MOMAT (Museum of Modern Art, Tokyo)
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai

We visited MOMAT, Museum of Modern Art Tokyo, the other day. It was right facing the Imperial Palace in Tokyo. I was there visiting the imperial palace when I was fifteen years old, my first visit to this country. At that time, this museum was unknown to my limited view of the world.

It happened to be rather quiet and little visited on that day, perhaps because it was after Christmas and almost the end of the year. We browsed through some of its permanent collections in exhibition, witnessing the interactions between Japanese and western art movements. It was quite interesting to see how the art of a certain culture adopted the style of that of the other, and how it resisted the influences.

To be honest, as I have discussed with K during the exhibition, I found dislikable and rather uninteresting those painters who have simply adopted the techniques and concepts of the modern art movements in the western world, such a cubism, futurism, and impressionism. Their works are still pretty but, unfortunately, lacking perspectives, perspectives that would have reflected artists' own unique visions of the world and that would have determined the successes of artworks.

However, there were still gems in the collections. I really liked two artists in particular. Kawabata Ryushi (川端龍子)'s Scroll of Bullfight is the climax of the visit, as I told K after the museum. The scroll spread across the exhibition room with an exciting narrative animated by vibrant colors and fluent flow of strokes. He has a very childlike viewpoint through which he told his story. Disappointing is that they don't have it available in duplicate prints or postcards.

Another pleasant surprise is Ogura Yuki (小倉遊亀)'s Bathing Women.

I wasn't surprised to come to know that she is a female artist. The almost transparent colours of white tiles and green water seemed to render the canvas only a feather's weight. The snowy bodies of two bathing ladies were almost blended into the white and immaculate background, floating in a watery and steamy space of a public bath.

K gave me two adorable Christmas cakes! : )
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai

I received two palm-sized Christmas cakes from K on Christmas Eve when he came back from work.

These two were simply adorable! The smiling faces of the two small figures, a Santa and a snowman, simply made me smile too. I was surprised to know how easily I can be pleased.

It was a very good Christmas holiday, quiet and sweet.

Christmas Penguins in the Open Market in York
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai

It was my last December in York. It's rather sentimental as I knew that I was leaving England for good. I am surely coming back to visit at some point, but the fact of moving away from York, a place that I've stayed for 4 years, is somehow very hard to cope with. On some farewell occasions, my friends and I were almost tearful that we had to force ourselves to say goodbye and turn away as if it's just another temporary departure as it used to be, as if we would still be able to text each other for an afternoon tea on the next day.
Meeting up again is definitely the plan, and there are several wedding occasions next year to expect. I told myself not to be negative about the departure and stay optimistic that friendship will keep us close and near no matter how far away from each other we are.

Saying goodbye is just as difficult as braving a new life.

Baking mania: My Domestic Goddess Project and Blueberry Muffins

Since the end of September, I have been seized by an obsession with baking. Most of the time, there isn't any reason or occasion to bake for, but smelling the mixture of egg and flour is itself an unbeatable joy.

In the beginning, I simply reproduced the old recipes that I used to follow. Only occasionally did I consult my cook book, Nigella Lawson's How to Be a Domestic Goddess.

I didn't much justice to this recipe book before this September. It stayed on my shelf most of the time after H gave it to me as a birthday present last year. But, I am glad that I started enjoying its friendly recipes before it was too late.

One day when I was holding Domestic Goddess in my arms, my housemate joked that it seems to be my bible and suggested that I should try to complete all of its recipes. This random thought sounded like an interesting challenge. Yes, it would be fun to start a Domestic Goddess project, isn't it? So here I begin my baking diary following Nigella's magic hands measuring, chopping, blending, and playing with aromatic ingredients. It is especially fun when following those recipes that do not come with photos of their end products. An advantage is that these verbal descriptions do not impose any standard by which my neophyte efforts can be judged. Yet, there is a disadvantage that my beginner's knowledge cannot equip me with knowledgeable imagination about what I can expect. A friend said that it can be very trying when waiting for the baking to be done. After the batter/dough or whatever enters the oven, what remains with the bakers on the other side of the oven are anxiety and anticipation. It is somehow true, but why is baking still one of the most common ways to relax among people that I know?

Anyway, it is the first entry of my Domestic Goddess project: Blueberry Muffins. It is on p. 72 of that book. I substituted blueberries with raisins. The raisins were soaked in rum overnight, and I self-indulgently convinced myself that they were more like fresh blueberries in that way. They came out very well, I think. The faint sweet smell of rum was very addicting.

Let's see how far I can go with this project.

Rubber band
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai

I played with a rubber band between my fingertips while I was on the phone this afternoon. The importance of the serious issue in discussion over the phone rendered me rather inarticulate. I needed to divert my attention a bit and relax my nerve, and the rubber band happened to be handy.

I didn't really know whether playing with this small object helped ease the conversation in the end, for, as far as I can remember, I was fully engaged in the dialogue. Honesty, rather, between me and the other conversant on the other side of the world has led us to a happy and promising point which will keep both of us inspired and optimistic about our respective concerns.

After hanging up the phone, I noticed the distorted rubber band that my unattended creativity had made between the spiral of my diary. It was not like any cheap rubber bands that I used to see, I think. I recalled that it did not bite my skin but felt rather smooth, silky: nothing plastic. Its color was somehow potently dense; it is powerfully elastic, submissive to the tortures that my fingers imposed on it and resilient enough to return to its defining shape. It didn't provoke any irritation that the plastic nature of rubber usually suggested. Instead, the three arches between the inked and blank spaces in my diary appeared rather arty and thoughtful. It guided my thoughts to follow its curvy paths.

I saw a lesson about flexibility, a note on how to strike a balance between being submissive and being resistant, between the contrary forces of the world and the self.

DSCF0196.jpg
Originally uploaded by Wanchen Tai
North Wales, 14-17/Oct/2008
I just came back from a trip to North Wales. The purpose of the trip was to relax and to see the other side of this country, but it proved that to fulfill both aims is physically impossible. But I have managed to sleep well throughout the journey, pampered myself with good showers, and fed my eyes with enchanting views of the countryside.

This sleeping bear explained well the nature of this part of the UK: blissful rest in the arms of nature.

Carrel 12

'Can I get key to Carrel 12?'

Over the past two years, it was the phrase that I used to begin a day's work in the JBM library. Sometimes, it was the only phrase that I would utter during the entire day, while the rest of the time simply fell in silence.

Beneath the humble request for assistance that this question implied was actually a privilege, a privilege that allowed me to enjoy a secluded and private space on campus. It granted me a secret pleasure of being alone among books and in the library crowd.

My carrel overlooked a meadow adjacent to the library. The lawn featured budding plants in spring, starry daisies and sun-bathing people in summer, golden leaves in autumn, and freezing emptiness in winter. The apple tree had been amazingly productive laden with fruits every autumn. Most apples remained on the tree throughout the harvest season, rotten or randomly pecked by birds, and fell on the ground when winter came. These trees best exemplified the seasonal poetics of time, cyclic and repetitive.



The nocturnal beauty of the view was mysterious. The dim light that emanated from the concrete building of the library drew thin and glistening contours of objects that were apparently visible in daylight. At night, standing in the study room, one didn't see the outside as much as s/he saw her-/himself. Sometimes before I locked up the carrel to go home, perhaps enchanted by the darkness, I would gaze through the window pan and look to the depth of the sky. I gazed as if I would see anything at all; yet in the end, I realized that I saw nothing but my own reflection on the windowpane. No matter how far my eyes had managed to trace the traffic flow that was delineated by moving dots of light, eventually I was guided to see my own image that was just an inch away on the glass.

It felt like an exercise of contemplation by which thoughts about the world eventually bounced back to the subject. This trajectory of logic--the dialectical relationship between subject and object--would continue without exit.

After the end of my university registration, I am no longer entitled to this pleasure of feeling securely alone. The key to this private space was returned for good. Yesterday when I saw the name of a new owner of the carrel, I think I forced a smile to disguise my feeling of loss.

Rainbow

K and I went to London for a research holiday in August. It was a lovely time together hunting for good food, music, and art. This rainbow was a wonderful surprise that footnoted the journey.

We saw this colorful arch right outside the tube station of Earl's Court. The gray cityscape was immediately animated and brightened up by the rainbow at sunset when the city was already heavy with a day's toils. The presence of the rainbow miraculously allowed the busy flow of traffic to assume a new rhythm. Some paused to admire the arch, some turned their heads to glimpse it even after they continued their journeys, and some posed for photos against the backdrop of the celestial vision.

Later during that holiday, we saw another rainbow in York after a torrential rain. The experiences were particularly blissful, I think, because I didn't just witness them alone, both times.

Suicidal Thoughts

There were several times over the past month when I tried to cross the motorway to enter the campus, I cared nothing about the cars rushing towards me. Seeing vehicles approaching, my brain virtually went blank, and it was usually only at the last minute that I suddenly realized the potential danger and stepped back in time.

It felt like an attempt to kill oneself, but it wasn't true, I think. It is quite mysterious. That feeling alienated the physical self from the thinking self and provided immediately a third-self viewpoint. The sense of self-alienation came from the very heart of the architecture of sentiment and presses hard against nerves after it happened.

These days, absolute concentration on work has been keeping me peaceful and leaving me in quietude, but still, sigh, the world is not only about the enjoyment of work.

Grey Sky and Bare Twigs

I adore those days that feature grey sky.
This colour is damp and heavy, perhaps somehow gloomy, but it allows every other color to shine.

L and M had their wedding in the end of March in Italy. Guests witnessed their happiness and promises in a medieval castle in Italy. A day of fairy tale in real life.

Go to my Flickr to capture some graceful moments of the beautiful day.

Easter Snow

February Frost

Xenophobia is a Symptom of a Falling Country


It is the current presidential election in Taiwan that made me start this entry. But the same sentiment of xenophobia is, in general, increasingly strong following this trend of globalization, in the UK, in EU, and in all over the world. Concerning about this issue, the situation in Taiwan is slightly different from the rest of the world (or perhaps not absolutely) in that Taiwan has a specific target to resist.

One of the arguments between the two presidential candidates in Taiwan is whether to establish a closer economic tie with mainland China. Protesting voices claimed that such a move will eventually allow China to engulf Taiwan in both aspects of economy and politics.

It is such a narrow-minded view, I have to say.

Of course, I don't disagree that any policies like this need careful considerations so that they do not compromise any benefits that they promise.

Thoughtful consideration, however, is not equivalent to mere resistance. Resistance is surrender, here I quote Zizek. Any attempt to voice a nation's own identity and to participate in global affairs is doomed to fail if from the outset it is already contaminated with a prior prejudice against certain political bodies, and if such discrimination is derived from a defective conscience against advancement.
There are unfortunate witnesses of such both in the world history and today.

Xenophobia is only a symptom, and it can be tackled before history repeats itself in resorting to national closure.

Photo: in the Central Park, New York

A Small Friend's Visit

M is in York for her holiday, her first return to York after she and her family moved back to their country almost a year ago. We had tea together this afternoon. We knew each other when she was only 3 years old, and now she is 5! She showed her small fingers proudly to say how she is a big girl now! She is a sweet heart, smart, and smiling as she used to. Now she is even adapting herself into good manners: she uses napkins when she has meals and cleans up the table after she is done. That really surprises me. She does not rely on baby cart any longer! : )

We waved at each other when parting. Bye bye M! See you next time!

The photo: M is taking photo of all of us using her own camera.

There is a slope near the house. I always have difficulties in cycling up on the way to the university. But cycling down has been a very much different feeling. It is a mixture of fear and excitement: the fear of falling off my bike as I did once, and the excitement that is brought forth by high speed.

It is usually quite dark at night. Tonight, on my bike I sailed down, and I saw lights approaching at the bottom of the slope. A car it was. I wondered whether to clutch the brakes.

Underneath

Roses are amazingly enduring.

It's been 3 weeks since the day of purchase.
These flowers remained rosy in color even if the silky petals were wrinkled with time, and the crowns of the blossoms were touched by the impatiently burning hands of death.

But the stems underneath were still vigorous, unexpectedly.

Bubbles were glittering with oxygen, clustering around the lengthy and graceful stems, and stretching the last moment of life.

In Rainbows

In Rainbows, Radiohead's latest release (photo taken from amazon.co.uk)

It has been quite windy these two days. Wind speed reached between 22 to 28 miles per hour in general. These numbers didn't make sense until I heard the wind wiping across the streets in a howling roar and until I felt windows cracking and buildings shaking. Yorkshire is notorious for its winter of gales. When I still lived in the university accommodation, the first winter was made up of several sleepless nights of unceasing wind. Hearing it scratching over concrete surface can be quite depressing, as if it is also aiming at the human body seeking to pierce through and to mock the hidden fear.

These winter days fleshed out my imagination about Wuthering Heights, and sent me back to the passionate days when I was just a literature neophyte (a never-changing and constant state, though) and to the burning excitement that I found in that novel. (Some of my current colleagues, however, do find my taste for literature, especially in this case, disagreeable.)

Yesterday I was walking in the wind listening to In Rainbows, Radiohead's new album. Music is never my specialty and I tend to be very forgetful about anything related to music, including the musicians that I have liked or the melodies that I have enjoyed. Music does not usually stay in my mind but only in the ears. I have been listening to this new collection for a week, yet not much emotional response was evoked.

Yesterday during my foot-journey, there was a moment when the bricky wind smashed into my body, the male vocal in the ears took off, flying, against a rising and gradually evaporated melody in the background.

This strange moment of weary conflict was very close and familiar, as if it suddenly transformed into a smell or a touch whose physical presence can hardly be ignored.

A couple of years ago, I used to listen to Radiohead when I drove home on highways after a week's labor of work. Now I remember. The same route, the same vehicle, the same fatigue, and the same dull mind. This week duplicated the last, and the same formula of copying was followed repeated. The saddening melody of the pop rock bellowed within the confined but secure space that finally all belonged to me. The right volume for their music was extremely high. I drove on, the body hung onto the floating but gravitating notes, and the heart gradually learned to beat in a healthy pace again.

The wind and the music, the roaring and the moaning caste me into a zone of twilight. Perhaps, that's where the rainbow is, (well, over-interpretation in this case is the curse of my profession), beyond the toil of the world but before the bliss of another state of mind.