Poagao's Journal

Absolutely Not Your Monkey

Jul 06 2015

Difficult photography

I like this article about Robert Frank, in that it attempts to address Frank’s viewpoint and method, touching on how difficult people with issues work towards art by bringing ugly things from deep down to light without dressing them up with absurd excuses, uncovering realities that are so true they can’t help but be beautiful.

In this age of constant connectedness and constant self-presentation, however, when one mistweet or inappropriate instagram can bring down global shunning, the dynamics of fame in any field, not just photography, have shifted. Back in the day, one would often find in any successful photographer’s bio the phrase “…fortunately happened to know (insert famous, influential individual here),” not to mention “…came from a wealthy family.” Other than those, and the work produced, not much else mattered. Connections, wealth, talent and luck, in that order.

It puts a dent in my admiration for photographers like Cartier-bresson and Eggleston, and increases my respect for photographers like Moriyama and Kertesz who hauled themselves up, though of course the work is the work, and the photographer is the photographer. I know talented photographers who produce excellent work but who are impossible to deal with, just as I know wonderful people who are kind and just and warm invididuals, whose photography…well, isn’t. The two aren’t necessarily connected, but I suspect that those people who are disconnected from society are better able to see society for what it really is. You have to go out of the house to see the house, as it were. If you’re constantly thinking of how you appear to others, making sure you’re socially acceptable, ensuring that you present the right sentiments at the right time, you’re not going to have the time or presence of mind to observe your surroundings with an eye to what’s really happening outside of yourself.

Frank was a terrible person to many people, by many accounts. Like Eugene Smith and Vivian Maier, he wasn’t cut out for family life or even social life…he couldn’t work with others; he couldn’t stand many other photographers; Magnum wouldn’t touch him. Some may think that his photography was brilliant despite these things, but I’m certain it was brilliant because of these things. If Maier had had a champion to maneuver her beyond her social and financial limitations, would we have seen her emerge as one of her era’s preeminant photographers? Likewise, if Frank had pissed off Walker Evans earlier, would we now be seeing stories like “Lifelong janitor’s road-trip photographs uncovered at yard sale will BLOW YOUR MIND (#37 made me choke up)”?

It doesn’t seem to work that way these days, however. For one thing, there is the deluge of online imagery, which doesn’t seem to have increased the amount of good photography by as much as people were expecting; if anything, it might have even somehow reduced it. But the Great Image Flood has managed to produce a different paradigm for judging value. Now we have contests for images taken with a certain machine or in a certain place, or by people of a certain age. People sit in front of computers taking screenshots of Google Streetview and call it photography. Others write about the latest gear and accrue huge followings, while more and more governments strive to demonize photography by their citizens while increasing their own surveillance capabilities, two phenomona that are not unrelated, crowing about the End of the Private when what is really happening is the End of the Public. And amid all this are the constant articles about the Death of Photography, as if to paraphrase a Pixar movie script, saying that when everyone is a photographer, no one is.

I don’t necessarily subscribe to the “Image Flood” photopocalypse theory, however. Why bother looking at anything if there’s so much out there, people seem to be saying. But we can only view so many images a day, just as we always have. If a billion images are uploaded in a forest, do they make a sound?

These are no doubt confusing times for someone who is interested in photography. I’m not singling out studio/model/business/sports/wildlife/landscape/HumansofRandomCity/yourlastmealatChipotle/whatever images, but actual photography. A lot of good work is being done, but any metric we once might have had evaluating it, much less finding it and appreciating it, has largely been replaced by counterproductive niceties and artspeak. It’s great and it’s there if you can find it, but don’t expect an easy path or anything approaching valid agreement of its worth. A flash on your screen and it’s gone. Offscreen, out of mind.

The death of photography, as well as many other things, could really only be the result of our refusal to observe and, as Georgia O’Keefe said, “make our unknown known.” Robert Frank did this, and his unknown was beautiful. It couldn’t not be. Unfortunately, in this knowlege-driven age, ignorance has become our greatest power (all you have to do is open virtually any comments section to see just how eager we are to wield it). There are modern-day Franks and Cartier-bressons and Smiths and Maiers. There are artists producing amazing work that transcends all of those, but they’re not the ones you know. The ones you know are concentrating on making sure you know them, and they don’t have the time to not suck.

posted by Poagao at 12:04 pm  
Apr 14 2015

How not to be a good president

I was thinking the other day: If I were the president, due to step down in the near-ish future and with little hope of my party winning, I’d just start doing whatever the hell I thought was a good idea but never pushed before due to lack of public acceptance or local politics. What can you lose at this point? You’re already sunk. Why not throw shit at the wall and see what sticks? Of course, I’d probably be the most unpopular president Taiwan has ever had (and that, my friends, is saying something), but who knows? A few years down the road people might wise up and see that some of those stupid things might have actually been a good idea. Like when Chiang Ching-kuo was promoting an eight-lane north-south freeway but was forced to cut it down to four lanes due to opposition from such people as Hsu Hsin-liang. Now, of course, we all wonder why the first highway was so small, and we’ve spent billions trying to fix it. Oh, those were wacky times!

So let’s rant! Here for your fantastic whimsical consideration are some awful ideas that would make me not only un-electable but probably the target for an angry, pitchfork-waving mob or two, but which I think might just make things better down the road:

1. I might levy a heavy tax on ghost money, but I would probably just outright ban the stuff. Modern ghosts probably don’t use the stuff anyway, and we’re losing all of our god-damn trees as well as creating pollution. Ghosts probably use the Internet anyway. Go make your offerings on guipal.com if you feel the need, but don’t fuck up our air based on your superstitions. Moderate amounts of incense would be tolerable, but the ghost money thing…that’s right out.

2. Romanization: Hanyu Pinyin. Everywhere. For everything, including company names, personal names on passports, pet names, etc. Existing major city names would stay as is, and maybe include a hyphen between the given name characters, but otherwise, the spelling would all be according to Hanyu Pinyin. Your name is your fucking name, you don’t get to change it around on a whim. There’s a process for that. Include a system for romanizing Aboriginal names as well, of course, but for Chinese names, Hanyu Pinyin or GTFO.

3. Pump up the electric scooter infrastructure (get it? Pump up….oh forget it), allow imports to compete on the market, and ban two-stroke scooters outright. If you have a two-stroke scooter, you get a discount on your new electric scooter. Congratulations.

4. Hello service industry people! Tired of hiding behind the counter whenever someone of a different race walks in because you fear they might speak another language? I’m here to solve your problem: From now on, no matter who your customer is, the first words out of your mouth will be in a local language. If they complain, tell them I said it was ok. If said customer fails to understand that, then figure something out. I guarantee you it won’t be as much of a problem as you think it will be, and even when it is, it’s not your problem, it’s theirs. Speak your own fucking language; they’re the visitors here, not you. To our police friends: If the white dude on the scooter without a license doesn’t understand you, again: Not your problem. You got his info, you issue a ticket. After that it’s his problem. Have some fucking self respect.

5. Ships. Hey, did you know that we’re on an ISLAND? With lots of rivers? Look at any map from the Japanese era, and you’ll see a spaghetti plate of lines connecting Taiwan to lots of other places. Kind of sad that everyone’s so afraid of water that we’re all hiding behind huge concrete walls with soldiers and barbed wire on top, isn’t it? So STOP IT! Coming soon: Not only mandatory swimming classes in schools, but also ferry services between Taipei, Ilan, Hualien, Taitung, Kaohsiung, and Kending. Actual ferries across the Danshui/Dahan/Xindian river system. A new flood-containment system that doesn’t require huge concrete barriers. Let the river be part of the city again. You’ll be surprised at the difference it makes.

6. Old buildings. Work out a system of reimbursement for historical structures so that the owners won’t be left with a rotting hulk on their hands, lest they tear the things down in the dark of night and exclaim in mock surprise the next morning: “Oh my, I wonder what happened to my house?” We will prepare a pool holding all the discarded alligators from Da-an Park just for you.

7. New buildings. Residences can only stay empty for a certain amount of time, whereupon Mr. Tax man will be visiting. Want to fend him off? Cut your losses and sell it for cheap. You can’t guarantee you’ll be able to sell most of the apartments in that building you’re building? Perhaps you should have taken a clue from the seven completely empty buildings next door. *WHOMP goes the stamp* Denied.

8. Bar-free windows. If you insist on barring up your windows, that nice, strapping Fireman will not be able to rescue your sorry ass from the fire you started when you were trying to burn ghost money in your god-damn hallway. Enjoy the view, and stop worrying that thieves will make away with your moldy black sofa. The thing’s awful to sit on anyway.

9. Inspectors get changed out. Inspectors, no matter how honest they may start out, will inevitably be co-opted into the corrupt system. Change them out every so often to avoid this.

10. Politicians clean up their messes: Stepping down to “take responsibility” for something won’t be acceptable. You want to step down? Fine. FIX YOUR SHIT and then leave. We’ll be happy to show you the door after you stop the streets of your city from exploding. Thank you very much, and by the way, once you step down, you stay the fuck down. We don’t want to see your name on the ballot next month. Or ever.

11. The military. Sure, the draft is ending, but if you want a real professional military, changes are going to have to be made.  You can’t run a volunteer army the way you ran a conscript army, and you’re working against decades of bad memories for most of the people here. The first step is to pay a decent wage, make it a viable career, etc. But you need to market yourself to people who are into this kind of thing, by which I mean actual soldiering, not just lazy students or whomever you’re trying to impress with comfy barracks with Hello Kitty wifi spots or whatever the hell you’re offering. Offer adventure. Offer challenges. Leave out the amenities.

12. Chinese tourists. Hey, don’t we all love Chinese tourists? Or at least their money? But you know what? There are other countries in the world! Instead of participating in a race to the bottom, I think you’ll find that, with the above policies, people from other countries might just want to visit as well!

13. Freedom of speech. You hear a lot about how “free” Taiwan is. But there are a few niggling problems with that. The public insult laws need to go. Slander and libel are of course actual Things, but public insult is just a fact of life, and if you can’t handle being given the finger in traffic, you need to STFU and deal.

14. Public photography. In a decade or two, if things keep going the way they’re going, the only way we’ll ever know that places like Hungary exist will be reading questionable Wikipedia texts. Taiwan is ALREADY practically invisible in the international scene, and you want to prohibit photographers from showing it to the world? Fuck that. If you’re in a public place with no reasonable expectation of privacy, we don’t care if someone shot you picking your nose or scratching your ass.

15. Actual fucking media. This is becoming a problem worldwide, but it’s pretty awful here as well. In order to call yourself a news source, you will need to offer real, actual journalism. You start in with this 24-hour “infotainment” shit and you’re out. You mix your op/ed with your actual news? There’s the door. You opine on shit you have no right to opine on? Good-bye. On your way out, feel free to look up Walter Fucking Cronkite and school your ignorant ass.

16.  The street is the street. It is not your living room. We will paint a line where the street goes, and another where the sidewalk goes. You will not put your shit in the street. You put it there, and it becomes ours. Or a deserving charity’s. But not yours.

17. Intersections. Automatic bollards will pop up at red lights. Emergency vehicles will be able to disable them, but your gas pedal will not. You want to run a red light? Talk to the bollard. Anyone injured by running into a properly functioning bollard will be required to take all the responsibility for all the damage caused.

18. Marijuana. Allow it, regulate it. There’s no real reason not to. America may have a stick up its ass about this, but the opium wars ended a long time ago. Sure, it’s a drug, but we allow tobacco and alcohol, under certain conditions.

19. Marriage equality. Again, no reason not to. Many reasons to do it. We’ll be in the spotlight as a bastion of human rights in a region where such things are rare. There’s literally no downside to it. You even get to piss off crazy right-wing Christian hypocrites, which is just gravy.

20. Immigration: Create a reasonable system of immigration that treats everyone the same. You don’t want foreigners to be allowed to keep their other citizenship, Mr. ABC? Fine, then you’ll have to do it too. Same rules for everyone, regardless of race.

21. Judges will be selected by a rigorous examination after decades of experience in the legal system, not as a graduation present from mommy and daddy along with a fake Versace bag from a night market. The bag is more convincing.

22. Stop worshiping English. No, the whole world doesn’t speak it. It’s not a sign of how “fashion” you are. Sure, if your job involves negotiating government treaties face-to-face with U.S. congressmen, then of course you need to possess a good command of the English language. If you run a bubble tea shop and are worried that some day you might be tasked with negotiating government treaties, I’d say don’t worry so much about the English lessons and more about the shit chemicals people are trying to put in your tea.

23. You put poison into food? You go to jail for a long time. People die or get sick from the shit you put in your food? You get tried for murder and/or attempted murder. In any case, your company disappears.

24. Raise utility prices. “Hmm, we have to somehow restrict usage on these valuable items, but everyone is using them because they’re so cheap? WHO CAN SOLVE THIS UNSOLVABLE CONUNDRUM?” Yeah, you could write some hokey slogans about being a good citizen and saving these precious resources out of the goodness of your precious widdle heart. Or you could do something effective, like raises water and electricity rates to levels that aren’t some of the cheapest in the entire world. It’s crazy, but it just might work!

25. Language schools (and everyone else, but especially language schools): Don’t want to hire someone because of their race? Sure, go ahead! And then go to fucking jail, because that shit is lame.

I guess that’s it for now. I didn’t put a great deal of thought into these, but go ahead and sharpen those pitchforks, because everyone knows that some random blog post is legally binding and everyone will be forced to think exactly the same way as I do.


posted by Poagao at 12:14 pm  
Mar 27 2015


Is Facebook old-fashioned? Duh! Of course it is, because now all the cool kids are parents, and having your parents checking up on you on Facebook is, like, the uncoolist thing EVAR.

Ok, sorry, that’s the chocolate-filled coffee I just drank talking. It speaks in a sticky-sweet voice and I can’t stop listening.

But seriously, Facebook has actually never been cool, though it can be a useful tool at times. Recently I was turned on to Vine by the work of Thomas Sanders, who makes (mostly) funny six-second videos with an amazing amount of creativity. I’d heard of Vine before, but at that point I just scoffed in the fashion of an elderly white gentleman sipping tea in a puffy armchair while grumbling about “the masses.” Now, years later, I can see the error of my presumption, because Vines can be pretty damn neat. The work of Sanders was a gateway to many other users of the service, and I am now a fan, basically because I like the idea of making a video almost instantly after I come up with the idea to make a video. I suspect this might be a consequence of having spent ten years making a single feature film; I want these things DONE. NOW. And they are. I still suck at making Vines of my own, but it doesn’t matter; I’ll never be one of the A-list there, which is fine because I don’t need that kind of pressure (he said nonchalantly while secretly entertaining fantasies of attending huge Vine Meetups in NYC and LA and hanging out with Egyptian DJs who raise rabbits and wear their hats backwards).

Another social media service I was turned on to via Vine is Snapchat (For some reason I keep typing Snapshat, which I assume is a completely different service). I’d also heard of Snapchat before, which I’d also dismissed in a similarly raised-pinkie fashion, but again, I think there’s something to it. The photos/chats/videos disappear after a certain number of viewings/amount of time. What’s the good of that? You ask. To me, it’s an attempt to regain the feeling of real-world interaction, a backlash against endlessly permanent interactions whose nature is changed because considerations of their permanence. With Snapchat, whatever you say is over and unrecorded (but possibly screenshot, alas) once it’s out you pretty little mouth. People feel less inhibited, say more of whatever nonsense they really think, and it’s over and out; you’re free to move on afterwards because there are fewer consequences. In my case, there are literally no consequences because exactly zero people have ever seen anything I’ve posted on Snapchat. I assume this is because you really need to become well-known on another service like Instagram (which I have reluctantly rejoined, though I’m not terribly active) or Vine before you can entice people over to Snapchat to revel in your fabulous everyday life, real-time, instead of talking with the person sitting next to them on the subway. The nice thing about this is that I can spout any damn nonsense that comes into my fatuous head, something I do anyway, but now I can record myself doing it! There’s no possible use for it that I can imagine.

And now, of course, we have Periscope, launched today by Twitter, which lets everyone broadcast everything all the time. AKA Chaos, mass hysteria, pet co-habitation, etc.


Anyway, these things come and go, as those of us who have reached our 40s more or less intact can attest, and I’m sure something new and more interesting will replace the New Things. It keeps things fresh, or at least a welcome distraction from…uh…China’s political hegemony? Tupperware? Eerily anthropomorphic depictions of Elmer the Bull? Voles in general? I can’t remember.

posted by Poagao at 11:54 am  
Jan 06 2015

The wind

I went down to the company headquarters in Hsinchu for the first time on the last day of the year to sign the papers; one of the projects I’ve been working on for many years has been cancelled, and so I find myself with a schedule I haven’t had in years. They’ve promised to treat me fairly. We parted on good terms. Afterward, as my train back to Taipei was hours away, I wandered around the high-speed rail station, among the huge apartment blocks and new construction. The day was clear and cold, and hardly anyone was around as I walked on the big grass field behind the station, the wind whipping at me from various directions. I felt great, free, even though my income will take a hit. After over a decade in one position, one secure, steady position, part of me is excited at the change, though another part of me has become unused to such things. Right now I’m preparing for a photography talk I’m giving later this month. Then there’s always writing and photography and just general wandering that all call to me. I’ve also signed up for violin classes for some reason. I went to the community college near the Death Star Mall last night to listen to the teacher, and she seemed to know what she was doing. Chenbl has a spare violin that his niece discarded after losing interest in music, so it won’t be much of an expense. I find myself wanting to sell the Water Curtain Cave and move back into the city, maybe sell off all my things and live in a tiny room downtown, maybe get an electric scooter. To be honest, that’s not a very practical plan, financially speaking. And I have to admit that, even after all these years, I still love walking over that bridge, though the load of worries I toss over the side each day seems to grow all the time.

Simplify should be the word of the year. I should get rid of a lot of stuff, even if I don’t end up moving into a micro-apartment above Q-Square or something. I should put all my old DVDs onto a hard drive, all my books (well, most of them, aside from my photobooks) onto a Kindle, and ship everything off to second-hand shops. Travel will probably be a bit sparser in 2015 than it was in 2014; I made four trips last year, which is about twice as many as I usually take, but the photo festival paid for my trip to Hangzhou in the spring, and the trip to Tokyo in the fall was purely to regain a portion of my sanity, so I consider it a fair trade.

Right now I have photography instruction, the print version of my book, the final DVD/blu-ray package for the movie, recording a third album with the Muddy Basin Ramblers (plus playing shows), revamping this entire site, and a photography book or two on my plate. Will things get a bit more “normal” this year for me? I don’t know; there are powerful forces at work to prevent such development, but you never know. I want to live a life that I can write about, and that hasn’t been the case for a while now, resulting in very sparse posting, but I just may claw my way back into something resembling such a state eventually. Go me.


posted by Poagao at 11:21 am  
Aug 15 2013

Long enough

I didn’t know what to do with myself after lunch today. I have lunch almost every day at the same buffet place of Guanqian Road. I’ve taken every possible route there over the years, and every possible route back to my afternoon job.

Today I couldn’t face the walk south on Guanqian Road again. It’s been too long, and I’m numb and lost from insufficient wandering. I walked north and ducked into a stale electronics store, the kind where boxes are piling up and the staff wander aimlessly or stare at their phones while the merchandise beeps and flashes automatically. The new Microsoft Surface tablets held the center spot, but nobody was interested.

When I walked out the doors, the rain had started, hard and uncompromising, but it felt right to me. There should be rain right now, I thought. I walked up to the intersection of Guanqian and Zhongxiao, where the big yellow tiled building used to look out over the old train station back in the day when it was the tallest building around.

I walked a block over, wondering who lived behind the curtained windows lining the upper stories, and stopped at the intersection of Huaining and Kaifeng. There I stood, watching people cross the streets, some running, some limping, most with umbrellas. An umbrella vendor called out “Buy an umbrella!” every so often, in Taiwanese. I stood under the eaves of the least interesting building on the intersection and looked at the scene. The brightly lit office windows of the bank building towering over Chongqing South Road, the old, worn cafe where, one night years ago, I was convinced to buy my first digital camcorder. The faces of girls staring out of the second floor of Starbucks. A black-and-white cat eating leftovers from a Korean restaurant. Travelers, from places like Europe and Japan and Singapore, striding to and from the nearby hostels. An albino woman with long white hair lit up the scene like a beacon as she strode across in her bright pink dress and white umbrella, smiling at everyone she saw.

I’m not sure how long I stood there. Maybe 15 minutes or half an hour. My camera was around my neck but I didn’t take a single shot. I was just looking, at the people, at the details, at the rain in the puddles, and listening, to the bits of conversation, the cars and scooters. That intersection has seen things. I stood there so long I felt I was looking at a webcam, before I realized I could move.

The wet walk to my office didn’t take long, unfortunately.

posted by Poagao at 2:54 pm  
Jul 17 2013

The city and the river

(This is an article I wrote on the dysfunctional relationship between Taipei and its rivers for Village Taipei URS magazine)

It is said that fengshui has strict requirements on the positioning of cities. The central axis is supposed to run from north to south, with its north end pointing towards a mountain that runs from east to west and acts as the guardian of the city. A winding river around the city is said to be an auspicious feature. Even the Forbidden City in Beijing was built according to these rules. And at first glance, the city of Taipei conforms almost exactly to these conditions as well, surrounded by winding rivers and bordered on the north by Yangmingshan. But something happened along the way, a kind of divorce.

Taipei used to be all about the rivers surrounding it. Trade poured in from overseas as ships plied up and down the rivers, bringing goods and passengers to the riverfront districts of Dadaocheng and Wanhua. For hundreds of years, the pristine water supplied to the Taipei Basin by the rivers was the source of health, livelihood and transportation.

But the focus of the city was destined to move inland as it expanded. The authorities built a walled administrative center halfway in between the two main business districts, and then the Japanese tore down the walls and built what is now the Presidential Office, facing away from the river, away from the old business districts, towards the eastern plains that were the subject of elaborate plans for the development the city. Nonetheless, ships from Taiwan still traveled all over the region under Japanese rule.

But that would not last. When the KMT began administering the city, under the cloud of the threat from mainland China’s communist forces, the sea and everything close to it became off-limits, mirroring on a smaller, civic scale China’s retreat from the sea in the late Ming Dynasty, another tragedy on another scale. Personal craft were banned, military installations took over the shorelines, and ferry services dried up and disappeared. The island was repurposed for the use of small industries, whose pollution was deliberately overlooked so that quick profits could be maximized. Purportedly for flood control purposes, huge walls were built separating the rivers from the city, hiding them from view, cutting off access. The government widened the bottleneck of the Danshui River in Guandu, allowing saltwater to flow inland and completely change the ecosystem, which was already under severe attack from the unregulated pollution flowing into the river from the city’s primitive sewage systems and countless small factories. The path of the river was changed, and, as if to add insult to injury, dredging the river ceased; with no ship traffic to accommodate, it soon became too shallow for all but the smallest, flat-bottom boats. The shallower rivers flooded even more, of course. Even then, the reek of pollution made this a somewhat less than appealing notion, and fishing was out of the question for the same reason. Waterfront property wasn’t for living any more; it was for factories and junkyards. Stray dogs had better views than the majority of the expensive high-rises in downtown Taipei.

Gradually, the people of Taipei forgot about the rivers surrounding them. Rivers were just things one caught a brief glimpse of when hurtling across a bridge from one part of the city to another, if one were brave enough to take one’s eyes off the whirling maelstrom of scooters for a second or two. The prohibitions against coastal uses combined with local beliefs that water was dangerous, not just during Ghost Month, but all year round, a self-perpetuating and most vicious cycle, as the more people believed that swimming and other water activities were dangerous, the fewer people engaged in such activities, and with almost nobody knowing how to swim, the danger of drowning became all the more severe for those who did venture into the water, reinforcing the belief that water was dangerous, and so on. The polluted state of the water did not exactly help in this regard either, and the government actively discouraged any riverside farming or settlement. Again, “flood control”, a problem exacerbated by the very measures implemented to control it, was the driving force behind such actions. However, in Taiwan, the difficulties in dealing with the pragmatic realities of life resulting from ill-advised policy are almost always dealt with in the same fashion: Under-the-table practices with little of no enforcement. Thus, the farms and other river-related activities, became part of the unofficial mythology, like the rivers themselves.

For decades, this was the state of things in Taipei. The old waterfront districts of Wanhua and Dadaocheng languished, falling into disrepair as the city’s focus moved further and further inland from the forgotten rivers. The old districts were now bordered not by the river but instead faced huge concrete walls that allowed no scent or sign of the river it concealed. Hidden rivers were not just easier to ignore, they were also much easier to pollute, being out of sight as well as mind for most of the populace, and without any public impetus for reform, factories were free to continue dumping whatever chemicals they liked into the waters. The results of these pollutants entering the riverside farms and fishing, a world that didn’t officially exist, were likewise ignored.

Starting a decade or so ago, however, some of these things began to change. Recent administrations have opened an eye towards the existence of the rivers, raising enforcement of environmental standards to the point that the water isn’t as toxic as it once was. A certain amount of fish and other flora and fauna have returned. Boats now ply the waters between Dadaocheng, Guandu and Danshui, and there is talk of a new ferry down the coast to Hualian. The riverside has been transformed into a place for bicycling and sports.

But the huge walls still exist. More important than the physical walls, which remain necessary for flood prevention, are the mental walls the people of this city have built in their perceptions of the rivers over the many decades since the two parted ways. The government can spruce up the riverside paths and place a few boats on the water, but all it takes is a glance at the picture windows of many a riverside dwelling to see that they have their work cut out for them. For more often than not, the expanses of double-glazed glass do not present the views they were made for, but rather buttress stacks of boxes, clothes and other household detritus.

Chinese architecture traditions are partially to blame for this, after centuries if not millennia of courtyard-style buildings with no real windows facing outside, but when a magnificent view of the river, winding its way from the mountains to the sea, is placed on the same level of value as the concrete wall of the building next door, the reality of priorities influenced by decades of ignorance becomes apparent.

There’s no easy answer; government authorities can encourage riverside and seaside development, and some progress has been made on Taiwan’s east coast. Kaohsiung, having always been a port city, has also made great strides in this area. The aura of an international port has kept it open and alive, though just as, if not even more polluted than Taipei, over the years, and parts of the Love River have ceased to smell like cesspools. Current construction methods, floodways, underground storm water reservoirs, etc., make the existence of primitive floodwalls unnecessary, and with Taiwan’s population growth slowing, there simply isn’t a need to cover up the rivers with concrete and buildings; there is space for wetlands, for floodplains, there is space for the river.

But that would only be the beginning. The participation of the rivers in the existence of a city is an indicator of more than physical presence; rivers are the opposite of walls; they connect us to the rest of the world. Taipei tore down one wall but built many more, the most important of which were in the minds of its residents.

It’s high time those walls came down.

posted by Poagao at 11:08 am  
Jun 10 2013

Long weekend

It was a long weekend. Not literally, unfortunately; it just felt that way. Saturday was spent recording songs for our second album at Soundkiss Studios. This is usually a lot of fun, and this time was no exception…except, well, one of the songs was one I’d been practicing over the previous week, not only to work out what I was going to play, or at least options to choose from, but just to increase my stamina so I could play longer without tiring out. This didn’t really work, for we had to go through the song several times just to make sure everyone was on the same page, and although my first couple of takes were good enough, my performance started to fall off, just in time for the other players to hit their stride in getting used to the song and honing their performances. I don’t envy David when it comes time to choose which edition of the song makes it to the album.

Sunday I gave another talk, this time on travel photography, at an art space near Dihua Street. There were four speakers, of which I was the second. The other speakers did well, but, as usual, I had too much material to get through in the short 18 minutes allotted. Afterwards I just wanted to go off somewhere, but those were the days, my friend.

You might have noticed that I don’t write here much these days, and when I do, it’s about relatively impersonal things, which I describe in a perfunctory nature. That’s just the way it is. A few of you know what I’m talking about, though I’d be surprised if anyone still reads this. Eventually I’ll either be able to write about my life again, or I’ll just stop. We’ll see.

posted by Poagao at 4:47 pm  
Jan 25 2013

Traveling as One’s Self

I was re-reading what I consider Kirk Tuck’s best post ever today, in which he gets to the meat of things in a way few people have the guts to utter:

“I had always traveled with, first my parents, then my college girl friend and finally, with my wife. And in all those scenarios photography takes a back seat to the social appeasement of travelling with people and spending time with them. You might want to wander aimlessly but the other person or people you are travelling with might have an agenda. A list of museums to visit and stores to shop in. Try as they might they don’t really understand your desire to walk around, stop, turnaround, click the shutter, walk ten feet and then do it all over again. Friction arises.

If you want to do photography at a level that really satisfies your soul and your ego you’ll need to do it alone. Forget having the spouse or girlfriend or best friend or camera buddy tagging along. Forget the whole sorry concept of the “photo walk” which does nothing but engender homogenization and “group think.” Learn what makes your brain salivate and why. Make your decisions based on what your inner curator wants you to say.

None of your non-photographer friends will understand, and that’s okay. Your real photographer friends will either be jealous or nodding their heads in appreciative approval because they’ve been there. When you see the world unfold in front of you, unencumbered by the social construct of the group, you become freed to see differently and make different decisions about what you’ll photograph and why. In the end you’ll come home with intensely personal photographs.

Many of you will throw your hands up and complain that you have kids and obligations and can’t possibly get away by yourself. Others will whine that “their spouse would never let me go to Paris without them.” But you only get one life. If you have a spouse like that you might think about a quick divorce.”

Lately, as the group of (six!) people with whom I am going to be traveling next month make their plans and itineraries for the trip, I’ve been recalling vacations I’ve taken. Inevitably, the best parts have been stolen moments, little stretches of time when I managed somehow to get away from everyone else, to just Be. To look, without the weight of a schedule or obligations or the incessant “What’s next?”, “Wait up!”, “Hurry up!”, “Where’s so-and-so?”, “Where are we going?”, “What are we going to eat?” etc. To not have to act and interact and guess about niceties and other people’s expectations. To just Be:

1. Walking the streets of Sydney around the harbour and along the Yarra River in Melbourne in 2002.

2. Doing the same in Shanghai in 2006 before boarding an overnight train to Beijing. Eating breakfast in the dining car as the outskirts of the city flashed by.

3. On my Okinawa trip in 2007, getting off the ship and into town on my own, just wandering amongst the alleys and streams. Even when it started to rain, everything just shined, as if electricity were running through it.

4. Pretty much my entire trip to Tokyo in early 2008, still my best trip in memory. 12 days on my own in a completely unfamiliar city, knowing none of the language, even dealing with rain, sleet, and snow at times. My follow-up trip to Osaka and Kyoto later that year was also good, but somewhat lessened by personal issues.

3. In Paris, when my traveling companions decided to go into the Louvre, and I walked out along the Seine.

4. In Spain, driving from Madrid to Granada as they slept, and then in Sitges when we wandered independently for a time.

5. Taking a train from Tokyo to Yokohama in late 2009, a brilliant day, just as the leaves were turning.

6. In Malaysia, when I somehow managed to leave everyone else behind on a winding road in the highlands where the hills are covered with tea plants, on a brilliant afternoon. I stood alone on the empty road, just drinking in the sight, smell and feel of the place.

7. During my trip on Xiamen, going up on deck by myself as the ship left the port and watching the city slide by.

8. On my trip to the US, wandering around downtown San Francisco just after sunset, and also renting a car and driving from Lexington, Kentucky to Lexington, Virginia.

When I read my accounts of my travels, it seems that when I am with a group, my writing become even more boring (if that’s possible), full of “…and then we went____ and then we had____ and then we went…”, because I wasn’t open to what was going on around me. You could say it’s horribly self-centered of me, but in my defense, I think it’s because it wasn’t really me experiencing those things.

Let me explain: Though I get frustrated at not being able to be as open as I can to photographs when I am with a group (“like being guided through paradise with a blindfold on,” as Tuck says), I should note that this isn’t necessarily about photography; it’s less about how many pictures I get or meals I enjoy than it is about what satisfies me to the very core of my being. I don’t particularly like going somewhere specifically “to shoot”; I find it terribly limiting. And it isn’t even about exotic locations either; I had a similarly enjoyable walk just the other day after our company’s end-of-year dinner. I walked out of the Westin Hotel and took a series of alleys I’d never traversed, just a few blocks over to where David Chen was playing in a bar off Linsen North Road, but it was still a great walk.

I’m not sure exactly what it is inside me, that urge to go a certain way, to turn a certain corner, to explore certain places over other places, but it’s deep and strong and old. Are we not, after all, defined by our choices? It’s as if that path is me, a la the songlines of the Australian aborigines, a relic of the millions of years of walking that our ancestors did. Or perhaps it was simply a largely friendless childhood or having moved so many times that drove me towards such things, or even common frustration with being in an office all day. But this isn’t about denying myself such pleasures as the occasional donut; denying these compulsions feels like denying my own self, i.e., I’m not me when I don’t do those things, if that makes any sense. I’m not anyone. Paul Theroux hints at the same, though coming from the other direction: “You go away for a long time and return a different person – you never come all the way back,” he writes in Dark Star Safari.

“Go this way,” this mysterious authority whispers, but only when I am alone does it enunciate; when I am with others it is most often silent or confusing in its signals, and at any rate I would be unable to explain it to anyone else’s satisfaction. “What are you looking for?” others may ask, but it’s not what I’m looking for, it’s that I am looking. It is as satisfying to follow it as it is frustrating to deny, or worse yet, to be deaf to. There is no logic to it. I may find myself taking photos, or not; it doesn’t matter. For as long as it lasts, I am there.

posted by Poagao at 5:22 pm  
Dec 21 2012


Another year, almost over. People ask me what’s up these days, and my answer is always some variation on the theme of “same as always.” Movie still not out, books still unpublished. Working two and a half jobs, day after day, and my best vacation in recent memory dates to 2008. I do a bit of wandering when I can, but there’s precious little time for that any more; every day is full of sand, and there’s no room for the golf balls, as the meme goes. I don’t even go see movies any more, not really.

The enjoyable things I do manage to fit in these days, aside from the occasional aimless stroll during my lunch break when the weather’s nice, are badminton, music and photography. Badminton with Bears is every Thursday night. I enjoy it as I can keep up with most of them, as most everyone’s about the same level as I am, and they’re fun to hang around. And it’s bears playing badminton; that’s just fun.

As for music, the Muddy Basin Ramblers are working on our second album, and I enjoy our practices down at Bob’s each weekend…music, drink, friends and the occasional tasty treat. Katrina’s chicken pies are frequent guests in my freezer these days. Our next gig is New Year’s Eve at the Taipei Artists Village: Black and white theme, tuxes optional. Should be a fairly raucous affair.

I’ve been working on producing a photography book for a while now, whittling down thousands of photos to hundreds, and then down to a good selection on my theme, by spreading prints all over my apartment floor and slowly mixing and matching them up into a sequence that I can feel emotionally. I then used Lightroom’s book module to make a dummy, and then showed it to some people. With their input, I made another dummy, etc. I think I’m getting close to an edit I can show to publishers with confidence, but it probably won’t be to local publishers.

Why not? As I’ve mentioned before here, I’ve made a few contacts in the local photography scene, but from what I’ve seen, it’s in a pretty miserable state. Every time I uncovered another aspect of the circles, I would think to myself: This is awful, but surely there is a genuine effort to practice, edit and display good photography elsewhere in Taiwan. Yet so far I’ve only been disappointed. A lot of it is cultural; if you really want to see decent shots, go see the results of a widely known photographic competition and look at the ones that got prizes like “honorable mention” and the like. These are the ones from photographers who don’t have the connections to take the big prizes, yet are talented enough to place.

I’m not going to rant (much more) about the state of the photography scene in Taiwan; there’s too much ranting online already, and it seldom does anyone any good. I’m not into photography for awards and praise; I do it because I can’t stop.

On a related note, I’ve been invited to speak for two hours on the subject of street photography in April, to a local audience at a space near Dihua Street. The organizer, Mr. Ye Lun-hui, is a well-known historical tour guide. Chenbl and I attended one of his tours last Saturday in Wanhua, following the small group through Longshan Temple, where Mr. Ye commented on the construction details, and through the alleys surrounding Snake Alley, including a 50’s-era hostel I’d never seen before, and then to the West Gate District. It was quite entertaining, and Mr. Ye seems to know a lot about the city’s history. Occasionally we would stop at some shop and the vendor would tell us a story of the area’s past. I’d like to go on more of his tours, especially of the old walled city of Taipei, which I find particularly fascinating. Every day I walk through Taipei New Park, which is called the 2/28 Peace Park these days, and wonder how much of it has changed since it was constructed over a hundred years ago by the Japanese.

I’d gotten a call from Katrina down at Bob’s on Friday night; she said a bunch of people were fighting over my photos there, so I went over to find, not an actual fight, but a Swiss woman named Zarah, who was interested in buying three of my photos that were hanging there. Some other people were also interested, and they were arguing over it. I told Zarah I had more works hanging at the Milla Bear cafe off Dihua Street, so Chenbl and I met her there on Sunday morning. Mr. Chen, the owner, was exuberant as always, introducing me to each and every customer with great fanfare. I think Zarah was a little overwhelmed at the display.

Mr. Chen brought all my photos out to the courtyard for us to examine, and I told Zarah about how each one was taken. We chatted for hours, as the weather was very pleasant, and Mr. Chen provided sandwiches at various intervals. Mr. Ye showed up as well, and it turns out that he and Mr. Chen know each other. I guess that makes sense. We also met a man whose family used to own the lovely old building next door, which is mostly rented out to foreigners these days. It looks like it has a neat little garden between it and the elaborate frontage on Dihua Street, and I can’t help but think that it would make a wonderful Bed and Breakfast if someone took the trouble to restore it. The man said the structure was sound, and he is making efforts to try and repurchase it. I wish him luck. The whole Dihua Street area has come a long way since I was there last, with lots of interestingly restored stores. I’ve always loved the atmosphere of the place, and I’m glad to see all of the restoration work coming to fruition.

In any case, we’ve supposedly survived the Mayan apocalypse, and are now facing down 2013. Ten years since the Muddy Basin Ramblers formed. Ten years since I published the Chinese version of my book. Ten years since we filmed Clay Soldiers. I’ve done what I could on those fronts. Now all I want to do is book a train ticket to Istanbul.

posted by Poagao at 5:05 pm  
Oct 11 2012

Cities Happen

I recently wrote the following article for URS/Village Taipei on my city and its urban development from the standpoint of a photographer:

The best cities happen. They develop organically according to the varying trends among their inhabitants, the supplies and demands of the shifting citizenry over the decades. Even the best-laid grids imposed from on high over the twisting, labyrinthine networks of alleys are co-opted and bent to the will of those who inhabit every corner of the spaces within the bold, straight lines, from basement to cupola. The residents are tied to each other but not particularly beholden to any exterior force. Lesser cities, on the other hand, tend to be comprised of awkward, unreasonable structures that defy the attempts of anyone to comfortably inhabit them. The people of such places live with the nagging suspicion that they have been shipped in from the outside and put on display inside a mall for a shopping trip that never ends, and even the most luxurious of malls in the end incites rebellion against the yearning for space of one’s own.

Taipei is, in spite of itself, the former kind of city. Originally formed from settlements along the riverside, it grew gradually into a city, only to be briefly ensconced within high stone walls with five grand gates before the Japanese arrived and tore down the walls, leaving all but one of the gates, and laying down a geometrical grid of their own.

However, throughout Japanese rule as well as following retrocession in 1945, this city has paid only the merest lip service to ideas and goals that didn’t serve the interests, from the lofty to the base, of its inhabitants. The result is the most democratic of appearances, a strange kind of order masquerading as chaos. The result of many masters is inevitably none, and from this all-encompassing stew occasionally arises the most startling serendipity, all the more valuable because it arose from nobody’s plans, was the result of nobody’s intentions, and according to nobody’s vision.

Buildings in Taipei instead contort themselves in the most incredible fashions in order to occupy every inch of the land sky they possibly can, and their inhabitants take it from there, asserting their domain over not just the buildings but the various surrounding corridors, sidewalks and even streets, everyone’s territory melding together in such a fashion that the public and the private become almost indistinguishable and in the process opening up for examination the most sublime details of life in this metropolis. You may be walking on the sidewalk, but it may also be someone’s living room. A shop is also a den where the owner gets up from his dinner table to serve a customer. A night market is our collective kitchen. Even in large corporations, where in other countries the private would not dare show its face, elements of the private can be found, not only in the physical structures, but also in the interactions of the people, in their language and attitude. The result is a rough intimacy like cotton wrapped in the mesh of officialdom. It is a surprisingly resilient combination.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,” Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet, and this is where Taipei’s genius lies. Whereas cities like gleaming Singapore feature carefully contoured environments designed to be visually pleasing, or Shanghai, where the sight of any building that is not old or “historical” is becoming increasingly rare, the occasional, incidental beauty that appears in certain moments, be it revealed in a flash, uncovered after decades or hiding in plain sight, is stunning because it is not bound by the limited imaginations of city planners, however gifted they may be. Most of the time the chaos is chaos, but here and there, pure genius appears, seemingly out of thin air; all we need are the eyes to see it, to recognize it for what it is, apart from the smokescreen of regrets or what we think it should be.

So far, this has been a mixed blessing for me as a photographer and director, as well as for Taipei itself. The open nature and general overlap of public and private, not just in the physical infrastructure but in the general outlook of this society, have allowed me access to scenes I simply wouldn’t see in other scenarios. In filming, many times no costly, involved setup is required, and a small, fast crew can accomplish a great deal before anyone even begins to care what is happening.

Over the nearly quarter century I have observed this city, I have learned to seek out instances of incidental beauty by striving to remain open to its appearance at any time, in any place, an ability most denizens shut off as soon as they can, resulting in genuine cognitive dissonance when presented with its existence. I often hear people presented with my photos saying, “I recognize this, but I’ve never seen it!” Yet, a growing antipathy for the haphazardly pragmatic architectural “designs”, if one can call them that, of the 60’s and 70’s, resulted in efforts to purposefully make spaces aesthetically pleasing. Unfortunately, many of these efforts have resulted in empty, superficial structures and areas, imposed upon the urban landscape rather than integrating with it. Though momentarily popular, such efforts lack pragmatic human involvement and end up gathering dust rather than memories. Even older, well-used and lived-in communities, once “cleaned up”, lose their connection to both the past and the future if the very things that made them livable are removed for the sake of some artist’s or planner’s idea of “modern surroundings.”

There is, after all, an inevitable gap between who we are and who we like to think we are, and urban design needs to take into account not only visions of a better future, but the realities of the present and even the horrors of the past. All of these make us who we are, and ignoring our baser natures will not make them go away. On the contrary, the results will falter for reasons nobody is willing to admit, and therefore be allowed to fester longer, in the end doing more damage than anyone expected. For most of Taipei’s history, urban development has followed the winding path of least resistance, the details left to a more or less freely random process, unconstrained by considerations of the larger picture. There are those who would claim we deserve better, and they are right, but we must first recognize that we make what is provided to us our own.

This city is distinguished by the unrelenting reality of its creation, every day, at the level of its inhabitants’ desires and needs, without regard for superficialities or design. It is the kind of reality over which artists grieve for being unable to relate, but the bottom line is that it works. It is, the lion’s share of the time, not a pretty sight, but it works. And, occasionally, it not only works, it is the perfect picture of ourselves.

posted by Poagao at 2:46 pm  
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