A Story of Chance: Wandering in Hong Kong

When I meet a new city, I prefer to walk it. Exploring on foot I have found a smattering of tucked away shops and cafes, but nothing yet compares to two discoveries made in Hong Kong. One with the help of a Couchsurfer turned friend. The other by chance.

This is the story of chance.

In Hong Kong, it is essential to walk and explore. Any Hong Konger will tell you the best way to experience the city is on foot. Skip the subway. Skip the buses. Skip the taxis. Pick a direction based on a hunch, a curiosity, or a destination, and walk.

Exploring on the Kowloon (mainland) side of Hong Kong, I started at the ferry terminal and Nathan Road. Then I decided to get off the main drag. I headed north in search of a gallery which promised a new perspective on “Touch” and art. Briefly disappointed and feeling lost after looking at immature work, thinking it looked childish for established artists, and only at the end of the exhibition finding out the work was done by students. (Thank goodness for the docent who told me!) I wandered back south.

I walked into the flower market, full of orchids, roses, lilies, rhododendrons, azaleas, bamboo. I was overwhelmed by scents and shoppers as I wandered.

Flowers in buckets and bouquets wrapped in paper. Vans picking up and delivering flowers in their daily routine. Tall buckets full of long-stemmed flowers packed tight. A florist trying to make room for more. Buckets toppling like dominoes. Water streaming into the gutter. I watched as staff slowly and calmly picked up the buckets. Their actions calculated movements, as if this was part of the daily routine.

Afterwards, I found myself in a bird garden (market) full of dissonant chirping. I heard a cacophony of birds trapped in cages, calling out, looking for a familiar voice in the mix. I saw beautifully carved cages, porcelain food and water dishes, multi-colored birds, old men and women sitting in stalls or outside the gates of the garden with so many songbirds. I could not take it all in. I left feeling stressed and confused. I sat on a bench trying to process the ordeal, taking a breath, writing some notes, eating a pear.

I wandered back to the street, more flowers, more open shops, garden flowers, and a main road. Prince Edward Road. Shops on the main level full of touristy goods. A subway station ahead. “I have been walking for hours. I am tired. Maybe I will go to the subway, head back to the hostel, and take a break.”

Then I see it. A sign. Literally, a sign. The sign marked the historic building I stood in front of. A building which retained original art deco elements from the font of the address on the door, to the ironwork on the doors themselves. I quickly skimmed the sign, and then I had a look for myself. On the second floor was a ceramics shop. Always on the look for unique moments when exploring cities, I wandered up the stairs. At the first landing, I looked at the doors, briefly confused at the lack of a ceramics’ shop, and then realizing for the umpteenth time that I was only on the first floor according to Hong Kong’s system of counting levels. I continued up the stairs.

Stairs with original tiling.

JL Ceramics

Concept Shop

“Open”

I pushed the door open and heard a chime which reminded me of a small metal wind chime. 

“Hello.” 

I heard in an accent I couldn’t quite place. 

“Hi,” I said, as I walked into the shop mesmerized by everything around me. I may or may not have made eye contact with the shopkeeper who sat behind an antique looking carved wooden desk with a large tapestry acting as a curtain behind him.

As I wandered around his shop, looking, not touching, amazed at the variety of ceramics I saw before me, enchanted by the lovely, detailed painting on a small porcelain tea set, he must have watched me. While I can’t say for sure that he wondered about my presence in his shop, as I walked around to the first shelf, his question gave me a hint. 

“So, what brings you in? You just wander into any open shop?”

Apparently I did not look the part of his usual, purposeful customer. I also had not initiated a conversation, secretly hoping that his curiosity would start the conversation and nearly overly excited at the chance to speak about my own wonderings and slightly out of breath, I said, “I saw a sign that this was a historic building, and I happen to like ceramics.” 

First he told me about the apartment. He drew my attention to the floor, “original tile.” I could tell by the lilt in his voice that he was happy to have a customer who appreciated the finer details of his apartment. I let him indulge, asking probing questions here and there, and finding out that he had to petition to rent this apartment. He made a proposal that he would keep everything original, while supporting and promoting local cultural arts. He won the bid. He hosts a variety of workshops at the apartment and at another location.

“What kind of ceramics do you like?” he asked.

“I like all kinds from very detailed porcelain to contemporary abstract works.”

He showed me his most prized items, kiln supports from an ancient Chinese dynasty, which had been discarded by the potters at the time because a bowl had been partially glazed to them. These kiln supports were rugged, heavy grog. The porcelain inside delicate and glazed with with celadon, a light green glaze praised by many potters because of the difficulty of achieving a perfect mixture.

I asked if he had work by local Hong Kong artists. We talked kilns. He showed me work he had purchased in Korea, opening the door for me to talk about my story. He then launched into his. He lived in Melbourne for 10 years before returning to Hong Kong and opening the shop. Finally, his accent was put in its place.

After my own wandering and his tour, I knew I could not leave without a piece of this place. I knew what I wanted but worried it was out of my price range. Luckily, I had just enough for two small teacups minimally and artfully painted. Perfect reminders of my trip and this lovely discovery.

Before heading back to wash and wrap my selections, the shopkeeper pointed me to a beautiful selection of fabrics and clothing, which he had seen me brush past in my excitement about pottery. He told me he had a large selection of fabric woven in Shanghai in the 1950s, and he had decided to try his hand at designing clothes. I then noticed, the shirt he was wearing came from the same selection of blue and white striped cloth. 

This was heavy fabric. Beautifully dyed and woven. I immediately thought of my grandmother. And as he slipped away to take care of my tea cups, I admired his handicraft, but mostly the weight and feel of the fabric. Modern fabrics are woven by machine, but these fabrics had the feel of hand-weaving. Uneven, thick, rough, and masterful. Realizing there was no way I could carry a whole bolt of fabric with me back to the hostel or back to Korea, I looked down. Remembering that I had seen other storage areas on lower shelves around the shop, I found the remnants. When he saw me sifting through them, it was as if he knew I was wondering about price. 

“Pick one,” he said across the shop. “Those are scraps. For you, take one for free. For the memory.”

“Really? Wow. Ok! Thank you so much.”

These were very well kept remnants, and I selected one which I found the most attractive of the lot.

Giddy with the excitement of the discovery of this shop, the fact I was spending my last 350 HKD and still had a couple days left in town, the pleasure of knowing that I would soon be the owner of two beautiful tea cups, and holding the remnant, I headed back to the front of the shop and his desk. We conversed a bit more, and then I walked back out to the street.

Out of the shop, suddenly I was exhausted. I needed to find food, an ATM, and get back to the hostel to take a nap so I could keep going for the rest of the day.

Looking at Art: The Busan Ferry Terminal at Night

The Busan Port at night is a magical place. No one is around and the boats all sit quiet aside from the occasional pilot coming back in from assisting a larger ship out of the port. Near the water, benches are set up, specifically, it seems, to encourage people to watch the port activity. The lights in the distance shine like unflickering fireflies, and the houses disappear into darkness. Cars zoom past at all hours and a stray pedestrian saunters by.

I had the occasion to see the port late night on a weekday when I first met Philipp. We wandered here after climbing the hill behind China Town / Texas Street and seeing the port from above. Conversation kept us occupied as we walked and explored. We talked about everything from family to traveling to future dreams. We first connected on our mutual love of Russia, and the topic and storytelling never got old.

Philipp knew about my knowledge of and love for art. He also knew I had taught others how to look at art, so he gave me a challenge. “If this were a work of art, what would you say about it?” “This” referred to the port as it stood in front of us. Excited about the challenge, my eyes lit up, but to be honest, at first I balked a bit at the port being considered artwork. I said, “Ok, let’s imagine this is a photograph. And for whatever reason, what we are looking at now, this, was the perspective chosen by the artist.” I followed this brief and somewhat uninspired statement with a standard starting question for looking at any work of art.

“What do you see?”

Before the words came out of his mouth, without even looking at him, I predicted what he would say. He had told me that he always sees things as they are.

“Um, ok … what do I see? I see boats and buildings and water.”

I started trying to ask him for details or what kind of story he would tell, but even though he was open, his resistance to interpretation was strong. I knew I needed to give him a starting point, so I changed my tune and broke every rule that I have learned for showing children art. You do not usually tell children what you see because of the assumption that the child will think there is a “right” answer. I knew Philipp had more mental capacity than a child, so I forged ahead and broke rules.

“Ok. Let me tell you what I see. You said you see buildings. Maybe it’s my poor eyesight, but I actually don’t see many buildings, the whole land mass out in the distance is hard to bring into focus. Instead, I see lights scattered around, a bit like fireflies, and I see the reflections on the water. Of course I know there are ships and machinery, but if I really look, that’s not what I see.”

He stood there for a moment, taking it in. “Weird. When you were describing all of that, I saw it. Why has no one ever done that for me?”

At this moment, I realized that Philipp was the kind of person that I admire and want to be around. Even if he does not know something or is not aware of it, he is open to the possibility of its existence. He is open to trying new things, even if it means challenging his world view. That night we decided we had to go to the art museum together.

Finally, the day before Philipp left for Fukuoka, we went to the art museum. I usually prefer to go alone for a variety of reasons, but with Philipp the art museum felt like a different place. He had somehow joined my inner dialogue and brought it out. We joked and laughed and discussed what we saw. He helped me see things that I had not seen on my previous visit to the Busan Bienniale. My personal favorite was his interpretation of a work he nicknamed “CCTV”. The first time I had seen this work of art, I did not know what to make of it. I looked at the grid, the yellow arrows, the brown squiggly lines, the gray circles, and then made a connection between the marks in the grid and the “key” to the artwork below. I made a connection, but I could not jump to a story or an interpretation. The work of art did not stick with me. This second time around was different.

Philipp looked at it for a minute, and then said, “Ok. Should I go first or you?” I told him to go ahead.

“So, this artwork is about monitoring, about America monitoring terrorism. These are cameras, and that is the headquarters. Each time a beard [brown, horizontal zigzag line] is found, a record is made, and that person is watched.”

He went on describing his interpretation of what the grid and organizational chart meant. He had a description and connection for each element of the artwork, and I was impressed. He noticed parts of the artwork I had missed and his story made this artwork come alive. With his description, the art became a dynamic, memorable work of art with a story and direction. I appreciated his ability to help me see something I had not seen before.

--written in November 2014 about October 8, 2014.

Seoul is to Korea as ... ______ is to ______

... Moscow is to Russia.
... Boise is to Idaho.

After eleven months in Korea, I finally made it to Seoul. It's not really Korea. People speak English. There's a huge variety of foreign food, not just the regular pasta and waffles. And the number of foreigners is astounding.

Before visiting, I was skeptical. I knew it would be a huge city, with lots of people, and whenever I thought of this in comparison to the lovely, closer option of Busan, I ALWAYS opted for the beach. So, when I finally made it to Seoul, I was pleasantly surprised.


Ulsan, marked in the white circle, is where I am located. Busan (the blue circle) is the second largest city in South Korea and boasts a few lovely beaches. Seoul (the yellow star) is "really" far away.

I had low expectations for Seoul. I thought of a crowded, overpopulated mess of people. I lived in Moscow for nearly two years. I knew what a city was like. But as with all things in life, you do not really know it until you try it.

One of the best discoveries in Seoul, was a design museum / cafe combination in Hongdae. While it can be a bit tricky to find the first time, it is well worth the journey. aA Cafe is a simple, modernist style building full of custom furniture and designed like an old warehouse, brewery, or art school. The large windows let in as much light as possible, and the feeling of the exterior and interior made me think of Frank Lloyd Wright's work and a smattering of other modernist architecture and interior design that I was briefly exposed to at University.

Sitting in aA Cafe

Unlike (or the same as) similar places in America, I do not think this place was EVER anything other than what it is now, but that does not lessen it's charm or character. The ambiance is created by lofty ceilings, huge hanging lights, brick walls, and mismatch furniture. The knowledge that there is a museum directly underneath the cafe, which houses a variety of "antiques" and modern creations, and the assumption that there is a studio above the cafe where people create beautiful, yet simple, furniture contribute to the illusion that Korea, full of it's nearly formulaic glitter and cuteness, has been left far behind.

Part of the museum ... no sitting here.

Rivaling the discovery of aA Cafe, away from the noise and chaos of the city, the Han River provides a calm that cannot be found in the overcrowded shopping districts. The old river stretches off into the distance and allows for windsurfers, jet skiers, and sail boaters to enjoy a lovely Sunday afternoon. A paved path runs along the river and connects the various districts of Seoul in a non commercial space. Young and old, families, couples, and a variety of others utilize this path. As I walked along the river near Itaewon toward the 63 Building, enjoying my solitude and the peace and quiet, a realization dawned. Unlike Ulsan's Taewha River path, the path along the Han lacks speakers. There is NO K-Pop blaring. There is NO classical music. There is absolutely NO manufactured, constant sound, and the effect is refreshing. In the stretches of path away from bridges, the main sounds that could be heard were the river, crickets, and cars and trains in the distance.

Before arriving in Seoul, my expectations were low if not nonexistent. I knew it would be a city. I knew it would be different from Ulsan because there would be a variety of foreign food, though I had no idea the extent of that variety - Itaewon boasts everything from Mexican to Thai to French to Arabic and more. I knew at times I would feel claustrophobic because of the shear number of people, but I had no idea how much I would enjoy it. A lovely cosmopolitan change from the more conservative and isolated areas of Korea, Seoul has character, and I would highly recommend it, in small doses, for anyone living in Korea.

Art class in Ulsan: Eric Carle Style books

Surprisingly, the end of the Summer Art Class came faster than I expected.

Halfway through the class, the girls asked if they were JUST making a book. They had seen the work of the Winter Art Class and were a bit disappointed by how few projects we were tackling, but as they began to see their stories and books take shape, all their reservations disappeared.

The girls did an excellent job, especially considering the lag in the middle of the course, when they weren't quite sure what they were working toward. During this class, I wanted to avoid giving too much direction, so I didn't have a finished book for the students to look at, at all. In retrospect a bit more direction, perhaps with an "empty" book, might have been a happy middle ground. It would have provided motivation, but it also might have taken away the surprise at the end!

After much work in class, and hours spent at home binding the books, the Eric Carle style, illustrated books are finished!

Here are the results:

Lena's book: Caterpillar's Story

One day there lived a caterpillar. The caterpillar wanted to be a butterfly.

So the caterpillar ate many leaves.

But the caterpillar just got bigger and bigger.

The caterpillar was sad.

So, the caterpillar visited a butterfly. The caterpillar asked, and the butterfly answered.

"Go to the branch." The caterpillar listened. She went to the branch.

At last the caterpillar changed into a butterfly.

At last the caterpillar changed into a butterfly.

About the author.

Emma's book: The Ladybug's Adventure

One day, the ladybug lived in a leaf, but the ladybug didn't eat anything. So the ladybug was hungry, and she found some food with friends.

First the ladybug found an apple at the fruit store. The ladybug said, "Umm ... It's yummy!" but they were still hungry.

The ladybugs found a leaf in the woods. "Yuck!" The leaf was so bad!

And the leaf was next to the honey. "Wow, this is sweet!" They ate the honey and ate snacks too.

So the ladybug was full.

The ladybug said, "Oh! I am a happy ladybug!"

About the author.

Ana's book: Bunny Has Many Friends

One day, there was a bunny. The bunny didn't have friends and the bunny wanted friends.

But, it had only one friend. It was a squirrel. One day the bunny visited the bird's house.

The bunny said to the bird, "I want to be friends with you." So the bird said, "I don't want to be your friend because you can't fly."

So, the bunny was sad, but the bunny didn't cry.

And the bunny went to the squirrel's house. "Hello, squirrel. I don't have any friends."

The bunny was very sad, so the bunny wept.

The bunny grew, and now the bunny is a rabbit, so now the bunny has four friends.

Two squirrels and two birds. The rabbit was so happy!

About the author.

Art class in Ulsan: Eric Carle Style Illustrations

As stated previously, Korean students study ALL the time. Even during break they go to academy or sign up for extra classes at their school. For me this has resulted in the wonderful benefit of an art class. (See Art class in Ulsan for pictures and information about the winter art class with four boys.)

The summer art class has taken a different turn entirely. This is partly due to higher expectations of the students involved and partly due to their longer attention spans and increased patience. What started as a seemingly simple idea to create books, has evolved into a full out course on Eric Carle style illustrations.

With the help of Eric Carle's website and a slideshow on his books, I introduced my students to the concept of creating illustrations and making stories in the style of Eric Carle. We did not have access to his actual books. Yet it all worked out for the best.

Based on Carle's illustrations, I had the students brainstorm and discuss what they thought the stories were about. I discovered that this opened a door to the creative process. They couldn't copy the stories because the stories weren't there to copy! Many students, especially studious Korean girls, want to do everything "perfectly", but in art nothing is right or wrong. Not having an "answer" available created a bit of confusion at first, but they have begun an awesome journey toward original stories.

After the students decided on a main character and worked on their stories a bit, we painted tissue paper.

The students were a bit surprised at what happened to the table underneath their tissue paper, but it was easily wiped off.

At home, I was lazy and didn't wipe between each piece of tissue paper. This is the result.

Unfortunately the time allowed in class for painting tissue paper wasn't quite enough, so I went home and painted MORE tissue paper because of our time constraints.

Art class in Ulsan: Robots and Art Show

After finishing their robots on Monday, the boys and I put all their artwork on display. We turned the school into a mini-gallery showcasing our collective hard work. Each project is accompanied by a short description, written so that even the lowest levels should be able to understand.

Since Monday, I have been praised numerous times by coworkers, who have said that the artwork has changed the atmosphere in the school. Students now have something more than “Best Diaries” to look at before and after their classes.

Additionally, the four boys have been showing off their work. They are proud and rightfully so.

Here are the finished robots!

Jacob's Robot with jet packs

Vincent's Robot

David's Robot with a small "stick man" on top

Aidan's Robot with cape

Students are curious. Parents who come in to pay their bills or to consider the school see the work, and I have been told many have asked about it. Questions like, “Where did they make the art?” “What was the class?” … even the delivery guy checked out the student’s self portraits.

My boss stopped me today, and as she does when she wants to communicate something quickly, she had another teacher tell me how wonderful the art display is, which my director keeps calling “decoration.” I am excited that the artwork is well received. The “Mr. Burns” in the back of my head is steepling his hands and saying, “Excellent, Kimberly … Excellent.” Hopefully soon I will have another class!

Links to art on display:

Comics

Wire sculptures

Artist's Statements

Self-Portraits

Art class in Ulsan: Artist's statements

Vincent, Aidan, Jacob, and David

Soon the student's artwork will be on display around the school. I hope to stir enough envy that another art class happens because today was the last day.

Earlier this week, we reviewed all the projects we had worked on: color wheels, comics, self-portraits, collages, wire animal sculptures, and clay robot sculptures. I asked the students to think about their favorite project and write a sentence or two about it. Then they painted their name and wrote their "artist's statement" on a large piece of paper.

Influenced, perhaps, by the hilarity that was wire animal sculptures and wire dung, my students all picked the same "favorite" project.

AIDAN

"My favorite project is animals because animals are funny."

JACOB

"My favorite project is animals because my rabbit is running fast!"

VINCENT

"My favorite project is wire animal because my lion is very interesting."

DAVID

"My favorite project is wire animals because a cat is my favorite animal."