Many many thanks to UWE

I'm well and truly back in the UK, and getting used to the cold and damp weather as well as busily writing up my report for the module assessment of which my trip to Hong Kong has been the main part.

I would like to take this opportunity to profusely thank Mian Ng and the University of the West of England; Mian for deciding to choose me as the candidate for the Hong Kong residency, and also UWE for generously putting up the funding for my flights and accomodation in HK. Their generosity has given me the once-in-a-lifetime chance to immerse myself in my print-making and engage with the city, its people and culture in a way that would not have otherwise have been possible - it's not a trip I could easily have funded myself, if at all; and without UWE I would not have had the connections to printmaking that have been so valuable to me during my stay.
I hope that I have used my time well (I feel sure I have) and laid down the foundations of a relationship with Hong Kong Open Printshop and also the Island School that will benefit students that may visit in the future, and that UWE's faith in me as a student and ambassador for the University will prove to be a well founded investment...

Thankyou so much UWE!

Goodbye Hong Kong - Reflections on a month’s stay

I’m back in the UK, and Hong Kong has receded from my consciousness in much the reverse way that it unfolded - an MTR ride from Mei Foo to the airport, and the view from a 747 window of Lantau’s green hills bathed in sunshine... and then finally disappearing out of view beneath the cloud ceiling.
The residency has given me a once in a lifetime opportunity to view, absorb, and record aspects of HK life with ‘an artist’s eye’ - in ways I would not have done had I just been on holiday there; the extended visit has allowed me the luxury of time to consider and reflect on the things that have caught my attention and return again to these things during the course of my stay. Being a guest of Hong Kong Open Print has enabled me to observe the day to day practice of an organisation in the process of transitioning into an one that aims, through its outreach programmes and now with its new studio space, to bring art and print to a wide cross section of the local and wider HK community. They have also educated me, via invitation to various workshops, in areas of print of which I had little or no previous knowledge - with skill, passion, and humour! It has been a truly memorable experience for me. It might have been quite difficult to manage on my own for five weeks had it not been for the cordiality and friendship of the people I met through HKOP and its network of friends and associates, whom I will miss now that I’m back home. I feel as though I made some real friends as a result of my stay. My concern at the outset was how I would adjust to life in HK. Now it’s how I will adjust to life now I have returned!
Hong Kong remains an enigma. I do not understand how the place survives or can survive; how can you live here without going mad? How can so many people live that closely together, in such conditions of proximity and in such a climate with all that noise and pollution, with such equanimity? There is a level of tolerance here that I don’t see so much of in the UK; there are few outbursts of rage, little evidence of mindless violence, not much sign of vandalism, very little litter. People here do seem to have respect both for their environment and each other; and so although it is crowded in a way that is hard for us here to imagine, it is also cared for in ways that make me feel ashamed; collectively, we seem to care less for our own environment than they do.
And the process of expansion is ever present and remorseless. You don’t have to go too far in any direction in HK to see the extent of this - multiple engineering feats on the scale of the Second Severn Crossing occur here year on year - land reclamation, bridge building, residential programs, road rail and underground building on an unprecedented scale... and speed - as a mere individual it blows your mind. Their efficiency is staggering and yet this mega expansion brings with it the destruction of their heritage, and the city’s history. Talking to some Hong Kong-ers, there seems to be a real concern about how and if it can be kept in check. And yet for many this is just an acceptable price for progress.
Of course you can know much of this from pictures and reportage, books and the internet, if you care to; but it’s seeing it first hand that really has had an impact on me - my direct experience of the place.
Maybe this is the biggest lesson I’ve learned from my visit. And I hope that my own personal first hand views, recorded here along with some of my drawings and photographs, will convey at least some part of my experience of this wonderful and fascinating place, with a sense of both conviction and authenticity.
The task that lies ahead for me is to maintain a real sense of connection with Hong Kong albeit at a distance, and to relive the experience of being there in my artwork, drawings and printmaking - and my writing.

But most of all I hope that my writing and drawing will make you want to visit the city for yourself, and make an experience of Hong Kong that is all your own.

Dragon Boat racing, Po Toi Island

(Sunday 10 May)

It’s my last Sunday here in HK and I’ve been invited to the dragon boat festival on the island of Po Toi, the most southerly island of Hong Kong.

The most spectacular events during Hong Kong’s racing season (March to October) are the fishermen’s races from late-April to May, especially the Tin Hau regatta held on sleepy Po Toi Island. You’ll see fishing junks moored in the harbour, decked out with flags, and people cheering, drinking and casting paper offerings into the water. Overlooking this on a cliff is a bamboo theatre where Cantonese opera is performed for the gods, and nearby is a temple where fishermen go to pay their respects. At sundown, all is tranquil once more as the junks leave with their dragons secured to their sides, the way they had been for years before the world knew about dragon boat racing.

This regatta is arranged by the fishing community here, and competitors take part by invitation only. The fishermen are fiercely protective of their festival and have resisted money and sponsorship offered by the HK Government, which would result in a far more commercial event and even bigger crowds than the two thousand or so expected today. Po Toi is advertised in the guide books as a place to get away from the hustle bustle of HK, but if that’s what you’re after, don’t go when this festival is on - the small sheltered bay of Tai Wan is inundated with a flotilla of junks roped together into a temporary jetty and grandstand, and the paths and beach are crammed with onlookers, competitors and locals. The beachside restaurants are full of people enjoying a seafood lunch before the races get under way; there are a few heated games of Ma Jong being played…

Each boat has a beautiful carved dragon’s head at its prow, bedecked with intertwined leaves and flowers. Before the racing prayers and offerings are made by each team to Tin Hau, Goddess of Fishermen and the sea, for favour in the coming race.

Each race involves 4/5 boats that battle it out on a straight course that begins out in the bay and finishes in the shallow water of the beach, each team urged on by an enthusiastic, well fed and happily tipsy crowd (all food and drink is supplied for free, to competitors and onlookers alike), with the serious events happening towards the end of the afternoon. The secret of good dragon boat racing is syncopated team-work, and a well organised team that can strike the water with paddle simultaneously will often fare better than a stronger but less well synchronised team. Time is measured out by a drum beater who stands towards the prow. A drummer with good rhythm can mean the difference between winning and losing too.

As well as the excitement of the racing, there’s the opportunity to experience some Cantonese opera in the bamboo theatre, a fantastically visual spectacle, and also to the Westerner, totally incomprehensible!

After the excitement of the racing has finished, we are invited onto Tina’s junk (it’s Tina, another HKOP workshop participant, who has invited us today), where there is an endless supply of chilled beer and the remains of a pig roast for consumption. Life doesn’t get much better than this! Its been a really great day, and a great boat ride home as the sun shines on the flotilla of junks making their merry way, colours flying, back to Aberdeen…

It’s nearly the end of my five week stay here in Hong Kong - and this has been a wonderful and memorable way to end my final weekend.

 

Early evening Sun (and Cloud)

Visit to Lamma Island

(Saturday 9 May)

Having discovered the delights of Lantau with its attractive climate, lush green hills and lack of crowds, I’m in the mood for a repeat experience, but this time with a trip to another of HK’s nearby islands - the island of Lamma. I visited 25 years ago, and my memories are of good seafood, lovely deserted beaches, drinking (rather a large quantity) of Schnapps whilst waiting for a return ferry, and an electrical storm and torrential downpour the like of which I’ve never experienced before or since.

Mo Tat - The Old Quarry behind the junk is where new housing is planned

 We are desperately in need of some rain today, because although promised for the past three weeks, no precipitation has as yet materialised and it’s getting increasingly hot and humid, quite unpleasant in fact. An MTR ride to Tsim Sha Tsui and the Star Ferry gets you to the Central Ferry Piers; Lamma Island is reached from Pier 5. My preferred destination Sok Kwu Wan on the island’s southwest corner is an hour’s wait, so I opt for a ferry to Yung Shue Wan, which leaves straight away. The walk to Sok Kwu is only 1.5 km along a concreted path, and I fancy the walk anyway. Most of the ferry passengers are destined for Yung Shue which is Lamma’s biggest town and where most of the restaurants, bars and shops can be found. I negotiate a steady stream of tourists, bicycles, tow carts (there are no proper roads or cars on Lamma), which thin out towards the edge of the village, until I find the path marked family route to Sok Kwu.

This walk would be a cinch if it were in our temperate climate, but here in this heat and humidity, the steady climb up and away from the town on a path offering very little shade is a killer! I’m glad I have a cap, sunscreen, water and above all an umbrella, as all are essentials in the slow and sweaty progress I’m making - plus lots of stops for a towel down and a swig of water. The views back towards Yung She are lovely - pity about the enormous power station to its left which is both huge and ugly!

The walk should only take an hour, but I’m making slow progress and I’m wondering if it’s worth the effort especially as I will have to return to catch the ferry home. But as I’ve arranged to meet up with an English editor, Vicki who does some work for HKOP and who I met on the lithography workshop, I decide to continue. After the main beach at Hung Shing there’s very few people left on the path south; just me, the constant chirrup of cicadas, the odd lizard, and some beautiful looking birds (one, the Bubul, has a beautiful white crest).

Sok Kwu is a tiny fishing one-horse town, with jut a row of seafood restaurants and shops. Still it’s a welcome rest from the heat, with shade, food and a cold drink on offer. Mo Tat, twenty minutes beyond (where Vicki lives) is even less than that. Still, it does have a bar and beach with great views across the South Lamma Channel to Aberdeen.

I’m befriended by a local dog who sits at my feet and it would be the perfect spot to draw were it not for a group of Americans who have hired a junk for the day, and swum ashore to consume a quantity of Tsing Tao beer - I’m glad when they get bored and return to their boat, leaving me and Max (the dog’s name as I discover) to the relative tranquillity of the bay.

The storm clouds are gathering, and when Vicki arrives, we decide that the walk to Tung O beach is probably not a good idea, so we seek the sanctuary of the bar. Its just as well - there is a rapid cooling of the air and a rising wind, and just as suddenly Aberdeen and the South Lamma Channel disappear in the thick greyness of the approaching storm. The Typhoon is mild by HK standards but it does nonetheless hit you with a punch - the rain hammers on the metal roof, the trees bend and twist and I’m relieved we are under cover. It seems there may be a repeat of my last visit and the storm I so vividly remember.

Aberdeen from Mo Tat Wan

But then things just as suddenly calm down and Aberdeen re-emerges out of the mirk. Vicky tells me there’s a kaido service from here to Aberdeen, where it’s a bus ride back to Kowloon, and I decide to opt for this as I don’t want to walk back to Yung Shue.

The kaido ferry is an enjoyable ride across the channel in the company of the odd loved-up couple and a group of happy chatty nut-brown fishermen.

Lamma is still quiet and relatively unspoilt - but it won’t surprise you dear reader, to learn that HK’s voracious urbanisation program includes an imminent scheme to develop the old quarry across the bay into a complex of residential high rises, that will see the population of the island more than quadruple and change its character forever.

Lessons in Lithography - Part II

( 7 May)

I get the opportunity to print my plate today, and to see what the print is like on decent paper stock. So far I’ve only proofed the plate on newsprint. The exercise gives me the opportunity to hone my inking and sponging skills - lithography is a very physical process; each print in the edition requires 4 passes to ensure that the plate holds enough ink for the print, so an edition of 10 prints will require 40 ink passes, plus sponging in between each pass, and finally pulling the print… it’s quite a workout!

The photographs here show various stages of the process…

Rolling up

Inking the plate

Positioning the paper

Lifting the printed paper from the plate

Inspecting the print

Sketching workshop with the Island School Students

I offered to run this workshop as part of my professional practice experience during my stay here in Hong Kong. The help I’d hoped to have from the UWE undergraduates was not possible, as they were due to return to the UK on 4 May. 

When I turned up at the school, seven additional students had asked to come on the trip in addition to the original twenty-one I was originally going to be taking. Twenty-eight 14/15 year olds loose in Hong Kong Park - no pressure!! 

It was quite difficult to get the students to engage at first. I think for a lot of them there aren’t many opportunities to get out. They are taxi-ed or bussed to and from school and with either one or both parents working late HK hours, they entertain themselves (mainly on their phones) for long periods of time. In HK these kids don’t have the opportunity to go out on their own, and if they do they are chaperoned or looked after by and large. Don’t get me wrong, these are nice kids, well behaved ,and happy to do the sketching exercises I suggested - but reluctant to make suggestions or come up with their own ideas.

They all produced some lovely sketches in the park - there’s plenty of potential here for the aspiring artist - a lake full of carp and turtles, a wealth of diverse trees and shrubs all different colours and textures, as well as botanical hot houses and an aviary. And of course there is the backdrop of HK’s iconic buildings - The Bank of China Tower, The twin Lippo Buildings with their climbing koala bear geometry, to name but a few. Some of their work is shown below to give you some idea of how good they were.

The exercise they really seemed to enjoy most was when I got them to draw each other - although some of them insisted on taking photos and then drawing from the phone screen! These kids do everything with their phones, and I guess they’re not that different from kids in the UK in this respect. 

28 kids is a big group to manage, but I did get round all of them and I hope was able to give them some useful advice on drawing which I hope will stay with some of them. They did really like the small A5 sketchbooks I’d brought all the way from the UK for them - result!

By 3.30pm, after Helen had dropped me off near Wan Chai, I was completely exhausted but decided to visit Yau Ma Tei on the way home as its just a stop off the MTR line. That was quite an experience and the polar opposite of HK park. If I have time, I'll cover that in another posting...

Cyanotype workshop

The wonderful thing about cyanotype is that it requires no special equipment to achieve great results; water, sunshine, 2 chemicals, and some paper or absorbent material can produce beautiful and interesting pieces of work.

HKOP use it in many of their outreach projects because they can pre-treat rolls of material, bag it up to prevent exposure, and then take it out onto the streets where participants can lie on it or place objects on it. The results can be seen after ten minutes or less - Ho Yin showed us examples he had made at Chueng Sha Wan residential plaza, of a cyan frieze created by the local residents, catching them in various contortions and poses. It looked really good and he said they really enjoyed making it because they could see the results of their participation straight afterwards.

Here’s some history and a brief overview: cyanotype (or sun printing) is one of the earliest photographic processes, developed by Fox Talbot and Daguerre in the 1840’s. It relies on the mixing of two inert chemical solutions to create a sensitised liquid that can be applied to any absorbent material and then exposed to a powerful UV source. Back in the day, the only source powerful enough to do this was the sun. Images are produced by protecting the sensitised medium with an object/objects, or contact negative. After exposure the unfixed chemical is washed away, giving a positive image in cyan blue, hence the name. The process was adopted and used by English botanist Anna Atkins in the late 19^th century, who wanted to find a way of preserving images of botanical specimens that she realised would not make the long journey home.

I really enjoyed this workshop, which unlike lithography or etching, is quite straightforward and yields pleasing results in ten/fifteen minutes or so. The images I created seem to be connected to the past and somehow transient, which seems apt. 

The Shatin panorama which I’ve shown here looks for all like an image taken twenty years ago or more, a snapshot in time - which it is. Who knows how it will look in another twenty? My photo, taken last Sunday, is already history.

I’ve already mused on the fragility of Tai O; an image caught in ferro-cyanate brush-marks seems to me in some ways equivalent to a place briefly fixed in time by factors of geography, history and economics…

A Visit to the New Territories: Shatin and the Monastery of Ten Thousand Buddhas

(Sunday 3 May)

Ranee and I were invited to visit Rainbow Lueng’s family who live in a hillside village a short walk from Shatin Station. My notions of a village in the middle of the countryside were dashed upon my arrival at Shatin - the MTR emerges into a vast, brand new air conditioned shopping mall, just like the ones in Central. Outside, the green hills of the New Territories are obscured by a huge Merrill Lynch glass and steel tower, and the familiar 40 storey tower blocks. The building density is lower here than in the city though; there are still views out towards the distant and still largely unspoilt hills towards China in the north that are not completely obscured by the rapacious growth of residential towers and the new financial district.

On meeting Rainbow, we made a visit to the local market to buy fish for lunch- everything is very much alive - fish, crustacea, huge fish heads pump their gills, unaware that they have been severed from their bodies. It’s all a bit much to be honest, and I’m glad when we have bought what we need and make our way up to the village with our haul.

The Lueng family live in a traditional (and rapidly disappearing) style of Chinese house. Its modest in size with a tiny kitchen that has only a small sink and tap and a double stove top burner. The living room, with its shrine and sparse furnishings, also houses sleeping areas that are curtained off platforms above the communal sitting room. There is an outside terrace that serves as a sitting area and kitchen extension, which is used by everyone (and the dog, Boogie). It’s certainly warm enough to sit out here until bedtime, in fact its unpleasantly hot during the day! Although in her late twenties, like a huge number of young HK adults Rainbow still lives with her parents (and her maternal grandparents, both in their 90’s!). As in the UK, the high rental prices in HK mean that a lot of young people can’t afford to move out of home.

We are offered hot bamboo juice to drink. It’s naturally sweet, and refreshing on a hot day like today. We offer to help prepare the food but are told that as we are guests we must just relax and wait until food is ready. Rainbow’s boyfriend Yin does help though, it’s not just considered to be ‘women’s work’, at least not in this family. While we wait, Rainbow’s grandfather tells me how he can remember when the village was still a village - with no high-rise towers, paddy fields, and uninterrupted views.

After our seafood lunch (which is spectacularly good!) we take a walk to the Monastery of 10,000 Buddhas, which is a short walk from the house. The steep path up over 400 steps to the temple is lined with gold painted statue after statue, all with different facial expressions (some very comical), ages and body shapes, all representing the diversity of Buddha’s manifestation. It is a hard climb, on a particularly hot and humid day, and I’m glad to reach the temple as by this time I’m sweating buckets. It would be a great place to draw but not on a day like today, it’s far too hot. On the way back we have an encounter with a Shatin monkey, who seems very interested in my red carrier bag, which apparently they recognise as potential food. It seems less than keen to be photographed and bares its yellow (and dangerously sharp looking) teeth. I think it wise to make a swift retreat as the beast then makes its way along the handrail of the path before disappearing into some trees towards the town. Further along we see a whole troupe of them climbing from balcony to balcony in search of pickings. It’s by now late in the afternoon and its time to say goodbye to Rainbow, her mum, and Yin, and head back to the city. Its been a good day and I felt privileged to have been invited to a Chinese home during my visit to HK.

Return to Tai O and visit to The Big Buddha

The Big Buddha

Tai O is such a fascinating place and I decided I wanted to return there (on my own) to draw; it’s difficult to do your own thing when you’re with someone else, however accommodating they are - it was great to visit with Mian and have some insight into people’s conversations - I think it’s natural to drop in on conversations and it’s something I tend to take for granted until I come up against a language as alien to me as Cantonese - then the only clues are body language and facial expressions. Its things like this that really make you feel like a stranger in a strange land.

This time I will take a different route to reach my destination - an MTR ride to Tung Chong and a cable car will take me high into the lush, green green mountains of Lantau, to the largest seated Buddha in the world; from there I can catch a bus down to Tai O.

The cable car journey (in a glass bottomed car) is quite something, swinging upwards as it does out of the high-rises of the town over a reservoir and into the broadening vista of Lantau’s interior, with views out to the north of the new international airport, and south looking upward to the majestic and mysterious peaks of the mountains, their summits cloaked in skeins of cloud. 
A young Cantonese woman asks me to take a picture on her phone, and proceeds to lie on the glass floor, making double V-signs and grinning crazily! I have to stand on the seat to get all of her in the picture (as this is what she specifically requests), I can’t believe I’m doing this, I only wish I had asked her to send me the picture for my blog - ah well, I’m sure you can imagine!

And then the Buddha comes into view above, he’s really is quite a sight as the cable car cranks its way upward towards the top station... and the usual tourist stuff - your cable-car photograph (no thanks!), souvenir shops, Starbucks etc. 
The Buddha himself is impressive and I want to do some drawings here even though it’s oppressively hot and humid, and so I do. The weird thing is that when you sit down to draw, people think it’s perfectly ok to come and sit right next to you and take your picture with them, using a selfie stick! This happens a number of times, plus a lot of people staring over your shoulder (same as at The Peak, and later in Tai O). I don’t particularly mind, but it doesn’t help my concentration so eventually I give up and go and catch the 21 bus to Tai O.

It’s mercifully cooler and slightly breezier down here by the sea. There are less people about on a weekday and I get my opportunity to do some sketching. The village is organic in its structure, in stark contrast to the repetitive monotony of the high-rises of Kowloon and Central. Its form has been shaped by successive ad-hoc building spurts, some devastating fires and more recently the construction of some larger more permanent structures. None of the paths are big enough for cars, and most of the commerce seems to be conducted on bicycles with towed carts, or sack trucks. All fascinating subject matter for the artist - winding narrow streets, stilted houses on water, kaleidoscope colours of market stalls, drying shrimp paste, hanging balloons of fish stomachs, drying fish of every size and shape… I could go on but I think you get the picture. 

Tai O - stilted fishing village on Lantau Island's west coast

Once more I’m confronted by thoughts of how long this can continue in this way. Tai O already relies more heavily on tourism than fishing for its survival. If the HK Government does nothing it can only continue as a weekend tourist destination, its younger inhabitants are moving to the more attractive mainland to seek their fortunes in ways other than the traditional pursuits of their parents and grandparents; and yet if the Government do legislate to protect it how can they do so with sensitivity? The village could easily become just a museum piece; perhaps it has done already. All I can do is observe, record, and wonder if it will still be here to see in the (not too distant) future.

Lessons in Lithography

Plate preparation

HKOP ran a lithography workshop on Monday 26 April, which I was invited to attend. I did a one-day workshop in the first year of the MA course at UWE - I love the way that lithography is able to accurately reproduce in print the subtlety of drawing (it’s probably the printing process that is closest to drawing and it can capture beautifully the essence of the drawn or brushed mark). What put me off was the complexity of the process and the ample opportunity for things to go wrong!

So it was great to have the chance to be re-introduced to it, under the expert guidance of Yung Sau Mui, who trained at Tamarind in the US and who has had many years of teaching students (of all levels of experience) every aspect with the process - preparing stones and plates, mixing ink, printing editions and much much more.

I’m not going to go into too much detail about the process here as either you will as a print student be already familiar with the process (and undoubtedly know more than me), or you will have a layman’s knowledge in which case I would encourage you to look on the internet or in a library, where you will get far more expert (and accurate) information than I can provide here on this blog.

Here’s the basics - Lithography relies on the immiscibility of oil and water. A plate of limestone or aluminium treated to resemble limestone is drawn or painted on with a waxy substance and the surface is etched chemically leaving the areas covered in the waxy material untreated. A thin film of water is then applied to the plate that will only be retained in the etched areas. An oil based ink can then be applied that will only stick to the areas of original drawing. Contact with paper (or offset roller) will then produce a print of the original marks.

Mixing Ink - temperature and humidity are real problems in HK

Yung says “I don’t know how to explain lithography, either in Cantonese or English, I just know how to do it”. And she goes on to stress that you can read all the books, webpages, blogs you like but the only way to learn it is to do it.

She’s right, and it’s good advice. We all have a go at preparing and etching an aluminium plate (having made our own drawings, removing the drawn marks, sponging, rolling up (the ink) and proof printing the plate. Of sponging, Yung says “sponge like it’s your face, not Philip’s face!” which she thinks is terribly funny - but actually it is a good way of saying how gentle you need to be when you are moistening the plate frame so that the ink won’t stick.

Running a proof on news-print

We don’t have time to print the edition, but it’s been a good day and I’ve learned a lot by hands-on experience. The process has not got any less complicated but having a go at doing all the stages has really helped my understanding of the process. I can see why people get hooked on it.

Footnote: the climate here in HK makes printing a nightmare! Humidity affects paper, temperature makes ink far too liquid. Air-conditioning removes moisture from the air and affects paper and drying times. Water for sponging plates has to be cooled with ice-blocks. In the high summer when it's consistently above 33 degrees C and very high humidity, it's even worse (July - September it can reach 40C - I can't imagine how unbearable that must be, Yung says it requires supreme energy even to breathe; printing editions that are consistent in these kinds of conditions can be very problematic.