Art Biz with Liz: Reflecting on my Asian Identity and Dinh Q. Lê’s Interconfined

On Wednesday morning, I woke to news of a hate crime that left 8 murdered in Georgia. As an Asian American, there are plenty of thoughts swirling in my head surrounding the event. In a time when crime targeting Asian Americans has risen given a perceived association with the coronavirus, it’s interesting to tackle what my Asian identity means to me.

The same Wednesday, I also received my weekly email from the University of Michigan Museum of Art (UMMA). UMMA brings art straight to my inbox, something that’s been convenient given the pandemic. The subject line #StopAAPIhate caught my attention, and in addition to art, the email contained information about an event and podcast focused on recent anti-Asian and anti-Asian American violence. The art of this week? Dinh Q. Lê’s mixed media piece Interconfined.

Image comprised of three figures with the central figure interwoven between a Buddhist statue and a Christ-like figure in a red robe. The material of the work is cut into strips and is woven together.
Dinh Q. Lê’s Interconfined

The artist, Dinh Q. Lê (Vietnamese name: Lê Quang Đỉnh), was born in 1968. He is most known for his photography and photo-weaving techniques. According to the UMMA website, many of his works refer to the Vietnam War. Concepts and themes of memory and its relationship with the present are also featured. This work, Interconfined, has three figures, with the central figure being interwoven between a Buddhist statue and a Christ-like figure. The central figure is none other than the artist himself.

For Dinh Q. Lê, a Vietnamese American multimedia artist, the piece represents the “struggle of finding one’s identity as an Asian immigrant (represented by the Buddha) in a Western, Eurocentric world (represented by Jesus)” (UMMA Exchange). This is tastefully represented by how the material in the art piece is cut into strips and is woven together. As a mixed Asian American, I’m inclined to consider how the piece represents being torn between two worlds, or stuck in the middle of two cultures. There are also themes of connectivity in play; the central figure is strategically overlapping the figures of Buddha and Jesus Christ, perhaps suggesting how they – or more so, what they both represent – are found within him.

I come from different ethnic backgrounds, with some parts of me more visible than others. They all, however, comprise who I am. I think of my mother, who experiences a divide tenfold as an immigrant, carrying a mixed bag of stories, traditions, and customs. In the US, we are constantly forging new traditions and identities as cultures and people collide, learning from one another and creating a mixing pot that should serve as a a place for liberty and justice for all. I say should, because as the recent hate crimes have demonstrated, we still have a long way to go as a nation. Being Asian is something that often “othered” me in my youth, and just as I began to found my voice in college, I found myself being shut down by a society that still casts me as an outsider. But just as the central figure in Dinh Q. Lê’s work stands strong, so can we. His work could not have popped into my inbox at a better time, and I am glad for a piece that resonates in such a remarkable way.

Looking Forward: Korean Student Association Cultural Show

Happy Friday, everyone!

This week I had the opportunity to interview Sangil Lee and Alice Wou, Cultural Show Co-Chairs for the Korean Student Association. They talked me through what the Cultural Show is all about, how they’re handling the event this year, and their thoughts on the future of KSA. Let’s dive in!

The Korean Student Association is a multifaceted group that, in normal years, is busy hosting Necto nights, selling Korean snacks on Pepero Day (November 11), and putting together events to celebrate Korean culture. One of their biggest annual events is their Cultural Show. Held in February, it features a showcase of Korean-related student organizations on campus as well as a self-produced K-Drama (which, from my conversation with Sangil and Alice, seems to be one of their most anticipated projects). 

The group was fortunate last year to hold their cultural show before campus shut down, making this year the first time the event has been majorly adjusted due to COVID. And, although the Cultural Show won’t be happening in-person this year, KSA still has exciting things planned. 

“With regard to the cultural show,” Sangil explained, “for this year we’ve decided on what we pushed it back a month later than it normally would be but we decided to stream it either on, like, twitch or zoom or something, and just have it be free for anybody to attend. But we’ve still invited all of the cultural orgs to send in a video for us to stream, and we’re still in the process of creating our drama.”

If you’re interested in getting involved with KSA’s Cultural show, Sangil and Alice recommend getting involved with the Cultural Show Committee. This is the group that typically plans out the show, creates the script for the K-Drama, and figures out the logistical pieces of the planning process. If you’re a freshman, you can apply to be a freshman representative for the committee. They accept about three freshman representatives per year; the position allows them to learn from the board members, help out with the event, and serves as a sort of training ground for KSA leadership in the future. For more information, you can contact them via their MaizePages and keep up to date with their events via Instagram.

That’s all for me this week! Thanks so much for reading – now go out and enjoy the sunshine!

Stay safe + stay healthy, 

Lucy

Snapshots of Liberty Street

I recently started a minicourse on the rhetoric of Instagram–yup, you read that right. Our first assignments were to read Annie Dillard’s Seeing and take three photos of things we’ve never seen before. Dillard describes a special type of observation as “a letting go. When I see this way I sway transfixed and emptied.” She speaks of dark and light, blindness, nature, and expectations. I wanted to take her perspective as I sought out compositions around me. Although I have walked up and down Liberty Street downtown hundreds of times, I tried to “let go” and open up my mind to details I had never noticed nor appreciated–like the fairy door at the bottom of the Michigan Theater, or the intricacies of Graffiti Alley. Below are a couple of black and white images I snapped.

 

Ruminations of An Aging Elf

Hello my children,

 

I hope not to bother you so, for exams persist and tensions run high amongst all folk within this humble college of ours. However, even in the most extraordinary of circumstances, as the most extraordinary of people, one can feel quite insignificant and alone. I don’t even know why I would feel this way. I know, logically, that what I am experiencing is merely the natural course and consequence of having lived so long. However, it does not change my profound frustration by its implications: slowly, but surely, your beloved professor is dying.

 

Today I wish to speak about the aging of elves, and instead hope to return to discussions about subjects of levity at a later date.

Now first for some context: elven aging occurs far slower than that of most other folk. Smallfolk, strange as they are, display age rapidly and will remain that way until they shrivel up into a senile bundle of wrinkles and coal dust. I will take their word upon the noble virtues of working until death deep beneath the earth.

Humans, like a passionate flame that burns quickly through its wick, persist for but a fraction of an elven lifespan. However, they age at a far more consistent rate than feykin or smallfolk, and this reminds them constantly of their purpose. Humans are liberated from unmotivated mediocrity by their immediate mortality.

Elves, on the other hand, are the most perfect of beings. Our beautiful youthfulness is as warm as honey and preserved like the sweetest of wines. This, of course, is true until the very final years when we find ourselves as the face of death. If you cut the roots from a flower, it immediately begins that painful process of vanitas. Likewise, an elf leaves just as quickly, yet mysteriously, is unable to provide evidence of their disappearance. To my horror, when bathing yesterday, a hair fell from my wonderful locks only to theblack stone below, a wispy grey sliver of color spelling the coming doom.

 

This is what scares me the most, my children. The days seem to get shorter and shorter, and don’t know how to describe it. It’s almost as if time itself has wrapped its long, wispy fingers around me personally just to tamper with my perception of the world. I suppose that is the natural state of an elf, a point of time in one’s life where all must come hopefully not to a bitter end, but instead to a slow gradient into unknowing all that they have been privileged to have learned in the first place.

 

That doesn’t stop me from fearing the end. Something finite is scary to us folk. We enjoy boundless freedom and the endless possibilities of thought, but to have that stripped away from you as if it were ice exposed to a flame is indescribable. Or maybe, even, it is not my perception, it is not that my end comes closer, but that the world plays tricks on me and everyone here. The Earthmother plays games with mortals, especially those who hope to supersede her eternal, vast, unending influence. As you may already know, that is my whole identity.

 

Seeing this grey hair, and calculating the life that I already have lived, I at most have fifty years longer to study. Can you believe such a thing? I must take advantage of these twilighting elven years of mine, see the world in its entirety, and find once again what it means to be a person of study. After, of course, exams have ended and vacation comes. Thank you for listening to my musings every week, and I hope that your lives bring upon you answers instead of useless, ongoing questions.

 

Until next time,

 

-The Magician.

Weird and Wonderful: “Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury”

Sturgill Simpson has been leading the contemporary country music scene since his 2013 debut album High Top Mountain. He’s known for pushing the boundaries of country through his incorporation of other genres and his unconventional lyrical content, but his 2019 album Sound and Fury is by far his most unique, but in ways you might not expect. 

Sound and Fury is bursting with blues, hard rock, and psychedelic rock, but during the recording process Simpson came to the conclusion that his work wasn’t as eclectic as he wanted. In an interview with Zane Lowe, Simpson explained “Man, this isn’t weird enough. I should probably go to Japan and, like, get the five most legendary animation directors in history together…and we’ll just animate the whole…album”. Thus, “Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury” was born.

“Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury” is a 41-minute long visual album on Netflix. It’s a nonlinear dystopian anime that features a multitude of art styles. The visuals range from a live action skateboarding sequence, to a gory watercolor battle, to a pop art dance party. I won’t spoil every stylistic turn it takes, in part because I could devote hours to breaking down each scene. The film takes inspiration from Mad Max, Heavy Metal, and Cowboy Bebop, but these alone can’t even begin to describe the versatility the film exhibits.

The description on Netflix summarizes the plot as “a mysterious driver heads deep into a post-apocalyptic hellscape toward a ferocious showdown with two monstrous opponents”. The film leaves the rest of the story largely up to the interpretation of the viewer. The lack of dialogue and the time skips from scene to scene require a keen eye for detail and metaphor. 

The short film is a display of anime and country music at their most extravagant. Pounding bass, powerful guitar riffs, and outlaw-country inspired vocals tell Simpson’s story of a music scene and a country in crisis. This is perfectly accompanied by the colorful, bombastic, and sometimes downright disturbing imagery. Writer and director Junpei Mizusaki’s tale of a savage cyberpunk samurai might not be the first image that pops into your head when you think of country music, but the combination kept my attention from the very first note all the way through the credits.

The music and visual storytelling work together seamlessly. Not only does the music line up with the animation at key moments — for example, a drum beat lining up with the motions of a blacksmith —  but there is a thematic connection as well, in the form of political commentary. Simpson is known for speaking out against former US president Donald Trump, corporations, homophobia, and racism, and is actively pro-gun control. It’s important to note that the film is grotesque at points, but not without a purpose. While it may seem contradictory for a man so pro-gun control to green-light such an aggressively violent film, the entire point is to be disgusted at the violence. 

Simpson and Mizusaki want you to get mad. “Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury” is a depiction of the revenge we all want to see against the corporate greed that takes precedence over the greater good. The flashback scene of the main character’s origin story serves as the anti-authoritarian motivation of her rampage, and contributes to her characterization as an anti-hero. There are multiple morally gray characters throughout the film, but the true evil is clear, as represented by the two villains she faces in her flashback and in the final battle. 

The visual album ends with two quotes. One is from Japanese philosopher Miyamoto Musashi: “Get beyond love and grief and exist for the good of man”. The other states “Dedicated to the lost souls and victims of senseless violence”. At first glance this seems contradictory to the revenge plot, but upon further examination the senseless violence is not that of the main character, but of her wealthy foes. She isn’t purely good, because she is a perpetrator of violence, but she is a Robin Hood-like character using that violence in a way that she considers a benefit to society.

“Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury” is a shocking cultural mashup, and it works far better than I ever expected it to. The album on its own is interesting, but the addition of the visual aspect makes it clear that Simpson and his collaborators aren’t merely providing entertainment — they’re issuing a warning to the 1%. “Sturgill Simpson Presents Sound and Fury” is an explosive manifestation of the defiant attitude that dares to change country music forever, and I already can’t wait to watch it again.

The Poetry Snapshot: To Feel Safe

Boulder, Colorado

A trailhead welcomes you
like open doors at night.
Evergreen branches reach out
to hold you tight.
Foot steps sink into the piercing snow;
your fears melt away
as you glide down the Meadow.
Listening to whispered sighs of relief
as you stand between the trees,
you think about your overwhelm not too long ago.

Mountains stand tall;
a pedestal for the sky.
Gusts of wind rock the car;
a frightful lullaby.
This canvas is painted with shades of white.
Earth is tainted by my headlights.
Constantly changing, nature rearranging.

To feel safe without four walls is bliss.
Protected by a twinkling night star kiss.
City lights do not shine down here,
but somehow you trust the abyss.

Warm cups of sunrises to sip on
and 5 soft smiles at the break of dawn,
I slowly start to reminisce.