Affichage des articles dont le libellé est uni. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est uni. Afficher tous les articles

lundi 17 juin 2019

society cafe

a list of the times i've been to society café on st. michael's street:

  1. Meeting up with Lana in Michaelmas term of 1st year. We were supposed to go to this other café that I'd found when I googled 'cafes oxford' but it was closed so we came here. I haven't seen Lana that many times in Oxford -- we live in completely different worlds. She looks exactly the same though.
  2. Hilary term 1st year: Meeting Alexis for the second time after Tobi had brought her to an informal Isis meeting (location: the then-new Common Ground coffee on Little Clarendon St) because she'd heard a lot about me and wanted to be friends. I ducked into Society right after having lunch with Emily at Handlebar just down the street, so this would've been our first meeting when we'd both just been chosen as the new Isis editors. The Handlebar has this French waiter who speaks with a heavy accent and I'd instinctively ordered in French. I came to Society early to wait for Alexis but she was late, so I sat downstairs with a tea and carrot cake for the longest time. Eventually she showed up and we had a riveting discussion right before she left for China.
  3. Shortly after my meeting with Alexis -- like, a couple of days after -- Sanaa and I dropped in to her Homecoming Queen launch which was here at Society after hours, before going to the Isis HT18's journalism panel.
  4. Michaelmas 2nd year: group lunch with Michelle and Li to celebrate/welcome their entry as Sine Theta interns, and then I was bored so we decided to skip down to Society to study. I was reading T. J. Clark's Farewell to an Idea for my Picasso essay and greatly, greatly struggling. Eventually the others left but I stayed until 7pm agonising over that chapter. 
  5. Today, Trinity 2nd year. I keep forgetting that you can't move the tables here at Society. The table is a bit too far away from the (hard wooden) bench for my comfort so my back and shoulders are definitely gonna hurt after this. I passed by Society on the way to brunch with Gabriel at Bill's and decided to spend my afternoon studying here. But I need to remember the thing about the table's distance from the seat. I don't think I'll be back anytime soon.
I guess it's just cool how many experiences overlap and fold onto each other in a small town like Oxford. I've been to other cafes like Skogen too many times to count now, but here at Society I still remember all the little details of each time I was here, like the fact that the toilets used to have blackboard walls with chalk graffiti encouraged, but now is just a regular toilet. 

lundi 3 décembre 2018

things i hope to get done over the winter vac 2018-2019

(but let's face it......)

  • Write my André Breton essay at Uni Bastions library
  • Do the reading for Social History of Art that i missed:
    • Craig Clunas
    • Arnold Hauser
    • Hatt & Klonk
  • Study for modernity collections! 
  • Read Griselda Pollock's massive book on Charlotte Salomon
  • Read Herzog 
  • Read 1 other book before the end of 2019 so I can complete my 25-books reading challenge on Goodreads
  • Read Krauss on narcissism, recommended by Ros Holmes in her new media lecture: 
    • "Video: The Aesthetics of Narcissism" (1976) 
  • Read Derrida on fragmentary language, recommended by Elisa in our psychoanalysis tutorial: 
  • Read bell hooks on the oppositional gaze:
    • "The oppositional gaze: black female spectators" (1992)

vendredi 23 novembre 2018

sartre / gaze / other / me

haven't posted in a while! been really busy at school, a lot of hard work and a lot of socialising too. second year is definitely so much better than first year - i feel a lot more comfortable here and i have a really nice handful of friends that i meet individually and who are all cool. not to jinx anything but i think im living my best life!

for my class/essay this week on psychoanalysis and the gaze, i read sartre's "the look" chapter from his being and nothingness 1943. even before i started reading him, i had been reading summaries that mentioned him (both surveys of the idea of the gaze and a martin jay chapter about the ontology of vision in sartre & merleau-ponty back when i was doing my cézanne essay) and they all talked about how absolutely terrified sartre was of vision... he saw it as this demonic thing that made you vulnerable to pain and suffering and he saw the relationship between two people (the exchange of looks) as a constant struggle for power, a conflict... someone said it might've been because of hitler's hypnotic gaze, others because of his biography - classically freudian, they said that he had been very close to his mother for the first 12 years of his life because his father had died but when she remarried he felt enormous amounts of angst. so even before i started reading sartre i thought that maybe i would relate to him: i've found that i'm extremely, crippingly self-conscious and this self-consciousness permeates my very being. i'm always so anxious by how im seen by other people, especially 'half-strangers', people who know enough about me to recognise me / talk about me but nothing else who are in the best position to judge me.

i don't know if my state of relentless self-consciousness is because im a woman of color (specifically, an east asian woman, for whom the basis of much discrimination against me is the idea that i'm a perpetual Other, irreconcilably foreign), because i have anxiety (?), or maybe just who i am as a person which i guess would include the above two.

when i finally did read sartre i found him to be really exaggerated as well, especially in his portrayal of the battle of gazes between Me and the Other where we both try to subjugate each other as objects yet must acknowledge each other's subjectivity. like omg dude... calm down. i do think, like, maybe he grew up in an abusive household. i once read this personal story on the internet about triggers: the author's parent would come home and open the garage door to park the car. when the garage door opened it was thus a signal for the author to stop doing whatever they were doing in the living room (like watching tv) and hide and clean up everything to avoid crossing paths with the parent / angering the parent in any way. after many, many years since escaping the abusive household the author didn't live anywhere with a garage but one day heard a garage door noise on tv and that immediately triggered their fight  or flight response - they became extremely anxious and stressed and it took a long time for them to recover, just from that noise which brought back all the memories of the end of freedom and the beginning of a tense and violent atmosphere.

to sartre it is also not just the look of the Other that actives Me but anything that could suggest the possibility of being seen - e.g. any noise. his emphasis on shame, fear, and anxiety upon being seen - i think at some point he says "shame is the shame of the self" is also just so saddening to read about... it kind of feels like he might've gone through moments where he needed to hide from someone who wanted to hurt him. because of that i felt weird about identifying with him because i've never been abused or anything like that.... at the same time, sartre is doing philosophy. his goal is to prove the existence of the Other by anchoring it to Me (the self, the cartesian cogito - descartes proved the existence of Me through 'i think therefore i am' but since I have no access to anyone else's thoughts it means that I can't be sure anyone else really exists) so that there can be no Me without the Other, and also the Other is proved through the impact the Other has on Me (proving fire exists using smoke). he uses the gaze to establish that fundamental relationship between Me and the Other - Me is defined only by being seen by the Other (it would never occur to me to define myself if i was always alone - there would be no mediation between me and me). so since sartre is doing philosophy, everythign he says is meant to be universal, even if it does turn out to be informed by extremely personal experiences. of course that's what makes philosophers different from each other.

anyway, so i did kind of identify with sartre a bit. here are some quotes i noted down. from the Hazel Barnes translation, 1966.

"I see myself because somebody sees me." (260)

"The look does not carve me out in the universe. It comes to reach me at the heart of my situation and grasps me only in irresolvable relations with instruments. If I am seen as seated, I must be seen as 'seated-on-a-chair'." (263)

"Every act performed against the Other can on principle be for the Other an instrument which will serve him against me." (264) - this, about My freedoms being limited when the look (judgement) of the Other is applied, is so pessimistic and sad and dramatic. is everything really such a struggle? :(

"Thus the Me-as-object-for-myself is a Me which is not Me; that is, which does not have the characteristics of consciousness. It is a degraded consciousness; objectivation is a radical metamorphosis. Even if I could see myself clearly and distinctly as an object, what I should see would not be the adequate representation of what I am in myself and for myself (...) but the apprehension of my being-outside-myself, for the Other (...) which does not refer to myself at all." (273)
this was really compelling to me. i think it's a good way to describe how it feels to internalise racism/misogyny because you see yourself the way the white man sees you - as object both philosophically (dissociatively - not-Me) and patriarchally (sub-human, of less value) - and therefore marginalised, never the center of my own universe, object even when i am subject. it is impossible for me to see myself as truly myself because i have been overpoweringly exposed to the male/white gaze which objectifies me and turns me into passive image (laura mulvey).

im kind of bored of writign this so im just going to put in the artwork that i talked a bit about in my essay without any commentary.



Adrian Piper - Self-Portrait Exaggerating my Negroid Features (1981)

dimanche 10 juin 2018

1 year since graduation


Here's a draft of a post I made on the 29th of March 2017. Back then I was stuck in the IB, toiling away for exams and cramming in a lot of time to make artwork for, and set up, my IB art exhibition. Now, I have a couple weeks left of uni and am again suck here, toiling away for exams that matter only to myself. I've somehow convinced myself that these exams, which I only need to pass and have no impact on my final grade for my degree, are extremely important and if I don't get a first I won't get into grad school. So here I am. Working. And sick. 

I really did think I was gonna become a person again once I got the IB out of my system. I think that's only partially true. There are more days where I don't feel human than days where I do. And I don't know if I'm ever going to get out of this sluggish soulless feeling. It just feels like I'm going to be like this for the rest of my life. 

Let's see how I did with these goals that I had. 

Mubi
I did this, but there were these really weird problems with my Internet. It would keep buffering every 2 seconds even though all other websites (including other streaming stuff like Netflix) were fine. I reported it to Mubi but they didn't do anything about it and eventually I cancelled my account because it was super expensive and I was getting nothing out of it. In any case Gabriel has a free account for being a film student, so I can still access it. I haven't watched anything on it though. I think the only films I saw on it were Being John Malkovich (twice) and Cléo de 5 à 7, which was actually back in Geneva where the Internet wasn't weird.

Wardrobe
So this didn't happen. I guess it was too much wishful thinking. I have a collection of around 20 T-shirts and 4 pairs of jeans that I kind of just cycle around, but also a bunch of summery stuff and dresses and jackets. I do want to do this though, because packing up for the holidays is such a pain. I have no idea how I ended up with so many clothes to be honest. 10 things??? How did I ever think I was going to manage that? That would've been just living on 5 pairs of jeans and 5 shirts. Although that would be fine if I actually did my laundry. I'd still like to try this out to make space for other stuff.

Start jogging
Nope.

French
I'm on the mailing list for the Swiss society but their events seem boring and intimidating and full of German speaking people. I am doing a language exchange with a friend though, and we speak Mandarin and French together. So yay? 

Museum
God I am so sick of the Ashmolean. Get me away....

Eyebrows
Didn't have the energy to look up tutorials, buy products. I don't even wear eyeliner every day. Would still like to do this though, especially now that my glasses shape has changed and I feel I would benefit from stronger eyebrows. 

Legolas
In this economy??? Having to pack it up all the time and stuff?? My full-length mirror is already indulgent enough, thanks. 

Bicycles
So I was really down to do this, but once I arrived in Oxford I just delayed buying a bike for days and days. Now I just don't want one. This happens to me a lot: really wanting to do something and then just not doing it and then just giving up. But it usually applies to, like, taking a shower (and studying). 

High school acquaintances
This has been pretty successful but I haven't found the uni replacements that I wanted. I have some really good friends at uni but you can't replicate that feeling of having known someone for years because, well, you haven't. 

Novel
Nope. No time. No energy. 

Translation
Nope. No time. No energy.

Learn and grow
I hope so???? 

Postmodern architecture and classical pastiche

Wow it's been absolutely ages since I've posted on here. I've just been completely inundated by work, both for my course and ISIS stuff. Earlier this term I wrote a bit about a tutorial I had for an essay I wrote on postmodern architecture and I thought I wouldn't do very well on it because my tutor had disagreed with me, but it was actually my best tutorial essay so far. He had no criticism at all. Wow. I hope it wasn't just because he was trying to mark the essays really quick and couldn't be bothered to read it properly. There were no notes in the actual essay and just this at the end:

An excellent discussion, which was most interesting to read. Your subtle account gives Postmodernism its due, while acknowledging its no more than partial success in its own terms. You distinguish helpfully between classicism as an act of reverent tribute to (and straightforward imitation of) the 1st century, the 16th century, and the 18th century, and the classical language of postmodernism which explicitly acknowledges its situatedness in the present (although, as you also note, postmodern architects have not tended to pay as much attention to context as their rhetoric implies) and the irony created by historical distance. A very good piece of work, thank you.

I just did a mock paper for this course and a question on this topic came up, so I wrote about it, but my exam essay wasn't as nuanced as my tutorial essay.

Anyway that made me really happy so I'm gonna put my entire essay here now!


mardi 1 mai 2018

layering 101 (may morning)


My second Youtube video and first real Oxford vlog is a short montage of May morning, this morning. Joshua and I woke up at 5 to go to Magdalen Bridge to hear the chorus sing and then a guy say some religious stuff about the coming of spring. It was extremely cold so I had to make do with my non-winter clothing, hence the title. Usually clubs open until later on the night before Mayday so most people go out and stay up all night. The bridge was full of people, both locals and students, a huge number of whom were drunk out of their minds. There was screaming, chanting, clumsiness, and stains, which I didn't really appreciate since I was hungry, tired, cold, and completely sober. Still, I understand. They must be delirious by now. Maybe next year I'll go out too and see how it feels, although I don't know how I'd survive the nocturnal temperatures. I can't exactly hit up the club in my 7 layers.

We stood around for half an hour waiting for something to happen. I actually hadn't previously known what was supposed to happen, but I expected dancing around a maypole. That didn't happen. After the chorus and prayer that we heard emanating from a microphone from inside Magdalen College, we followed the crowd to the High Street, where there were people doing Morris dancing, which was very cool. Still, it was too cold, so Joshua and I went to Vaults and Garden for some breakfast. It was so full that we had to sit outside and I could barely feel my hands.

Most of my friends didn't want to wake up early, but it was so worth it. What's the point of going somewhere else for university if you're not going to enthusiastically participate in the local culture there?

my academic future

Just came out of the most productive tutorial I've ever had. (Usually tutorials feel more like repetitions of ideas I've thought about before.) It was with Jack, the only boy in our year, with whom I've never had a tutorial before. In seminars he talks and talks, to the point where tutors have asked him to shut up, something that has really made me notice how men are raised to be confident and self-assured whilst the 12 girls are much more timid despite having really intelligent ideas. Jack is obviously also very smart. He went to Westminster and he's extremely knowledgeable about art history, especially classical stuff and Renaissance, which is a bit alienating to me because all my knowledge is cobbled together and I don't really have a deep understanding of anything, meaning I have to do much more reading for essays and think deeply and even then be unable to write an essay that probes the topic hard enough since I've only had a week to write it.

Anyway, this tutorial was for essays that we were assigned before the vacation. There was a list of almost a dozen questions and we could choose any. I chose to talk about Postmodern architecture's classical pastiche and Jack wrote about Cy Twombly's engagement with the classical. It was truly enlightening on both topics and, as often happens, I now no longer want my tutor to read my essay because it states that Modernism was a complete break from tradition, which I now know is obviously false and a very strong claim to make. Can't wait to be torn apart in the comments...

The stuff that Jack said about Cy Twombly was so incredibly interesting. I previously only knew Twombly visually, as in I could recognise his very distinctive style, but knew nothing else. Turns out Twombly lived most of his life in the Mediterranean and made a lot of work that engaged with Antiquity and mythology and its connection to the present and its ever-changing nature and how it affects our perception of reality, his use of irony and humor, the relevance of his artwork against a backdrop of the Vietnam or Iraq war... I was blown away. I now love Cy Twombly even more than I did before (his work has always just been so alluring and mystifying and breathtaking).

I have absolutely no idea what I might want to specialise in. I'm constantly learning so much. For instance, I used to be completely apathetic to architecture and knew absolutely nothing about it and in over a week I've been able to write 4000 words about Ricardo Bofill and Michael Graves. Doesn't mean I'll specialise in architecture but still...

Topics I'd be interested in taking further:
- Indigenous Mexican art & Mexican art in the first few decades of Spanish colonisation
- Modern Chinese art (20th century) - I'm taking a class on this in 2nd year called 'Art in China since 1911'!! It won't be taught by the legendary Craig Clunas who retires at the end of this year but still, I'm so excited!
- Modernism (e.g. Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, De Stijl, Cubism, Fauvism...) - I'm also taking a class on this in 2nd year that covers this entire topic. It was really tough to choose because it was either this or a class on...
- Film studies. Ultimately I decided not to take the class on film because it was on European Cinema, which I'm sure is very interesting and important, but I'm a lot more interested in Asian Cinema, and I couldn't let myself miss out on the modernism course. I just think it would be cool to be that lady who writes about phallic symbolism in Farewell my Concubine
- Cy Twombly!
- Tibetan Buddhist murals. They're just so beautiful.

Overall I'm interested in any art that is hybrid, diasporic, cross-cultural. That's why my object essay is about east-west dialogue on the porcelain market in the 18th century. And post-colonialism is always a beloved topic of mine. Race relations, feminism, Orientalism... oh my. I know what I'm really not interested in, which is the art of Antiquity or the Renaissance or whatever... I mean, I care, but not really.

lundi 23 avril 2018

Oxford life - good omens for trinity

I've had the most lovely weekend so I thought I'd record it for posterity here. The sun had come out  for the first time since I'd arrived in England, and actually managed to remain in the sky for a solid four or five days. I was revived from my seasonal depression and genuinely enjoyed myself every single day. I still can't believe that some people are like this every day - just content, with no random indescribable feelings of sadness following them around and no sudden bursts of crying. I've promised myself not to cry this Trinity because it's summer and I really need to show my gratitude to the weather. It's gotten colder now, but my good mood still hasn't dissipated.

I returned to Oxford on Monday of 0th week, a full week before term was supposed to start, because I expected to be researching and writing an essay on top of revising for collections (mock exams to be taken before the start of term). Wearing both my heavy-duty St. Catherine's College fleece and my huge denim jacket, because I couldn't fit them into my one check-in suitcase, I lugged my stuff back to college, set up my room all over again, collected my mail, and saw my friends. I hadn't done a large amount of work over the vac so I began studying almost immediately after getting a celebratory burger at GBK, my favorite (I just went again today) because of their sweet potato fries, which come with a baconnaise dip.

My brother showed me this app that makes the photos you take look like they were done on a disposable camera, so I've been using it a lot. Here's El-Amin at GBK.
My Tuesday outfit: Topshop crop top, Tally Weijl
trousers I copped on sale years ago,
and a Zara suede trench coat that I bought in Madrid
last September that I was finally able to
wear for the first time! 

Tuesday was still relatively cool, but I whipped out a cute outfit that did NOT include my winter jacket (which both protected and plagued me throughout Michaelmas and Hilary).  I studied in the morning, and spent the afternoon at the Radcliffe Camera (or, to be more specific, the Lower Gladstone Link which connects the RadCam and the Bodleian Library through underground tunnels) where I read a book for my essay. I went shopping to get myself some breakfast foods and fruits. It was a quiet day as not many people had returned yet. To be honest I don't remember what I did – it was just a typical day spent doing work by myself, which is very common at Oxford.

Wednesday was when the sun decided to come out. I was so excited because I'd brought a ton of summer clothes, and as I was unpacking I'd been worried that I wouldn't be able to wear them. Even though it was only a little more than 20 degrees celsius, I couldn't wait to crack out my summer wardrobe. I wore an outfit that my mom's cousin used to wear back in the early-2000s, these black traditional-style top and pants with flowers and ornamental frog fasteners. It was super cute, but a bit small, except in the chest where it mattered. There it was too big. Sigh. I also ate a whole punnet of blueberries in the morning, which I was so proud of that I probably told ten people. I usually never eat fruits and it made me feel so incredibly healthy. Snacking... but on fruits? It was revolutionary.

For dinner we went back to our often-frequented, vehemently-hated college canteen, but the regular chips, green peas, and fried meat that we received was made better by the fact that we got to sit outside. The silver tables reflected the setting sun's rays back at us, reminding me of lunches spent on the terrace back in high school. I noticed that everyone sitting outside was drinking something orange. "Is that Aperol Spritz?" I asked, ready to indulge in my favorite wine mom beverage. "What?" was the reply, so I asked, "What are you drinking?" The answer changed my life:

Pimm's.

I'd obviously heard of Pimm's before. It was this quintessentially British, nay, quintessentially Oxbridge, nay, quintessentially Oxonian drink that I associated with punting and posh accents. I finally got to try it and I haven't turned back since. It's sweet and refreshing, and just tastes like summer. Sipping it while talking to my friends and watching the sun illuminate the sides of their faces was wonderful. In fact, I had Pimm's three days in a row. I still have two empty cups on my desk because I took it back to my room to finish, and honestly it's starting to smell. I should bring it back to the bar.



Thursday. I was awoken at 7:30 in the morning by blinding sunlight, and the sound of someone cleaning my windows with a long stick. It would bang against the glass, and then I would hear the soapy water dribble down the windowpane. My room faces the east, which means that I have a horribly hot morning, but a cool and calm afternoon.

I wore a silk skirt that is very flowy that I think was handed down from my mother, and a crop top (what other piece of clothing says "SUMMER!!!!!" as well as crop tops?) I spent the morning studying more, but the sunshine outside was killing me. That's when I turned British: I messaged my friends and asked them to come sit on the quad with me – I couldn't bear not to take advantage of the rare sunshine. We spread out a blanket (the two things I got from Harvard: a blanket, and a rejection) and sat in the shade of the off-center big tree that dominates St Catz's central quad, talking, studying, and chatting with people who walked past. Eventually we were kicked off the grass and told to sit on a different patch. The afternoon was passed peacefully. I obviously wasn't as productive as I would've been if I'd locked myself into the library, I had no regrets. I got to know a friend much better, ate a box of strawberries, and met my tutor, who told me that the essay would actually be due in Week 2. So that was that and I no longer had to worry about writing it.


With Gaby and Frances on grass patch in front of Staircase 12. Next to us were some Computer Science guys who sat around making jokes and hanging out. One was fixing his bike.

The light coming into the dining hall.

El-Amin looking happy at golden hour
Friday morning was my collection. I think it went okay - at first I thought it was going to be extremely difficult, but then I realised that, to do well in your exams, you just have to predict what they might ask, write the model essays, memorise them, and then regurgitate them in exam conditions. Which is a shame because it's completely different, perhaps even the opposite, of what we learn throughout the term. And it's so boring that I can't bring myself to do such a thing. I'll need to learn how to do that, though.

I came out of my three-hour exam and went to pick my up boyfriend almost immediately as he got off the bus from London. We spent the afternoon at University Parks, reading books and drinking prosecco out of the bottle.


There were geese near us. They walked around, honking with what I could only assume was pure joie de vivre, and occasionally flapped their wings in the water, making a great deal of noise. Frank Ocean was playing, obviously. Along the river, people drifted by in their punts, sometimes getting stuck. I messaged my friends and we decided to go punting the next day.


While waiting for my friends to be done with their collections on Saturday morning, Gabriel and I had breakfast at Turl Street Kitchen, treating ourselves to hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and a full English breakfast (for him), and an avocado and poached egg toast with yoghurt and granola and tea for me. We loafed about on the grass back at Catz, and then went to G&D's for ice cream with my friends. On the way back, we stopped by Blackwell's and I couldn't help but buy a new book: Ponti by Sharlene Teo, set in Singapore. What can I say, I gotta support Sino arts. [HTTP:///WWW.SINETHETA.NET !!!!!!!!] 

G&D's.

When I was chilling on the grass, my friend Gaku, who was one of the first people I met in Fresher's week, had come out of his collection and asked me when we were going punting. 4pm was set. I was shocked because Gaku's life is pretty much just Engineering and tennis – I hadn't seen him properly in ages because he literally never does anything. Punting definitely had to happen. Unfortunately, after 10 people had gathered at the porter's lodge, we realised that we needed to book punts on the Catz website and it was taken. So a time was made for an hour later, but with only one punt, and people split up. It had also begun raining, a small, light drizzle coming out of an overcast sky, which deterred some people. The time finally arrived, though, and a few of us showed up again. But the boat that we'd booked hadn't come back, so the porters told us to wait by the riverside for them to return. We waited, and waited, and waited. Other punts came and went – from other colleges such as Merton and Balliol. The Balliol boat parked itself near Catz and those inside went to pick up some of their friends, who'd brought boba to-go and boxes of takeaway food. Finally our punt returned. We were disgruntled, but once we got onto the boat we realised how difficult it was to actually steer the boat. Perhaps it was so hard because there were 6 of us and we were all trying to contribute somehow with our paddles. The person standing up with the giant stick was supposed to steer, but we kept on bumping head-on into the river-bank. This meant that the person sitting at the front of the boat – Joshua, and later Gabriel – would get viciously scratched by twigs and would have to use their paddle to push us away from the shore. Finally, after constantly switching the punter, we were able to get a hang of it. We rowed into the part of Uni Parks where Gabriel and I had been sitting the previous day, but then turned back because we didn't have much time. On our way back, we were going so smoothly that we started to see the idyllic side of punting. Just after I said "We're getting the hang of this!" there was a splash as El-Amin fell into the river, losing his glasses in the process.



It was hilarious. Thankfully his phone, along with everyone else's, had been in my backpack, so the damage wasn't too bad. When we got off, El-Amin left to shower and we made an appointment to meet again for dinner and a movie. Half an hour later, we met again but El-Amin was wearing the same exact outfit: it turns out he has 3 identical shirts. We feasted at Edamame, the tiny, family-owned, heavenly-tasting Japanese restaurant that was the closest place to eat to Catz. 

I love this picture I took on Holywell St while
we were in the queue for Edamame
After that there was still around an hour until we were supposed to go see Isle of Dogs, so Zach, who actually lives in Oxfordshire, took us to Christ Church Meadow, where we walked as the sun set and everything turned dark. We encountered a deer grazing peacefully on the other side of the river, and a tree that had been hollowed out. We got to the head of the river and decided to leave, but the gate was locked, so we slipped under it and returned to central Oxford via St. Aldates and went to Westgate for the movie. 

A bridge in Christ Church Meadow, with Zach, El-Amin, and V standing on it.

Sunday meant another brunch, this time at Vaults and Garden, the café inside the University Church that Gabriel and I love because they do wonderfully fluffy scones. There were no scones at breakfast, but a salmon and eggs on toast (for him) and a full vegan breakfast (for me) and some green tea (for us both) was a fitting substitute. 



I had a busy afternoon ahead of me so we spent the rest of the time back on our spot at Uni Parks, sitting on the same blanket and finishing off the same bottle of prosecco. Gabriel watched Goodfellas on his phone (he has 40GB of data!) and I prepared for the meetings I had ahead of me. I then met up with Sanaa, my friend from St. Hilda's, and showed her my favorite library, the Social Science Library, which I love because of the combination of its proximity to college, its café which served cheap hot meals as well as snacks and breakfast, and the fact that it had air-conditioning. I skipped out soon after to go to a meeting for The ISIS' non-fiction team where we discussed the current pieces that were being written for us. After that we all relocated to the St Catz quad and had a really fun picnic while the sun set and drenched us in shadow. 

So that was basically my fun weekend. I was in a good mood the whole time and I'm really optimistic for Trinity Term. I suppose I better start doing some work now. Thanks for reading all this liushuizhang! 

jeudi 23 novembre 2017

new year's resolutions are fake

I've been adjusting quite well to university. I'm trying every day to keep my personal space neat and tidy, and thus avoid cluttering my mind with physical worries. I'm doing things daily that I didn't do back home because I was too lazy to: making my bed, opening the blinds, putting on face cream morning and evening, wearing makeup, wearing nice outfits, waking up at 8, going outside. I'm really happy with where I am –– I love my subject, which is really interesting but also highly challenging; I have a fulfilling and supportive relationship; I get excited about things; I have interesting conversations with people; I go to archery once a week; I'm writing letters to different people; I have Spotify Premium!

Some things I can still improve:

  • Eating more fruits and vegetables. I realised last Wednesday that I hadn't had a real vegetable in a week, so I went out and bought a bag of carrots and 5 apples and I've just been crunching on them. I'm nowhere near my 5 a day though.
  • Focus on one big project. Choose from:
    • Translation
    • My absurdist novel
    • A series of short surreal stories set in Oxford
  • Be a bit more social, as in trying to meet more people/hanging out with a wider range of people.
  • Do some yoga like my mom keeps telling me to.
  • Use that cleansing foam to wash my face.
  • Stop going on Instagram explore.
  • Try to read my leisure books more.

samedi 14 janvier 2017

In a parallel universe...

If I hadn't decided at the age of, like, 12 that I was going to do fine art, and committed to it, and then deciding I actually didn't want to do fine art but still loved art because I'd developed this love within myself for years, and then decided to do Art History, I think I would've instead studied (in order of preference)...

  1. English / Comparative Literature
  2. Sociology / Anthropology
  3. East Asian Studies (though probably as a double major anyway) 
  4. Film
  5. Linguistics
  6. Political Science / International Relations
  7. History
  8. Archeology
  9. Architecture (but I really am not interested in buildings. Maybe I would've been.) 
  10. Creative Writing
Wow. I really am a wenke child. I did consider doing Pure Mathematics for about 0.2 seconds before coming back into the real world. I wonder what kind of person I'd be like today if I'd decided at age 12 that my passion in life was going to be one of those 10 things. Or if I hadn't had a passion earlier and had to decide in 2016, like many of my friends. And what things will be like in the future. 

When I see myself in 10 years, there are a lot of possibilities. My favorite possibility is to become a film director. But considering I don't take IB Film, and am not going to study film at university... I don't know how I'll achieve it. Then again, it's not that hard, really, to enter the industry. History of Art gives you a framework for life, and especially for all things visual. I wrote in my Yale application that I find cinema to be gesamtkunstwerk. 

That's why America is so appealing. Because you can take whatever classes you want. Even if you don't major in them in the end. I actually don't know... at Oxford, do you only take classes in your degree? Or are you allowed to take anything you'd like? I think probably not...? And the whole structure is tutorial-based. I actually don't know if every class is tutorial based, or only some are, and others are lectures. Wow I really don't know that much. There's not too much information on specific stuff like that.

jeudi 12 janvier 2017

Response to Sir Thomas Lawrence’s portrait of Amelia Angerstein and her son John Julius William


Wrote this for my application to History of Art at St Catherine's College, Oxford. Was meant to write a 750-word response to a picture to which I had first-hand access. This went through quite a few drafts, including some hasty iPad typing while on a school trip to London right before the deadline.


Portrait d’Amelia Angerstein Lock (1777-1848), épouse de John Angerstein, et de son fils aîné John Julius William (1801-1866)
Sir Thomas Lawrence (Bristol, 1769 –– Londres, 1830)
1799; 1803 (pour l’enfant)
Huile sur toile
Musée d’Art et d’Histoire, Genève, Suisse


Response to Sir Thomas Lawrence’s portrait of Amelia Angerstein and her son John Julius William

Jiaqi KANG

Written work
Applicant for History of Art (V350) at St Catherine’s College
International School of Geneva, Campus des Nations

This essay will examine the portrait of Amelia Angerstein and her son, John Julius William, by Sir Thomas Lawrence. Amelia was the daughter-in-law of John Julius Angerstein, the wealthy trader whose art collection would later form the nucleus of the National Gallery. Angerstein was part of a new class of merchants profiting from the emergence of capitalism whose wealth was not inherited but amassed. His extended family commissioned many paintings from Lawrence, the most fashionable portraitist of his time, as clear demonstration of their assets and affirmation of their status.

The portrait of Amelia and her son was originally painted in 1799, the year of Amelia's marriage, and in 1803 was changed "pour l'enfant". Evidence of the addition can be found in traces of brushstrokes beneath the child that suggest he was overpainted onto the folds of his mother's dress. A waxiness in some areas shows signs of thick layers of paint having been scrubbed with turpentine and subsequently covered. As an upper-class woman of the time, Amelia's fundamental role would have been to produce heirs. The painting thus highlights her fertility as a valuable family asset. In 1799, the potential of her motherhood is evidenced in the fact that her womb, covered by an ambiguously billowy dress, forms the focus of the composition where one might expect the subject's face; and in 1803, John Julius William was indeed the embodiment of her fertility. As the eldest son of the eldest son, he and the woman who produced him were significant enough to Angerstein to warrant a life-size portrait.

In 1810, Lawrence would make a chalk drawing of Amelia nursing an infant where her arm, forming a familiar heart symbol, envelops the child with warmth. Yet here, Amelia's image was not altered during the reworking, rendering her strangely unresponsive; there is no corporeal communication between Amelia and her son, with the latter pushed into a corner so that he is half-enveloped in the chiaroscuro of the heavy Romantic landscape. The shadow cast by the child's left hand is made of quick strokes whose dark tones seem inconsistent with the soft shades in the rest of the painting and whose vague shapes flatten his image, disconnecting flesh and cloth. The perfunctory manner in which the child is added deepens an emotional rift between the two subjects that fails to inspire appreciation from the audience.

In other ways the painting is relatively ordinary: it follows the contemporary trend of placing portrait subjects within a vaguely classical context to bestow upon them a sense of timeless divinity. It also demonstrates the nouveau riche desire to 'prove' one's status by showing an appreciation for the same arts favoured by the aristocracy. That the Angersteins could afford to wear white, a colour so difficult to clean, was another signifier of wealth. Despite these aims toward grandeur, however, the portrait differs from conventional images of affluence. Unlike Gainsborough's Mr and Mrs Andrews, where an imminent storm presages the fertility of the vast green fields that occupy the largest part of the canvas, Amelia is disconnected from her setting. The Angersteins' wealth is not tied to their estate, but to their enterprise. Amelia's clothing remains untainted by the soil beneath her feet - she appears to float. The setting itself, with its blurred details and vignetting, serves only as a contrast to the subjects' paleness (an inevitable result of a life of luxury and leisure, free from menial work) instead of expressing ownership.

Although seemingly an ordinary portrait on first glance, it in fact reflects an age that saw the rise of a new type of upper-class that made their fortune from trade as Britain expanded across the globe to become the major imperialist power with a thriving economy. The portrait and others were commissioned in an attempt to affirming and immortalising their status, a natural part in the process establishing a dynastic legacy for the Angersteins.

From a twenty-first-century feminist viewpoint, however, Amelia can be perhaps be viewed with a sense of alienation. Disconnected from her child and her surroundings, she gazes out at the viewer in a passive manner, as if jaded, or resigned. The key expectation of a woman of her status was simply childbearing and never to work. Thus isolated in the upper echelons of society, women like Amelia Angerstein had little opportunity for personal fulfilment. This apathy is perhaps inadvertently expressed in Lawrence's portrait.


Bad Poems #3

January 11: a series of haikus (encore)

VI
I got an offer
(conditional) from Oxford
It feels so surreal

VII
Don't know what to say
I feel like Andy Samberg
In Brooklyn Nine Nine:

VIII

mercredi 11 janvier 2017

Bad Poems #2

January 11: A series of haikus

Preface:


I
I forgot my book
at home so I'm reading Frantz
Fanon's The Wretched

II
of the Earth. Today 
is the day that decisions
from Oxford come out.

III 
I'm too stressed to stu-
dy (and shouldn't anyway)
as the English mock

IV
is an unseen text.
I feel like Andy Samberg
In Brooklyn Nine Nine:

V