Chris Town for China Heights

Chris Town is no stranger to China Heights being a regular exhibitor for the gallery. Unsurprisingly many of his well priced and accessible prints (which appeared to be collages flattened by a high quality colour photocopier) had several red dots next to them (for those who don't know a red dot indicates sold). The theme for his latest offering 'Randy Credit Ruins Daily Contrast' was born out of his visits to China, where he found life synthetic and polluted. And reworked newspaper cuttings, mostly from tabloid press, exploring the manipulation of the media in a comedic light. The visual diary featuring flowers and advertising is the most engaging and even left me contemplating a purchase.
 
Exhibition runs until October 15th , L3, 16-28 Foster Street, Surry Hills

Free Ai Weiwei

The world is not as it should be, Ai Weiwei has been detained at Beijing airport for being a suspected criminal sic. 'outspoken government critic', his family and studio staff have also received similar 'controls'. This is a far leap from his involvement in the design of the Bird's Nest Stadium for the 2008 Olympic Bird's Nest Stadium.


The artist was ranked 13 in the top 100 most powerful artists by Art Review last year. It's saddening to hear of such injustices happening in China, anywhere for that matter. It's important that everyone is given the same freedoms around the world.



I urge you to write a letter to the Chinese ambassador, here's one we made earlier....

Dear Ambassador Liu,

I am writing to urge you to do everything within your power to guarantee the immediate and unconditional release of Ai Weiwei and others arbitrarily detained in China since late February, unless the Chinese authorities can show reasonable grounds for suspecting them of having committed an internationally recognisable criminal offence. While they remain in custody, the authorities must ensure they have access to their family, legal representation of their choice and any medical care they may require. The authorities must guarantee they will not be tortured or otherwise ill-treated.

I am deeply concerned that since an anonymous online call on 17 February to stage a ‘Jasmine Revolution’ in China more than a hundred activists, many of them active on Twitter and blogs, have been detained, put under surveillance or illegal house arrest, or have simply gone missing. Moreover, at least a dozen lawyers say they have been briefly detained and pressured by the authorities not to take up cases defending those detained, and even told by police to stop tweeting about detained people.

The Chinese authorities must end their repression of calls for peaceful political reform and instead listen to its own people. I am urging the Chinese authorities to take effective measures to guarantee freedom of expression, association and assembly in line with China’s Constitution and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights which China has signed and declared an intention to ratify.

Copy and paste the letter into an email and send it to press@chinese-embassy.org.uk

We are no longer in the dark, the internet has allowed those in need and wanting change to speak out, I plan to listen and be counted.

I wish you well Ai Weiwei and I hope that you are released in time for the unveiling of your Pulitzer Fountain work in New York.

=Youtube video to follow once home - here is the link for now.

Last Train Home

This morning I sat at my desk full of glow, a rare Monday; the sun is shining on the 29th floor, my weekend was a good one, Melbourne and I have turned a corner. Happily obscured from view I swot up on the goings on in the motherland. Dramatic headlines, doom and gloom, the protests, the riots, cuts, no public toilets, libraries and lost funding for domestic violence centres, psychiatric counselling, halfway houses for the homeless, people in need, forgotten. The land I have come from appears to have regressed somewhat, cutting crucial support, the cogs that keep society functioning. Where was the tax on banks, the tax on bonuses, and cuts in senior government? An internal tug of guilt washes over me, those left to struggle on in my absence, aging grandparents, aunties in the public sector - NHS and education, uncle whose job is now on the line, the effects are immediate, delivered from a far like a tomahawk heading to Libya.





I remain empathetic yet cheery as I head to (cinema) Nova for my regular Monday night date for one, a rewardingly comfortable arrangement. Last Train Home is a Chinese documentary centred around the mass migration of 200 million Chinese migrants - in most part of Chinese origin travelling back home to the (usually very) poor countryside in a distant province. I was engaged and humbled by the main plot which charts a family struggling to exist, grandmother raising her grandchildren, whilst the parents send money home. The characters clash under the pressure, with the parents vehemently expressing the life path of education upon there children. The daughter buckles and rebels. The scenes switch between factory, transport and countryside offering a unique, if somewhat bleak gaze into the life of the Chinese working classes. The documentary directed by Lixin Fan was filmed up until 2008 with the inclusion of the Chinese olympics. Comic relief is provided by the youngest member of the family the younger brother, whose witty remarks provide a much needed lightness. A poignant moment occurs on a sleeper train not dissimilar to one I have travelled on during my Chinese adventures. There are about five people cosied up on a bunk and they are discussing the financial practices of foreigners. I cast my mind back to how kind and inquisitive the Chinese were to me during my long train rides alone. The world is no longer a separate place we will are to become increasingly interconnected as global dependency evolves. It is important we see the different sides if not to agree then to understand and appreciate. This documentary certainly bought home questions as to the evolution/exploitation of China, and how far the country has yet to travel.

Posthumous consideration of China, part one - getting lost amongst a sea of service points

China has the largest population in the world and the fastest growing economy, when the prospect of traveling to China first entered my head I was fearful, almost put off. Yet in my 30th year I had faced no challenges, and had failed to mark the event in any way. This was to be my marathon, my big party, and an acknowledgement to myself that I had reached womanhood. In fact my 30th birthday was such a flop that had I failed to make a go of China, lost all my luggage, been robbed and come home I doubt I would have come close to how I felt on that fateful day. In fact China on the contrary scarcely proved any of my preconceptions, it was much safer than London, even as a tourist. The scams were much more subtle, the tea house ploy, where 'language students' invited you for (ridiculously) overpriced tea in order to become better acquainted with the cultures and accents of our gracious land, only to present you with a rather large bill. Fortunately this scam was only played out in certain hotspots and aimed at the more masculine of the species, one with a penchant for cute Chinese girls, of which there were many. I did however get accosted fresh from the metro station - looking every bit the tired vulnerable tourist, it was when I was asking a guard for directions - two women with quick tongues became rather interested as to where I was headed and wanted to show me where to go. There friendliness baffled me, as it didn't tally with their hardened faces, it wasn't my prejudice but my natural instincts operating effectively. I declined and pressed on, yet still they followed me up the road maintaining their faux friendly manner, proof that they wanted something from me. That was Beijing, in a large population, there will always be an element of people who will try and make money from deception. Two separate guests at the hostel (both male) became victim of the same tea (or one case coffee) plot during my stay.

China on the whole is extremely safe, especially when it comes to theft, no one likely to mug you, although there was a glut of pick pockets in Xi'an. The culture lends itself more to trickery and entrepreneurialism as a means of income, which is fine by me. Service points are useful on occasion, although have a tendency to be overpriced. Arriving fresh off a sleeper train in Leijiang I encountered a sea of 'entreprenuers' all offering the same service at varying prices and language barriers, which was intimidating. Especially when you're the only 'white face' and there are 60 of them, it's 5am and still pitch black, I’m desperate need of a pee, so I carry on walking, straight past the vultures wanting to make bread and look for a different service. A bus perhaps, but there is no station guard and barely anyone speaks English. I have just been to the loo with my backpack still attached, there is no safe place to leave it and the floor is disgusting, struggling to get my jeans back on I realise half the liquid didn't make it into the hole in the ground.



Wanting to get out of here I search for the meanest guy who looks like he may have stepped foot out of the province, and ask him the necessary information. Shocked by my attempts to converse, he delivers his response without hesitation. I’m on the bus, and haven't a clue where I’m going, when to get off, what to look for, who to ask. I merely pull open the book and point with a tired smile to anyone that will entertain. Someone tells me to get off, unsure whether it's a ploy to get you into their brother's bakery for buns, I hesitate, a relaxed hesitation mind, I’m waiting to gauge reaction - the bus grinds to a halt and everyone is waiting for me to exit. I’m now wandering the streets asking school children for directions; there English tends to be more advanced than the average adult. They seem bewildered by my presence and offer a finger, mostly aimed in different directions, it appears they do not know, but want to save face. It is a given that Chinese people out of politeness will offer a solution/answer even when they have none to give. So I found myself wandering round aimlessly 'like the great economy rocket of China, not knowing where I was going'. I came upon a hotel, which was open, eventually the hostel I staying at, sent someone to come and collect me, I was about twelve minutes away, not bad considering. The hostel is a Naxi house near the foot of the Himalayas, I want to sleep and shower, but its daytime and it's too cold/early to face showering outside. I don't change. I eat fruit and head off into the mountains, stepping back in time to a small village where I meet Dr Ho, a famous Chinese herbalist and a wonderful man, warm and welcoming, although less enthusiastic to my Japanese companions. I watch the cows being herded down the street, gaze up at the snow-capped mountains and drink baiju with the local men, they stare at us eating rice noodles. I feel privileged to be at this very point in time and wonder how long this place will remain as it is.

Grimefest in Hong Kong - sleep no.1

I arrived on Nathan Road Monday morning it’s 9am and Chung King Mansions is a blackest tooth on the strip. It’s fairly quiet yet there is still a hoard of ethic men, both disapproving and objectifying in their lingering glances.

After a sleep I head out to dinner at a Tiffany’s place it’s late night before I return, yet before arriving at the relative safety (save a little insect-y) of my tiny room I must run the gauntlet The men like the insects have multiplied an overwhelming number of African, Indian, Eastern, Asian men who make up the occupants of this crumbling dirty block are out, its peak time and there is not another single (or otherwise) female in sight. I stroll up with my white legs on display looking every bit the obvious tourist complete with passport, camera, wad of cash - I’m surrounded by fifteen dodgy looking men. The queue for the lift lasts a lifetime; I feel eyes on me from all directions. The elderly lift arrives, we squash in and it buckles under the weight, the full lift light flashes scornfully, a man with a bowl of pilau rice grunts and departs the cubicle. The CCTV is broken, there is no video evidence to protect me, and the eyes of the fellow passengers are aimed below my face directly at my chest. 2nd floor, 4th floor, 6th floor - I get out, disorientated I head off in the wrong direction, wait for the doors to close, perform a quick u-turn and I’m in my guest house, well not my guest house, I booked under a different name, yet this was the one I was allocated, like the BA and Quantas code share there was no choice as to where I ended up.

I have woken to drilling; constant and yet varying in pressure, a multitude of vibrations (reportedly this was the quiet block). 4,000 people live in Chung King it is a total dump. Justifiably down there with the cheapest accommodation in Kowloon.

I head off with three objectives (all consumer based – we are in Hong Kong after all) – new camera, battery for my laptop and a mobile phone for China. My challenge serves as a reminder of my foreign status, nothing is simple nothing is quick. I wander with purpose to several stores, yet soon my energy wanes, a wild goose chase through a dense metropolis of neon and hawkers, “you want tailor miss?” “Copy Rolex lady?” “Hostel lady?” My tasks lead me into a hidden building, armed with the address of a laptop repair centre I find myself on the 11th floor of yet another dodgy eastern looking building. Ahead are two open doors with pink lights glowing, outside lingers a man confused and embarrassed by my presence, he is on the phone, I move closer to the doorway, inside a series of rooms, more pink lights, I think I’m in the wrong place. Excited by my find and disappointed with my lack of camera I leave with a smirk on my face (so that’s why that old man started talking in Chinese at me when I headed out of the lift). My buying trip isn’t going well, I try to barter with the mobile phone street sellers but they seem pretty moody. Disheartened by time running away I wander down a side street into my fourth camera store, on display an array of lens options - Hassleblad, Leica, Cannon fill the room. I feel reassured by the content and consult my authorised dealer list provided to me at Cannon showroom earlier, bingo! It’s the real deal! I exit 10 minutes later financially and emotionally lighter, yet with the weight of a G12 dangling round my neck. The ‘nice man at the camera store’ also tells me where I need to go next – a further 10 minutes later I am back on Nathan Road with the coveted laptop battery in my backpack. Seizing the wave of contentment I sack off the mobile phone purchase and head off to the star ferry with sight seeing on the agenda.


my first shot of the harbour, I already heart my precious picture taking device