Editor: Ying-Hsuan Tai

Where does the thrill for buying art come from? Everyone is different. For Jason Chi, the “thrill of first love” is the simplest yet truest reason. The site-specific installation Counter Line by Japanese artist Tatsuo Miyajima has lingered in his mind ever since he encountered itat the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art in 1997. The work comprises numbers between 1 and 9 that come and go, appear and disappear, with red beams shimmering before our eyes, reminding us that the passage of time is not linear, and life is but an infinite cycle without start or end. At a time when the computer was still in its infancy, Miyajima’s new media piece cast a great impact on Chi. The sensation of the first encounter has stayed on his mind since then. Twenty years later, a scenario he could never imagine happened: he brought home a piece by the artist.

“The most important thing is that you really like a work and you feel something when you face it.” A great work involves destiny as well. That piece by Tatsuo Miyajima went a long time before arriving at Chi’s place. Moreover, it corresponded perfectly to the wall dimensions in the hallway. “It really fit perfectly. One more centimeter would have made that impossible. I think that’s destiny!”

As an artist, a curator and a collector, Jason Chi rarely accepts public interviews as a collector. Having collected art for more than two decades, Chi possesses a rich and vivid collection. The works he collects are mainly from the post-war era. During the first decade, he focused on Asian and particularly Taiwanese artists, whereas, in the second decade, works by artists from Europe, America and Asia all entered his collection, with Japanese artists forming the majority. “As I collect for longer, I find there are indeed many good artists in the world!” He also collects sculpture, video, photograph and installation. In addition, he is particularly fond of works on paper. He said the touch of hand involves a special emotion he finds irresistible.

“Since I’m an artist myself, I know how it feels when others collect our works. Many collectors may not be aware of this, yet they actually encourage artists to a great extent.” Chi’s father’s encouragement actually cast a deep impact. His father liked to collect all sorts of things and accumulated many collectibles beyond the art field like stones. Although his father’s experience was not the immediate catalyst for Jason Chi to become an art collector, he inherits his father’s strong support for artists in both studying and making art.

Jason Chi is particularly interested in Mono-ha. Revolving around existential connections among objects, spaces and the viewer, Mono-ha artists often use materials drawn from nature, like soil, wood, stones and water. To reflect on the existence of objects in the world, the intervention of the artist is reduced to a minimum and the materials assume their own voices.

Chi enjoys learning and likes listening to others’ opinions on art. “Look, read, study and listen. The exchanges accumulated with experience will influence the decisions we make in the future,” he suggests to those who begin to collect. A strong curiosity is critical. It will be a beacon orienting you on the path of collecting, leading you to find the best and most suitable works. Chi reiterates that art is a subjective matter. “It is hard to pin down whether an artwork is good or bad. You can only tell if it pleases you. A person’s experience of life will influence the angle of viewing.”

Back in 2001, not long after Jason Chi returned to Taiwan, he joined an exhibition tour at Taipei Fine Arts Museum and met artist Chien-Chi Chang. After engaging in a conversation with the artist, he acquired a piece from the photographic series “The Chain,” with mental patients in the Long Fa Tang Temple. Since it would be quite incongruous to place the photograph at home, the artist asked Chi why he bought it. For his curiosity, he said. The aura of the first encounter.

Image: Kishio Suga, “PROTRUSION A101”, 1981, oil, canvas, veneer board,  120.8x121x6.5cm, Courtesy of Jason Chi, © Kishio Suga, Photo by Kei Okano.

Editor: Sim Po-Yi

How does art develop perspective on time? How do artists form relationships with artists from other time periods? In 2015, gallerist and curator Johnson Chang invited artist Yeh Wei-Li to move into the deserted house of the late artist Yeh Shih-Chiang (1926-2012). Since then, their works have begun to intertwine. These two artists, who grew up in completely different times and places, coincidentally had similar life experiences. In a way, Yeh Wei-Li inherited the spirit of Yeh Shih-Chiang, reconstructing his hermit lifestyle in his own way.

I describe Yeh Shih-Chiang as a hermit because he refused to join art institutions or academies when he was alive, keeping a distance from the system and living in the forest or near seashore (Wantan in Xindian, Shuinandong in Ruifang and Ji’an in Hualien). He transformed his life into art: the guqin (an ancient Chinese musical instrument), candles, and paintings were all part of his life. Yeh Shih-Chiang lived ceremonially at his own slow pace.

Ceremonial Way of Life

We also find this focus on a ceremonial way of living in the works of Yeh Wei-Li. Most of his photography is related to changes in time and space, as well as his participation in this process. His ritual lies in immersing himself in the built space of Yeh Shih-Chiang on a daily basis evincing control over the formats, aesthetics, and ambience of his imagery.

There are three main actions behind his photographs. First, the long process of reorganizing the house of Yeh Shih-Chiang, something Yeh Wei-Li spent time and effort to achieve. Second, Yeh Wei-Li’s attempt to recreate the ambiance of the space. Finally, the complicated process of shooting with a large-format camera (each exposure takes six minutes).

Interweaving of Life and Space

Yeh Wei-Li is not isolated from society when he works alone in his studio; instead, he interweaves objects, people, space, and environment with his own work. Instead of refining his work, he concentrates on interacting with his surroundings. The process is not about producing products continuously and efficiently, but rather requires focus, time, and continuity with a single subject

Yeh Wei-Li moved his life to Shuinandong, exploring and sensing the area where Yeh Shih-Chiang used to live. He tried to understand the daily activities Yeh Shih-Chiang did there, like weeding the garden, starting the fire, repairing the pond, and listening to the wind, and then he repeated them. In this way, the lives of the two artists from different times overlapped through daily rituals.

Slow and Repetitive

Yeh Wei-Li and Yeh Shih-Chiang shared a ceremonial lifestyle, but, under neoliberalism today, we tend to emphasize speed and efficiency, and time moves irretrievably forward. These two artists embrace an outdated attitude, living as hermits under the river of time. They live not in the now, but outside of time, emphasizing ritual, slowness, and contemplation.

Philosopher Byung-Chul Han believes that the way to fight neoliberalism is to recall rituals, emphasizing the power of slowness and repetitions in order to find strength and stability. The power of slowness and repetition can be found in the medium Yeh Wei-Li chose for his photographs. Unlike digital cameras, which create results instantly, Yeh Wei-Li’s large-format camera involves a highly complicated process. This decision recalls the work of Tehching Hsieh, who emphasized his process in documenting life and fighting utilitarianism.

Though both Hsieh and Yeh use photography as a tool of documentation, Hsieh records the traces of life in an archival way. Yeh Wei-Li, by contrast, documents a reconstructed space. The traces of his labor are hidden in the documentary Illuminated Presence and other related video works. Aesthetical transformation plays a large role, distinct from the more archival mode of photography in early conceptual and performance art.

Yeh Wei-Li’s large-scale, cold, quiet photographs allow us to feel the distance between space and the self of the artist. His videos, which document his process and labor, make us feel his presence inside the space. The ambiguity of being simultaneously intimate and distant shows through in this work.

This reminds me of Shen Chao-Liang, who also uses large-format cameras and spends long periods of time on his subjects. Shen observes the scenery outside of the camera; Yeh is highly involved with the space he depicts. Photography is not only used to document, but also to imagine, to narrate, and to reconstruct the life of Yeh Shih-Chiang.

Exploration Space

Yeh Wei-Li looks at the transformation of space through photography. The fragmented details of life are presented elegantly and quietly, allowing us to contemplate our own existence in this world.

Through Yeh Wei-Li’s work, we are immersed in the everyday rituals and lives of artists from two different generations. His work exists eternally in the rupture of time, echoing the spirit of Yeh Shih-Chiang. This echo resists the accelerations of neoliberal society, recognizing our daily lives anew in a sustained and slow way.

Image caption: Yeh Wei-Li, “Two Chairs, Yeh Shih-Chiang House, Shuinandong”, 2019, Giclee Print Canson Rag Photographique 310g, Ironwood Frame 90x110x5cm. Courtesy of the artist and Hanart TZ Gallery.

Editor: Shih-yu Hsu

People who are not familiar with the art scene might not have heard of the phrase “alternative space”. Unlike commercial galleries, alternative spaces do not aim to sell artworks, instead, they focus on the concepts or issues raised as well as the experiments with formats and medium. Compared to public institutions, which are relatively bureaucratic, alternative spaces have more flexibility in terms of curating and presenting artworks. They have always played a significant role in the ecosystem of contemporary art. The diversity of alternative spaces is an indicator of the maturity of the art scene.

The earliest art space in Taiwan that resembled an alternative space was SOCA Contemporary Art Studio, founded by artist Jun T. Lai in 1986. It was the place where many currently important art figures, including Tsong Pu, Lu Ming-Te, Chen Hui-Chiao, Margaret Shiu, Wen-Hao Huang, made experimental site-specific installations. Despite the type of works being common nowadays, it was rarely seen at places like Taipei Fine Art Museum, which had only opened for three years at the time. SOCA offered a platform for artists to explore all the possibilities. Afterward, artist Chen Hui-Chiao, Tsong Pu and Liu Ching-Tang, who met at SOCA, founded IT Park, which has become a symbol representing Taiwanese contemporary art history. Many internationally known Taiwanese artists, such as Michael Lin, Peng Hung-Chih, Tsui Kuang-Yu and Yuan Goang-Ming, all had their exhibitions there. Later on, Apartment #2, with which Fang Marvin-Minto, Lien Teh-Cheng, Hou Chun-Ming and Lin Pey-Chwen were involved, and its successor, SLY art space, were founded. All of these established the type of alternative spaces where artists are the members who collectively decide the direction of the space. Looking back at the alternative spaces during this period, artists were the subject in terms of planning the spaces, exploring all the possibilities. It was the time when martial law had just ended in Taiwan. And voices seeking freedom were spoken through the alternative spaces, loud and clear.

Another wave of alternative spaces in Taiwan occurred around 2010. Looking back at this time, biennials held everywhere were a sign of the globalization of contemporary art since 1990s. The words “curating” and “curator” were starting to be acknowledged and valued. In Taiwan, Taipei Fine Art Museum and NationalTaiwan Museum of Fine Arts had both been running for more than 20 years. The oldest Taiwanese biennial, Taipei Biennial, had reached its sixth edition in 2008. The participatory work “A Contemporary Art Centre, Taipei (A Proposal)” by artist Jun Yang as part of the biennial, curated by Manray Hsu and Vasif Kortun, was transformed into the art space Taipei Contemporary Art Center (TCAC) in 2010. TCAC identifies itself as an open platform, promoting avant-garde art experiments and seeking the possibilities of generating knowledge. It was an important spot for international exchange and communication, hosting many talks and screenings with international artists and curators. It also had numerous discussions regarding cultural policy, reacting to the needs of local art communities. Another art space established in the same year, TheCube Project Space, host by curators Amy Cheng and Jeph Lo, also aims to connect the local and international art networks, while focusing on the history and development of sound art in Taiwan. Alternative spaces during this period not only have more curators involved in the planning of the programmes, but also invite artists to continue experimenting with the creativity and concepts of art outside of institutional and commercial systems.

Apart from the alternative spaces established during these two waves, there are other alternative spaces that also play important roles. Open Contemporary Art Center (OCAC), founded in 2001, was organized by students of National Taiwan University of Arts. They boldly moved to Thailand for a yearlong residency, way before the New Southbound Policy initiated by the government. Afterward, it continued this spirit by running long-term exchange programs with the art scene of Indonesia. And Lightbox, a non-profit photography library founded in 2016, has been hosting series of talks and workshops, systematically organizing and collecting publications related to photography. It is also the place where photography lovers, as well as academics and artists in the area, gather.

The spaces and exhibitions have developed differently based on the social and art contexts. The spaces are carrying missions given by the people who gather there. As time goes by, alternative spaces continuously push themselves forward, reacting to the colourful art scene of Taipei in their own ways. In the history of Taiwanese alternative spaces, most of them appeared in reaction to the needs of local art communities.

Art fairs gather people who are curious about art. How much information about the art industry can be transmitted through an art fair? How can Taipei Dangdai communicate with its audience? Taipei Dangdai is not only about art, but also about people, institutions, and the roles that support the contemporary art system in Taiwan. Taipei Dangdai intends to encourage readers from different backgrounds to be curious, and to read from perspectives. We believe that having a wider audience will help the art scene grow. As we know, art fairs are strongly connected with the market, but from another perspective, how the fairs use their resources and influence to create, to connect, to contribute to society, and to extend the definition of art fairs, can also be considered art. As a medium, Taipei Dangdai 2020 created the Editorial Platform to support non-profit art space and change the space of the art fair through interdisciplinary art projects and creative activities.

For readers in Taiwan and abroad, our editorial board focuses on art in Taiwan, especially subjects worth rediscover, such as private museums, alternative spaces, local galleries, artists, collectors, photography, installation, new media, experimental contemporary arts with Asian elements and the historical meaning of the artistic connection between Taiwan, Southeast Asia, Japan and Korea. Taipei Dangdai not only exhibits the best contemporary artworks from around the world, but also showcases the characteristics of Taipei to the world through introducing the industry, people and historical contexts of Taiwanese contemporary art.

Our editorial board is composed of a younger generation of art critics, editors, curators of nonprofit art spaces and museums, independent publishers and researchers of visual and sound art in Taiwan, including Isabelle Kuo, Shih-yu Hsu, Fang Yen-Hsiang, YC Chen, Ying-Hsuan Tai, Bo-Yi Shen, Hsin Feng and Laura Wang. The articles are translated by Taiwanese artist Ting-Ting Cheng and translator Shih-Yang Ma.

This publishing initiative connects the communities, resources and networks of Taipei Dangdai, hoping to start a virtuous cycle, expanding influence, participants and audience. It echoes the ideas portion of Taipei Dangdai Art & Ideas, breaking down geographical boundaries while creating discussions between generations.

Image courtesy: Taipei Contemporary Art Center.