Art of Impermanence – Jane Ingram Allen

Artist and exhibition curator Jane Ingram Allen has created art in everything from an elementary school to an old folks home. The Taichung resident has been living in Taiwan with her husband since moving to the island as a Fulbright scholar in 2004. Since then she has been involved with a number of influential community and international art events.

Under the Fulbright residency, Allen and her husband traveled the length and breadth of Taiwan holding community art workshops in paper making. She would usually start by making a map of the village or area in which she was working. “It was a way of learning the [local] culture,” she explains. “I would always collect things in each place to put in the map [and] the locals would bring me old pictures or old brochures of all of the famous things in their community.” The paper was made out of local plant materials: “I learned a lot about plants; ‘What grows here that doesn’t grow anywhere else in Taiwan?’”

Allen went on to found and curate, from 2006 to 2009, the Guandu International Outdoor Sculpture Festival, held in Taipei City’s Guandu Nature Park. Participating artists were required to create their artworks using only natural materials found locally. “In environmental art, if you’re trying to make something that is not going to pollute the environment and even be good for the environment, you have to think, as an artist, in a different way about materials. It’s a challenge to figure out how you can use bamboo to make nails.”

During 2010, Allen curated two exhibitions, Going Green: New Environmental Art from Taiwan and the ChengLong Wetlands International Environmental Art Project. ChengLong is small coastal fishing community in Yunlin County where flooding has created a wetland. It is now being promoted as a nature preserve and bird watching spot, bringing much needed tourist dollar to one of the poorest counties in Taiwan. The project involved international and local artists and, says Allen, “brought fresh energy to the local community and perhaps helped people realize that there is some value in having these wetlands and this art.”

With Going Green, Allen “wanted to show to the world that there are artists in Taiwan that are thinking about environmental issues and are presenting a different viewpoint.” The exhibition toured four US cities and she was ecstatic with the result. “You know, one thing that I think is really important about this show is that it brought two artists from Taiwan to each venue, so the local community had personal contact with the artists and with Taiwanese culture.”

International cultural exchange is crucial for Allen and she has been responsible for bringing a large number of international artists to Taiwan, as well as helping Taiwanese artists expose their work abroad. In her own art practice, she gradually became dissatisfied with the exhibition model offered by gallery spaces and found herself increasingly drawn to site-specific and 3-dimensional art creation. “Project-oriented pieces that are out in the community and involve local people and local materials. That’s why I have been so interested in residencies. When you do this kind of work you almost have to go to the place and do it.”

Ingram has a storeroom back in New York State that is crammed full of her artworks, “stuff I made and don’t want to throw away but really, what can you do with it? Maybe it will never sell and nobody will collect it.” This has led to a philosophy of impermanence that has a direct influence on her art. “I’m making pieces that either disappear over time or that are made for a particular place and I just leave it there. I think it is sort of liberating in a way; you don’t feel that your art is so precious that you have to keep it forever.”

This impermanence bleeds into the shows she curates. Most of the artworks in the ChengLong project, as well as the site-specific works made for Going Green, will eventually melt into the landscape and are made of materials that will help the environment. During her time in Taiwan, Allen has seen an increasing number of Taiwanese artists from all disciplines focusing on environmental issues. “I think because the environment is becoming such a pressing issue everywhere,” she explains. “Taiwan, because it is a smaller island, is going to be more affected because it is very crowded and very urbanised. I think even artists are starting to see this and think that it may be an important issue for them to make art about.” There is, however, still a long road ahead. “I don’t think environmental art will ever be a big movement in Taiwan until we see it in the public plaza. I think it would be a real stretch for a city to commission a sculpture made with hay bales.”

短暫的藝術
　　藝術家及展覽會館長Jane Ingram Allen在每件物品上都能創造藝術，不論是在國小校園裡或是養老院中，都看得到她的作品；自從2004年以Fulbright留學生身份來到台灣後，這位台中巿民就和她的丈夫一直生活在台灣；自此之後，她就一直忙於社區及國際藝術的活動。
　　在Fulbright實習下，Allen和她的丈夫遊遍台灣，並且舉行造紙的社區藝術講座，她通常會以當下她正在創作的主題為開頭，比如製作村莊或地區地圖等；她說：「這是一種學習＂當地＂文化的一種方式，我習慣在每個地方收集東西來放進我的地圖，而且當地人也都會帶舊照片或者印有當地名產或名勝古蹟的小冊子給我。」而這紙是由當地植物材質製成，「對於植物，我學習了很多，有什麼是在台灣生長且不在其它地方生長的呢？」

Dressed Like a Thief – Amanda Fiore

Remember when it was new?

every word peeled
a sparkled memory

him in a yellow poncho
dancing for days on a white roof.

Remember the first time you sang
karaoke on the side of a mountain?

The two of you,
just her sarong.

Rice paddies, goodbye buses
airport counter tops

listen to us sing!
we celebrated everything,

crashed into each other like
loose-limbed women.

Suntory anesthesia.
Glorious Taiwan wounds.

Remember you told me
it was too soon to leave?

But I got to lie in his arms
in a turquoise ocean

and glide through a pink world
like a thief.

Stock 20 Redux – Kate Nicholson

Meet three more artists residing in Taichung’s revamped train warehouses, the art complex Stock 20. In the last issue we profiled artists that work with brush, paint and pen, now a trio who work off the canvas. Two use metal and wood to create sculptures and objects small or large and one explores human communication through performance art.

Niu-Yue Ji (紀紐約)
ny-artwork.blogspot.com

Ji was born in Kaohsiung in 1983 but has lived in six different cities. Free rent, interaction with other artists and a quiet environment in which to create are behind his decision to reside at Stock 20. Painting was Ji’s major, but only because choices were limited. For his masters he chose installation art and now works mostly in performance art. For Ji, life is art. “I don’t like high art,” he says. He believes that art should not last forever and that it doesn’t need a hefty price tag.

Food, especially traditional Taiwanese fare, features heavily in all his works. For Ji, sharing food with others is a kind of language: “When you fall in love, [there is] no language, just touch. [My work is] the same.” He performed and exhibited works using food at New York’s Da Gallery in 2009 and this year exhibited a number of works at Inart Space in Tainan, these ones utilising humour and the elements of distraction and surprise. “I don’t like my performances to be like a show. I like to be in the background, part of the audience.”

Ji Niu Yue is currently working hard to finish his thesis so his studio is not open to the public.

對Ji而言，生活就是藝術。他說：「我不喜歡昂貴的藝術品！」他認為藝術無需永久存在，藝術也不該賦予重金的標價。而談到美食，特別是台灣傳統小吃，重點著重於味道精隨而非價格。對Ji來說，與人分享美食的過程就像在陳述一種語言。他說：「當人們墜入情網時，不需任何語言表達，只要用心觸摸即可；我的工作也是如此。」

Zhen-Wei Wang (王振 瑋 )

It took a long time for Master Wang, born in 1966, to really feel comfortable saying that he was “an artist, not just a person who is good at art.” At 17 he decided to wait until he was married and financially stable before committing himself to being an artist. He began sculpting at 34.
“Life is not constant; you don’t know when it will end,” he thought at the time. “If I want to do art I need to do it straightaway.”
Master Wang has been at Stock 20 the longest of all current resident artists, spending the last four years in the same studio. “I’m here everyday, I love it here.”

Inspiration for his sculptures comes from his surroundings. “It’s a beautiful accident. I see something that inspires me and I use it.”
He often has to “compromise with reality.” With little money available for materials he uses recycled items, driftwood, “things that are good for the environment.”

“If people are excited by my work it makes me very happy. Actually, I want to make something that will make people cry but I’m so happy that I can’t make a sad piece.” Despite winning a number of national prizes for his art, Master Wang is humble: “The world is too kind to artists. The world thinks artists are special so artists think they are special. But really, they are ordinary people.”

Master Wang was recently invited by MOCA Taipei (Museum of Contemporary Art Taipei) to recreate an outdoor sculpture in WanHua 406 Square in Taipei, a major achievement.

The amiable Master Wang would love to show you his studio and his work. Drop by Monday to Friday between 10 am and 6 pm for a tour and a chat.

他雕刻的靈感來自於生活週遭的一切。「這真是個美麗的邂逅，每當我見到激起我靈感的事物，我就會善用它。」

他常常必須“與現實妥協”，因為沒有足夠的錢購買材料！他使用再生物品來進行創作，好比漂流木就是……他說道：「善用對環境有益處的物品。」

「若民眾喜歡我的作品，我感到非常開心，事實上，我想做個讓人看到會想哭的作品，但我也很開心我做不出來。」

Zamama
tw.myblog.yahoo.com/zamama-metalarts

Zamama is a somewhat nomadic metal work studio run by a group of five artists: Candy Tseng (曾永玲), Hsi-Hsia Yang (楊夕霞), Ming-Yu Hsiao (蕭明瑜), Yu-Chuan Chen (陳煜權) and Yu-Xuan Chen (陳郁璇).

It started life ten years ago as a small gallery space in Taichung’s Art Street. The rent went up and the group moved to the Taiwan Architecture, Design and Art Center (TADA). This year, they took up residency in a huge studio at Stock 20. The artists all specialize in different areas of metal work and work on their own projects as well as those that benefit the group, such as commissions from local construction companies for lighting or sculpture. Their levels of experience vary: Candy Tseng has studied metal working abroad and currently teaches at TungHai and Chaoyang universities while Yu-Chuan Chen comes from an architectural background and only started working as a metal smith three years ago. Some in the group have been heard to say that they are working to bring about a metal arts renaissance in Taiwan, but generally the members are waiting to see what will happen next in a field that is struggling to make itself heard in Taiwan’s contemporary art world.

Zamama are open Monday to Friday, 10 am to 6 pm.

Zamama是一個游牧型金屬物件工作室，由一組５人的藝術家共同努力經營，曾永玲、楊夕霞、蕭明瑜、陳煜權、陳郁璇等５人都各自專精於不同的領域。他們各自從事他們的企劃，而這些都是對工作室有利的，比如由當地建築公司為了照明設備及雕刻品所提供的佣金等。

Stock 20 Art Studios – Kate Nicholson

Eight studios, a decent-sized gallery, and a large theatre and performance space make up Stock 20, one of Taichung’s most active arts facilities.
Stock 20 was developed as part of a network of reclaimed 1930s train station warehouses situated near the tracks throughout central and southern Taiwan. Since 2000, the complex has been a home and workspace to a rotating slate of 100 Taiwanese and international resident artists.
Who endures the noise of a busy train yard and a leaking warehouse roof? GuanXi recently interviewed the artists in residence.

Peng i i

Peng i i moved to Taichung three years ago to study fine arts at Tunghai University and recently graduated. He’s been living and painting at Stock 20 for about half of this time, supported financially by his parents and the fact that, under the art complex’s resident scheme, he pays no rent for his studio.

A painting major, he has created three series during his time in Taichung. The first focuses on a character called Dou Dou (豆豆): “A while ago there was a commercial called ‘Dou Dou Sees the World’ but I changed it a little bit – ‘Dou Dou Fucked the World.’”
Each canvas represents one “film shot” and is subtitled with a Taiwanese phrase written in Bopomofo.

In the second series, the artist peers under the “sweet cover” of the world in which he was raised, finding that it’s not the candy land he was led to believe.
The third series is more abstract, painting Bopomofo characters over and over again, progressively creating an all black canvas.
You can see his work in a solo exhibition at Taichung’s A-7958 Gallery in October or visit him at his studio on Tuesdays and Saturdays, 11 am-5 pm.

Chung Yu-Chia

Chung Yu-Chia’s musical and artistic career has brought him more awards, money and fame than most 27 year olds in Taiwan. Five years ago, Chung and two university classmates founded Bike (拜客), a Brit-pop inspired group of which he is frontman and songwriter. The band has gained success, touring throughout Taiwan and overseas, with a number of awards and two EPs.

His ability to draw seems in direct contrast with his talent for performance and he admits to little crossover artistically. The only similarity lies in the fact that he is successful in both pursuits. Over the two years he has been creating canvases between twenty and thirty pieces have been snapped up by art galleries, with three of his latest works going to the National Taiwan Museum of Fine Arts.
He draws from dreams or his own imagination, “inspired by relationships with others, how people connect with each other.”

Chung suffers from anxiety and finds that his unique artistic technique – creating drawings made up of many dots – helps: “The repetitive movement makes me calm.”

To see his work, visit him at his studio on Fridays and Saturdays, 1 pm-5 pm.

Jon Renzella
www.jrenzella.blogspot.com

Jon Renzella, currently the only international resident artist, hails from the United States. He came to Taiwan because he “was bored with living in the US, wanted to learn Chinese, didn’t want to get deported by the Mainland government for my political work, didn’t want half my federal tax dollars supporting war and I wanted basic health care without decades of debt.”

He creates black and white woodcuts that can take anywhere from a few days to eight months to complete. Over the last two years he has been working on a collection of small travel prints he hopes to make into a book. Some larger works deal with politics.

“Because I … carve a piece for six hours or more … I have the chance to listen to a lot of different podcasts on news, history or politics. All of this input and information has found its way into my work.”
Once he broke through the language barrier, Renzella found the art community in Taichung to be extremely friendly and open.

To help bridge the culture gap, Jon also runs the tiny Lei Gallery from his studio, showcasing work by local and international artists – currently an exhibition by photographer Johan Vosloo.
You can see Renzella’s work in an exhibition at Taichung’s Da Dun Art Galleries in October or visit him at his studio on Thursdays and Saturdays, 1 pm-6 pm and Sundays, 2:30 pm-6 pm.

Stock 20: http://www.stock20.com.tw
A-7958 Gallery: http://www.a7958.com
Da Dun Art Galleries (located in the Taichung Municipal Culture Center): 600 Ying Cai (Ying Tsai) Road

UPDATE: Read Part II – Stock 20 Redux here.

8間工作室、一間大小剛好的畫廊、大型劇院及表演空間，這些元素成就了20號倉庫，是台中最活躍的藝術設施之一。
20號倉庫興建於1930年代火車站附近，原被當為貫穿中南部火車網絡的一部份，到了2000年，20號倉庫這個複合空間就轉變型態，成為100多位台灣或外國籍藝術家的工作室。

Republic of Comedy – Rummy

“Take nothing seriously” is the mantra of a talented group of film and skit performers from the south of the island. Taichung had it’s first taste of the ROC in July – The Republic Of Comedy performed its first road show before a packed house at the 2nd Floor Theater (the old and missed Grooveyard). They bill themselves as comedy not unlike Saturday Night Live or The Kids in the Hall – a flat out ballsy comparison.
The 10 cast members, singers, musicians, writers plus technical crew have put a metric tonne of time, money and effort into what they do, which is straight up entertain and make people laugh for two full hours. Luckily they’re coming back in the fall.
I caught up to the founder of ROC, Scott Somethingorother, while he was in Canada studying the effects of Lucky Lager on the cognitive memory system.

How did ROC get started?

Five years ago, I was harvesting Christmas trees in the Highlands of Inverness, Scotland. My day started at 5:30, and I saw the sun rise every morning. One morning I was on break, having a spot of tea, watching the sun glisten off the freshly fallen snow, when a great bird came down from the sky and landed in front of me. His eyes were gold and glared straight through me. His wingspan covered the sun and yet he was as graceful as a marlin and as powerful as a king. We sat there for about 20 minutes just staring at each other until my boss shot it. Then he made me clean it. Disgusting. So, I guess that was my best cup of tea. Wait what was the question?

How did you find so many people to commit to such a project?

Positivity spawns possibilities. Most of the crew we met as friends before the ROC, so we knew who was the best person for each job. Then we just said the magic word.
We are extremely lucky with the people that have come with us on this adventure. I would feel privileged to work with this crew on many different projects for many years to come.

Does everyone in the group write?

We have a main cast of six who share a lot of the writing but we also are always open to other writers or comedians.
You have an idea. You bring it to an “open writers meeting”. You must take an oath that you will not be offended if someone doesn’t like your idea. Then you throw your idea around the room, stretch it out and take it in different directions. Finally, someone takes the lead on writing the actual script. Once that is complete then it comes back to a “script meeting” where we make suggestions…and usually laugh our ass off.

What are your plans for the ROC?

We’re hitting the road starting in October for a Taiwan tour. Then we’re planning a huge Christmas special for December in Kaohsiung that should display to people what the Republic Of Comedy is all about.

Do you prefer film or live skit comedy?

There is nothing like getting up on stage and making people laugh. The pre-production for both is pretty much the same, but when you put it on stage you lose control in a way. When the energy of the actor and audience combines you get something new every time. With filmed skits you have more control and can be more precise with the way you craft the comedy. To answer your question, it’s all good.

What do you have to do to get to where you want to ‘get at’ with this group?

My goal was to produce a comedy show that entertained and made people laugh. I feel as though we have accomplished that. I am always looking to improve and innovate as an artist. Repetition and traditions hold us back. Nothing should stay the same. I don’t know exactly where I want to “get at”, but when I’m there I will call you.

Music was a big part of your show, what is the secret of mixing comedy and music while keeping smiles on people’s faces?

A song and a skit are almost the same thing. You’re telling a story in 1 to 10 minutes – a good one makes you feel something, and the main objective is to entertain. The difference is, with a song you listen to it over and over, throughout your life, in different places and with different people, so a song becomes a part of a person. Like when you are at a club and a Black Eyed Peas song comes on, someone will scream “AHHH! This is MY song!” throw there hands up and hit the dance floor. The trick is finding those songs and then presenting them in a way they have never seen and will never forget.

『Take nothing seriously–凡事放輕鬆』，這出自一群來自南台灣才華洋溢的電影喜劇表演者之信念。The Republic Of Comedy（以下簡稱ROC）在七月時首次在台中演出，而在２樓劇場（令人懷念舊Grooveyard）ROC的首次路演就擠爆了現場！他們非常直率地比喻自己的表演就像Saturday Night Live及The Kids in the Hall一樣精采。
10個演員、歌星、音樂家、作家加上技術人員，ROC投入許多金錢及心力在他們的演出上。他們就只是單純地想把歡笑帶給群眾，期望在整整的兩個小時內讓觀眾盡情地大笑。幸運的是他們在今年秋天將會再大顯身手。
一首歌曲及一個小品幾乎是同樣的過程。您在十分鐘之內講了一則故事，好的故事將會讓您有所感動，主要的目的是娛樂大眾。然而不同的是，在您的一生當中，在不同的地點與不同的人重複聽著相同的歌，這歌可能就成了您生命中的一部份。就像在夜店聽到黑眼豆豆的歌曲，總是會有人尖叫說“啊～我的歌！”然後就開始跳翻整個舞池了！訣竅在於找到這些歌曲後，用大眾從未看過的方式呈現出來，在你心中留下永遠無法抹滅印象。

Graffiti: Urban Art in Taichung – Ben Camp

Every city has graffiti lurking and the range of art is tremendous. Sometimes a piece will linger in your mind while you try to decipher it, and it is during these moments that you are most human.
While I am neither an art critic nor graffiti artist, I will attempt to be a little of each. This miniature list is designed to be a starting point, not an epilogue. In no particular order these are ten paintings I have come across in Taichung that defy logic and may waylay your consciousness too.

River Rock:
塗鴨藝術

It hangs under a rail overpass, ready for wear. Immaculately tailored, it beckons one to try it on. Rather stylish; karaoke-chic. Or perhaps it will stay on the hanger, forever yearning to formalize even a single occasion. By flattening it against the wall into two dimensions, the artist has rendered it inaccessible – to don it the observer must step inside the wall.
A concise ode to all the Clonely Planet readers who brought at least one nice suit when they moved to Taiwan because experts deemed it mandatory.
This garment is like a shiny river rock reflecting the passing vehicle lights. It never blows in the wind as the countless engines scream past it; the elbows never even slightly akimbo. White shirt-cuffs are ready to be locked around your wrists. It’s a jacket offering male viewers the authority of instant membership. Female viewers may see a cracked glass ceiling just below it. It alternately dreams at night of being a Thriller or Bad original, but wakes up daily to jet black with no accoutrements at all.

溪石
懸掛在鐵路高架橋下，預備好供人穿著，完美合身的剪裁，吸引人潮來試穿，頗具時尚感，卡拉ＯＫ味～

Drink No Evil
不喝壞酒

This totem pole of three faces looks every bit like a short stack minus the maple syrup. Pigs in a blanket and a tall glass of milk. “See no evil, hear no evil, drink no evil.” The monochromatic gray concrete color-scale heightens the brightness of the milk, if that is in fact what they are all drinking. The top head is sporting a mustache to make any bobbie jealous. The middle face can hardly contain its pleasure and blissfully dribbles away like a baby. The bottom face is in mid-gulp, hoisting the seemingly shared mug with no compunction. It evokes a study of anthropology – only Goldilocks could ascertain if the communal milk is too hot or too cold, but she’s at the Korova milkbar getting juiced up on Moloko Vellocet.

不看壞事，不聽惡言，不喝壞酒。

Gravity Beams
重力樑柱

Amid a chaos of matrix color stripes and hyper-enhanced textures, four faces intrude. Three are joined in a feathery theater-mask dance, a fourth face breaks away to the right. From one perspective, the faces appear to be peering out through a time tunnel which led them to this very building. At any moment, a hand might poke through, and then perhaps a whole body. Rapid dimensional play is certainly at work here, with pastel wormholes and LED gravity beams pulling and transposing the surface of the mural every which way. Not only do the faces evoke masks, they also have disguises sewn on in parts. Truly hectic photorealism might be one of the reasons this work hasn’t been painted over by the city. The facial expressions are at once gripping and compelling. Ambition accomplished, there is a ghost in the machine.

忙碌於拍攝寫實照片或許就是讓這副作品還沒被重畫的原因之一吧，臉部的表情立刻就抓住人的目光。

Little Fighter
小鬥士

It’s a muscle. It’s pumping for you. It can power a body, a group, even an entire city and it’s there for you twenty-four hours a day – a reminder of just how cool your heart really is. At first glance it appears to be weathered, but a closer look reveals this to be meticulously intentional. A fierce avocado-green gives it a numb frostbite flavor. The heart almost appears diseased, like a Cronenberg jelly-pod lifted from a Naked Lunch hallucination. The scale creates a feeling of intimacy with the image.  Basquiat fans eat your, um, nevermind.

這是肌肉，為了你他使勁地握，一個提醒你自己有多酷的東西。

Oil Barrel
油桶

The lower face could resemble an oil barrel, full to the brim with its non-renewable cargo. And the smaller fellow hot-tubbing in this petrol, albeit somewhat moodily, defiantly refuses to exhale. But you would feel hostile too if someone had bunked up your face. Maybe the second head symbolizes standing on the shoulders of giants as it were, artistically cannibalizing the existing record and burning bridges with books of matches. Looked at another way, the large cylinder is a spray can, topped by a human head. The artist is inhabiting his medium by literally becoming his paint.

位於較低的臉像是個油桶，跟不可取代的貨物一起油滿溢到了油桶的邊緣。

Illumination Inside
照亮內部

Here we have two faces, one gray and one red. Perhaps the gray imprint is a spirit which has just hopped the psychic MRT for an out-of-body stroll. Cabin Fever. The departing ghost identically resembles the self, a shadow of a whisper. The visage that remains is vivacious and full of life – flesh and blood that can adapt just fine to the intellectual and moral implications of a soul on strike.
The look projecting from the face is accepting, tranquil, completely at peace. A sanctuary. The gray stencil truly fuses with the fence’s attitude, while the orange is too vivid for the environment and is endured by its neighbors rather than embraced. Can the observer reunite the two opposites. Have they separated forever, or just for an instant? What mystery is concealed by such placid waters?

這裡有兩張臉，一個是灰色的，另一個是紅色的，觀察者是否能夠將兩個對立的臉聯結在一起？他們被隔離很久了嗎？還是只被隔開一下下呢？

Flower Child
配花嬉皮士

He seems to be hanging on for dear life as though the border between matter and anti-matter is disappearing into a photon milkshake and he forgot to bring a straw. This piece contains an Edvard Munch engine cased in a late-model ‘economic summit protest’ exterior. Forget existential nausea, this particular screamer looks ready to fight. On a more mundane level, traffic does pass and this painting just wants to show approval. Maybe this is a frustrated teacher who decided not to fail anyone this term. Or is it civilization that will pass? Ozymandias in the dust and a Sphinx with no face remind us of this fragile human transience. An armored analog to the Sixties flower child placing a daisy in a rifle barrel? We paved paradise to put up a six-lane expressway.

或許這是一位失望的老師，決定這學期不要當掉任何學生，或者，這是個一定會過的文明社會？

Sin Within
內罪

A surveillance camera comes into contact with a being of light who exhibits a contrite model grace. Is this the way we must bear our burdens? Are security cameras really everywhere – even heaven? Or did this angel descend to earth to observe these ubiquitous observers?
The celestial traveler is presented in stunning detail, earning the right to be hanging in a gallery as opposed to crumbling away on the side of a bridge. Can the camera see the sin within the holy? They almost appear to be in conversation, this metal post and this apparition. Each picking up tricks from the other, like convicts sharing a cell. Or perhaps this piece tells us that every act is divine – the camera sees all and all is absolved in the process.

或許這件作品在告訴我們每一個動作都是神聖的－相機透視所有，而所有在過程中都被免除了。

Eternal Life
永生

He confronts you. A face so familiar. An expression so vain and dignified and yet strangely humble at the same time. Suddenly you feel doubt. Can you name his date of birth, his accomplishments? This royal face hides in a small alley off Taichung Port Road – the Appian Way of Taichung. He wouldn’t reside anywhere else, his pride demands it. A mini-mausoleum vibe resonates out of the wall here, a stone’s throw from Boardwalk and Park Place.
The toy-store blues of his face clash hard against tree-green incidental borders, creating an almost day-glo contrast. It vibrates the auras of customers at nearby tea shops. Get with the program. Arch villain? Aging politician? Billionaire recluse? Paint over him here and he’ll just pop up on another wall the very next day – invincible.

一個自負且莊嚴的表情，卻同時又帶有謙虛感，將他重新畫過，但很快地，他隔天一定會出現在另一面牆上～如此無法戰勝！

Dendrite Language
樹突語言

Now this is ecstasy in real life. Scientifically and medically accurate, this piece burns like Uranium 235. A lack of ninety-degree angles makes this organically swim around in your field of vision. The buzzing electricity reverses current as often as your perspective changes. The brighter shade of pink in the middle emphasizes depth and suggests a three-dimensional creation. It can’t possibly be digital in origin, it is too chaotic. But the level of twisted detail implies that there is no way it can be man-made either. This shows how words really come alive. Take away the structure, the code and the formula, and all you have left is the flow. The motion of thought expressed in total singularity regardless of decipherability to the untrained eye. This piece is an acid test. Are you a hater, or have you learned this new dendrite language? This is many levels advanced over scrawled nicknames on subway walls and doors. Prisons and holding cells often use color to achieve psychological goals. This shade works like two Valium even as red fiery wisps tickle the top layer.

它無法被數位化，因它太雜亂了，但古怪的程度也說明了它也是無法被仿造的。

Taichung Improv

An audience can be a strange collective being, particularly when teased into action by a skillful improv team. A celibate Paris Hilton, tropical penguins, a leprechaun’s nipples and strippers, giants and rednecks on a cruise ship in Somalia – all these suggestions have been thrown at Taichung Improv during shows over two and a half years.

Leading the actors is facilitator Josh Myers, a key figure in Taichung’s small but enthusiastic expat theatre community. Josh is responsible for organising the group’s shows, workshops and practices, coordinating promotion and media relations, and ensuring the group doesn’t go stale. It’s all done for little pay and fitted around a full time job.

Three years ago, Josh was asked to participate in a masked children’s performance. “[It was] something very different for me but it was great fun, and then I met other foreigners with theatre backgrounds who were interested in doing stuff.”
Enthusiasm from the expat community combined with the work Myers was doing with another group in Kaohsiung led to the formation of Taichung Improv.

Of the original troupe, five core members remain – the other members change regularly and most do not act in every show. The group is all expats, from all over the world (and all over Taiwan): “…basically the United Nations…I mean, as a group we have to learn to work together.”
To compound the challenge their audience is also mixed. Myers explains it can be tough to avoid the localisms on which so much comedy is based. “We are trying to find a universal kind of humour that everyone can identify with. I think that’s what is different about us.”

Taichung Improv is dedicated to exploring ways to include their Taiwanese speaking audience. They recently added an interpreter so that locals can understand at least the premise of each game. “We didn’t have an interpreter initially but when we decided to widen our audience base, they came in handy. We don’t translate what is happening in the game but, with the Taiwanese people that I spoke with, they said they understand seventy percent of what’s happening.”

While there are currently no Taiwanese players in Taichung Improv, they would be welcome. “I want to get more Taiwanese people into the group but they’re terrified,” explains Myers. “I mean, we are terrified of it, and then more so for a Chinese speaker. But I would really love for some Chinese speakers to take the plunge.”

In order to accommodate Taiwanese audiences, the group focuses on a more physical, slapstick routine. The current format consists of a series of short games inspired by audience participation, but Myers says they hope to move to a new format in the future – one where the show is developed around a central theme. “There’s another form where you basically choose a theme for the evening,” explains Myers. “You create a character that comes back later on. So you can have a Hitchcock improv evening, or a Titanic one, or one where everything takes place on a cruise ship. We’re thinking of doing a Halloween improv night…getting audience members dressed up and having a whole evening of fun.”

How does one rehearse for slapstick and improvisational comedy? “We do theatre exercises…work on developing skills,” Myers explains, “You don’t have to be born with a talent for improv. It’s a skill you create and hone over time.”
Much of the group’s rehearsal time is spent developing storytelling skills and working on the technical aspects of putting a story together. “An improv scene is four minutes, so it’s a condensed mini-version of a play,” Myers explains, “We look at the elements of what makes a good story, what makes a story move forward, and then we focus on that. If you can tell a good story it will appeal to everybody. It might not win a Pulitzer Prize or it might not always be funny, but it will always be interesting.”

Most of Taichung Improv’s performances and rehearsals in recent months have been held on the second floor of The Londoner, a well-known expat watering hole and live music venue. While the group appreciates the space to hold shows, it’s by no means ideal. Myers notes, “There’s a lot of traffic to the bathroom and it’s not really closed down.”

This is about to change – the final show for the season will be held at a new venue. The Groove Yard was a live music venue that was forced to close due to sound issues. Myers met with the owners and discovered they are strong supporters of local theatre. “They said there’s no problem if we want to do shows starting at 8 pm and finishing at 10 pm. So, we’re looking at developing it as a theatre space, a little intimate place. It’s about the same size as The Londoner but I think it will be a little bit more isolated.”

As the troupe wraps up its season in June, they will be holding an open rehearsal which they hope will bring some fresh skills, new ideas and new recruits. These workshops are an important way for the group to gain new members and anyone is welcome. Myers has also begun preparing for the second 24 Hour Play Festival, slated for September. Scriptwriters, directors, actors and technical staff are all encouraged to join in for a weekend of fast-paced theatre madness.

You can see Taichung Improv in action at their final June show in Taichung, at The Groove Yard Theatre. The show kicks off at 8 pm and is $300NT if you purchase the tickets in advance, available from mid-June at Frog 1, 2 and 3. For more details on this and other events organised by the group, visit their website: http://www.taichungimprov.com.

Author: Kate Nicholson
Photos: Corey Martin
Pubished: GuanXi #1 – Summer 2010