In 1996, Lulu Hou (or Hou Shur-tzy, 侯淑姿) produced a well-known series of black-and-white photographs in which she coyly edged up her dress, giving surprised viewers a full view of what was underneath: a pair of skimpy panties stuffed with two lemons and a large banana dangling out.
The now 47-year-old’s sassy, irreverent side showed in her slightly disheveled hair, a propensity for giggling, and the way she rolled her eyes when a brood of noisy obasan sat next to us during an interview at a crowded Dante coffeeshop early this month. Her manner transformed, however, when the conversation turned to some of the very serious issues addressed in her current exhibition.
Look Toward the Other Side — Song of Asian Foreign Brides in Taiwan III presents a heart-wrenching look at the lives of Vietnamese-born women who married Taiwanese men. The artist details her Asian Cultural Council-sponsored trip to southern Vietnam last summer in digital prints and videos. Hou spent three weeks talking with the parents of immigrant brides through translators, recording their conversations and taking photographs.
Each of the 36 pairs of images at the Kuandu Museum of Fine Arts includes an enlarged photograph and a duotone duplicate with overlain Chinese text transcribed from Hou’s interviews. While some of the pictures speak strongly enough — she honed her photography skills at the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York after majoring in philosophy at National Taiwan University — the juxtaposed text elevates the works to something beyond a mere photojournalistic view of rural Vietnamese families.
The text in Tieu Thuy’s Mother begins: “Our daughter Tieu Thuy married through a broker and moved to Taiwan in July 2006. When we saw our son-in-law, we thought he seemed like a good person, so we didn’t worry about it. Only after she was married and in Taiwan did we learn he wasn’t a good person.”
Hou learned about Tieu Thuy’s story from a friend who suggested she interview Tieu Thuy’s family in Vietnam instead of her own. The girl was “sold” for NT$4,000 and upon arrival in Taiwan, beaten and sexually abused by her husband, Hou says.
“Tieu Thuy wanted to stay in Taiwan a while to earn money to help us with our difficult lives here,” her mother is quoted as saying. “I was very worried and told her: ‘If you don’t come home, I’ll kill myself here in Vietnam,’ and only then she returned.”
According to her mother’s account, Tieu Thuy fell ill a couple months after returning to the family’s village. They took her to Ho Chi Minh City to see a doctor and sold their house and fields to pay medical expenses. After three surgeries their daughter died of intestinal cancer.
Hou sighed when asked about legislation that came into effect earlier this month outlawing the types of matchmaking services that “sell” Vietnamese women to Taiwanese men. “They’ll just go underground,” she said. “But at least we won’t see those awful signs advertising Vietnamese brides.” Vietnam enacted similar legislation in 2002.
The eight women Hou has come to know closely have been much more fortunate than Tieu Thuy. All the stories they or their parents tell are touching. Some are sad, others are uplifting. The best combine the two.
Tuyet Han’s Father quotes him as saying matter-of-factly: “Our village has girls that have married Taiwanese and they all married pretty well, except for one: She doesn’t send money back.”
Conceptually, Hou’s new work isn’t so different from the Peek A Boo works made 13 years ago. She has said the focus of that series was the “male gaze.” Her newer work questions the same perspective but also includes criticism of the “Taiwanese gaze” and more broadly, in my opinion, an economic gaze that ranks people by their fiscal heritage.
Asked how the “Brides” series differs from documentary films or other direct forms of activism, she said: “Even other artists ask me about this: Is it pure [art]?”
Hou says she’s not bothered.
“I think if the audience feels it’s very sociopolitical-oriented, that’s a good thing.”
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