Day: December 8, 2019

Just sharing this song I mentioned in class, when we analyzed the complexities of Yellowman’s “Mr. Chin” and the histories of Asian grocers in the Caribbean.

(Really, really simply put,) Black Korea reflected rising tensions between the Black community of LA and Korean shop owners, created by what Ice Cube, like Yellowman, believed were unfair business practices, racial profiling, and other forms of anti-Black discrimination and violence.

Black Korea samples a confrontation with the Korean grocer from Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing, and is largely a response to the murder of Latasha Harlins – a 15-year old Black girl accused of stealing – by Korean shopkeeper Soon Ja Du, who was sentenced to no prison time. Along with the acquittal of four LAPD officers in the beating of Rodney King, the death of Harlins is often cited as sparking the 1992 LA Riots.

Charged and controversial, “Black Korea” provides a foil to “Mr. Chin” through hip-hop and the tensions of early 90’s Los Angeles – make what you will of this in the context of our discussions and readings.

 

 

Here’s a curious take on the song by Anthony Choe at Harvard University, for Yisei Magazine circa 1992. https://www.hcs.harvard.edu/~yisei/issues/spring_92/ys92_6.html Note: Choe disapproves of Ice Cube and somewhat apologizes for Soon Ja Du, doing his best to excuse potential racism and violence by Korean-Americans against Black communities as driven by socio-economic precarity, among other things. It’s hard to read his writing and sum it up quickly.

On another note: Anthony Choe might currently be this guy at https://www.provenance.digital/team, a “veteran private equity investor in the consumer space for over 20 years”.

 

 

[Sometimes I aimlessly scroll through social media and see images, videos – glorifying or reflective – of Korean-American shop owners during the 1992 LA Riots, or lamenting the events. Thinking about the circulation of these images a lot.]

The following post is co-authored by Irene and I – we both wanted to share this artist who we like very much, and is making… interesting work, related to the subjects, readings, and methodologies of our course.

Candice Lin is a sculptor – but this title, and our own attempts at description, wouldn’t sum it up as nicely or quickly as let’s say, the UCLA Hammer Museum of Art might:

“Candice Lin draws from multiple disciplines to unearth largely forgotten or disregarded histories and to highlight practices that have been marginalized or discredited. She has created large-scale installations of elaborate systems in which fluids—such as kombucha or water dyed red with pigment from the cochineal insect—are drawn through tubes connecting an assortment of vessels or diverted to a surface where they pool into large stains. Her interest in the legacies of colonization and the attendant fictions relating to authenticity, purity, and birthright has led her to explore how specific natural materials and goods are given value and how they circulate through global trade routes.”

https://hammer.ucla.edu/exhibitions/2018/made-in-la-2018/candice-lin

In La China Charada – an installation that incorporates clay, cement, guano, and the seeds of opium poppy, sugarcane, and poisonous plants from the Caribbean, along with a functional irrigation system – Lin connects the history of the Opium Wars, to the use of poisonous plants in slave and worker uprisings. The disparate plants and materials reference different sites of Chinese “coolie” laborers across the Caribbean, Louisiana, Peru, and Cuba and California. The Charada China figure at the center of the space is inspired by the Cuban-Chinese gambling game. Altogether, Lin’s installation calls attention to the largely-forgotten history of Chinese forced migration to the Caribbean, and how this might be understood amidst a range of current migration and labor crises.

Lin explains that her research process often begins from a two-way conversation between material and reading. Typically, a material experiment in studio brings Lin to read more about its histories and properties, or something she is already reading fuels her interest in a range of topics or materials. Lin cites Lowe’s “The Intimacies of Four Continents” as central to a number of exhibitions. Through Lowe, Lin became interested in the history of dye, leading to work created for an exhibition in London; Lowe’s accounts of “coolie” labor led to the work in La China Charada.

Though we often have ambivalent feelings about visual art and its imbrication with capital, we both really like Lin’s work and thought, especially as it relates to this class.

Here’s a cool interview on her work, from which we pulled information: http://theseenjournal.org/art-seen-chicago/candice-lin/

Here are – questionable – further notes on the Charada China and lottery/gambling traditions, and the cultural impacts of Chinese migration to Cuba – particularly with the island’s vast mix of mysticism, spirituality, and religion. https://everything2.com/title/Charada+China

The following post is co-authored by Irene and I – we attended this artist’s talk together, under the suggestion of one of our professors!

We recently attended a screening and talk by Richard Fung, a gay Chinese-Trinidadian Canadian video artist, writer, and educator. During the event, in which he discussed the problems and possibilities presented by “Asianness” in Trinidad and Tobago, Fung screened two of his films: Nang by Nang, a biopic on his elderly cousin and her life in and beyond Trinidad as a mixed race Chinese-Trinidadian, and clips of Dal Puri Diaspora, which retraces the recipe for Caribbean roti to examine histories of Indian indentured labour. Through these films, Fung brings to the forefront the histories and material outcomes of the migration and colonialism which created “Asian” Trinidad. In Nang by Nang, for example, Fung and Nang rediscover their family’s lineage of Chinese shopkeepers in Trinidad.

Here’s a link to the event https://events.cornell.edu/event/richard_fung_representing_asian_caribbean_film_screening_and_lecture_2494

Here’s a link to a trailer and about page for Nang by Nang – https://caribbeantalesfestival.com/project/nang-by-nang/

Here’s a trailer for Dal Puri Diaspora – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVXT_jQKvGI

Fung’s broader range of work focuses on the Asian male in gay pornography, colonialism, immigration, racism, homophobia, Asian identity, queerness, and culture and politics. His films and video-installation works have been screened across Canada, America, and internationally; he also is a prolific writer and currently an educator at the Ontario College of Art and Design.

 

This is just another song that I felt could serve as a sonic connection between our first discussion of Space is the Place (1974), with the novel “Pao”. This album, “Experryments at the Grassroots of Dub” is a collaboration of Lee “Scratch” Perry and Mad Professor, crossing reggae with dub (which grew out of reggae in the 60s….and consists of the instrumental remixing of existing recordings).

This was at a stage in Perry’s musical career, after he had established Black Ark Studios, when he developed various relationships abroad with expatriate Jamaican artists as well as non-Jamaican producers like Mad Professor. This connection also brought to mind the subject of the title being “alien”, as the Pagoda and Pao both deeply explored this concept in the context of Jamaica’s history. It was also interesting how this album was an experimental collection that sprouted from a collaboration, thinking about intimacies portrayed by sound.

The name Black Ark Studios feels relevant too— maybe something about the motif of Noah’s Ark, and how Space is the Place somewhat employs this archaic and biblical but futuristic imagery with the ark as a spaceship or teleportation device. Concerning Black Ark, Perry says, “I listen to my body to find the beat. From there, it’s just experimenting with the sounds of the animals in the ark.”  As a jumble of sounds, rhythms and parts are selected and remixed, these are redressed to make new sounds, in a similar way to how Sun Ra seeks out his people and transports them into the future from the past.

“As a writer committed to telling stories, I have endeavored to represent the lives of then ameless and the forgotten, to reckon with loss, and to respect the limits of what cannot be known. For me, narrating counter-histories of slavery has always been inseparable from writing a history of present, by which I mean the incomplete project of freedom, and the precarious life of the ex-slave, a condition defined by the vulnerability to premature death and to gratuitous acts of violence.12 As I understand it, a history of the present strives to illuminate the intimacy of our experience with the lives of the dead, to write our now as it is interrupted by this past, and to imagine a free state, not as the time before captivity or slavery, but rather as the anticipated future of this writing.” Pg. 4

This passage in “Venus in Two Acts” particularly stood out to me, mostly because of the last part where Hartman says “to imagine a free state, not as the time before captivity or slavery, but rather as the anticipated future of this writing.” It is really interesting that she situates this idea of freedom in the future ahead of us and of the writing itself, rather than contain it or resign it to a time of pre-slavery. Hartman writes this passage almost as if it is a single, very drawn out thought— she uses conjunctions and rarely ends sentences early on.

This technique might point to this speculative way of writing that leaves space for revision and transformation; the writing has a future, and I think the author’s hope for the future is also evident here. As we think about imagining the future, I think that Hartman’s urge to imagine freedom as a state of the future really speaks to the reality that we have inherited generations of dark, traumatic histories. We continue to carry on a language in the present that may be inseparable from this violent past, where freedom has already been tarnished and destroyed.

This is the stark truth that Hartman adds, that history has already been soiled with the “grammar of violence’, and the present is colored by the fact that the “project of freedom” remains incomplete. She emphasizes how important it is to acknowledge that many stories and lives are lost in violence, and may be forever unrecoverable, silences of the failed witness. To speak as though this were not true, and to force representation when it is not there, would be dangerous. Hartman thus makes efforts to keep herself accountable through her language, invoking her own voice tentatively: “As I understand it…”, “For me…”, “As a writer committed to telling stories,” “I have endeavored to represent…”..

In Curtis’ and my presentation about “Pao” and Kerry Young, we mentioned the song “Independent Jamaica” by Lord Creator, and its significance in the context of Jamaican independence from British rule in 1962. “Independent Jamaica” is incorporated and referred to quite straightforwardly throughout this moment in the novel.

“Kingston Town” is another big hit by Lord Creator, which he recorded for Clancy Eccles in 1970. It has a very heartfelt and maybe a more relaxed feeling than “Independent Jamaica”, which might be described as a very momentous celebratory tune.
After Pao’s older brother Xiuquan has left Jamaica and his family behind, Pao suddenly comes to the realization that he himself would never leave. This song seems to be Lord Creator’s own reflection on his home, the magic of Kingston town, and the attachment he feels in this place he loves and holds close to his heart despite the places his musical career has taken him.

In “Pao”, Pao moves through his domain of Chinatown, and the larger landscape of Jamaica with growing power and authority. This song speaks to this sense of long, fraught journeying— “many rivers to cross but I can’t seem to find my way”. Pao deals with a sense of pride for his role and being in Kingston, “I merely survive because of my pride.”  He gains leverage by granting protection to others, and soon enough, he is pushed deeper and deeper into spaces, relationships, and situations that are above/evasive of the law and what is “moral”.

“I never see nothing of Fay all day. In truth I don’t think she that bothered ‘bout Independence. But she not the only one. Seem like maybe different people have their own reasons for thinking that Independence was a good thing or not. For some of them Independence was the sign that we finally free. We finally drive out the old slave masters. The British gone and slavery is over. For others, like Norman Manley, we was finally taking charge of our own destiny. Jamaica was growing up, taking responsibility for ourselves. Jamaica had come of age. Then some thought that when we cut our ties with England then maybe we make some better ones with America. And on top of that, there was those who wasn’t in favor. They felt safer under the British or more like they thought Her Majesty would carry on look after us better than we could look after ourselves. And of course, there was those who just didn’t care one way or another. I think that maybe where Fay at, indifferent about the whole thing because she didn’t think that Independence was going to improve her life any.” Pg. 114

This passage occurs in the context of Jamaica’s Independence in 1962. In the midst of celebration, Pao reflects on what “Independence” might mean for those around him, particularly Fay. Young narrates Pao’s thought process in spurts— starting with an unassuming statement, “I never see nothing of Fay all day”, Pao begins to ruminate on the reasons why Fay is not present for the celebrations on this seminal event. Much like with her silence and absence in their personal relationship, Pao creates an inner dialogue / monologue trying to figure out Fay and her deeper motivations. Sentence structures often begin as conjectural / suppositional in this passage, such as “In truth I don’t think….”, “I think that maybe where Fay at…”. This feeling of hesitation may point to the tentative implications of Independence, the way people see it differently.

Pao tells the reader that for some, Independence was really it, the touchstone of final freedom for Jamaica (“The British gone and slavery is over”). Then, for others (Pao makes specific associations with these ‘people’ such as Norman Manley), Independence meant that the fate of Jamaica, whatever it may be, was finally in their hands. Pao breathes some life into Jamaica as a nation, almost humanizing and giving agency as a being: “Jamaica was growing up, taking responsibility for ourselves. Jamaica had come of age.” Some people would consider Independence as a bridge to “better ties”, or other ties with America. Then, Pao talks about how there are some people who just didn’t see Independence as a positive outcome: Either they preferred the protection of British rule, or felt an anxiety for their own rule.

Finally, the passage returns to where it started in a cyclical manner, to the subject of Fay— that she probably just doesn’t care about the entire matter, because it wasn’t going to do anything or make any positive changes to her own life. This draws out the idea that with Fay’s social standing, wealth, and support, she may feel like she lives in isolation to some degree, that not much matters beyond her own quality of life. Pao finds out later that Fay’s dissociation comes from the fact that either way, she will have to continue living with her mother’s desire and efforts to be white in a society where racial dynamics still dictate a large part of life. Fay will have to continuously contend with the fact that she herself will always be too much of something and too little of another.

It is important that Young really tried to portray this insight into the nuances of how many Jamaicans felt towards Independence, and where freedom really begins or ends. Whereas Jamaica may have politically separated from British rule, to decolonize the minds, language, behaviors, and larger structures that are still present in Jamaica is a matter that might extend far beyond this particular moment in history. This passage provided some perspective(s) on this as Pao steps back from the festivities and commotion in the streets on Independence Day.

So far in the novel “Pao” there has been some reference to the idea of karma. With the power and authority that Pao himself begins to hold, he tries to maintain a constant flux of exchange and favor/protection granting. The social landscape in Kingston’s Chinatown assumes this cyclical flow of “what goes around comes around”, and Pao depends on this communal sense of indebtedness in order to move forward with his life and gain some leverage for what he needs and desires. This song by jazz saxophonist Pharaoh Sanders feels very harmonic and multi-layered, weaving a strong interconnectedness with so many varying instrumentals and vocals.

While reading Venus in Two Acts, the lyrics of this song came into mind specifically as it retells the history of a biblical figure, Mary Magdalene. It points to the ways in which her name and role have been subdued, claimed, and distorted under the patriarchy, an act of violence preserved in the archives of history itself. Venus in Two Acts likewise discusses the “unoccupied history”, addressing the gaps and silences left by failed witnesses ….“Ooh, you didn’t hear me now Ooh, you didn’t hear me when I told you Ooh, you didn’t hear me now”.