Myth is protean. Whether in the context of politics or culture, it is constantly shifting and changing. An exhibit at the Taipei Fine Arts Museum (TFAM) attempts to capture the idea of myth in its artistic forms through the work of three artists.
Iris Huang (黃舒屏), the exhibit’s curator, has done a splendid job in selecting the artists and laying out the exhibition area. The artists are given their own separate spaces in Gallery D of the museum (in the basement level), but these spaces are near each other for the purpose of thematic cohesion.
Titled Mythology of Contemporary Art (當代藝術神話), the show investigates popular culture, history and archeology (real and invented) through the sculptures of two young Taiwanese artists, Tu Wei-cheng (涂維政) and Yang Mao-lin (楊茂林), and the paintings of New York-based Chinese artist Zhang Hong-tu (張宏圖).
Tu’s Aztec-like sculptures imitate the architecture and sculpture of an ancient civilization. The large stone slabs, bas-relief friezes and monumental steles deftly retain, through the use of color and material, the appearance of old artifacts.
The arrangement of the sculptures resembles an archeological museum’s exhibit, complete with photographs of the “excavation site,” a documentary about the civilization by “historians” and “archeologists” and a timeline of the excavation process. Dark walls, objects behind glass and spotlights beaming down on the works provide additional impact.
Stele No BM66 — Gate of the Fleeing Souls (BM66號石牆 — 魂遁之門人) illustrates Tu’s sculptural style and the civilization he continues to create. Two artificial stone steles stand in front of a large wall, the center of which is a circular tablet. Human figures in various positions, executed in bas-relief, serve as the plaque’s focal point, circular itself.
Upon closer inspection the tableau reveals a series of interlocking technological instruments. The small figurines of man and beast common to ancient cultures are conspicuously absent here. Instead we find keyboards, electric sockets, computer game consoles and other relics that hint that this ancient culture was similar to our own.
Zhang Hong-tu’s 12 paintings Re-Make of Ma Yuan’s Water Album (780 Years Later) (再製馬遠水圖 (780年之後)) also examine appearances and reflect on the passing of time. He explores the effects of human-made smog on the sky’s color and how these environmental changes might affect visual representation.
The oil on canvas works are based on the monochrome studies of water done by the Song Dynasty landscape painter Ma Yuan (馬遠) and informed by early modernist pictorial techniques.
Although Zhang is not an impressionist painter, these works suggest otherwise. The use of color in Re-Make of Ma Yuan’s Water Album — S(780 Years Later) (再製馬遠水圖 — S(780年之後)) could be taken from Claude Monet’s Impression, Sunrise. However, the oranges and yellows of Zhang’s sun are partially obscured, replaced by a murky purplish-gray — a visual alteration, Zhang suggests, that is due to air pollution.
Yang’s sculpture series adapts material and idols from Taiwan’s religious culture and supplants them with images taken from popular consumer culture. Superheroes such as Wonder Woman replace Buddhist icons such as Vajradhara; a Taoist altar becomes a pedestal at which society worships cartoon heroes; spiritual images transform into fairy-tale products that could be sold in the market place.
A Story About Affection — Beloved King Kong Vajradhara (有關愛情的故事 — 金剛愛金剛) presents a gorilla on a lotus leaf embracing a figure that looks like a mermaid. The sculpture suggests that people no longer project their yearnings onto spiritual idols, but that today cartoons and superheroes are the symbols by which people make sense of their lives.
Though many of these works have been seen before at different Taipei venues (Tu’s at a 2003 exhibit at MOCA, Taipei; Yang’s at the Madden Reality exhibit that just ended at TFAM), bringing them together in one show raises many interesting questions about the mythology of creation and observation, while avoiding the theoretical jargon that could have easily bogged down this very enjoyable exhibition.
During the Japanese colonial era, remote mountain villages were almost exclusively populated by indigenous residents. Deep in the mountains of Chiayi County, however, was a settlement of Hakka families who braved the harsh living conditions and relative isolation to eke out a living processing camphor. As the industry declined, the village’s homes and offices were abandoned one by one, leaving us with a glimpse of a lifestyle that no longer exists. Even today, it takes between four and six hours to walk in to Baisyue Village (白雪村), and the village is so far up in the Chiayi mountains that it’s actually
The Taipei Times reported last week that housing transactions fell 15.3 percent last month, to under 20,000 units. However, the market boomed for the first eight months of the year, and observers expect it to show growth for the year as a whole. The fall was due to Central Bank intervention. “The negative impact of credit controls grew evident for the third straight month,” said Sinyi Realty Inc (信義房屋) research manager Tseng Ching-ter (曾敬德), according to the report. Central Bank Governor Yang Chin-long (楊金龍) in October said that the Central Bank implemented selective credit controls in September to cool the housing
These days, CJ Chen (陳崇仁) can be found driving a taxi in and around Hualien. As a way to earn a living, it’s not his first choice. He’d rather be taking tourists to the region’s attractions, but after a 7.4-magnitude earthquake struck the region on April 3, demand for driver-guides collapsed. In the eight months since the quake, the number of overseas tourists visiting Hualien has declined by “at least 90 percent, because most of them come for Taroko Gorge, not for the east coast or the East Longitudinal Valley,” he says. Chen estimates the drop in domestic sightseers after the
It’s a discombobulating experience, after a Lord of the Rings trilogy that was built, down to every frame and hobbit hair, for the big screen, to see something so comparatively minor, small-scaled and TV-sized as The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim. The film, set 183 years before the events of The Hobbit, is a return to Middle-earth that, despite some very earnest storytelling, never supplies much of an answer as to why, exactly, it exists. Rohirrim, which sounds a little like the sound an orc might make sneezing, is perhaps best understood as a placeholder for further cinematic