The Legend of My Life

In the Watson gallery, six batiks hang completed. Two translucent figures pull them in two directions, one east, and the other west.

On one side is the sun which rises with the year of the tiger as he watches with large orbed eyes. The feline’s stripes flow into the mother figure who carries her twin daughters into this new day. The mother tiger with her two cubs below echo this scene and one lone tiger walks into the sunset as the day comes to an end and twilight begins.

On the other side is the nighttime sky which sets during the age of Pisces. Represented by two

colossal marlin fish, the Pisces constellation dominates this end. From the center of the semi-circle stretches chains on which the fish’s tails are joined. The meeting of these chains are joined by a single and beautiful star, called the “knot of tails.” Marine animals of all kinds swim in this sea of stars and galaxies which flows from the mother’s water jar onto the twins beneath.

If the tiger is the king of beasts on land, then the Marlin fish is the king of creatures in the sea. The first is representative of my Chinese heritage, the second my Western upbringing. They pull against each other, their v-shaped compositions balancing the overall work.

 

In the middle two panels we see the result of this fusion of cultures: a set of twins connected by a thin veil of water. One sister stands firmly within a simple Chinese landscape, the other floats on a multicolored pond. Even as she is getting drenched with a waterfall of fish, she manages to keep her lotus flower dry, a souvenir from her past. Petals from the flower however, have fallen to mix with the pond of colorful fish below.

With paths of molten wax on wavering silk, I drew the legend of my life. From six blank pieces of fabric comes one finished work full of colors, meaning and symbols pertinent to me. It is at the end of this journey of creation that I am able to look at myself anew and see who I really am. Throughout this process, I have grown and changed alongside my work. With this new and improved version of myself, I will begin a new journey full of adventures, trials and unexpected discoveries.

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Artist Statement

Once upon a time, on the small island of Taiwan, a set of twins was born - one white and the other red. Their mother carried them into the world during the year of the tiger and so they were destined to be rulers of the Earth – powerful, brave and strict. 

After a few short years, this wise woman brought them to a new land called America and washed them with the unlimited possibilities of their new land. Drenched in Western ideals of freedom, they soon became the dreamy and imaginative creatures of their Western zodiac sign. As Pisces, their sensitive, kind and fluid nature determined that they would be easily led and willing to go with the flow.

This is the legend of my life and how I came to be. As a product of both my Chinese heritage and my American upbringing, I have always felt torn between these two cultures from which I come. My destiny and character may have been pre-ordained by the stars and the moon in the sky, yet the country and culture I belong to will determine the actual outcome.

It has been said that the two fish which represent the Pisces sign shows the duality of those born underneath it and their yin and yang sensibility. Not only do I feel as if I am two entities, but as a twin, I am quite literally a double.

Although my sister and I may look like the same person on the outside, in reality, we are opposites in many ways. It has been a constant struggle to be seen as an individual and not compared to someone I am not.

No matter how much I may try to deny it to the world and to myself, my life is undeniably linked to that of my sister and I will never escape my past. That does not mean however, that I cannot shape my own future.

The ancient art of painting on silk with wax and dyes is the medium which best represents the essence of who I am and the divergent cultures from which I come.

The Silk Road is a well-known route from East to West and a journey I myself have taken. The crackle and drips of wax are like the accidents in my own life – unpredictable and impossible to control. The layer of wax concealing the true colors beneath teaches that even the artist cannot know the work in its true form until the process is complete.
Thus, it is through my art that I have learned not to let destiny rule my life. It is by accepting the cracks as they happen, the drips as they come and expecting the unexpected that I will live my happily ever after.

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When East and West Collide

Although I have always felt that I was destined for a career in science, in my final year of high school, I finally succumbed to my yearning to take a studio art class. It was here, leaning over a hot pot of wax that the glorious colors of batik burst into my previously black and white world. Since then, I have used many other media to express myself and the environment around me. After four years however, I have never lost my partiality for batiks - the first born, the first teacher, the first real view of my soul.

A batik stands out from other works of art through the functions that it serves. Whether it hangs on the wall, covers furniture, or drapes around my body, batiks are in constant contact with my daily life. Unlike sculptures or paintings, batiks can be touched, folded, sewn, tied and washed. Thus, they do not lie idle, but instead lead active lives though their relationship with me. There is nothing that gives me a greater sense of pride and confidence than wearing one of my creations outside, a perpetual reminder of who I am and what I can do.

Immersion into foreign cultures provides an even more drastic and shocking reminder of myself. Like a fish out of water, it is when I am out of my element that I realize what kind of creature I am. In Italy this past year, I was constantly reminded of my Chinese features and continuously forced to define myself and my identity to others around me. The batiks I made in this unfamiliar land were extensions of myself and exposed this inner battle between East and West.
My first assignment as a student in Italy was a self-portrait – a particularly traumatizing experience which forced me to confront my Asian features and furthermore impress them onto silk. On my next self-portrait, I delved beneath the skin to look even more closely at who I really am. Thus, I started to paint myself as a tiger - the animal of my Chinese horoscope. When the opportunity presented itself however, I added elements of the water - symbols of my Western zodiac sign. The end result was a very confused girl. Was she the fierce and solemn lady of the land, or the romantic, dreamy-eyed queen of the sea?

Deciding that my path was to the West, I set about creating another batik, this time as the

 Pisces I wanted to be. Somehow my road diverged once more however, and I painted myself holding an enchanted globe containing the image of a tiger, my only view from the watery depths to the land above. As the age-old adage asserts, art is the window to the soul, and along with the discovery of myself as an artist, came the exposure of this buried Chinese aspect of my heritage.

This past year, I created and experienced art in both Europe and Asia, further establishing and splitting my roots between East and West. After a summer at the Cholamandal Artists’ Village in Chenni, India, a school year in the art schools of Italy and finally, an internship at the Art Research Center for the Olympic Games in Beijing China, I have come to realize that there are no national divides in the realm of art. Its ideas and techniques have sailed oceans, crossed mountains and leaped over cliffs to merge with and influence what was already there. Thus, I no longer feel a need to choose between East and West. Although my tag may say “made in Taiwan,” I am still a product of the American spirit which has made me who I am.

During my year as a Watson Fellow, I will trace the journey that batiks and their creators have taken to see how they have changed and influenced one another. Starting with a blank canvas of unlimited possibilities I will find my way to the end, taking the detours as they come and paving new ones along the way. What I find there will be a reflection of the diverse cultures I will meet and a new and improved version of myself.

The magic of Creation

Here I am. 

Standing in front of a large table; newsprint spread out, thumbtacks prepared, frame ready, paintbrushes on standby, tjanting tool waiting and a hot pot full of wax. I turn it on. My newly purchased piece of cloth is smooth and cool in my hands, the silky material shining softly with each movement I make. I tack it to the frame. Stretched out, the white fabric stares at me - barren, desolate and unfeeling. It is begging for me to give it a body and a personality, waiting for me to give it life.

                   

This is how all my batiks are born. I start with “nothing.” I must create “something.” Through the use of line, shape, color and texture, I transform a lifeless void into an expression of myself. My design flows not from a specific artistic or intellectual process, but rather from an emotional place deep inside. At the beginning is excitement and anticipation over the endless possibilities but also fear and doubt of the unknown. The end is full of accomplishment, pleasure or disappointment. It is here that I meet myself anew and see how I have developed, grown and changed.

                                     

As an artist, I know that in between start and finish, preparation and completion, there is the dynamic journey of creation – a road full of twists, turns and detours. Every decision I make requires the courage to take action. The success or failure of each action limits and defines the next possible decision and action. This is the process used in creating a design on cloth with wax and dye, the media in which I use to discover and express myself.

                                    
Each application of molten wax to my canvas takes bravery I didn’t even know I possessed. It is hard not to be nervous when I know that it does not matter whether I chose to paint it on with a brush, draw it out with a special tjanting tool or stamp it on with a metal tjap, the instant the wax touches the cloth it will penetrate and harden, leaving no possibility for second chances. For the sake of my art, I am forced to be confident and decisive. Too much hesitation will cause the wax to drip and any anxious quivering would prove disastrous.

                         

My hard work is revealed with the immersion of the fabric into the dye bath. The wax acts as a resist, preventing the dye from entering the cloth in the waxed areas. Watching my design appear from beneath the inky waters gives me a sense of the same exhilaration Dr. Frankenstein felt for his creation and I barely suppress the urge to raise my arms up to the sky, tilt my head back and shout, “it’s alive…. it’s aliiiiiiiiiivvvee!” For there is no doubt in my mind that a batik is an animate being, with a mind and soul of its own. The design takes shape with the first waxing, comes alive with the first dyeing and each step thereafter adds a new visible dimension. I am constantly interacting with my work, changing with each step of the process.
 
                                   

No matter how careful I am, a batik will always assert its will, leaving me with designs that are not part of my original plan. The crackle and drips of wax are impossible to control, the color - derived from both the original color and that of the dye bath - impossible to predict. This sense of mystery is further increased by the layer of wax concealing the true colors underneath. Only when the wax is removed and the veil lifted is the spell broken and the work revealed in its true form. It is when I am able to accept the power of batik as separate from mine that my work reaches its full potential.

                               

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