observed the world as I did. I considered other children of my age to be ‘childish’ because their interests were so dissimilar to mine. Taiwanese culture did not encourage children to think independently or express views. We did as we were told, never asking a question that might make us look stupid. I felt isolated.

On reflection I can identify several indicators in my childhood that might explain why I embraced visual arts in later life. I had been reading newspapers for several years but when I was about 12 years of age newspapers changed from black and white to include colour.214 I was fascinated by this world of colour and began to cut out the tiny coloured images of landscape photographs and paste them into a booklet. Whether it was a photo of a sunset, a skyscraper or a rice paddy these photos opened a world of wonder and an appreciation of the beauty of nature that I had never been able to reach or experience before. Perhaps this sparked an interest that led me to paint landscapes later.

213 Ruth Liou. Diary entry. 214 Taiwan’s newspapers began to include colour in the early 1970s (exact year could not be traced).

I was also capable of patiently constructing objects often being required to do not only my own but also my sister’s craftwork for school. I would work on this long into the night after the rest of the household was sound asleep.

Once, when I was 10 years old the weekend task for Art class was to produce a coloured drawing. I chose to draw the orchid plant in a terracotta pot that was in my family’s courtyard. I vividly remember drawing the curvy long green leaves and turning them in different directions, one behind the other. I thoroughly enjoyed the process. When the artwork came back from school my father pinned it on the wall. I knew that he must have liked it because, in our culture, we were seldom praised for doing well. When I turned eleven in the following year my father gave me a box of 16 coloured oil pastels as a birthday present. It was not normal for us to receive birthday presents so I was very touched by this gift and had to hide my tears. I also felt guilty that he had spent so much money on me as in the 1960s Taiwanese families had very little disposable income. I kept that beautiful box of oil pastels in the drawer. I never explored drawing again because I felt that if I were to use those pastels I would ruin the purity of the colours but every time I opened that drawer I would admire the box of beautiful oil pastels that reminded me of my father’s love.

Prior to my migration I worked as secretary/bookkeeper before marrying an Australian citizen who was of Chinese descent and we moved to Australia. Because my knowledge of English was very limited I had to rely on visual cues to negotiate my way through this new country. This heightened my sensitivity towards visual arts.

What If I Could Paint? – A Diverted Destination. In the year 2000 I was working towards becoming a fully qualified accountant. Accountancy was a secure profession that could provide me with financial self-sufficiency and independence. I knew that a life time in accountancy/finance would be secure but monotonous and limited. I wanted to broaden my horizons and gain new knowledge that would give me a more fruitful and joyful life. With this aim in mind I spent much time in soul-searching, trying to find what would satisfy me, but full time work limited my ability to explore other possibilities. I decided to take a three year career break so that I could explore avenues that might lead to a new profession – one that would be constructive and meaningful that I could sustain. I had to ask myself what could I do that would give pleasure and enhance the meaning of life for me.

I assessed and filtered emotional attachments to things I had done and things that had interested me. The strongest feeling of emotional gratification that came to mind was my memory of the Art Gallery of New South Wales. When I first came to Australia in 1979 I used to visit this gallery every month. The memories that stayed with me of those visits evoked enormous emotional comfort and affection, entwined with excitement, pleasure and curiosity. Why did I have such emotional attachments? What was the attraction connected with these memories? I recalled how my mood shifted between joy, sadness and terror when I was observing paintings, whether the subject was mythical, portraiture, still life or landscape. The style of painting to which I felt most affection was Impressionism. At the same time I was inquisitive about Western Art History as well as how paint application was able to deliver visual beauty that was more real than the real world. I admired the techniques and skills of the artists and the way they interpreted the world around them and showed it to us. With no English language and no knowledge of Western Art theory it was difficult for me to understand and appreciate Western Art fully. I took private lessons in Chinese calligraphic painting in the 1980s with the aim of being able to paint Chinese style landscapes but I found this exercise unsatisfying. I felt that the Chinese style could not enlighten me and did not provide me with the excitement that Western paintings gave me. Reflecting on these encounters with art and knowing that I was fond of painting, especially landscape painting, I thought that studying Western painting would provide a fruitful area of exploration.

Determination and Multi Transitioning My decision to study art shocked and disappointed everyone around me including my colleagues who had known me for 10 years and particularly my close Chinese friends whom I had known for almost 30 years. For some it meant failure as I was giving up a reliable and respectable career to pursue something that promised very limited financial rewards and career opportunities. Despite the shock and disapproval of those close to me I enrolled in a three year Advanced Diploma in Fine Arts at the Gallery School, Meadowbank TAFE. I wanted to paint!

It was an understatement to say that the daily art classes were stimulating. I had no expectations and found myself in another world. Students and teachers even spoke a different language with their professional jargon. Because I had never attended school in Australia I had no experience or contact with the art materials used. I had not known of their existence or what they looked like. My knowledge of Western Art was limited to the use of charcoal for one hour in a junior high school art class. I remember that we were told to bring to class half of a steamed bun to use as an eraser for the charcoal! Not only did I need to learn about all kinds of new materials for

each subject I also had to remember their names and how to use them. I had to follow instructions, complete and deliver work. Everything was so foreign during that first year that I felt as though my nerves were pulled as tight as the strings on a guitar. However, the change in lifestyle, even down to wearing sandshoes instead of business shoes, made me content. I was deeply happy and determined to work extremely hard and not fall behind.

After completing the Advanced Diploma in Fine Arts in 2003 I maintained my painting practice and worked casually as a sculpture assistant for a year. Then I decided to further my studies in Fine Arts at a tertiary level and advance my understanding in Arts. In 2005 I enrolled at the University of Newcastle for the third year of the Bachelor of Fine Art. Being ignorant of the academic hierarchic structure and the possibilities of post-graduate studies I thought that this would be my final training year in Art. I challenged myself by choosing to forego the study of two dimensional subjects to study sculpture. Because my initial aspiration was to paint well I had maintained painting as my major in my TAFE training but I had become increasingly interested in sculpture so I took the opportunity offered in my university studies to develop skills in sculpture. When I completed the Bachelor of Fine Arts degree in 2005 I was awarded the Lake Macquarie Sculpture Award for high achievement and a Summer Research Scholarship to prepare research for the Honours program. It was then that I realised that sculpture allowed me to be more flexible. I could work with diverse materials and I had more elaborate thoughts in terms of concepts and visions when using sculpture as my medium. There were fewer boundaries in exploring subject matter in sculpture than when I was painting. I completed my Honours year by producing a sculptural installation and was awarded First Class Honours.

Discovery ~ Painting the Other-Self On beginning painting lessons in the Art School of Meadowbank TAFE in 2001 I began a journey of self-discovery. I began to question my identity as I expressed myself through the work I was doing in this new environment.

In 2001 I trained under Geoff Rigby. In the weekly painting class students were instructed to paint a set subject. It might be a still life, a landscape from a photograph or figurative painting. At the end of each painting lesson all class members placed their canvases against the wall for a class critique. This is where I learned to formally assess an artwork. I learned to acknowledge the different interpretation of the subject matter by each student and in learning this I realised how this interpretation was linked with the personality of the painter.

I was drawn to the paintings executed by the ethnic students whether they were from China, Thailand or South America. Their paintings stood out with their strong cultural, national and ethnic attributes. At first it was difficult to understand what it was that drew me to their work but I began to realise that their selection of particular colour ranges, the saturation and application of tone, their composition and their brush strokes all contributed to the appeal of the work of the students whose ethnic and cultural backgrounds were non-Caucasian. When I looked at my own work I could not detect any aspect of it that displayed my own cultural origins. Although I was born and reared in Taiwan and am of Chinese heritage my work looked like that of the Caucasian students rather than displaying any of my cultural heritage. There was a need to examine this phenomenon.

Included here are illustrations (illus.36~44) of some of my paintings created since beginning at Art School at TAFE in 2001, through my undergraduate studies at university in 2005. They are included to show what I discovered about my artistic expression during Art School training and these images provide some insight into why I have transitioned from painting to sculpture as the primary method of that expression.

illus. 36. Ruth Liou. The Pier, 2001. Oil on board. illus. 37. Ruth Liou. Arriving and Departing, 2004. 30 x 25cm. Photo: Ruth Liou. Oil on board. 25 x 18cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus.38. Ruth Liou. Mt. View, 2005. Oil on canvas. illus.39. Ruth Liou. Mt. View II, 2005. Oil on canvas. 35 x 30cm. Photo: Ruth Liou. 40 x 35cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus.40. Ruth Liou. Paul, illus. 41. Ruth Liou. Memory of illus.42. Ruth Liou. Bushell’s Creek, 2001. Oil on Board. 135 x Newcastle, 2005. Oil on canvas. 2003. Oil on canvas. 120 x 90cm. 65cm. Photo: Ruth Liou. 65 x 35cm. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus.43. Ruth Liou. Spud Paddy, 2002. Oil on canvas, illus.44. Ruth Liou. Mt. View V, 2005. Oil on (three panels). 180 x 60cm. Photo: Ruth Liou. canvas. 42 x 35cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

Daniel M. Feige says that artwork is a reflexive practice meant for understanding ourselves providing ways of seeing the subject who arranged it.215 This means that the artwork is the subjective self. When stepping back and looking at my paintings objectively, it was quite disturbing to realise that my paintings gave so little indication of my ethnic background. I had lost or hidden much of my cultural heritage and this created an insecurity which I needed to conquer. It would be necessary for me to confront this stranger I had invented and to rediscover the person who had hidden their identity beneath layers of adopted culture. The paintings I was doing had none of the cultural flavour that was so evident in the works of my culturally diverse classmates and if I were to be true to myself as an artist, I would need to ask myself how I could

215 Daniel Marin Feige, “Art as Reflexive Practice,” European Society of Aesthetics, 2, (2010), 133.

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reconcile my ethnicity and my personality with my life experience by modifying the way in which I presented my message.

I would like to think that having lived in Australia for more than 30 years I should have changed. To be able to live in another culture one must adopt a new way of life, new values and a new language and I had done this but I had thought of these adjustments as being surface changes. Reflecting on the paintings I had done at Art School made me question the depth of the changes that had occurred in me. Had I rejected my cultural origins? Had I been disloyal to my culture? This reflection also made me aware of the positive aspects of this cultural shift within myself. As I struggled to integrate into my adopted country I had reinvented myself. There are constructive aspects of this reinvention. Acceptance in a society so different from that in which I had been brought up gave a feeling of acceptance and inclusion but it did not stop the questioning of my true identity. I still had much work to do in the area of conceptual development by reading and self-evaluation as I created my artworks.

Poststructuralist concepts of Identity gave me some insight into this new discovery of the internal change in myself. Poststructuralist theory considers that identity is not static as we thought, and it changes without intentional effort or willingness. We do not know when and where it begins, there is no trace of tangible reinvention, but it is a dimensional becoming process taking us into the future.

In 2005, when I came to the University of Newcastle to complete the final year of the Fine Art Bachelor degree, I was determined to study sculpture as well as painting in an attempt to pursue and reconnect with a medium I had relinquished during my studies at Meadowbank Art School (TAFE). I felt that academic studies in sculpture could broaden my conceptual development. The geographical change from urban Sydney to the historically industrial city of Newcastle and the bush setting of the Newcastle campus would influence my future sculptural development. In addition, the move to a completely unfamiliar city meant that once more, I became a stranger. This transition provided a state of solitude which has broadened my horizon in seeing and sensing. It has provided me with a profound awareness and understanding of the way in which vulnerability and strength co-exist.

As the semester progressed I found myself struggling in painting. There were limitations in the conceptual formation of my ideas when the formal elements were restricted to a flat surface within a frame. Both disciplines, painting and sculpture, provide me with emotional satisfaction but sculpture is more open to conceptual development as a means of exploration in terms of material and form making. As a result, I gave more time to my sculpture than to my painting.

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Sculptures are exciting to construct. They provide a free and direct method of conceptualising the way I perceive the world around me. I often felt untruthful in paintings, hesitating to face them when completed, because I felt that paintings require acts of manipulation on a two- dimensional surface by re-arranging composition, changing colours or light source or shadows etc. in order to fulfil the demands of formal assessment. Sculpture, on the other hand is frameless, free in conceptual development and material exploration. I also find sculptures to be truthful and alive in their own integrity. They require less manipulation in achieving the aim; they are more material oriented and each material comes with specific characteristics and required skills and knowledge. They synchronize elements of mass, negative and positive space, line, form and shape in their composition.

I have included here two bodies of work which I created during the first semester of 2005 with a brief explanation of the concepts behind these two constructed works.

illus.45. Ruth Liou. The visible and invisible, 2005. Mild-steel, powder coated. 200 x 150cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

Reflection and Reasoning For the Site-Specific Sculpture course, I constructed a metaphorical abstract sketch of a human form (illus.45). The concept behind it was that there were three significant senior persons in my life who had either seen me growing up in Taiwan or who had grown old with me in Australia.

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They all passed away in 2004. I grieved their loss but I also saw their passing as part of life’s progression and as the ultimate journey of human beings. I could no longer see or touch these people but I felt that the absence of physicality did not diminishing my memory of their existence, the indispensable emotional connections remain in the mind forever. I proposed to create a work to solidify their absence as a way of designating their metaphysical presence in my mind. It was fractional and yet ethereal. I used thirty lengths of 8mm mild-steel rods cut into three different lengths criss-crossed and welded into three abstract sketches of human shapes to solidify their presence in my mind.

illus. 46. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on timber. (Size varies. Bronze figures from 7cm to 17cm.) Photo: Ruth Liou.

For the second self-directed sculpture course, I created seventeen little wax-figuratives and cast them in bronze using the lost-wax method (illus.46~50). The concept behind this body of work was based on my perceptive viewpoint of the theatrical passageway of our life. Each one of us

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carries our own narratives, purposefully or non-purposefully moving in the crowd, heading in our own direction, creating our own space within a given space in this universe. The people that we encounter at the crossroads in life, whether the relations are meaningful or trivial, affect our sense of vulnerability and power. Some of these people we encounter as we pass never connect; some may stay a short while; some may stay forever in our life. With some of these people we connect effortlessly; with others we have to strive to make and retain the connection.

illus. 47. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. (size varies.) Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 48. Ruth Liou. The Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. (Size varies.) Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 49. Ruth Liou. Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 50. Ruth Liou. Passage of Life, 2005. Bronze on metal plate. Photo: Ruth Liou.

My understanding of these encounters at the crossroads was made very clear when I made a significant life change. I left my secure career in Finance/Accounting to become a full-time student. By stepping out of the secure middle-class society in which I had spent many years, to join the less clearly defined society of the student where status and acceptance is a shifting perception, I was marginalised. This dramatic life change helped me to observe human nature. This observation led to a greater understanding of human weakness, selfishness and the

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strategies people use to survive. The transition I had made from one strata of society to another delighted me as I gained a profound sense of being able to perceive the world around me more clearly than I had ever been able to do before.

I created this body of work to display my developing understanding and perception of the journey of life. We are a loose bundle of individuals of many races, nationalities, skin colour, languages, and yet we all live in the same vast communal space as we meet, connect and disconnect. The figures were placed, as though on a stage, on various materials and sizes of platform made out of timber and sheet-steel to display this theatrical connection and disconnection that occurs on our journey through life.

Looking back at my self-initiated choices in changing status and places I realise that the Poststructuralist concept of Identity has reinforced my view on identity which considers that identity is not permanent or unchanged. Identity is subjective and mutable.

The Trace ~ Lotus Trace I In the sculpture course in the second semester of 2005 we were given a topic in which we were to conceptualize our identity. This forced me to face an issue which I had refused to confront for many years. I thought deeply about how to identify myself: to find indispensable signs which defined me and made me unique. I then had to find appropriate sculptural forms to express the identity that I was exploring.

One’s identity is constantly evolving and yet our biological appearance is not. To represent my identity through my art I needed to look at myself, not only internally but also externally. Beliefs, attitudes, opinions and personality are all modified by circumstances in life and those with whom we interact. I needed to see how the citizens of my adopted country perceived me just as much as I needed to see how I perceived them. The audience for my work would largely be Australian citizens and although I am a naturalised Australian and have lived in Australia for more than thirty years I am still perceived by many to be an outsider, Asian due to the unchanged biological body appearance.

In order to fulfil the brief for this assignment on conceptualizing my identity I therefore searched for something that could symbolise my ethnic background while acknowledging the environmental changes that had helped to fashion my current identity. I researched Chinese culture and history for a suitable symbol and decided to use dried lotus leaves as a metaphor for

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my Chinese heritage and the living lotus plant to show how I have evolved as a human being. The lotus plant, a common edible plant in South East Asia, is associated with the life cycle in Buddhist philosophy and is embedded in Chinese thought and art. It was an appropriate starting point for this last undergraduate sculpture assignment in which I was to trace my cultural and personal identity.

In Buddhist teaching the lotus is a metaphor for the human life cycle and for spiritual enlightenment. The lotus rises up from its muddy bed to flower, untainted, in the sunlight. It is a symbol of Buddha’s spiritual enlightenment, untainted by illusion and desire. In Chinese literature it reminds mortals to live their lives with purity and dignity. My identity is connected with this Chinese cultural symbol through my understanding that birth is given without choice but the individual must awaken and strive to journey towards the ultimate destination and be reborn without being tainted. To express this idea I carefully selected various materials besides the lotus leaves: off-cuts of timber, willow, cigarette filters, mild steel and cardboard boxes, to create a body of work Lotus Trace I, (illus.51~55) which would evoke the Buddhist concept of the life cycle as I understand it and that I accept as being part of my identity. The materials selected for these sculptural objects evoked the concept of various stages of the life cycle from death to rebirth, youth, age, decay and, once more death.

Illus. 51. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace I, 2005. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 52. Ruth Liou Lotus Trace I ~ Youth, 2005. Dried lotus leaves, copper & fibreglass. 100cm diametre. Photo: Ruth Liou.

Illus.53. Ruth Liou Lotus Trace I ~ Decaying, 2005. Willow timber, nylon net & fibreglass. 100cm diametre. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 54. Ruth Liou. New Birth, 2005. Cigarette filters on shallow frame. 110 x 80cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus.55. Ruth Liou Lotus Trace I ~ Decaying & Rebirth, 2005. Mild steel on rice. 160 x 100cm Photo: Ruth Liou

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Honours Studies ~ Lotus Trace II When I began my Honours Studies in 2006 I decided to focus on sculpture because the making of objects facilitated the illustration of my thoughts on social and cultural issues within contemporary frameworks.

Using dried lotus leaves to signify my cultural identity in my undergraduate work made me aware of the possibilities of exploring the beautiful traditions in Chinese culture and expressing these traditions through the use of the lotus plant as a theme in my work. I wanted to pay homage to the iconic status that the lotus plant has had and its impact on the beliefs and values central to Chinese culture. This research could, in turn, broaden my personal appreciation and comprehension of my heritage and help me to acknowledge values inherent in my culture.

The body of work for Honours, Lotus Trace II was to demonstrate my appreciation of the natural characteristics of cleanliness, humility and grace of the Lotus. The flower emerges from the mud. Despite a dirty and difficult environment its persistence and tenacity and its beautiful, elegant form make it a symbol of virginity and encourages people to think of the dignity of life. I explored the symbolism of the Lotus in Chinese philosophy, literature and art, both classical and folk. Spiritual values central to the lives and thoughts of the Chinese people are represented through reference to this humble flower. In Chinese art the Lotus is presented as a reminder of the miracle of beauty, light and life. It inspires people to continue to strive through difficulty while showing their best attributes to the outside world. The plant is thought of as being a gentle person with creative power, remaining untainted amid adverse surroundings.

Chinese Art is often rich in rebus - that is the illustration of a word or phrase by pictures or images that suggest an informative meaning – particularly under Confucian influence. In Chinese ink wash paintings, the prime virtues are connected to the Bamboo, Wild Orchid, Chrysanthemum and Plum Blossom branch, these four plants were known as the ‘Four Gentlemen’.216 The symbolic meaning of each is deeply rooted in Chinese thinking as a guide to ethics. Lotus flower was a later inclusion in Chinese Arts and Literature. Lotus has been not only glorified by the scholars but has also been well received in folk lore.

216 Ink wash painting existed during Song dynasty of the fifth century and developed further in Tang Dynasty (618- 907). Each plant needs certain brush strokes to be mastered in the ink wash painting style. For Confucius, bamboo symbolises the virtues and integrity in a ‘gentleman’, endurance and pure heart, because it is hollow stemmed and can survive a severe storm, bending without breaking. It represents summer. The Wild Orchid represents spring. It refers to feminine virtues, grace, beauty and fragility. Chrysanthemum represents autumn. It symbolises the virtue of being strong and unwavering with the change of the season. Plum Blossom is the symbol of winter, hope and endurance. Erin Harvan “China: Journey to the East,” British Museum. Spring 2001. (emphasis added.) http://webcache.googleusercontent.com/search?q=cache:fUrt6c2FRaoJ:https://www.britishmuseum.org/pdf/Chinese_ symbols_1109.pdf+&cd=7&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us (accessed 7/7/2007) and book by: Patricia Bjaaland Welch. Chinese Art: A Guide to Motifs and Visual Imagery. (Hong Kong: Turtle Publishing, 2008), 20-25.

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The body of work consisted of two sets; the first being a wall mounted sculpture 2.2 metres in diameter, The Circle of Life and the second part was a set of six free standing sculptural objects created in the form of the lotus blooms: The Truth, Goodness and Beauty, each bloom being approximately 1.2 metres in height (illus.56).

The core of my sculptural project for my Honours work was focused on the innate beauty of the Lotus flower. Its symbolism in Buddhist beliefs and its important place in Chinese literature stimulated me and gave focus to my search for cultural identity.

illus. 56. Ruth Liou. The Lotus Trace II, 2007. Photo: Ruth Liou

Project 1 ~ The Circle of Life Buddhism teaches that both seeds and flower co-exist in the lotus, signifying “cause and effect’ and representing the cycle of life. This Buddhist thinking has influenced Chinese beliefs generally. Buddhism perceives life as suffering in a sullied environment. I have incorporated Buddhist teaching into my work in Lotus Trace II.

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illus. 57. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II: The Circle of Life, 2007. Chinese herbal medicines, copper and mixed paint materials. 220cm diametre. photo: Ruth Liou.

In The Circle of Life (illus.57) which is Project 1 in Lotus Trace II I have chosen the ancient Chinese copper coin217 shape for a two dimensional work. I used the CNC laser router machine to model out four segments to form a 2.2 metre circle with a square shape hollowed out in the centre when joined. I took on this work quite symbolically. To deliver the concept of a life journey, I applied the Chinese Yin and Yang principles, and the symbols of shapes and colours for this work. In Chinese culture the square represents the Earth as the living place. It connoted as an element of Yin, therefore, I applied the Yin colour of silver to represent the ‘Earth’ place. In the hollowed centre which represented the birthplace of humankind, I made a shallow timber tray which contained delicate dried white fungus,218 commonly named ‘white wooden-ear’ in Chinese food and herbal medicine (illus.58), to indicate the delicate beauty of the new born. The outer circle represents heaven, the other-side after death. It is a Yang element so the colour of gold was used. The journey from birth towards heaven requires strength as the life passage is not smooth and bright. It conceals wickedness and traps. To represent this journey I used the

217 The earlier Chinese currencies included shell, metal knife, spade-shaped coins and fabric with calligraphic written value. The hole in the centre of those metal currencies was to make them easier to carry with a string tied up on to the waist line. The copper coins originated in the late Warring States period (480-221 BC).The first Emperor of Qin (221-206 BC) was the first to reform the monetary system and the Chinese language. The coin’s shape was round, with a square hole in the centre. Peter Bernholz and Roland Vaubel (ed.) “Explaining Monetary and Financial Innovation: A historical analysis,” Financial and Monetary Policy Studies 39 (2014), 6. 218 White fungus (Tremellafuciformis), grow on the trunks of dead trees. It is ivory in colour, not much flavour of its own. They are used as both herbal medicine and food in Chinese cooking, closely related to and slightly rarer than black fungus. It represents immortality. Available online: http://www.howei.com/catalog/product_info.php?products_id=447&osCsid=4d716d8f427ec039f90644d1cb2b6429 updated on Wednesday 13 October, 2004. (accessed 17/6/06)

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colour red to represent the energy we carry, and over the red I used the Chinese herbal medicine, shen-di219 black in colour with a subtle sweet honey aroma, to represent the seductive darkness and the roughness of the path of our life. This work was created to show my understanding of the journey of life.

illus. 58. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. White fungus & Shen-di. Photo: Ruth Liou.

Project 2 ~ The Truth, Goodness and Beauty

Art is really man’s interpretation of the inner life of his surroundings.220

In traditional Chinese aesthetic culture, flowers stand at the centre of emotion, they are used to convey a range of sentiments. Generally, flowers are associated with youth, beauty, and pleasure and they represent the transience of life as they wilt and perish.221 This body of work (illus.59~64) was created to celebrate the innate beauty of the Lotus plant as feminine, elegantly composed and an emblem profoundly imbedded in Chinese culture. It expressed the fundamental nature of the Lotus interwoven with Chinese folk-lore symbols and motifs. The work induced strong traditional cultural references and it showed that the iconic Lotus and Chinese culture were inseparable. They mutually embraced each other.

219 Shen-di, root of Rehmanniae Glutinosa Libosch. Used for cooling and to stop bleeding. Harvest in autumn. Interestingly, its direct translation from its Chinese name is ‘birth-place’. 220 Adrienne K. Redpath, “Early Australian Artistic Expression: Traditional and Popular Culture,” International Journal of the Arts in Society 2, 4 (2008): 1-4. Australia: Common Ground. www.arts-jounal.com 221 Ruth Liou The Lotus Trace II, unpublished Honours paper, p. 9. Summarised from “Chinese flower paintings,” available online: http://www.weiyangart.com/Chinese_Flower_Paintings.html (20/5/06)

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My vision for this work was to have a silvery appearance with a shiny surface signifying the yin or female qualities of the work; the use of durable materials was to depict the strength within the delicate lotus plant. My mental image for this body of work was lace effects. In searching for appropriate materials I investigated the use of stainless steel shim and meshes, sterling silver, silver plated copper shim, wires and papers but the ideas were either unachievable or turned down by tradesman due to the design being too intricate to silver-plate. In the end, I had to settle on my childhood skill – crochet with fine white cotton, incorporated with digitalised embroidery and sewing, and the silk-screen print technique to accomplish the desired textures and form for the sculpture, to signify its qualities of delicacy, fragility, beauty, strength and purity. The colour of this work remains white as it represents cleanliness and preciousness.

illus. 59. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 60. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

Illus. 61. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Trevor Weekes.

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Illus. 62. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 63. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 64. Ruth Liou. Lotus Trace II, 2007. Cotton, polyester, aluminium, crochet, digital embroideries and screen-prints, High 120cm. Photo: Ruth Liou.

On each petal of the blooms, I incorporated a silk-screen print on synthetic fabric using selected traditional Chinese folk-art motifs, patterns and Chinese characters. Each bloom incorporated two Chinese characters in ancient Seal Script style ‘xiao-zhan’222 – a script that was formed two thousand two hundred years ago. The characters depicted: Truth (真); Goodness (善); Beauty (美); Heaven (天); Earth (地); Being (人); Heart (心); Confucianism (儒); Daoism (道); Buddhism (佛); Lotus (蓮) and Cathay/Flower (華). Each bloom was made in two parts; the individual flower head is slotted into a holder on top of the stand as the stem. Two of the six stands employed the modern technology of digitalised embroidery of the Chinese characters for ‘Longevity’ and ‘Love.’ I created six different crochet patterns for each bloom and four of the

222 Xiao-Zhan is an elegant script, the direct parent of the modern, un-simplified Chinese script. Its characters are more linear, have not attained the angular look of late Chinese scripts.

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stands. Like the blooms they were hardened, and then glued onto the aluminium braces to signify strength of mind and fluidity, the qualities at the core of this work.

This body of sculptural work is not intended to be an accurate portrait of the lotus bloom, but the object is self-referential, a sense of space stretching from the bloom to the motif. It is a search for the meaning of life through my reflections upon my culture. The work elicits the quality of gracefulness and elegance, symbolized by the directness and uprightness of the Lotus. The Lotus does not bend to flattery. The intention of this work was to embrace the history and the heritage of Chinese culture within Western contemporary art practice. It was also intended to preserve timeless values and beliefs in the search for profound and multilayered meaning of life. The work encompasses cultural issues, visions, ideas and materials, made into a sculpted beautiful-hearted lotus.

Visual Art allows me to articulate my ideas into reality - something tangible and everlasting. Through this project, I realised that my sculpture practice always connoted a personal understanding, a vision or a thought relating to life. I do not restrict my work to one particular medium. Often an idea comes into my mind first, then in my imagination I have to form the image before searching for suitable and manageable materials to realise the image. This method of practice presents many challenges in finding the most appropriate materials and it often requires me to learn new skills. I am constantly finding myself in unknown territory and unfamiliar space but I see this as part of my journey to understand my identity and express myself through my work. In this sense, my position is always in the ambivalent space – the liminal.

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The Passage of Research and Findings

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Chapter 11 ‘I’ in the Liminal ~ A Place to Be

Introduction This chapter contains the rationale of the creative component of my practice-based research and responds to the concepts suggested in the title: ‘Lotus Trace III: Hybrid Cultural Identity ~ a place to call Home’ in reply to the research questions listed in Chapter 1. I have explored and analysed the emotional creative responses of six displaced artists through their creative works. This chapter examines the concepts, viewpoints and interpretations gained through my own trans-experience.223 I have disclosed and transformed these into a body of visual metaphors that validates and represents my becoming-self. This transitory space, creates a split and hybridised self in the betwixt and between. The creative components locate my metaphysical belongingness. The title of this research paper starts with the words Lotus Trace III which is a reference point for the continuing exploration of my cultural identity. The Lotus plant was used in my undergraduate studies to signify my cultural origins but the research element of my current work has moved beyond an understanding of my cultural origins to embrace a much more complex hybrid identity.

Like the journey of life, this research too has an unforeseen and fluid pathway. At the beginning of the research journey I thought I had clear directions and plans about where and what to harvest as I entered the ‘fields of research.’ As I progressed my research I realised that the path had taken some turns and twists that led to quite unexpected discoveries. Consequently I had to discard some of my initial intentions about the way in which my sculptural works would proceed so that my research and my sculptural installations would be balanced and honest.

The creative component of this practice-based research comprises multiple sculptural objects. They are separated into two groups of installation work one displayed at each end of the University Gallery floor space. The creative component of this research is discussed below beginning with the first group of sculptural components: The Becoming Self at Threshold A pair of enlarged Doorknockers; A Doorway from which the doorknockers hang; A pair of child’s shoes placed midway on the staircase;

223 A notion developed by late Chen Zhen (1955-2000) refers the vivid and profound complex life experiences of leaving one’s native place and going from one place to another in one’s life, characterised by in-between-ness. Graeme Sullivan. Art Practice as Research: inquiry in visual arts. (California: SAGE) 155.

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A segment of Staircase placed in front of the doorway; An abstract figure across the doorway looking towards the opposite wall; Multiple beeswax objects of different shapes and forms.

The second group includes sculptural components: Locating the ‘I’ ~ and Belongingness Mural stencils/or drawings of iconic land-marks on two side walls; A carved Chinese temple bell placed in between the mural stencils; Natural gumnuts placed under the bell.

Although, this research explores personal experiences of displacement, these insights are also reflected and shared by many others who are in a similar position to my own.

illus.65. Ruth Liou. The Threshold and Trace of Identity, 2014. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 66. Ruth Liou. The Bell, 2014.

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The Becoming Self at the Threshold The migration experience to Australia made me aware of the boundary between countries both in physical and invisible forms. The process of acquiring admittance to this country was daunting. There was the implication of power and control, marking out the sets of division between you and I, here and there, departure and arrival. My first sense of my ethnicity was when I was required to be identified through the colour of my eyes and hair. It had never occurred to me that this was necessary and an important part of identification. At that time I was unaware of the differences and issues of ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’.

By migrating to Australia which has a culture that embraces the concept of individuality, negotiating differences was inevitable but the joy of wandering, exploring and aspiring in the ‘new’ place overtook the harsh struggles other people may have experienced. The only thing I found difficult besides the language was ‘personal space.’ The invisible distance between people is very strong and obvious. Coming from the collective culture of the East I often felt myself left ‘outside.’ However, over time, I have tuned into local ways of living, style, attitudes and behaviours and I now dwell strongly in my ‘personal space.’ The migration experience changed me in many ways, often insensibly and unconsciously and has influenced the way I think, act and even take on different values and tastes which are completely opposite to my cultural origin.

When people of my birth-country made comments to me such as: ‘you have changed’, ‘you are very western now’, I learnt that they had cast me out from ‘sameness’ and cloaked me in an aura of foreignness. The feeling of loss was apparent. On the other hand, when people of my new home consider I am ‘Australian’ after acknowledging the length of time I have resided here, they give me a feeling of warmth, reassurance and inclusion. These splits in sentiments and perceptions are often unspoken and unnoticed. It seems that the ‘self’ has become a ‘foreign’ self and it is the new bits of ‘difference’ that are the marks for exclusion and inclusion. My trans-national and trans-cultural transition has made me realise my ‘old self’ could never be regained, and the ‘inner’ difference has placed me on the borderline in a peripheral space of ambiguity and ambivalence.

My transitional experience assured me that the migration process does affect one’s identity and alters one’s perception of self and sense of belonging; furthermore, it is the subjectivity of ‘others’ that has the power to determine who we are. The experience of migration has made me sensitive to ‘differences’ and invisible boundaries. I believe boundaries dwell in the structure of

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human consciousness and exist on multi-levels in different forms within and between national and social contexts, cultures and individuals.

In society, we are accustomed to and ruled by boundaries of laws, morals, rights, responsibilities etc., and we even form space beyond our body, building a boundary between the self and others in separating what is yours and mine. Boundaries become a form of power struggle between human beings, creating a division of differences and designating a point of entry and exit, marking out what is included and what is not. No doubt, the many advances that make transport, travel and transmission of information easier and that are part of the recognised process of globalisation, have blurred the soft, invisible boundaries of our world; but we still live in a very border specified world whether it is in a material or conceptual sense.

To have boundaries is to set limits and define spaces. To have a border there must be a central reference point and the very point rests on subjective determination. As borders exist in both physical and invisible forms; Judith Rugg has specified the border as a site of anxiety and ambiguity. A place may induce conflict and transgression as well as the threshold of potential intervention. It is an instrument of control that articulates hierarchies of dominance and structures of power. As a discursive site, the border generates a negotiating space of initiative and marks forms of dissension that define the limits of disempowerment.224 These issues in conjunction with my personal perspective are explored in my studio research which I have realised into a body of sculptural installation.

Doorknockers ~ the Boundary Sets In & Out My first sculptures are created to articulate the issues of the ambiguity and uncertainty at the point of negotiating space, where the invisible border line is both of empowerment and disempowerment, the inclusion or exclusion is ruled by others – the subjectivity of the insider. To signify the boundary, a point of departure and arrival in my creative work, I use the symbolic feature of the doorknocker (illus.67) to express my perspective and understanding from my own migration and life experience. We are accustomed to the doorknocker’s functional use for knocking (on a door in a home or a room) to seek admittance or to call for attention, but the consequence is ambiguous: the door may not open. In personal relationships, we may sometimes find it hard to discover a door to knock upon; or we may have been knocking hard but no one has answered, even if someone is inside. At other times, the door is open even before

224 Judith Rugg, Exploring Site-Specific Art: issues of Space and Internationalism (London: I.B. 2001), 168 – 174.

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we arrive. I was drawn to the common functional gesture and physicality of the doorknocker used in our lives as a metaphorical instrument of connection.

illus. 67. The Threshold, (detail) 2014.

The Creation and Concepts To articulate and translate theoretical concepts of a transitory space to a creative form, I have decided on a pair of Chinese style doorknockers and made them into an unrealistic size. The doorknockers are made of cast-iron and timber. The design of the doorknockers was drawn from ancient Chinese ornaments and motifs especially the funerary objects found in the Tomb of Zeng Hou Yi of the Zeng State (about 433BC), early Warring States Period (戰國初期) of China.225 Among those objects I have chosen a pair of non-identical coiled dragon jade pendants

225 Chinese archaeologists excavated the tomb in 1978 in Suizhou City, Hubei Province. The unearthed items were totalling to more than 15,000 objects, including bronze wares, weapons, gold vessels, jade objects, lacquer coated wooden articles (texts were well protected), and bamboo slips, among them there was the first largest and best- preserved bronze chime-bells embodying 65 instruments, which is significant for studying ancient musical instrument history and technical manufacturing history in China. These unearthed pieces, especially the bronze and jade objects, attract my romanticism and fascination with Chinese aesthetics. (catalogue) “The High Appreciation of the Cultural Relics of the Zeng Hou Yi Tomb,” Hubei Provincial Museum, 1995, 2-10.

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with relief carving of grain patterns which I later modified and joined as one fixed double dragon design adorned with studs. It is joined with a hinge. Both were firstly made in patterns for the foundry to sandcast in iron and then left to rust (refer to work in progress (WIP) illus.68- 70), the cast-iron hinge it was later welded onto the double-dragon and bolted into the bottom timber piece.

illus. 68. WIP metal part of knocker with hinge. Cast-iron.

The Symbolism of the Dragon and other Adornments Chinese life, art and literature abound in symbolism. This is not limited to nature, trees and plants, birds, animals and spirits. Symbols contain auspicious meanings in association with mythology and are a significant link with past history and culture. The dragon in East Asia is a mythical animal usually a charitable symbol of fertility, a symbol of cosmic Chi (energy), associated with water and heaven. In ancient China, the dragon is a symbol of imperial authority. It refers to the Emperor and the power of the central government. Unlike the dragons of Western cultures which are portrayed as gruesome monsters of mediaeval imagination and evil, the Chinese Dragon is a beneficent creature, a genius of strength and goodness carrying implications of power with particular control over water, rainfall and thunder. It embodies strength, nobility and divinity and has played a large part in China’s rich history.226 Over time it has become the symbol of China and its culture, and Chinese contemporaries refer to themselves as the descendants of the Dragon.

The original decorative relief motif of grains on the dragon pendants symbolise regeneration and represent fertility and abundance, they also serve as sign of prosperity indicating that the Emperor has the capacity to feed his people. For my research, I wanted to make these studs

226 Charles Alfred Speed Williams, Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs (New Jersey: Castle Books, 1974), 132-140.

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more pointed. The initial design was to assemble them like the spiral hair of the Buddha where its symbolism could correlate with the dome of the temple bell. After making the mould and casting in wax I found they concealed undercuts which might fail when sandcasting. So I have experimented with a number of shapes and forms and have settled on one similar to the punctuation mark of a comma and it is also very close to the Chinese archaic writing form for the word of cloud (illus. 70). As the dragon is associated with the heavens and water, clouds are a most appropriate association for the studs but I would also like to associate them with the comma. According to the Oxford Dictionary, the punctuation mark comma ‘indicates a pause between parts of a sentence or separating items in a list.’227 Therefore, in my opinion, the shape of a comma and its connotation correlates and highlights my research concept of the Threshold to place emphasis on the transitory space, which is self-explanatory.

illus. 69. WIP laser cut (a small sample) for the pattern. illus. 70. WIP pattern making for foundry to cast in Photo: Ruth Liou. iron. MDF board and beeswax. Photo: Ruth Liou.

The bottom part of the knocker is made with sheet-timber (illus.72-83 of WIP).228 The abstracted design is a simplified form mirroring the dragon design above with the design of bat wings carved to give a three-dimensional form (illus.71).

The Symbolism of the Bats Bats play an important part in Chinese folklore. Some Chinese bats were very large with wings that could measure up to two feet across, and an early Chinese Herbal book recorded that bats could live a thousand years, and prescribed them as ingredients in certain medicines. In

227 “The definition of a Comma,” Online English. http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/comma (accessed : 4/7/2015) 228 The sheet-timber was first cut by digital-programmed CNC router, and laminated together for the desired thickness. The edge-router was then used to refine the shapes, followed by manual carving technique on the surface. It was completed with layers of sanding, pigmentation and varnish.

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traditional Chinese culture they are emblematic of blessings, longevity and wealth; this is owing to the similarity in pronunciation of the Chinese word bat (蝠) to the word of blessing (福) and wealth (富).229 In the practice of Feng Shui, bats are often known to invite fortunes as a blessing sign.

The set of doorknockers are then bolted to a simple rusty metal-plate holder to counterpart the stylised design of the dragon knockers below and they are suspended from the beam. The weight of the complete set of doorknockers including the metal-plate holders is estimated to be about eighty kilograms. The stylised timber knockers were pigmented to achieve different tones to reveal the contour of the bat wing carving. They were then varnished with high gloss finishes (illus.71). The aim of this approach is to attract attention, inviting people to touch or play with them. It also creates a contrast to the rusty cast-iron above.

illus 71. WIP pigmented and varnished view. Photo: Ruth Liou.

The aim of this pair of non-functional and giant sized doorknockers is to be hung in the air with no door attached to evoke bewilderment so that people may reassess and reassociate with the actual connotation and functionality of doorknockers, while recognising them as being actually ‘strange’ and ‘different.’

229 Williams, Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs, 34.

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illus. 72. WIP joining sheet-timber for knockers. illus. 73. WIP machine sanding the joined Photo: Ruth Liou. sheet-timber. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 74. WIP CNC cutting the joined illus. 75. WIP stack and glue 3 layers of CNC cut pieces sheet-timber. Photo: Ruth Liou. together. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 76. WIP joinery of stacked pieces. illus. 77. WIP design drawing to shape the edge. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 78. WIP edge shaping by router. illus. 79. WIP a view of completed edge, then sand Photo: Ruth Liou. by hand and machine. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 80. WIP carving the surface of the knocker. illus. 81. WIP hand sanding of carved section. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 82. WIP more hand sanding and refinement. illus. 83. WIP machine sanding the edges. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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The doorknockers are used to depict what I have perceived as boundaries when I enter into a new space and place. They provide the sense of space defining ‘inside’ and ‘outside’ and acknowledge the power and control associated with borders by reminding us of their function. We use doorknockers daily but we often do not think very deeply about their cultural implications because we are accustomed to them as functional. Doorknockers are normally affixed to a door as a device to be used when calling for attention, but the placement of these doorknockers was on an invisible door making knocking impossible. Such a placement evokes an ambivalent state of uncertainty and ambiguity. To enter without knocking would be seen as an intrusion breaking the boundary of mutual respect, yet the invisible door may indicate an open path, welcome and inclusion, suggesting that knocking is unnecessary. A pair of doorknockers hanging in air, draws attention to the ambiguity of the work – were they there as a barrier or as an open entrance where knocking is pointless because there is no door? In this work I would like to think the implication of this non-functional object has not been diminished, on the contrary, the doorknockers should deliver strong emphasise and establish the ‘visible’ boundary, in its own terms. The doorknockers mark the relationship of the central and marginal positions as to who is allowed in and who is not. This work is to remind us of powerlessness when faced with the dominance of the hierarchies – when there is no door to knock on.

This work addresses my research question, that one’s perception of ‘belongingness’ could be affected by the experience of transition. In the case of voluntary migration, the person has the freedom to move in and out of the country origin to country of adoption, whereas for exiles, their home-door was forced to close on them or they forced it to close behind them. The voluntary migrant would have quite a different experience to the exile when knocking on the new country’s door. Such issues provided the main reason for me to explore and identify hybrid cultural identity and the psychological states in us in dealing with belongingness through the analysis of the works of six displaced artists.

Initially, my plan was to make a pair of doorknockers to be suspended from the University Gallery’s ceilings but the structure of its ceilings was not built to hold any weighted items; therefore, I had to make alterations to incorporate a new work into my initial proposal – a stand, in representing a doorway for holding the doorknockers. The modification of design to compensate for this unexpected problem has turned in my favour. It enhanced the aesthetics and added weight in theorising my concept – the space of threshold, – a transitional phenomenon.

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The Doorway ~ Thresholds The doorway delineates both a philosophical and corporeal space. The doorway serves as threshold - a characteristic of liminality. It symbolises the passing from one state to another, from the known into unknown and light to darkness; it defines inside and outside, private and public. A closed door may symbolise impeding an entry that offers protection. When the door opens it symbolises acceptance and offers an area to explore. The doorway a transitional phenomenon not only indicating a threshold but inviting us to cross it into the beyond. As Jeff Malpas stated: “The threshold is that across which we step, over which we move, in order to enter or depart.”230 From this perspective, a threshold delimits in between two contiguous spaces. It calls to mind characters who venture, in both spatial and embodied senses. It implies intervention and transformation as Victor Turner (as quoted in Chapter 2) has stated, this is a period of marginal representing moments, the ‘betwixt and between’ of two fixed states, where the ‘liminal personae’ are in social limbo at a stage of an unknown and invisible state.

The Creation and Concepts The preliminary design of the doorway was to give an ancient Eastern sensitivity to correspond with the stylised doorknockers. But even by mimicking Eastern joinery and having made the wooden dowels more visible, on completion this doorway seemed to be a structure you would find on the Newcastle docks. In the fine Chinese joinery found in traditional imperial and sacred Chinese architecture only pure gold is used to cap the end grain. An unexpected outcome of this doorway which was designed to suggest eastern architecture but which more strongly suggests the industrial architecture of Newcastle (illus.84) has made me aware that place has an influence on our psyche. When I arrived in the city of Newcastle in early 2005 and saw the big metal ‘creatures’ that stood on the far horizon line Newcastle I was terrified and could not believe my eyes and I could not work out what they were for a long time. To me they seemed like giant toys. Immediately I could feel the power of these unrecognisable objects. I have never seen anything like them either while I was living in industrial Kaohsiung or urban Sydney.231 However, the influence of their ‘masculinity’, strength and rustiness of the city was empowering brought a turning point in my sculptural development when I began to use steel as a medium. The change of environment has made me believe that the environment does have great impact on one’s sensory and rational state and influences ones decisions and reactions.

230 Jeff Malpas. ‘At the Threshold: The Edge of Liminality,’ Exhibition: ‘Liminality,’ curated by Colin Langridge, held at the Carnegie Gallery, Hobart, Tasmania, March 2008. (Exhibition period unknown.) 231 It was BHP steel infrastructure machinery left in the field when it closed in Newcastle in 1999.

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To cater for the size and the weight of the doorknockers a support was made of Australian hard- wood Ash. The final piece measures three metres in height and width. The finish on the surface of the timber was scorched to simulate an aged effect then waxed (illus.85 and WIP images (illus.85-91)). This gantry, The Threshold serves as a metaphor for a doorway as an expression of the transitional phenomenon that I have explored in my research.

illus. 84. Ruth Liou. The Threshold. 2014.

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illus. 85. WIP of the Doorway. Timber. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 86. WIP of Doorway to be torched. illus. 87. WIP to secure and bolt the bottom part to Photo: Ruth Liou. the post. Timber. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 88. WIP of Doorway. Timber. illus. 89. WIP of Doorway, holes for bolts and nuts. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 90. WIP of washers. illus. 91. WIP of Doorway. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

A door manifestly polices the threshold. People relate to a door as a symbolic passage for life. An invisible door places a strong emphasis on the space inside It emphasises the concepts of liminality which I explore in this research, the between spaces of ‘before and after’, ‘past and future.’ The effect of leaving and arriving generates the transformation of the ‘becoming’ self, more so, for displaced people who are torn between here and there, present and past and their new becoming self is negotiated in silence. Transformation embraces uncertainty, a liberating process that opens the door to new beginnings with new perspectives, and allows them to truly step into unknown territory, to turn unfamiliar into familiar through struggle. Over the course of our life we go through a series of mini-initiations, (e.g. infant to puberty, parenthood and pensioner etc.) and each transition experiences is a ‘small death’ of the past. We have no control over the changes; however, the transformation has enormous effects on individuals as it affects their perspective on the way they see the world around them.

While I was constructing the Threshold research work, it drew me to observe a dynamic ‘betwixt and between’ space from my own standpoint, and question myself; could the transitory space be the permanent location for displaced people? Theorists like Turner, Bhabha and Ang appeal to us to think that the liminal personae in the transitory space is in danger as it seeks to attain a new form of hybrid-self within the dominant culture. From my observations, especially while I was living in Sydney, I mingled in between multicultural communities and observed that most ethnicities are living in self-sufficient cultural pockets within the dominant culture. In finding security they are also building their new cultural identities (ethnic origin/Australian) and living harmoniously with each other; for example, suburbs like Leichhardt, Haberfield and Five Dock are well populated with Italians and Greeks, Ashfield and Chatswood are now home to people from Shanghai and Hong Kong, Auburn is known for its Lebanese population and

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Cabramatta for its Vietnamese. They recreate homes ‘here’, where they can find authentic ethnic foods, services in their languages and familiar cultural events. These ethnic areas have a useful purpose. Many migrants do not need to move out of their own culture arena while they construct their hybrid identity in an already hybrid and multi-cultural society. No doubt, the recreation of a familiar home here, is a survival mechanism, but the home here is never the same, and the migrant could still be what Turner described as ‘invisible’ within the domain. The displaced dwell in the peripheral and in-between-ness of the two or multiple opposite cultures. These observations address the research question I posed about the way in which the displaced deal with the emotional attachment to their old home. The displaced tend to cling to the old while grabbing the new in order to construct their own way of arriving at a new place. They are fully parted from the old yet they are not totally creating the new, they are still reliant on the presence of both former and present.

The set of Beeswax objects ~ Identity Construction Situated under The Threshold, is a set of two bodies of sculpture objects: The Trace of Becomingness made in beeswax. They are displayed in front of and across the doorway. This set of beeswax objects are additional to my initial proposal. This adjustment was a result of my research and my greater understanding of the concepts of Identity, Threshold and ‘Difference’ in Poststructuralist and Post-Colonialist theory. This additional knowledge has broadened the theoretical contextualisation and my visual language. It enabled me to consolidate both the theoretical and visual to a resolved conclusion.

My intention was to keep this body of beeswax work natural and monochromatic. I gave considerable thought to the selection of suitable materials for this set of work. To settle for beeswax as a medium has great significance to my concept development. The beeswax I used was in its purest state, unmodified, directly extracted from the beehives with a strong honey fragrance. The pure soft translucent yellow coloured beeswax correlates to the pure and precious beginning of our lives.

The Symbolism of Yellow and Wax For the Imperial Court of China, the colour of yellow was associated with royalty. Yellow satin robes with dragon images were only for the emperor, his chair was covered in yellow satin, and he was protected by a yellow satin umbrella with three rows of fringing and the dragon images were sewn in gold-thread. The name of the first legendary Chinese emperor, a chief deity of the

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Taoism, Huang Di (黃帝), better known for the direct English translation as the ‘Yellow Emperor’. He was the ancestor of all Han Chinese people and reigned from about 2697 BC to 2598 BC.232 Traditionally, Chinese refer to the farmland and the soil of China as their birth and death place as part of their identities: ‘Yellow Earth’ (黃土). Traditionally yellow signifies stability and courage in China. It is the main colour of Buddhism representing freedom from worldly care. Buddhist monks wear yellow robes. Yellow is a grounding colour and the yellow colour of the beeswax I have used echoes the symbolism of the colour yellow in Chinese culture. The colour of yellow has been openly associated with the skin of Chinese or Asian and I accept this association as relating to my ethnic origin.

The malleable characteristic of beeswax makes it a flexible material easily transformed to form different shapes. This makes it a perfect medium to express my concept of identity formation because it displays the fluid and changing nature of identity construction.

illus. 92. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness, (detail). Beeswax and mixed medium.

The first body of beeswax work is a pair of child’s slippers placed midway on the tread of the staircase (illus. 92) placed on the floor before the entrance of the doorway facing across the space towards the second group of wax objects. The second body of work comprises a split figure which stands amongst multiple shapes and forms (illus. 94), This series of objects contextualises the transitory phenomenon of Identity configuration and ‘becomingness’.

232 Williams, Chinese Symbolism and Art Motifs, 1974, 41.

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A pair of Child’s Slippers ~ the Beginning of Life Our identities are limited when we are born but evolve as life evolves. Throughout the passage of our lives, we encounter many small initiations and each one is endowed with the prospect for us to gain knowledge and experience in constructing the person we become. Apart from our physical aging, the knowledge and experiences that take place in changing us are internal as though we are mutated like the character of the malleable beeswax. The work, The Trace of Becomingness indicates the order in constructing one’s hybrid identity as part of psychological- social phenomenon in our already globalised world. I related this process to Neil Campbell’s The Rhizomatic West, where Campbell adapted Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s ‘rhizome’ concept in describing how the American West continually breaks away from a mainstream notion of American. They renew and transform in various cultural forms and become a hybrid space.233 The implication of rhizome in identity is that, because the roots grow in all directions, intersect, meet and cross each other, to trace the beginning is impossible and there is not an end. This self-transformation in a complex phenomenon is an invisible progression often silent and not conscious, and this transformation is continuous and will progress until life ceases.

The Creation and Concepts To articulate my concept on Identity construction, I thought it most appropriate to express it with a pair of child’s slippers. The size of the shoes indicates the early stage of life since the first threshold we cross is when we set out from our mother’s womb. The soft yellow beeswax coated over the shoes as a way to conceal, to signify our unmarked beginning and the preserved memories of our past.

Shoes remind us of the trace of footsteps representing a journey of our past; and it is the past that ‘carries’ us to the present and into the future. My other intention in creating this pair of shoes was to express the ‘being’ of our past which is not finite. The ‘being’ only exists in the future, it is ever in the making and never complete. Slavoj Zizek has expressed this (influenced by Deleuze’s notion of ‘virtual’) as “pure becoming without being” which is “always forthcoming an already past”, but it is never present or corporeal. The virtual is a liminal space that consists only in its state of becomingness, and not an actual being or object. This pure becoming that suspends both “sequentiality and directionality” is a passage, but there is no line of passage.234 Therefore I do not see the need to make a ‘figure’ to emphasise the child’s

233 Neil Campbell, The Rhizomatic West: Representing the American West in a Transnational, Global, Media Age (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2008), 3-4. 234 Slavoj Zizek, Organs without Bodies: Deleuze and Consequences (New York: Routledge, 2003), 9-10.

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presence. The concept for the child’s shoes is to reference and illustrate how I perceived the transition of life from the beginning to the ever-evolving state.

The pair of infant shoes was placed on a segment of staircase also made of beeswax. The beeswax complements the pair of child’s shoes its ease of malleability also indicates the temporal state in the event of transition.

Staircase ~ the Liminal Space A staircase is a functional structure for us to move from one level to another; in the philosophical sense, a staircase creates a passage that sequentially connects two destinies or two states. Symbolically it indicates the stage of transit, at the threshold. This small segment of staircase is placed right in front of the crucial space of the doorway – which enhances and emphasises the threshold concept. The characteristic of threshold is referred to as ‘liminality’ where the transition of approach and withdrawal takes place at the divider line, not yet having entered, nor yet having departed. The space of Liminality is a space unclear and somewhere in between. The staircase with the pair of child’s shoes demonstrates the passage of life, entering into a state of transition that it is departing, but not arriving – an ambivalent state.

This liminal space gives the sense of fluidity. The liminal is situated at a sensory threshold, something barely perceptible; poised between the explicit and the implicit, between external and internal. Displaced people often dwell at the crossroads of familiarity and alienation, new and old. People who have been uprooted are constantly negotiating the unfamiliar while constructing their new becoming identities in the ‘third-space.’ They often feel ambivalence living within unequal power relationships while attempting to maintain the integrity of their identity. Displaced peoples’ minds constantly switch between two values, two sets of understandings with two languages. They switch between connections and contexts as they struggle to negotiate. This struggle for uprooted people in identifying themselves and their loss in a foster land can be seen in the poem ‘Mantra for Migrants’, ~

Always becoming, will never be always arriving, must never land between back home and home unfathomable is me ~ by definition: immigrant. ~ Shani Mootoo235

235 Sneja Gunew, “Multicultural Sites: practices of Un/Homeliness,” in Complex Entanglements: Art, Globalisation and cultural differenc, ed. Nikos Papastergiadis, (London: Rivers Oram Press, 2003), 179.

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The poem indicates that in negotiating life in-between cultures, to embrace values and beliefs of the mainstream culture of the host country whilst retaining cultural qualities from the country of origin, migrants’ experience in constructing the new ‘becoming’ self is at the cost of falling in the ambivalent fissure between two places, and engenders a feeling of being hybrid, making their sense of belonging in both places questionable. The ‘liminal person’ or transitional being as Turner described (refer Chapter 2) is incorporeal, dissolved or even ‘invisible’ during the liminal period, and they are reliant on the presence of both stages.

The Split Figure ~ the Fluidity of Becoming People become fragmented when they step in or out of a ‘home’ environment.’236 Displaced people are facing more complicated and complex identity formation than those who have not left their homeland, psychosomatically; they are travelling in a spatiotemporal sense even if they are not physically travelling from one place to another. Their identity in the host community is necessarily multiple and fluid, and constantly betwixt two values and lives.

As Woodward indicated, the fluidity of identity is concerned with ‘becoming.’ People are not only positioned by their identity, they are also able to position themselves in turn to reconstruct and transform historical identities.237 This struggle is central to migrants’ capacity to negotiate a space between two cultures in public domains to achieve a sense of belonging; their experience exhibits notions of dual attachment, hybridity and difference.238 As a central characteristic of the postmodern condition, identity is constantly shifting within the selfhood. For Giddens identity is a ‘project’, something we can create, always in process, a moving towards rather than an arrival.239 Thus, identity is achieved through interaction and emergence rather than pre- existence; there is no essential constant self that can measure who we really are; we become manifold on a ground that is continually shifting; when one side is in shadow, another is in light.240 In our daily life, we are constantly switching our identities based on our roles. Judith Butler asserts that identity is enacted or performed by constant renewal and assertion.241 In Chapter 5 of this exegesis I discuss how Greg Leong’s work amplifies this line of thinking and addresses identity as “putting on” and “dressing up” in his performance work: JIA, 2008 (illus.93). I saw Leong’s reproduction karaoke style performance at his exhibitions: Made in

236 Wendy Schiessel. Home/Bodies: Geographies of self, place, and space (Calgary Alta: University of Calgary press, 2006), 36. 237 Woodward, Identity and Difference 20-21. 238 Mansouri and Francis. Migrant youth, Cultural Adaptation and Social Policy, 12-15. 239 Anthony Giddens, Modernity and Self-Identity (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1991), 32. 240 Michael Jackson, At Home in the World, (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995), 86. 241 John R. Hall, Mary Jo Neitz and Marshall Battani. Sociology on Culture (London: Routledge, 2003), 36-38.

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China (II) and Golden Threads at Maitland Regional Art Gallery in 2005.242 He dressed up as pictured below and sang his modified lyrics of Waltzing Matilda in both Cantonese and English in humorous and yet cynical style reminding us that Chinese-Australians played an important part in our national history; the performance also demonstrated Leong’s art practice and his multifaceted identities as shaped by his experiences as an ‘outsider’ in contemporary Australia. Leong reveals the complexities of being gay and Asian within the Australian imagination. Therefore, the fluidity of identity reflects impossibilities in constituting a fully separated and distinct identity. It denies the existence of authentic shared origin, e.g. race, class and gender of a person; there is always a temporary multiplicity and unstable state that marks differences.243 I selected Leong’s work for discussion to point out that at any one time or in any one context, we only reveal a small part of ourselves to others, our identities could be self-determined or self- displaying but I believe the ‘acceptance’ of who we are is determined by others. There is not a unified self in us but multiples as a whole that form us. Leong’s work presented me with an insight that ‘body’ can be ‘cultivated’ by us (consciously and unconsciously) to representing the ‘self’ to the others. This is to say that in the physics of nature “bodies are capable of a potentially infinite becoming and modulation within finite limits.”244 Our outer representation is not a reliable source of who we are, and we are multiple beings in one body.

http://www.realtimearts.net/article/issue57/7224

illus. 93. Greg Leong. JIA. Photo: Andrew Charman-Williams. http://www.realtimearts.net/article/issue57/7224

242 Exhibition period: 20 August 2005 - 2 October 2005 243 Lawrence Grossberg, ‘Identity and Cultrual Studies: Is that all there is?,’ in Questions of Cultural Identity, 89. ed. Stuart Hall and Paul DuGay, (London: Thousand Oaks and New Delhi: Sage,) 87-107. 244 Keith Ansell-Pearson, Keith Ansell Pearson, Germinal Life: The Difference and Repetition of Deleuze (New York: Routledge, 1999), 13.

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The Creation and Concepts Post-Structuralism suggests that, identity is not fixed and objective. It is open, negotiable, and ambiguous.245 My perspective on identity was derived from my migration experience together with knowledge I gained in Poststructuralist, Post-Colonialist and Postmodernist concepts of Identity construction, I can see my internal self is constantly splitting, fragmented, and incomplete, always changing on a daily basis because of having two languages and two homes. Therefore, to reflect my views and render my understanding into visual representation, I have constructed two non-identical linear abstract shapes alluding to a ‘split’ hollow figure (illus.94).

illus. 94. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness. (detail).

They are made in beeswax with metal braces in the centre as supports and mounted onto a low base. These are placed across the doorway towards the opposite walls standing in the midst of different forms and shapes of small beeswax objects. This set of beeswax work is to manifest and indicate our transitional experiences in life that lead us through a series of thresholds influencing our identities, which are mutable and uncertain shifting multiples. This research work represents how I recognize and agree that identity is always open, forwardly moving, emerging in incomplete form rather than arriving in a solid form, the ‘split’ indicates that our identities are always partially constructed, constantly slipping and polarised internally. This concept of Identity as fragmented and split was also explored by Valamanesh in his work,

245 David Collinson. “Rethinking Followership: A Post-Structualist Analysis of Follower Identities,” Leadership Quarterly, 17 (2006): 179-189. http://ejournal.narotama.ac.id/files/A%20post-structuralist%20analysis%20of.pdf (accessed 10/8/2012)

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Knocking from Inside, 1989 (refer illus.4 of page 44) in Chapter 4, where he revealed the migrant’s very existence of renewal through the splitting self in the new terra firma. I do not see my work as a direct reproduction of his; instead, his work is included to show how different we were in pursuing the same concept which we delivered in different creative ways. I cautiously and thoughtfully reassessed my work in turn to create a genuine piece of my own in forms and materials used. I avoided producing two solid identical half figures like Valamanesh’s because this ‘duality of binary’ is not what Poststructuralist and Postmodern philosophy stressed. From my perspective I see the identity as ephemeral rather than a permanent state and it is also impossible to constitute a fully coherent and distinct individual. Therefore I have settled on a design of two relatively similar but different hollow forms made with the most convincing medium, beeswax, to compose what I perceived to be the subtlety and fragility in the state of becomingness.

The split figure is positioned among a collective group of beeswax objects across the space of The Threshold. Some of the beeswax objects are placed on a buckled sheet of wax as if they are about to be folded up, packaged together. These beeswax entities are symbolic and functional objects, there are specific tools of an artist’s trade, alongside a book, calligraphy tools, Chinese symbols and forms, as well as ubiquitous wedges and human inventions where I created simple woodblock-like shapes that a child would encounter at an early age. These objects acknowledge and indicate our growth as a learning process. The split figure is grounded on a base by a fragile crochet lotus flower coated in beeswax as if to preserve the quality of the lotus. The placement of an isolated and uprooted lotus flower in beeswax symbolises the purity of the lotus, its persistence, endurance and ontological strength in Buddhist beliefs which inspired me and it is also an indication of the end of the research journey.

The ‘self’ in Buddhist belief is: “the total detachment from … the impermanent self or identity.”246 This phenomenon of identity configuration can be related to Deleuze and Guattari’s initial conception of the rhizome as: “any point of a rhizome can be connected to anything other, and must be.”247 This body of work The Trace of Becomingness is to define the progress of one’s becoming self. It expresses the fleeting, changing assortment of objects and ideas from which the creative self is generated.

I have placed the dual figure delineations gesturing with shoulders towards and away from this end point of beeswax objects, back through the threshold to the beginnings of the cultural

246 Guo-Ming Chen. “On Identity: An alternative view,” (p.113) China Media Research 5, 4. (2009): 109–118. 247 Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, trans. Brian Massumi (London: The Athlone Press, 1988), 7 and 238.

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narrative in childhood. This suggests that the baby’s feet have walked as an adult through The Threshold and defines a point of transition into another realm or culture, as we will find. The ‘becomingness’ is relational and fluid. The uprooted could feel ‘grounded and belong’ to a place where they landed and attached but they could be uprooted and set on another route again. This is a phenomenon of the globalised world, and this ‘becomingness’ is a creative process, an ongoing happening in the spaces between.

iIllus. 95. Ruth Liou. The Trace of Becomingness. (detail).

The concept of ‘becoming’ is regarded by Deleuze and Guattari as a fluid subjectivity beyond evolution, development, mimesis, identification or transformation. The self is seen “as a constant form of becoming rather than a fixed norm.”248 In fact, the ‘self’ is nothing else than “only a threshold, a door, a becoming between two multiplicities.”249 I see the self as a functional feature acting as required to present ourselves to the outside world. We are certainly influenced by the experiences and knowledge we have found or gained along our life passage. This ongoing life-long acquisition and discovery is stored inside us, undetectable to others, always remaining invisible, hiding behind the ‘many other selves’ under our physical appearance.

The plasticity of identity is very much of political significance. The shifting and changing character of identities marks the way we think of ourselves and others, and it could never be pinned down to an absolute conclusion. Especially for displaced people, identity processes are fundamentally ambiguous, and characterised by paradox and contradiction. Transitional and transnational people who were born in a culture which is different from the one their family

248 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, 249. 249 Ibid.

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comes from are more susceptible to the phenomenon of splitting self in both a spatial and a psychological sense. Displaced people traverse critical thresholds involving physical movement that conveys a sense of opening up toward and closing away from. Knowing that they are free- floating, in between the past and the present, the old and the new, in preparing and evolving a new self they are constantly splitting between living in the present and existing through memories of the past. As Bhabha in his colonial discourse asserts the ‘splitting’ is when “two contradictory and independent attitudes inhabit the same place, one takes account of reality, the other is under the influence of instincts which detach the ego from reality.”250 People who have not moved and have no transitional experience are also subject to this splitting because the postmodern world does not let them escape the ‘power of choice’. Everything seems to be so ‘instant’ and accessible for us to collect as though we are in the supermarket grabbing whatever we like, whatever suits us, through social media, panel discussions etc. We exchange ideas, values, and cultural differences much more than previous generations did. This phenomenon was studied by Mathew Gordon who addressed this ‘culture supermarket’251 which has progressively become the style of life in which we live ‘globally’ without moving. This fast transmuting culture and information blurs geography, national and cultural boundaries making it difficult for us to distinguish what is yours and mine, theirs and ours.

Locating the ‘I’ ~ and Belongingness The next set of creative work at the other end of the University Gallery comprises a large Chinese temple bell with natural gumnuts laid loose underneath. The bell is placed in the centre of the gallery floor between two mural sketches depicting iconic landmarks of two places which have influenced the construction of my hybrid identity. On one wall is Uluru Australia and on the opposite wall are the twin Spring and Autumn Pavilions of Taiwan (illus.96-97). In the exhibition the exploration of my cultural background and identity is found mostly in the temple Bell.

There was a modification to the original proposal of this body of installation. In the initial proposal three screens of copper using an Australian Eucalypt bush theme were to accompany the carved Chinese temple bell. The copper screens were to be representations of local landscapes of the country where I have dwelt for thirty-five years. I wanted to include references to the Australian bush land because I have grown to have a deep feeling for its subtle serenity and rugged beauty.

250 Bhabha. The Location of Culture.132. 251 Gorden Mathew, Global Culture/Individual Identity: Search for Home in the Cultural Supermarket (London: Routledge, 2000), 34.

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As I refined my research I have travelled along a slightly different path that made me decide not to incorporate the copper screens in my work. I realised there was a limitation in the initial plan which did not fully reflect the concepts I was exploring in my later research e.g. ‘double- consciousness’ and liminality. Furthermore, the original creative component of the Australian bush setting was leaving no room for articulating my birth-country Taiwan. Both Australia and Taiwan are of equal importance in constructing my identity and in defining how I have been caught between the two homes. Therefore, in consultation with my supervisors, I modified the initial plan by replacing the Australian Eucalypt bush copper screens with murals depicting monochrome silhouette sketches of iconic landmarks of the two countries: Uluru/Ayers Rock in Central Australia; and the twin pagodas – the Spring and Autumn Pavilions in Koahsiung, Taiwan252 – the area where I was born. The two pagodas are situated on a man-made lake which was initially used for growing Lotus. It was also the place where I got the inspiration to use the Lotus plant as a symbol of my cultural identity in my Undergraduate and Honours studies.

The change accommodated the theoretical development and aesthetic satisfaction in my studio practice, and overcome the concerns for the overly stylised fancy, busy designs of the copper screens which I thought might dominate the whole setting and compete for attention with the temple bell. I believe the change was not a compromise but a necessary modification to the original design if my research findings are to be validly expressed. The newly introduced creative works, which are subtle sketches, offer simplicity and tranquillity and recede in the setting, allowing the focal point to be the prominent temple bell.

Sense of Place Physical places hold interest due to their history, culture and location. Even when we travel to these places for a short period of time; they become a meaningful place to us – an experience. Through our senses, we can smell, hear, see and touch or even taste the things existent in a place, so we form memories and develop a sense of place in our consciousness. Place complements and adds to our sense of individuality and to our sense of social belonging. In turn to locate my perception of a place in the social and physical sense, these two iconic, internationally recognisable landmarks may seem cliché but they endow me with a great sense of attachment in both a literal and a symbolic way providing a place in both an emotional and spiritual context which provides me with a feeling of belonging. These two symbolic sacred places have equal qualities and deity values in the hearts of the local people. Our attachment to a

252 Pagodas first came to Taiwan from India by way of China in the first century. Pagoda stands for Buddha’s tower. In the monastery it served as a place for monks to pray and meditate. http://www.china.org.cn/english/features/43498.htm (accessed: 20/4l/2014)

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place is intensely real and ultimately highly subjective and this attachment is often embedded in a sense of unbridled pride, ownership and love.253 People do not need to ‘live in’ one particular place to feel their attachment or sense of belonging to the place. This body of work exhibits the way in which the transitory experience of my migration has provided me with a different lens through which to view the world and myself in locating a place of ‘home’. It helps me to see where ‘I’ belong.

The History and Culture of Australia Aborigines, the first Australians, have inhabited the country for at least 60,000 to 70,000 years.254 At the time of British settlement at Sydney Cove in 1788 there were about 600 Aboriginal tribes with 250 languages in Australia.255 The first European sighting of Australia was by the Dutchman, Willem Janszoon in the ship Duyfken (Little Dove). He landed at Cape York Peninsula in 1606 looking for trade goods for the Dutch East India Empire, then followed the famous Dutch explorer, Abel Tasman in 1644. In 1688 came the English explorer William Dampier who landed at Derby on the north coast of Western Australia. In 1770, Captain Cook landed in Botany Bay on the Eastern side of Australia in HM Bark Endeavour, and charted the east coast. He took possession and claimed New South Wales for Britain.256 After the loss of the American colonies Britain decided to use its new outpost as a penal colony. The first migrants to arrive after British colonisation were convicts and free settlers from England. The First Fleet of 11 ships, about 1500 people, half of them convicts, arrived in Sydney Cove on 26 January 1788 under Captain Arthur Phillip who established the first European settlement in Australia. In all, about 160,000 men and women were brought to Australia as convicts from 1788 to 1868. On their arrival the Europeans took the land as their own, the Indigenous people were driven out of their homes and many were killed in land disputes and also from the spread of European diseases. In 1901, the Commonwealth of Australia was formed. One of the policies of the newly formed Commonwealth was the ‘White Australia’ policy which gave preference to European settlers. This was due to a growing distrust of foreigners, particularly the Chinese who stayed on after the gold rush immigration, and also as a protection of local labour. After World War II, with the influx of European refugees, assimilation became the government’s aim. Aboriginals were encouraged to ‘Europeanise’ as part of this assimilation. It was not until 1967 the Federal

253 Daphne Habibis and Maggie Walter, Social Inequality in Australia (2nd ed.) (South Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 2015), 221-223. 254 Frank G. Clarke. Australia in a Nutshell: A narrative history (Australia: Rosenberg Publishing 2003), 14. According to Clarke, archaeologists have suggested that the original human occupier of Australia arrived well over 100,000 years ago. Some Aboriginal spokesmen have even suggested their ancestors have always been present, and deny they were immigrants. 255 See Judith Ryan, “Colour Power: Aboriginal art post 1984,” National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, 2004. 256 Nigel Parbury. Survival: A history of Aboriginal life in New South Wales (Chippendale: David Ell Press, 1986), 13.

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Government passed legislation granting the Aboriginals Australian citizenship, and in 1972 that the indigenous people were given back limited rights to their own land. In 1974, the Whitlam government abolished the ‘White Australia’ policy. Australia has become a diverse and multicultural integrated country.257 Since the end of World War II in 1945 Australia began to take migrants from many countries other than the British Isles and since 1975 many have been from Asian countries. This migration program has changed the social and economic landscape of Australia. The nation turned into a diverse, open and tolerant society.258

The Australian bush has an iconic status in Australian life. For Indigenous Australians, the bush has long held sacred associations that are central to their identity. In stark contrast, Australia’s early colonists regarded the bush as an unfamiliar and at times threatening place, to be cleared or transfigured in keeping with European sensibilities. As the colonies grew into established cities and towns, attitudes changed. The colonial settlers began to consider the bush and bush life as uniquely Australian and integral to the nation’s identity. These bush characters – the pioneer settlers, shearers, swagmen and mountain horsemen have come to represent an emerging national character and they were seen as resilient and stoic, despite or because of the hardships offered up by their environment. It is uniquely different to the European landscapes familiar to many new immigrants.259 The bush myth was revered as a source of ideals by novelist, poets and artists the likes of Patrick White, Henry Lawson, Banjo Paterson and Frederick McCubbin who by romanticising the bush made it a symbol for a national life and identity.

The Home of the Present I selected Uluru/Ayers Rock, the giant sandstone monolith about 300 million years old in Central Australia to portray the silent sensual beauty of the Australian landscape as my present home (illus.96). Anangu Aboriginal people are the traditional inhabitants of the West and Central Australia; the name Uluru means “great pebble” in their Aboriginal language. Ayers Rock was the name given by the European explorer William Gosse in honour of Sir Henry Ayers in 1873. As a result of the amendment to the Aboriginal Land Rights Act (1976) Uluru and the surrounding National Park, Kata Tjuta were given back to the traditional owners, Anangu, in 1985 on the condition that it be leased back to the federal parks service for ninety-

257 ‘Australian History,’ Australian Explorer. http://www.australianexplorer.com/australian_history.htm (accessed 8/7/2015) 258 John Hirst. Sense & Nonsense in Australian History (Melbourne: Black Inc. 2005), 11. 259 Ibid. 174-196.

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nine years, and in 1987 Uluru was designated as a World Heritage Site.260 Over the years, artists such as Hans Heysen, Albert Namatjira and Sidney Nolan helped to transform the ‘dead heart’ to the ‘Red Centre.’ Today, Uluru is a natural wonder, a significant spiritual symbol connected with the land, a Sacred Site for Aboriginals in Central Australia. Uluru, in many ways, has come to symbolise the struggle for Indigenous land rights.261

For Aboriginal people the ‘Dreamtime’ explains the origin of the universe and themselves, it refers to the ‘creation period.’ Through the ‘dreaming’ mankind was connected to the earth and the perpetuation of life, a concept that formed the foundation of traditional Aboriginal society. It is spiritually integrated: the land is their religion and their church. Aboriginals believe they belong to the land since the creation of the universe.262 They have worshipped at Uluru for thousands of years and the land is at the core of their spiritual beliefs.263 The traditional landowners, Anangu, believe that Uluru and Kata Tjuta were created by their creation ancestors. In their travels these ancestors left marks in the land and made laws for them to keep and live by, to care for one another and the land that supported them. The Dreamtime incorporates the relationships between people, plants, animals and the physical features of the land and refers to the past, present and the future at the same time.264 Dreamtime shapes and structures Aboriginal life by regulating kinship, family life, and the relations between the sexes with a network of obligations to people, land and spirits. It is expressed in their stories, art, music, songs, dance and ceremony. Aboriginal Dreamtime is a complex culture and brought about by an intimate knowledge of the environment, which has four lines of Dreamtime: Mythology, Initiation, Ceremonies and Sacred Sites. ‘Dreaming’ is the eternal law and the foundations of being. It is the creation power that travelled across and became the land, infusing it with its sacred essence. Through Indigenous paintings the artists impart their rich cultural knowledge of land over millennia and reveal the desert to be physically and spiritually abundant. Their identities are revealing through the symbolic representations of sacred sites, stories and knowledge connected to their country.265

260 Under the agreement that the land is run under a system of joint management with a Board of Management represented by a majority of Anangu (includes two language people of Yankunytjatjara and Pitjantjatjara) traditional owners. Traditional owners can now live on their land and keep land and culture strong by teaching their children as they were taught. Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park, (Fact Sheet.) http://eoi.uluru.gov.au/node/102/attachment (accessed: 5/5/2014) 261 National Museum Australia, ‘Symbols of Australia.’ http://www.nma.gov.au/exhibitions/symbols_of_australia/uluru (accessed 8/7/2015) 262 Ratih Hardjono, White Tribe of Asia: An Indonesian view of Australia (Clayton: Hyland House Publishing, 1992), 9-10. 263 Uluru became World Heritage listed in 1987. Charlie Wyatt, “Uluru – Kata Tjuta National Park” http://teams.as.edu.au/users/cwyatt/weblog/06bce/Uluru.html (accessed 9/4/2014) 264 National Museum Australia, ‘Symbols of Australia.’ http://www.nma.gov.au/exhibitions/symbols_of_australia/uluru 265 Judith Ryan, Indigenous Australian Art in the National Gallery of Victoria, NGV, Melbourne, 2002, 6.

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To me, Uluru encodes the isolated mysterious ancient land. The choice of the desert-scape of Uluru as my present home setting may seem too remote to the centre of culture of contemporary Australian in which I function but this icon is quintessentially Australian. Its vast spectacle reminds us of the hardship of the bush life of early colonial settlers and its religious significance to Aboriginal people. It combines the disjunction of the familiar and unfamiliar, and vulnerability and hegemony are more apparent after contemplating it.266

illus. 96. Ruth Liou. ‘I’ in the Liminal, (Uluru, Australia) 2014.

My appreciation of the beauty of Australian landscapes was largely stimulated by the Impressionist painters of the Australian Heidelberg School.267 Over the period residing in this country, I have often found spiritual refuge in the bush in search of tranquillity to avoid the busy city life, learning to appreciate the Australian bushland with a greater attachment to this landscape than to the landscape I came from. By selecting a sacred landmark of Australia as the symbol of my present home, I wish to exhibit a place where most of my life has been lived and my emergent appreciation and respect for this red earth which has become part of me.

I still vividly remember that my understanding of the Australian bushland and history came first through the migrant English education classes, when we were taken to art galleries, museums, historical sites and parks in the city of Sydney and surroundings, to learn about the convict history of The Rocks, to study the painting narrative On the Wallaby Track of Frederick McCubbin (1855-1917), to see the Gillian Armstrong movie My Brilliant Career and to learn the lyrics of the bush ballad of Banjo Paterson’s (1864-1941) Waltzing Matilda, where

266 Isobel Crombie, Stormy Weather: Contemporary landscape photography (Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 2010), 10. 267 Heidelberg School was an Australian art movement of the late 19th century. I gained a great impression of Australian landscape and social life from paintings of Frederick McCubbin, On the Wallaby Track (1896), Tom Roberts, Bailed up (1895) and Arthur Streeton, The Purple Noon’s Transparent Might (1896).

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swagmen waltzed their matildas (swags) on dusty roads through drought and fire and flood. Paterson’s bush ballad has given me another perspective of the Australian landscape and a link to the lives of early explorers and settlers. His poetry resonates in a society that was built on the legend of the bushman of Australian imaginations in whom bush heritage lives on. Paterson’s Waltzing Matilda gives a sense of action and rhythm. The lines were simple racy avowals that evoked a life Australians understood and sometimes shared in this open land allowing us to emerge as people who belonged to this country.268 With little understanding of the language, I was filled with admiration for the squatters who endured such horrors, intrigued by images of the early settlers as I got to know the billabong and waterhole in the landscape, swag bag, billy tea, and the life of the early Australian who struggled to survive in the harsh land.

The Home of the past For many people a particular place, often the place where they were raised, arouses a deep emotional response. The landmark images I selected to represent my birth home, Taiwan, are the twin pagodas named Spring and Autumn Pavilions in the lake which used to grow Lotus in Kaohsiung (illus.97). During my childhood I either strolled or rode my bicycle there just to admire the beauty of the lakeside, a place which was outside my familiar surroundings and into ‘Taiwanese’ territory.269 It is situated on the south-west coast of Taiwan and is about 20 minutes walk from my childhood home. These Pavilions are Chinese palace-style, built in 1953. The two Pavilions are four stories high and octagonal in shape with green tiles and yellow walls. The two Pavilions are connected by a winding bridge that has five turns in it and leads towards the centre of the lake to a Five-Mile Pavilion built in the 1970s.

On the street opposite the two Pavilions there are about half-dozen Daoist Temples; several of them were established in the mid-seventeen century. The Spring and Autumn Pavilions were built by the great founders of one of the modern temples, Chi-Ming Palace, for commemorating the Martial Saint, Lord Kua. During the Japanese colonisation, some Taiwanese people were worried about being influenced by the Japanese culture, beliefs and folklore; they built the Chi- ming Palace in hope of maintaining the traditional virtues and saving the society from corruption. However, the tranquil Lotus Lake of my childhood memories has changed over time; the surroundings have become crowded with common and kitsch religious features to cater for the pilgrims and their beliefs. It has become a busy tourist spot. Even though I do not

268 Clement Semmler, The Banjo of the Bush: The life and times of A. B.”Banjo” Paterson (Queensland: University of Queensland Press, 1984), 88-100. 269 Boys of my ‘mainlander’ community seldom went to this place because they would get beaten up by the local ‘Taiwanese’ boys, but they didn’t touch the girls.

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religiously follow the folklore beliefs, every time I saw a picture of these Pavilions, I would instantly cry in my heart: “that is my home.”

illus. 97. Ruth Liou. ‘I’ in the Liminal, (Pagoda, Taiwan) 2014.

The Creation and Concepts These two landmarks of my two homes are sketched onto the gallery walls where the large temple bell is placed on the University Gallery floor. One side wall was painted black the other remained white. This corresponds to the Chinese Yin and Yang philosophy where the primal opposing are also the complementary forces to each other which are found in all things in the universe, and they represent perfect balance.

I accepted a Buddhist belief: - to take whatever comes your way and deal with it. The plan for this set of installations is to place the Uluru sketches on a white wall and place the twin Pavilions on the black wall. Therefore, on a white background, Uluru is drawn with earth, red ochre, using gestural lines almost reminiscent of the fluid line ink-wash Chinese brush painting. The Taiwanese pavilions were applied with textured, light-grey chalky lines on black background reminiscent of light filled, Impressionist painting, the colours of light-grey on black evoking the sense of past where our memories are stored like the negative film of a snap-shot. The tone of grey faintly receding into the black colour implies the remote and nebulous image of my past as it resides in my memories. By expressing the Western subject in an Eastern way,

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and the Eastern subject in a Western painting style I have revealed my inner split selves, highlighted my hybridised cultural identities and “betwixt and between” position.

The sense of ‘place’, past or present, has great influence on our identity. We connect to place in its physical sense but we also connect to place with our emotional attachments. Whether the place is connected with a social group or family or a cultural environment within which one may feel alienated or supported, one’s identity may be shaped and reaffirmed.270 As Bill Ashcroft in connecting the abstract meanings of place with memory and identity said: “Place is never simply location, nor is it static, like culture itself, place is in a continual and dynamic state of formation, a process intimately bound up with the culture and the identity of its inhabitants.”271 Place has been identified as a powerful ideological tool differentiating disparate groups: ‘us’ and ‘them’, the self and the Other.272

Migration is seen as a one way transition to doubling transformation. No matter how short a time one stays away from home, on return, one can never retrieve the same place and one’s self as it was before because, as mentioned previously, culture and the individual influence each other, and neither is static within a place.

The search for my Cultural Representation With images of each country of mine on either side of the placement of the Bell ~ the ‘I’ in the Liminal - I indicate the fact that I have two windows to look out from to view the world. The Bell is placed in a space where people can walk around it, and with each move people could only observe a fraction of the bell. This illustrates that we can only obtain an incomplete view of each other.

Migration to Australia certainly provoked indefinite and complex puzzles for me and for others in identifying who I was. Transitional and transnational experiences change the internal aspects of the self. Somehow, the invisible transformed self has no control over what you really think you are or how others identify you, though our external representation still plays a big part in the way others identify who we are.

270 Beljana Djoric-Francuski. “The Westernized East meets the Easternized West,’ in Ruth Prawer Jhabvala’s Three Continents” in Re/Membering Place ed. Catherine Delmas & Andre Dodeman, (Bern: Peter Lang, 2013), 236. 271 Bill Ashcroft, Post-Colonial transformation (London: Routledge, 2001), 156. 272 Tim Cresswell, In Place/Out of Place: Geography, Ideology, and Transgression (London: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 154.

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http://www.ausbell.com.au/asian_bells.html

illus. 98. Ming Dynasty Chinese Bell in Beijing Bell Museum. http://www.ausbell.com.au/asian_bells.html

We are related to the world of things through symbolic and instrumental modes and signs. Cultural objects themselves are signs; they express to us in some sense their symbolic place in the world and their identities. Therefore, I was looking for a very culturally specific object that is obviously recognisable and that metaphorically resonates as a self-symbol of my Cultural Identity. I have always been fond of Chinese Bronze Age (C2000 BE) artifacts and ornaments; in particularly those deposited as funeral objects in the tombs of royalty and the nobility. I have investigated many bronze bells in my research, and I decided that my symbol would be a graceful, large, bronze Chinese Buddhist Bell with elaborate relief motifs made in the Ming period (1368-1644) (illus.98),273 a period noted for sophisticated aesthetics, advanced skills and knowledge in mold making and in casting large bronze items. The reason I did not choose a bell from Taiwan to represent the ‘I’ was that Taiwan is an extension of Chinese culture in a new found place, where we can only find artifacts of modern periods. They do not carry the same aesthetic essence of timeworn quintessence found in the old world. Over the years, I have seen

273 Ming Dynasty Chinese Bell in the Beijing Bell Museum. http://www.ausbell.com.au/asian_bells.html (accessed: 11/4/2009). The description of this bell was unspecified; so, I drew up the shape based on the measurement from the photo and scaled up.

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many newly made bronze bells in culturally and religiously significant places in: Cowra, Nan- Tian temple in Wollongong, Thailand and Taiwan.

The History of Bells in East and West Bells have a long history in many cultures; besides their functionality they usually possess a clearly defined cultural and spiritual status. From my research I have found the bell has a similar function in both Eastern and Western cultures, and in both Buddhism and Christianity, bells are consecrated before being used liturgically.

In Christian art, the bell has the religious purpose of the calling of the faithful to prayers and worship and it is the voice of God.274 It marked out the time of day when clocks were unavailable, sounded the alarm when danger threatened and it blessed important ceremonies. Many old English church bells were inscribed with quaint verses to describe their function.

Men’s death I tell by doleful knell; Lightning and thunder I break asunder; On Sabbath all to church I call; The sleepy head I rouse from bed; The tempest’s rage I do assuage; When cometh harm, I sound alarm.275

The bell in the East also has religious connotations. It is associated with Buddhism which was introduced from India into China during the Eastern Han Dynasty (A.D. 25-220). Initially the temple bell functioned like a verbal command inside the temple to mark time for monks to perform their daily activities and duties. It later became a feature of the temple, to call worshippers to devotions and create awe for spirits and gods. The bells symbolise peace, rejuvenation and progress in peoples’ hearts. In much earlier days, many smaller sized bells were made in different materials and served as musical instruments and sacrificial vessels.276 The earliest Chinese bells unearthed in Shanxi Province were made approximately 5000 years ago in ceramic. It is believed that these bells were used as musical instruments. Over time bells became larger and were made in different metals or cast in bronze. They became one of the religious elements in Buddhist temples all over the nation. The word ‘Buddha’ means to

274 Gertrude G. Sill. A Handbook of Symbols in Christian Art (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996), 128. 275 Rev. John F. Sullivan, The Externals of the Catholic Church (New York: P.J. Kenedy & Sons, 1918). http://landru.i-link-2.net/shnyves/church_bells.htm (accessed: 27/9/2009) 276 ‘A Brief History of Ancient Bells,’ China Internet Information Centre. http://www.china.org.cn/english/features/FBiCh/78687.htm (accessed: 23/11/2007)

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awaken, so the sound of the bell is central to Buddhist practices. The bell has become a significant object in traditional Chinese Buddhist etiquette. In ancient China many temples are located deep in the mountains in secluded spots surrounded by beautiful natural scenery, kept at a distance from civilians. This is thought to reflect the heavenly features of these temples, especially since the Chinese believe that mountains encourage spiritual peace. In many ancient temples having a big bell hanging in the bell tower enhanced the temple’s magnificence and dignity. One example of a reproduced large temple bell hangs in the bell tower of an ancient temple built in 954AD in Zhe-Jian province of China (illus.99) with Lotus Sutra cast on the body of bell.277 In Buddhist tradition the deep sonorous and distant bell sound evokes people's yearning for peace and harmony, awakening from greed and confusion, calling away from misery to become sentient beings.278

http://photo.hanyu.iciba.com/upload/encyclopedia_2/16/04/bk_160410a17e1ed959bc2d3efd 1bb39a08_O07gpC.jpg

illus. 99. The West Hill (Nanping) Bell. Bronze. Zhe-Jiang province, China. http://photo.hanyu.iciba.com/upload/encyclopedia_2/16/04/bk_160410a17e1ed959bc2d3efd1bb39a08_O07gpC.jpg

277 The temple 凈慈寺 (954 AD) is located at West Lake, Hangzhou, Zhe-Jiang province of China. The original bell Nanping Wanzhong in the temple was much smaller built in 1378 but had destroyed during the wars in late 19th century at the end of Qing Dynasty. The new bell was reproduced in 1984 with 3.6 metres in high and 2.3 in diameter, 10 tonnes in weight. This reproduced bronze bell is casted with sixty-eight thousand words of Lotus Sutra. http://www.hxfjw.com/Buddhism/temples/hxsm/2013101423879.html (accessed: 7/7/2015) 278From both websites with my emphasis. http://www.minhui.org/mh/articles/2007/8/25/161446.html and http://www.hkbuddhist.org./magazine/566/566_08.html (accessed: 27/9/2009)

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The temple bells have evolved into different shapes in various regions of East and South East Asia; the shapes vary from straight to convex, concave, hemispherical, barrel. Most Chinese temple bells are cylindrical in shape and have a thickened rim, some are lotus-shaped and the smaller rim makes deep and inward sounds that travel far. Church bells are shorter and flare out towards the rim which renders high and explicit sounds.279

The Creation and Concepts The temple bell represents my subjective attunement as I recognize my identity in the world I inhabit. The bell acts as a metaphoric object for me to conceptualise my research ideas from a personal perspective. The Ming dynastic bell has a majestic and gracious slightly flared body shape with a lotus-shaped rim. I used it as reference to draw up a design that suits the characteristic and aesthetic aspects of timber, and maintains the lotus-shape at the opening.

I have chosen a bell as a representation of myself because the solemn, deep sonorous sound of the bell evokes images from literature and poetry that bring a state of calmness and serenity into my heart. The bell in my work does not have a tongue because it rings, silently, inwardly to bring the serenity of self-knowledge and awareness.

Constructing the bell in timber has made it a nonfunctional object. The construction of this large temple bell was a key interest in my studio-based research (refer illus.100-109 of work-in- progress images); not only is it full of cultural and historical connotations, it is an element that realizes and enhances my research concepts. It was also a challenge for me to create something of unusual size and form in timber, a material which I had never used before. My unfamiliarity with the materials that I used for the bell and the doorknockers gave me new knowledge in techniques and skills, and by using advanced technology and machinery as well as old school manual woodwork techniques I have enhanced and enlarged my knowledge within my art practice. The original reference, the ancient temple bell, was made in bronze and the sounds are made by striking the bell with a large log of wood suspended horizontally beside the bell; but my design is not meant to be overtly sounded. The resonance is internal.

279 Asian Bells. http://www.ausbell.com.au/asian_bells.html (accessed: 11/4/2009)

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illus. 100. WIP of the Bell. Cedar and Pine. illus. 101. WIP of the Bell. Photo: Ruth Liou. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 102. WIP level down to the blue line. illus. 103. WIP shaping the body of the Bell with Photo: Ruth Liou. planer. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 104. WIP chisel the rim to level with the illus. 105. WIP CNC router final shapes the circle of body. Photo: Ruth Liou. the dome. Photo: Ruth Liou.

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illus. 106. WIP refine the dome by hand with illus. 107. WIP refine dome shape by hand with spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou. spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 108. WIP plane the bell body with planer. illus. 109. WIP final shaping by hand Photo: Ruth Liou. with spoke shave. Photo: Ruth Liou.

The material for the bell needed to be a timber which would be weather tolerant and easy to carve and handle, so I decided to work in cedar. Due to the Australian Red Cedar on the market being slightly too thin for my needs I chose Malaysian Cedar (Surian cedar) to construct this large temple bell. Not being able to use Australian Red Cedar was actually quite providential because using materials that were not local highlighted and correlated the concept of the ‘self’ being a ‘foreigner’ in this country.

Most temple bells are quite level on top. I decided to give my timber bell a pinnacle top in metal. I decorated and welded on seventy metal pieces which were cut and shaped from 12mm

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square steel rod (illus.110) to give the timber bell a sense of novelty and the Chinese character which traditional bronze temple bells have. This dome was comprised a found metal object welded on top of a discarded Chinese restaurant wok, which I turned upside down, mounted it on the timber part of the bell and let it rust. I also built an internal metal structure on a shallow square steel plate, welded with four-coasters to the plate for mobility to lift the large temple bell above the ground so that it looks as though it is floating above the floor, giving the sense of being ‘uprooted’ and ‘un-rooted’ like a displaced person. This bell poses a paradox. I found in researching my personal experience that it is the dilemma I face in reality. This paradox exhibits at one end a representation of my biological appearance which should not be trusted according to a Poststructuralists’ view, but it is still a prime sign that other people would place me by what they can see; at the other end, the bell simultaneously realised my research in Poststructuralists’ concept of identity that is hybrid, unfixed, and multi-faceted. As it rotates, or when a person walks around the bell they can only observe one section of the bell. The completed large temple bell is approximately 2 metres high.

illus. 110. WIP metal bits and the dome. Photo: Ruth Liou.

The body of the bell is carved with Chinese stylised cloud patterns280 which conceal the natural characteristic of the clouds and they are for decorative purposes and aesthetic appeal. A natural phenomenon depicts clouds as unpredictable and ever changing which correlates to the notions of Identity and Home that are perceived as fluid, shifting and unfixed. These qualities and ideas associated with clouds made the cloud designs most appropriate decorations to complement my

280 The records stated the patterns of cloud and lightening were the supporting element to the main Animal-Mask motifs decoration to communicate with the Heaven. Inference in the ancient literature, cloud and lightening patterns were for the ruling class to use on the bronze objects as a means to communicate with the god, to make an illusion that they themselves were sacred and divine to strengthen and consolidate their ruling power. Leo Yuan, A Metaphor Research on the Cloud-Electricity Patterns of Early Bronze of Shang Dynasty. Visual Communication Design. National Taiwan University of Arts 5, no. 1 (April 2009) http://leoyuan.idv.tw/tc/page02- 6.htm (accessed 2/2/2014)

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thoughts to conceptualise my perspective and experiences as a displaced person. Historically Chinese beliefs record clouds as symbolising mystery and sacred. Clouds represent the heavens. Clouds are symbols of celestial mobility because many gods and immortals used the cloud as a vehicle on which they travelled. The cloud is also considered a portent of the auspicious, carrying needed rains that enable the growth of abundant crops. When clouds are combined with auspicious Chinese dragons, it makes a perfect emblem to manifest positive effects in life. The cloud is commonly seen when repeated in a pattern as symbolising never-ending fortune.

My large temple bell was inspired by tradition yet it is not traditional. It is steeped in Chinese aesthetic but is realised through my artistic expression. Significantly The Bell is made from very Australian elements contrasted to the wood joinery reminiscent of domestic furniture with industrial looking metal components. The top of the bell surely quotes the heavy industry of the steelwork of the City of Newcastle, in concert with the haptic qualities of Chinese nobbles of the ancient bronze bell. This installation highlights my research concept of cultural entanglements.

The concept behind the placement of the large temple bell in between the iconic mural landmarks of both my homes manifests many layers of inspiration. The temple bell represents, not only my spiritual attunement, but it also manifests my ability to exist within the Anglo- Australian community while emphasizing my ethnic background. The placement between the two landmarks where I belong also draws attention to the different cultures, providing spectators with an experience of ambivalent feelings such as an outsider would feel when entering a new environment. They will experience cultural differences and the feeling of being ‘in-between’ in both familiar and foreign landscapes.

There is a need to justify my returning to the biological Essentialist beliefs in this work by using the temple bell as my ethnic identity of origin. It may seem as though I have rejected the Poststructuralist and Post-Colonialist concepts, failed to acknowledge the Anti-Essentialist views on identity construction and have fallen back to the Essentialist beliefs that identity is biologically fixed at birth and never changed, as detailed in Chapter 2. This isn’t the case. The reason I chose the temple bell which is loaded with tradition, culture and symbolic significance displaying my ‘fixed origin’ identity is that even though I have integrated into the local multicultural society, my ‘out-representation’ is obvious and prominent in a country where the majority of the population is Anglo-Australian. Cultural identities are emerging and non-fixed, poised in transition between different positions and often unseen from the external, and cultural identity is very much subject to ‘positioning.’ No matter how much I have transformed and have tuned into local culture, values and knowledge, the new progressively ‘becoming-self’ is

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accountable to what I call the internal process and is invisible to others. Identity is very emotionally charged and socially constructed by relating to others and identifying differences. Our new forms of identities are shown and expressed because identities are discursive and contextually constructed. Without the performing act, and the relational contacts, people could not detect who we really are. Modern critical theories have progressed and made us understand the configuration of identity but our human consciousness and mentality still live in the dark age of the Essentialist’s way of thinking and ‘seeing.’ The Essentialist believes that the authentic inner ‘core’ self can be found, unchanged from birth and makes assumptions based on the skin- deep difference – our appearance - regardless of whether a person was adopted or born in a country’s culture. I could not ignore this assumption that because I look Asian I must think and behave according to cultural stereotype, therefore, I see my outer-representation as my referent clue which ‘fixed’ me.

As Butler showed, the body is located and defined within social contexts.281 The body with its inherent biological functions and human values becomes the site of representation for us and exists in relation to others through translation. The body is the frontier clue representing us. Our personal identity is manifest through a series of experiences and through the way we conduct our life. Our identity is marked through symbols. The body delivers signals of self-expression to others through personal appearance, accoutrements, make-up, preferences and so forth; thus I see the body as the frontier of sign and symbol marking how we are seen by others. The body speaks, like all signifying practices. It is the play of ‘defférance’ in a discursive position and the reason I used the temple bell as the symbol of ‘I’.

The ‘I’ in the Liminal Migration is about our relationship with experiencing living and its differences. The placement of the temple bell – the ‘I’ - in between landmarks of two countries is to explore the notion of ‘in-between-ness’, my ambivalence and double-consciousness, and to show how I have been identified and perceived by others in both countries. This awareness has distanced me from either centre and the ‘I’ is forced to be located at the peripherals of both countries, looking-in. Displaced people when crossing the threshold are always already leaving part of their life behind, and on return, that part will never be found but only fragmented.

On my recent trips to Taiwan, I held on to hopes that the visit might give me a different light towards my research conclusion. I thought I might regain the sense of belonging as though I had

281 Rugg, Exploring Site-Specific Art, 168.

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never left, especially with my blood-link family in Taiwan. While I was in Taiwan, I looked like the locals and was very careful never to expose my Australian passport in front of people, and thought I would blend-in naturally without the ‘foreigner’ mark on my face as happens in Australia. I wanted to experience the freedom of being home, not be spotted as ‘different’ by others. What surprised me was that within a couple of minutes in any number of situations I was questioned by my country-fellowmen: “Are you from overseas?”, “Are you foreigner?”, “Where are you ‘really’ from?” At my family home my niece and nephew already identified me as ‘foreigner’, whereas my siblings are on the edge of tolerance and intolerance about who I am which has put us on a thin ice. Their perception of my ‘foreignness’ was due to my manifestation of western values and beliefs which contradicted their tradition. When I was out and about, I was taking in the street scenes and local lives through an outsider’s lens. If I had not moved away from Taiwan the things I was seeing would be part of me but they seemed so ‘new yet familiar.’ I seriously acknowledged the fragmentation and split of the inner ‘self’, and I am more obviously ‘a stranger’ in my birth-country than in my other home, Australia, where, at least I won’t be questioned so obviously. The homecoming experiences made me reassess my sense of belongingness. The discovery of being ‘foreign’ in my birth-country was unsettling as it seemed as though I have been marginalized and caught in the dilemma of the question where you are from? My double being as ‘foreigner’ in both countries indicated ‘what I think I am’ and ‘who I think I am’ are out of my choice and control. It is others who decide what and who we are, and mark a dividing line of who is ‘in’(side) and who is ‘out’(side). This implicated question of power. The centre has the power to make you see you are different. Obviously, there is a perpetual discrepancy between who we are to ourselves and who we are to others.282

Therefore, the placement of the large temple bell in between two landmarks of my countries is to designate my ‘outsider-ship’ and ‘otherness’ where my subjectivity has diminished. The ‘I’ in between the two landmarks involves the sense of the past and present where I ought to feel a sense of belonging but am distanced, there and here, neither in one nor the other; the display signifies the sense of displacement, cultural difference, where the ‘voiceless-ness’ stands at the borderlines of two places – in the liminal – the ‘betwixt and between’ – a mediating position where I am looking at both sides. This position provides a wider angle of perspective that can embrace both. I can step in and out of the two acknowledged similarities and familiarities that are at each side. Yes, it is a weird place to be but this borderless space provides greater possibilities and freedom than if I were to stand at a single side of the ‘centre.’ The position of this temple bell shows my ambivalent consciousness and fragmentation as it swings between many other true selves.

282 Michael Jackson, At Home in the World (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995), 161.

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Displacement puts one in a very alert position about one’s surroundings. It provides a space to have some critical distance from everything. This outsider solitude could engender anxiety but by using one’s intelligence it enables one to see the new world from a third-person’s perspective and see it clearly. Besides the struggles between self and the external there are also struggles between self and the internal. The identity of displaced persons is not limited to their origin but by something more. Nothing is pure and static especially this postmodern world. The effect of migration is not only about changing countries but also about shifting identities. Migrants’ experiences are not only complicated by cultural transition but also marked by ambivalence and identity split. Displaced people are necessarily navigating through multiple social and cultural contexts, and juggling between different norms, customs, languages and cultures developing flexible identities which they could incorporate into host and origin social structures and expectations. These internal struggles cause internal fragmentation and multi-facades. This is part of the reason I use the temple bell to signify my cultural identity. It is a symbol of my outer representation which people generally stereotype and box me into – ‘Asian’ – which denies my own sense of identity. The temple bell draws attention to this ‘outer presentation.’ The ‘I’ is an unreliable signifier because it only presents the partial presence of me; in fact, the ‘I’ will never totally be ‘this’ or ‘that.’ As Papastergiadis said: the ‘true’ identity is rooted in the given place of either origin or present position.’283

Identity is formed out of historical processes, by taking on the new with the old within me and processing the differences into familiarity in liminal space, in this space and through time, I am endlessly shifting and weaving and recreating the new form of self, but I could never become a completely authentic ‘Aussie’ as I don’t have the ancestry of those who developed this country, nor am I a true Taiwanese as my authenticity has been questioned by my fellow countrymen. It seems that people who live in a hybrid culture society are likely to be permanently locating in a situation that is indecisive and impossible to identify, a sole solid self-definition. These ambiguous individuals can only be identified within the space of liminality.

The theoretical concept of liminal space has articulated as a temporal transitory state between two places where displace people would be moving forward into a new hybrid being in the new terrain, but from my perspective, displaced people are unlikely to lose all the traces of their origin neither will they be completely assimilated into the new culture, they would always be in the ‘becoming state’ and always straddle an ambivalent space betwixt and between the two or multiple overlapping boarders continuing the process of identity evolution. They will never find

283 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 52.

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an authentic belonging in the new terrain. Therefore, I perceive this temporal state is a permanent location where displaced people dwell.

Place and Identity Our sense of space and place are affected by the sense of time we stay in a place, and our sense could also vary over time. Eminent geography philosopher Yi-Fu Yuan considers our feelings and attachments with our surroundings, such as place, home, neighbourhood and nation are affected by the sense of time. He suggests that place is security and space is freedom: we are attached to the one and long for the other.284 Places are important sources and elements of identity. As place comes with symbols of its own, we associate with the meaning of these symbols and keep them in our memories, for their significance, social and cultural meanings and shared histories. E. S. Casey states that: “identity is created both internally in the mind and through the body’s interaction with the outside world – there is no place without self, and no self without place.”285

Place is a complex repository of social and cultural meanings and constructions. People draw on a range of social processes, symbols and values to describe themselves. In its physical setting, place enables us to develop and maintain a sense of belonging and helps us to define our identities. Often people in semiotic expressions of place use symbols and meanings to create landscapes that reflect how they define themselves.286 Place is a key element for us to construct who we are in relation to the physical environment which forms bonds that enhance our sense of belonging. Philosopher Yuan revealed how displaced people perceive a new place in very intellectual ways:

People who move from location to location frequently learn how to develop connections with their new place. Because they intellectualise the process, they can profess a stronger sense of place than someone who is rooted in a place for whom the experience of place is more visceral.287

284 Yi-Fu Yuan, Space and Place: The perspective of Experience (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1977), 1-5. 285 Edward. S. Casey “Body, Self and Landscape: A Geographical Inquiry into the Place-World,” In Textures of Place ed. P.C. Admas, S. Hoelscher & K. E. Tills, (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001), 403-425. 286 Frank Vanclay, Matthew Higgins and Adam Balckshaw, Making Sense of Place: Exploring Concepts and Expressions of Place Through Different Sense and Lenses (Canberra: National Museum of Australia, 2008), 258-259. 287 Yuan, Space and Place, 9.

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The Creation and Concepts As we perceive place in both visceral and sensual ways, I needed an explicit symbol to identify my sensibility and connection with this country, so, I decided on the Eucalyptus (gum-trees). As I mentioned previously, this plant was not immediately attractive to me. Eucalyptus trees seemed sluggish in comparison to the vibrant vegetation of the land I had just left. But over time, quite unconsciously, these plants found a place in my heart. I appreciate their endurance which allows them to survive in various conditions and I am fond of their subtle attire and tolerance in this land.

illus. 111. Un-hulled Lotus nuts. Photo: Ruth Liou.

illus. 112. Ruth Liou. ‘I’ in the Liminal – The Bell. (detail)

Therefore, in completing this set of work – with the large temple bell in between the two landmarks – instead of the gum tree, I collected the nuts, in particular the smaller ones, because I found the shape of this type of nut is similar to that of un-hulled dried Lotus nuts (illus.111). These gumnuts beneath the bell are placed on the ground in a circular waving shape that echoes

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to shape of the bottom lotus rim (illus.112), like a sound, the undulating edge of the huge, hovering bell suggests the resonant sound of the bell – and hopefully this will resonate in one’s mind. The gum nuts dispense strong eucalyptus oil scent in the gallery, for some, it is smell of home.

The culture of Australia has evidently shaped me and I can see the ‘becoming’ self-evolving along with this new land. I appreciate its humanity which gives me a sense of security and a place where I feel I belong but may not be rooted. Perhaps I will never have the same of belongingness as indigenous people do, but not being an ‘authentic’ Australian does not diminish my feeling for this land. The smell of the air, the colour of the light and the openness of the people are engrained in my memories. It is only the blood-link that connects me strongly with my birth country, Taiwan. Due to the long time I have been away from Taiwan, my ‘foreignness’ has cast me out and separated me from the locals. The loss of connection with the contemporary culture of Taiwan gave me a sense of remoteness and detachment. The images of my birth-place are very nebulous. Has this rooted place become uprooted? In locating a state of ‘I’ in Australia I feel very much in sympathy with Minh-ha who describes the feeling as:

“Simultaneously rooted and rootless.” ~ Trinh T. Minh-ha288

Home and the place in which people live are more than just a house on a street, or a town or a suburb. My multiple transitions in life have provided me with a temporal sense of Home where I consistently feel neither here nor there, betwixt and between at all fixed points of classification.

Migration affects one’s identity and desire for home. For most displaced people relocation is linked with the search for a better future. Whether their reason to shift was forced or a free choice it is possible to make the landing smooth and safe and to be ‘familiar’ in the new place. It is increasingly possible to connect with one’s place of origin as international travel becomes more accessible and some doors are always open and welcoming. Like nomads, displaced people make home wherever they go and the idea of “home” is not necessarily fixed to a specific place. It is possible to empathise with the nomads’ concept of home where it is fluid, spatial and temporary rather than material and permanent.289 Nomads do not look for a fixed home entity, rather they identify ‘home’ with the place of current delight. People who have this sentiment and understanding have a unique sense of belonging – that is, in their heart. The common saying “Home is where your heart is” doesn’t apply to most of us in this

288 John Conomos. ‘New Media, Culture, Identity,’ in Complex Entanglements: Art, Globalisation and Cultural Difference ed. Nikos Papastergiadis, (London: Rivers Oram Press, 2003), 122. 289 Wendy Schiessel, Home/Bodies, 36.

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contemporary world. We may not be able to live in the place we love for political, personal or economic reasons. For this reason I made the large temple bell float above the floor, not quite anchored in one place. This was to symbolise the transition experience which has altered the idea of home in the mind of the displaced person whose concept of ‘home’ has been transformed by the experience of migration. Home is wherever ‘I’ am – a situated presence in a particular moment with the nomadic attitude: ‘Home is where you are.’

As I have illustrated in this creative artwork and its accompanying research, in a social sense, displaced people are likely to dwell permanently in liminality. Within this liminal space I feel that I dwell with acceptance and a sense of liberation. Even though my sense of belonging in this country is not wholly rooted, and I feel I have been uprooted from my birth-home my heart is attached to both places.

Journeys away from home establish the thresholds and boundaries of home; and our attachments to home are associated with time and the experience of being at the home we have found. The pathway from home, whether chosen or imposed, is often crucial in how people perceive their past, present and future homes and how they are identified and defined.290

The following two quotes confirm this belief.

“Establishing an emotional link to one’s adopted country is a lifelong guest. I don’t have formative landmarks in this country. Home to me is a state of mind.”291

And

“I carry home inside me – wherever I go, it’s home.”292

In this art installation which formed the core of my research I have expressed the liminality imposed by the migration experience through the doorknockers that knock on an invisible door, a threshold that is reminiscent of both an oriental gateway and an industrial installation in Newcastle, yellow beeswax objects that reflect my life journey, murals showing my two homes and a temple bell that represents my identity. My study of Postmodern, Poststructuralist and Post-Colonialist philosophies has sharpened my understanding of the migration experience. My

290 Mallett, Understanding Home, 78. 291 Lee Lin Chin. Comment was collected in Melbourne Chinese Museum, 2011. 292 Schiessel, Home/Bodies, 37.

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examination of the works of other artists who have been displaced has shown me how they have expressed the feeling of “betwixt and between” and has enabled me to express my understanding of my journey and identity through the visual images of this art installation.

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Conclusion

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Chapter 12

A Place of Belongingness This chapter is a reflective summary and a personal justification for the configuration of my Hybrid Cultural Identity – my ‘becoming’ self and locating a place to belong. It draws on the results of my study of the work of six contemporary transitional artists to support my own perception and understanding of the transitional experience that has changed my artistic expression and perspective on the concept of Home.

In this exegesis I provide supporting textual research for the original creative components. I have analytically accounted for and allied the Poststructuralist, Postmodern and Post-Colonial theories and notions with my creative art project, and extensively conceptualised and justified the research results and realised them as a sculptural installation (Chapter 11). The creative task is to create forms of representation to reveal and transform what my knowledge and perspective are as the result of my research. For each sculptural element I have clearly provided symbolic meanings and reasoning which corresponds with my research hypothesis of exploring the ‘becoming’ of self in an ambivalent space, a personal validation on Hybrid Cultural Identity and metaphysical belongingness.

The nature of Installation Art requires the spectators’ active engagement by entering and interacting with the artwork in the space. Thus, the exhibition of my installation is not limited to one singular view and interpretation. It is also part of my concept, that this installation is an exchange between the centre and periphery, object and subject, letting the viewer become the surrogate body caught in an in-between space by offering a complex and multifarious engagement with the artwork, and to reflect this representation of experience as a fragmented contingent.

Contemporary art practice embraces changes to tradition and accepted taste with emphasis on culture and identity in the context of the present, where social, cultural, local and global issues interplay in our living space. Contemporary art is the “art produced in response to the experience of the now.”293 I believe that to be a visual artist is ‘to be open-minded to the developments of society and the culture within, to reflect and maintain a sense of patronage and homage to one’s land and culture of the present.’294 I believe that as visual artists we must be

293 “Confronting the Shock of the Now,” Sydney Morning Herald, 11 Jun 2004. Entertainment/Art. http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/06/10/1086749831945.html?from=storyrhs (accessed: 4/01/2009) 294 Vanessa di Palma, “Globalisation and the Visual Art,”

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open-minded to the growth of the culture within a society to reflect the culture and location where we dwell in the present, that the contemporary art practice is the response to the experience of the now. Creating a work of art is a political act. Artists are communicators bridging the gap between different cultures. They are self-referential, reshaping our understanding of the landscape of life. ‘Art is not simply an expression of oneself, but of a larger unity or community. In this way the Arts ‘provide a way of knowledge.’295

This research addressed the questions: ‘Does the migration process affect displaced peoples’ identity configuration?’ ‘Can transitional and transnational experiences alter one’s perception of self and sense of belongingness?’ and ‘Should it be affected by political influence or beliefs?’ The result of this research is that the transitional experience and migration process induce indefinite and complex identification for displaced people. Through the analysis of the work of six selected contemporary transitional artists, I discovered that the reasons for the transition does affect the individual’s perception and willingness in terms of engagement and identification of who they are, and where they feel they belong in relating to their past, present and future and their creative art expression. For the exiled artist, Mona Hatoum, her perception of self and home were certainly influenced by the politics that she encountered. In her works we can see there has been no attempt to redefine her cultural identity, and her ‘Home’ was a negative and hazardous place to be. Hatoum’s work evokes a sense of hatred, anger and bitterness as her displacement was forced upon her, and her visual works express these feelings reflecting millions of stateless Palestinian people with whom she shares the same fate. Both political and personal views were inspiration for Greg Leong in search for his voice on identity and home. Leong's desire was to retrieve and link the past to clarify his position as the descendant of the early Chinese sojourners in Australia, in turn identifying his own hybrid cultural identities in his present location in Australia. In contrast the artistic expression of political emigrant Hossein Valamanesh and the asylum seeker Guan Wei have explicitly identified their cultural origin, but there were differences between them in locating a place where they feel they belong. For Valamanesh, who was spiritually and physically seeking connection with the locals, he recounts and identifies his attachments as rebirth in connecting his present place with his former home, whereas the asylum seeker Guan was searching for home through a mist. Guan’s perception of sense of belonging changed as the political climate changed. His work presents feelings of uprooted-ness, ungrounded and alienated. It evokes a sense of difficulty in connecting and an avoidance of uncertainties. When the political climate changed in China, Guan returned there and his later works use symbolic images of Ned Kelly on

http://www.artelaide.com.au/ait-arts/writing/vanessa_de_palma/section_2.html (accessed: 17/09/2013) 295 Hwa Young Choi Caruso, “Art as a Political Act: Expression of Cultural Identity, Self-identity and Gender by Suk Nam Yun and Yong Soon Min,” Journal of Aesthetic Education 39, 3 (Fall 2005): 75-77, doi:10.1353/jae.2005.0028.

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the soil of China thus expressing his perception of belongingness as the result of his transitional experience. The politically induced migration experiences of Valamanesh and Guan are very different to those of voluntary migrants like Do Ho Suh and me. Both of us are ‘remembering’ our past but are seeking a place to belong in the new found country. We found differences, but were willing to negotiate and came with an appreciation and an understanding that our migration was a passage to a better future. The contemporary Taiwan choreographer Lin Hwai- Min found his creative professional career in Western culture. With the turbulent political history of Taiwan and multiple transitions in his life, Lin’s visual performances illustrate the struggle of Taiwanese people to determine and define their cultural identities. The indecisiveness and inability to agree to a fixed cultural definition for Taiwan has been demonstrated in Lin’s work and it has also affected my sense of ambivalence in defining who I am in terms of my origin. Lin is less conscious than I when exploring his sense of belonging through creative arts but we are both, in fact, located in the liminal. My examination of the works of these artists has led me to acknowledge that the effect of transitional experiences do alter the perceptions of displaced people like me, providing a different lens through which to see the self and the world around us.

The analysis of the work of these artists shows that the sense of belongingness for displaced people is varied and it is also subject to individuals’ efforts in negotiating a place in their new found country. It depends on the reasons why the artist embarked on the transitional experience, whether migration was forced upon them or was an act of freewill, and it also depends on the age a person was when they moved to another country and the subsequent local life experiences while settling down and reconstructing a sense of self.

The Infinite Wholeness My new ‘becoming’ self and my own acceptance of ‘otherness’ were key motivations for me to explore my Hybrid Cultural Identity and sense of belonging through my creative art research. In this research I have recognised and concluded that the experience of being hybrid within one’s own or adopted culture is purely an internal process and personal. Our so called ‘Cultural Identity’ could only be seen through performance and social interactions with others. The only visible and identifiable clue for others to make assumptions about our Cultural Identity is the untrustworthy knowledge of our physical features – our outer appearance. Assumptions are often made about people based on their appearance. Through this research I also indicate that an individuals’ cultural identity is ambiguous and difficult for others to perceive. I see that perceptions of self and culture, ethnicity and race are divergent and charged with emotion.

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People tend to choose what they want to be but have no control over how others categorise them.

This research shows that the concepts of Identity, Culture and Home are not as fixed and static as originally perceived.Cultural hybridity raises the question of cultural authenticity that makes us consider the question of purity and its distinctiveness. But what is pure and unique in the postmodern world? In the ever changing global mobility, to hold onto a static perception of culture within a nation is impossible. Culture is a developmental process and is created by people, therefore we do not hold one unique and unmodified identity fixed at a single point. The world is made by humans and the power of choice remains within the hands and minds of individual. We can claim we belong to a particular national culture as a whole but individually we are very different within it.

So the answers to the research questions: ‘Can one choose one’s cultural identity?’; and ‘Should one’s cultural identity be a product of self-assessment?’ is that cultural identities are constructed through memory and relate to places where we have been, and like Identity and Home, they are strongly defined by one’s freewill and choice. Identity is a life-long ‘journey’, always in process and infinite wholeness. Since we have questioned the authenticity of the culture and the reality of hybridity in this contemporary postmodern world, my Hybrid Cultural Identity is a discursive entity and could not be identified through external representation. I have justified that identity is emotionally charged with the intervention of history. My Cultural Identity at both ends is not pure, and could only be identified through contact and be enacted within a given context, therefore my Hybrid Cultural Identity is ‘neither this nor that’ and is in a state of ‘becoming’ and unfixed but I have the freedom of making the choice of what to take on and leave off.

As identity is socially discursive the reference point is resting at the act of identifying ourselves to others. To identify who we are is to identify who we are not. It is the others who make us so visible and centred. Identity configuration for displaced people is manifold and complex due to ‘double consciousness’ where displaced people encounter transvaluing cultural difference, constantly negotiating identities in between cultures – in a hybrid and ambivalent – liminal space; an interactive space which constructs difference, that makes identity multiple, split and fragmented.

Post-Colonialist theorist Bhabha, posits hybridity as a form of liminal or in-between – the ‘third space’, where the cutting edge of translation and negotiation occurs that enables other positions to emerge. This “third space” is a place of hybridity which opens the notions of ‘otherness’ and in its essence draws one to both displacement and relocation. It is logically entwined in the

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coordinates of migrant identity and difference, an evocative term for the formation of identity in the ‘third-space’ without repression of a pre-existing norm or teleology. It is also a sign for creativity and translation but invokes a disruptive and productive category where translating and transvaluing cultural differences is taking place. Hybridity means that neither culture nor identity can return to their pre-existing state. ‘Hybridity in a simplified sense is a naturalised and historical state that is inevitable due to the evolution of different cultures coming together.’296 Hybridity is the changing nature of intercultural processes, the result of a broader set of processes known as culture diffusion, which means cultural incorporation, assimilation and integration fitting into the dominant culture but it is never quite the ‘same’; this hybrid space as expressed by Bhabha creates a ‘new’ form of identity.

A Place to Be My new ‘becoming’ self was identified in my birth-country by locals identifying the different accent I had acquired when speaking my native language. My new ‘becoming self’ was identified in my birth-country as foreign. It made me wonder whether I could reconnect with the place I had left. If I am to retrieve my sense of belonging there I need time to reconstruct my identity and my connection with the place, whereas I feel a sense of belonging in Australia after all the years I have lived here. This perspective is not because of any negative encounters or feelings but it is to do with the reality of my life. My identity is entwined with a sense of freedom, without the need to exhibit the authenticity of my Taiwanese nationality, my Chinese culture or my Australian residence. My identity is at the ‘two border zones’, a zone where all differences meet, where I can practice all my new forms of ‘self’ without being identified as ‘different’ or ‘foreign’, and the zone is as suggested, the ‘third space’ of the liminality. It is a productive and creative place for people when negotiating and turning unfamiliar into familiar. The new journey constructs another form of self. For displaced people this space is ‘neither here nor there’ and their new form of self is ‘neither this nor that’, the things they turn to for their ‘familiarity’ are never quite the ‘same.’ Being in this borderland, I am not compelled to relinquish part of myself or my culture but I can exercise both as I choose. I can communicate in a ‘hybrid’ language by combining languages of English and Mandarin or Cantonese with someone who has the same background as I, and not worry about being criticised for not speaking ‘properly.’ I can express and act in a Western individualistic way without being criticised about my manners, choose what I like for my three daily meals and not be strictly bound to the food of one nation and join groups, mix socially and enjoy different forms of cultural expression. I am able to step in and out and shift between the dominant and ethnic

296 Agnes May Lin Meerwald, “Chineseness at the Crossroads: Negotiations of Chineseness and the Politics of Liminality in Diasporic Chinese Women’s Lives in Australia,” (PhD thesis, Murdock University, 2002), 71.

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cultures as I wish. This hybridity bestows a new freedom from the self-control that restricts a person to one particular culture. More so, in this multicultural zone, people of different cultures equally share multiple-backgrounds and the sense of being ‘different.’ We uphold our dual identifications without the need to spell them out. Migrants constantly being asked the question “where are you from”, reminds them of their dual identities, of the new and the old, the double- consciousness of their past and the present, their life and identity which are both fragmented, even though they have made another home ‘here where they are at.’297

Through my theoretical research, my personal experience and my understanding gained from reviewing six artists who have experienced displacement, I have been able to respond to the research questions: “Is the liminal space a transitory or permanent location?; ‘How do displaced people emotionally attach to the old home?” and “Where is the metaphysical belonging for displaced to dwell?” I consider that the Liminal Space is the permanent space, the metaphysical belonging for displaced people to dwell, because the effect of transition is permanent. No one could ever be fully ‘assimilated’ without any string tying them to their historical selves or home, yet they never could return to their place of origin and feel they belonged there. Papastergiadis has summarised migration as a process and it is not completed by the arrival of an individual in a foreign place, and arrival rarely guarantees assimilation.

Migrants are often transformed psychologically by their journey, and their presence in the new environment is a catalyst for new transformations in the spaces they enter. Similarly their relationship to their original ‘home’ is rarely erased because departure seldom entails forgetting and rejection. The links between home and the new culture and society need not contract and diminish; they may find new forms of connection and extension.298 Therefore, through the examination of the works of the six artists discussed in this research, I consider the original ‘home’ of the displaced has become a sensual experience, varying and unattainable in its original form, but filled with imagined imagery from their memory. A displaced person is mindful of who they are and their sense of home is often liberated from a physical fixed space to a state of mind, so the memory of the old home has become a static site that the mind longs for but cannot achieve.

People who have been uprooted and have a strong sense of place and themselves, allow themselves to dwell in any place and make it ‘home.’ Our need for a home arises out of vulnerability and a lack of solid identity. As philosopher Alan de Botton said, home does not

297 Ien Ang, “Migrations of Chineseness: Ethnicity in the Postmodern World,” Mots Pluriels 7 (1998): 7. University of Western Sydney, Nepean. http://www.artsuwa.edu.au/MotsPluriels/MP798ia.html (accessed: 24/12/2013) 298 Papastergiadis, The Turbulence of Migration, 206.

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have to offer us permanent occupancy, but we need a home in the psychological sense as much as we need one in the physical sense if we are to compensate for vulnerability.299 I believe when a person has a strong sense of self, of who they are, they locate their home in their heart.

299 Alan de Botton, “The Idea of Home,” The Independent, 7 Jun. 2008. www. independent.co.uk. (accessed: 3/12/2013)

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