Dear Diane,
When
I was buying tokens in Singapore (they use these blue coins !!) to get onto the
subway from Chinatown to my hotel, I saw this childish scrawl on a wall nearby.
When my dad first saw it, along with its Chinese counterpart, he immediately
responded by saying "The handwriting is beautiful." I didn't really
know how to respond, because the handwriting feels stilted and inconsistent
(even in the size of the font) but it still feels
very aesthetically pleasing to the eye.
Here is the original,
written in Chinese by Tan Swie Hian.
I am in love with the
language of the poem (although you could say it is prose):
(1) The nebula swirls
with a dance around the River South;
The equator darts
through a song around the sea shore.
(2) The buildings in
harmony do away the remnant shadows;
The waste land of ruined gravels grows a million
flowers.
A third wall said that
his art / poetry / calligraphy are on display along the entire North East
Subway line. From the distance, all this may feel inconsequential (it's not
exactly original either), but the surprise of seeing the poem in such a chaotic
place is part of the experience of public art.
I felt both overwhelmed and comforted seeing it - finding spaces for
poetry to thrive is difficult, especially because for the public, poetry feels
inaccessible and up in the air. But where should poetry and art be but in the
public? Poetry builds connections between minds: it comforts us to know that
this feeling of agonizing pain or relentless regret has been felt by somebody
else before us. It reminds us that people do not totally regret life - which we
need to be reminded in unattractive places such as underground subway stations
- and that we can find something redemptive
in the midst of faceless, likely SOULLESS strangers.
-
The "Couplets in
Chinatown" talks a little bit about the history of Singapore: "The
master plan of Singapore drawn up by Lt. Jackson following Raffles'
recommendation shows areas were specially allocated to the various racial
groups e.g. Chinese, Europeans, Chaliahs, Bagis, etc." Singapore, like the
United States, was basically built by minority immigrants, although the
minorities transformed into the majorities. While it was originally colonized
by the British, the Chinese, Indian, British, and Malay cultures represent just
how significant the immigrant population is - that is, significant to how
ridiculously successful Singapore. It has the third-highest per capita income
and is the fourth-leading financial power in the world, and if that's not
enough, 1 in 6 Singaporeans are millionaires (the fuk???).
I've been thinking a
lot about the act itself of moving or migrating, literally displacing your entire
life to a new world in contrast to being a petty tourist. My most recent
journal entry is about the dispersal of humans from one location to another,
and that’s how I'm going to conclude this post:
I went to Gutian, [my
dad's hometown], where I can't help but feel is a place where memories are
being left to die and not even I, in my desperate attempt to archive every
moment, can successfully document every moment. The exhausted bricks of my
aunt's home probably remember more than she does, not that I'm saying my aunt
doesn't cherish her memories but her house has no photographs, her living room
centerpiece a tiger that was there when I visited five years ago. Perhaps being
static in one place never feels worth documenting: In Factor Girls, Leslie Chang always talked about how in China, a
family's history began with the migration of a person to a new place. The
Chinese, at least the traditional Chinese, are characterized as static. If they can stay in the same place,
they choose to: when my cousin Aveta graduated [in Scotland], she got two visas
for her mom. Her mom chose to stay home anyway, saying she feared being in a
new setting, lost in translation. In the 20th century, immigration from China
was not a decision made but an inevitability, if you were a dissident from
China. Now, Chinese billionaires / millionaires choose to leave China, as do
students who study abroad. Chinese girls migrate to cities to find better work
in factories, hoping to move up the work status ladder. These are all active
decisions they make and I think this change is important to the momentum toward
modernism China has been desperately trying to achieve. In Japan, people were
previously tied to their land, their heritage land - when a samarai was ousted
or in danger, he would always return to the homeland of his ancestors. The
Japanese bakufu (gov't) had to instate laws to address this obsession with the
past to remove ties that prevented people from migrating to industrial cities.
Movement is important.
As comforting as stability is, there is no true fulfillment from standing
water. "Expect poison from standing water." [william blake].
Love,
Elina
P.S. OUR FIRST ENTRY !!!!! tHIS is kind of a big deal get out the champagne.
No comments:
Post a Comment