Afterthoughts: Things We’ve Done Here Make it Here
Self-clarification between previous exhibition, Things We’ve Done Here Make it Here, and the upcoming performance, Nation of Scatterbrain.
9/30/2024
This note was written on September 30th. For potential clarification and unexpected thrills, it will be written in third-person narrative.
10/7/2024
This note connects the exhibition projects I’ve completed or am currently working on in New York. By reviewing them, I hope to step back and gain a broader perspective, allowing for a mental rearrangement.
8/24/2024-9/1/2024 Exhibition A: Things We’ve Done Here Make it Here1
If a book is a body, then a notebook is a shadow, repeating, awaiting, napping, diving, somehow resisting to become visible. (Jump scare.)
If a book is a room, then a notebook is that wastebasket in that room, the redoable fantasy of how to build your room, how to own a room. (dream it, wish it, do it.)
If a book is a bridge; then a notebook is not even a bridge; it’s a path. (No, not even a path yet.) It is a collection of my possible routes toward the body, the room, the bridge.
Things We've Done Here Make it Here was an exhibition that took place from 8/24/2024 to 9/1/2024. It felt like a dream, an in-time happening for Tzu. Initially, they were searching for an exhibition space to showcase a group show focused on artists’ notebooks.
They reached out to L and B for exhibition opportunities. L advised, "Tzu, I think you should slow down. Consider what you want to convey through these notebooks." L then connected Tzu with W, a "Pikachu big boy" in the CBC family who co-runs the artist-run gallery, Field Projects.
W is kind-hearted but sometime sharp-tongued, often self-critical (like many of us). He’s now an activist and "Pikachu," dedicating himself to community work in Bay Ridge and Queens. Tzu was initially intimidated by W—tall, muscular, tattooed, and a gym regular. However, after discussing politics in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the U.S., they found common ground. W shared insights about gallery management, both profitable and non-profitable, and the potential for balance.
W agreed to host Tzu's solo exhibition, focusing on their engagement-based art-making. They had two weeks to prepare.
After meeting W, Tzu time-traveled back to January 2024. They had laid out archived everyday objects on a black blanket: tarot cards, family photos, cemetery feathers, a shadow-shaped paper piece, and 2023 sticky notes—questioning the nature of their artistic process and the potential patterns between objects.
Fast-forward to September.
They packed these materials into a suitcase and brought them to Field Projects, where they recreated the layout: placing "essentials" and "highlights" in the center, surrounded by related pieces. While reflecting on the past, Tzu added their current square notebook (now their most vital everyday object) to the picture.
Where is the line between personal life and public reality when sharing collections, notes, or even publishing them? Am I a narcissist who loves oversharing?
Tzu decided that this exhibition would remain open-ended, focusing on using personal archives to reframe and share the self.
How could my art-making protect my country, or should I be a hacker? What is the functionality of art when it comes to protecting human life and freedom? How can art serve the people and the community through aesthetic experiences?
This question also drove Tzu to return to Taiwan to unlearn and rediscover the art and cultural landscapes of their hometown. For Tzu, understanding comes through involvement—embodying themselves in scenarios and relationships. Instead of spending $6,000 with a 60% chance of securing an O-1 Visa, Tzu chose to return home to observe and relearn their positionality in Taiwan, exploring the relationship between Tzu in New York, Tzu in Taipei, and Tzu in Tainan. Each version of Tzu could lead to entirely different landscapes.
Tzu once interpreted the concept of “serving one’s country” in a narrow way. Though they grew tired of identity politics and the debates between Chineseness and Taiwaneseness—especially since those discussions seem to have little visibility in Asian-focused discourses in New York (because we are all Asian here, why create more differences that could lead to conflict?)—they still recognized the urgency of acknowledging these differences. China's assimilation discourse often starts by emphasizing sameness in language, skin color, and lifestyle, while downplaying colonial history, military threats, information warfare, cross-strait collusion, and genocide in Xinjiang. These are pressing truths that every Taiwanese generation must face.
“How can I live as someone who serves their country through cultural work and still earn a steady income?”
“Have you ever considered being a civil servant?” Tzu’s mom asked.
Tzu had thought about it two years ago—becoming a civil servant for the government, a true decision-maker.
(Continued in next post: Nation of Scatterbrain)
(Exhibition description) “This exhibition presents an evolving landscape formed from my past notes and drawings. The collection traces the ongoing exploration of my body and mind, inspired by everyday moments such as lifting a dumbbell in front of a mirror or doodling characters on sticky notes that reflect stages of my life. These fragments, initially private, are now brought into a public space where the intimate act of notebook keeping—traditionally a sanctuary for self-expression and discovery—becomes a shared experience.
Through the use of familiar materials like office paper, staples, and pencils, I experiment with the presentation of drafts, notes, and unfinished thoughts that span my past, present, and future. The space invites the audience into a dialogue with these personal artifacts. Surrounding them are my drawings and notes, displayed on the walls, while at the center, an installation showcases 50 spreads from my current notebook. The front of the installation reveals scanned images of these spreads, while the back offers a ‘translation’ of each one.
I hope to convey a sense of intimacy, honesty, and fearlessness. By transforming these private reflections into a public exhibition, I aim to share the awkwardness and authenticity that define the experience of living, inviting others to witness and perhaps connect with this raw and unfiltered self-expression.”