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The first workshop at the YWCA was with young members of the Youth Adolescent Health (YAH) Club and Youth Against Corruption Association (YACA). Both groups formed their own governing bodies through a democratic process and are very active in discussing concerns around HIV/AIDS, violence, and other social issues that plague PNG youth. So, it was very surprising that when I asked the members around the room what they would like to address through a public artwork: litter, religious restrictions/rules, and societal expectations were the first things to come up. When pressed as to why they did not mention the very issues they have been advocating for, they revealed that these topics were very culturally sensitive particularly in a public dialogue setting and it would be difficult to broach. I suggested that we step up to the plate and think creatively to find ways to figure out how to address the sensitive issues in ways that are palatable to the public because it’s so important to their development. There was consensus.
In an effort to focus our energies on topics to address in an artwork the group selected three problems – Youth Empowerment, Gender-based Violence, and Teen Pregnancy. They were first asked what made them feel powerful, why do teens get pregnant, why are men violent against women, and why do women accept that violence as the norm. Not surprisingly, it all came down to confidence or lack thereof. Confidence gives one power and a secure sense of self. It takes confidence to say no to boys who are pressuring to have sex when you don't, just as it takes confidence to ask for condoms even though it is embarrassing. It also takes confidence to know that an abusive relationship is not healthy, and confidence to get out of it. The group realized that no matter what the issue, confidence empowers. It was decided that the YWCA artworks would be about teaching, showing, and celebrating confidence as a form of empowerment.
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“I divorced my husband because he was married to other women,” proclaimed a woman in a matter-of-fact way in what was the very last workshop of the very last day of the PNG Women’s Forum. That statement was both a declaration of her independence and confirmation that she was empowered to take charge of her life and make her own decisions. The workshop, Turn Your Passion into a Business, was led by Marga Fripp, the president of Empowered Women International, a not-for-profit organization whose mission is “to create jobs and entrepreneurial opportunities for immigrant, refugee, low-income, and at-risk women in the Greater Washington DC Metro Area.” The forty-two women who filled the room each voiced their passion, which was either already a business or something they can turn into one. Within the two and a half hour-long workshop, women exchanged ideas and encouraged each other to be more self-reliant – a common thread throughout the entire forum.
Three days before, Kate and my first introduction to the forum came by way of sitting in on one of the session’s preparation meetings to get an idea of how the sessions are organized. This one was titled, Decreasing Barriers to Education for Girls, with the conversation focusing on the question, “has free education improved girls' enrollment in school and education quality?” The panel consisted of the principal of a school, the minister of Education, and a representative of UNICEF, among others. While free education seemed like a no-brainer, many obstacles associated with that privilege negated its intended purpose. For example, free education meant more students, more mouths to feed, more space necessary for more classrooms, more dorms to house those students and more teachers. As an increase in the operating budget was not part of the plan when free education was offered, the overall quality of the educational experience has suffered as a result. This is indicative of the complexities inherit in finding practical solutions for the issues facing the women in PNG. The forum was lively and ripe with such discussions.
I was honored to participate in one of the last sessions in the forum, Developing Male Advocates Against Gender Based Violence (GBV) – How can PNG men help each other respect women and be positive role models for young men.
Eddie Aila, Founder and Head Trainer of Warrior Culture – a male advocacy group – moderated the panel. He started by illustrating how the stories around GBV change with time. “Mary is beaten up by John, Mary is beaten up by her husband, Mary is a battered woman.” The male perpetrator is often forgotten. This session was pivotal in that most of the focus had been on the women – providing care, a safe space and medical attention after the abuse, but the focus of this session was the elephant in the room, the root of the problem – the men. At a heated breakout session that followed, a Men’s Forum – a gathering of men from all 22 provinces – was the top recommendation when moving forward to address issues around GBV.
“Smoking in the lavatories and chewing betel nuts are strictly prohibited,” was what I heard over the PA system as Kate, the program manager for the American Arts Incubator and I took our seats on the Air Niugini flight in Sydney. That’s when I knew that Papua New Guinea was fast approaching. Finally! This was the last leg of delays, missed connections to rerouting, lost then found luggage, disappearing bookings to repurchasing tickets, and a lovely 24-hour layover in Sydney. The smiling stewardess on the monitor in front of me seems to say, “relax you are almost there!” which brought me a bit of comfort.
Having never been to PNG before, I didn’t know what to expect. So, when I was jolted awake from deep sleep by the rough landing, I strained to catch glimpses out the windows from my isle seat. I saw a thick, lush, green and hilly landscape peppered with dirt roads and houses outlined by beach and ocean. For a split second I thought I had landed in St. Lucia, my birthplace. All these islands look alike but the similarities didn’t end there.
The relaxed, no rush attitude famously coined as “Island Time” was evident when the two attendants manning the Visa Upon Arrival counter finally sauntered to their posts after observing the growing line from a distance. Their calm and friendly demeanor was infectious and served as a reminder to slow down and leave the stress behind. Bobby McFerrin's, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” came to mind. All that, however, was shortlived as we took in the atmosphere from the window of the van through our jet lagged eyes.
We saw people going about their daily lives along the mango and banana tree-lined streets between the airport and our hotel. As safety is of the utmost importance for our wellbeing, it seemed to be all doom and gloom as we were briefed on the Do-Nots while in PNG. "No getting into cabs or public transportation" and "no walking around alone in certain areas," are just two examples as car-jacking and violent robbery are commonplace. There are gates around everything, even our hotel, reinforcing the need for a high level of security, not to mention an official security briefing planned by the regional security officer on our second day. This will be more challenging than expected to navigate, but I'm hopeful our participation in the Women's Forum will help us begin to make meaningful personal connections.
Then there are the people. The few locals that we interacted with – the waitress at the restaurant and the people at the reception desk at the hotel – were beautiful, soft-spoken and friendly. Not in the I-am-friendly-because-I-work-in-hospitality way, but genuinely friendly. They were very nice and open to answering personal questions from a couple of inquisitive Americans and more than happy to share the nuances of the many languages and cultures that make up PNG. We were even taught a few phrases in pidgin - Nem bilong mi Kendal; My name is Kendal. That alone made up for all the negatives and was a great way to end my first few hours in PNG.
Oh yeah…I googled betel nuts.
From November 3rd to the 7th I had the incredible opportunity to visit ZERO1 in San Jose, California to meet with the team at ZERO1, the representative from the U.S. State Department, and the other three artists invited to the AAI program. I was coming from London, so even the change of vibe and the breeze of the Bay—instead of the cold Thames—was already a good promise for an energizing week.
The Orientation at ZERO1 was perhaps the most illuminating moment so far in this process of researching, ideating, and most importantly finding inspiration in whatever piece of news about the Philippines I could find for my project. So definitely, human contact and thoughtful conversations with peers are great rewards for working on this ambitious initiative, especially when you spend months prior to the meeting writing drafts, reading articles, preparing images, etc. with connections only being through the computer screen… But the good news is that amazing people were finally there to meet one another beyond the glossy surface of our laptops.
On day one, Kate Spacek (self-proclaimed Kickin' Kate in the ice breaker activity) welcomed the group with a huge smile and an agenda that looked so meticulously put together that it even included a time slot to walk around the block and stretch out! We moved through the agenda so quickly that just that first day was incredibly productive.
During day two, the group was a bit more relaxed and very productive conversations around the structure of the program, projects and proposed workshops started to emerge. For me, one of the highlights of this four-day meeting was a small session with Barbara Goldstein, an expert in Public Art and Board member at ZERO1. Barbara’s experience dealing with this kind of project was very evident even in the way she initiated conversation with us as the artists.
Barbara asked the artists to really consider what is the question that connects the pieces to this puzzle. This very question is the same that audiences always start with when looking or experiencing the artwork, and therefore invites them to engage with the artists’ intention. At the same time, with Barbara’s guidance, each artist analyzed the different interests and questions that were somehow less evident when thinking solo. Again, the question of “what is the question?” was the key for each of us to explore and plan more realistic ways to engage the communities we’ll be working with during the project.
Perhaps we all came to Orientation with more questions than certainties, which was absolutely productive. It was also good to be reminded that sometimes our role as artists isn’t just to provide completed ideas and products, or defined experiences. Instead, as artists, we can take the lead and explore creative ways of asking one another about the big and simple questions that surround our everyday spaces and our own communities which somehow remain unheard.
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San Jose is a great place. I've been living in the Bay Area since February and I've made it down to San Jose, California only once previously, for the ZERO1 LAST Festival. Prior to moving to the Bay Area, I was living on the East Coast, where cities are denser and there seems to be an inter-city hierarchy where smaller cities cluster outside of big cities an hour or two away.
San Jose, on the other hand, is a huge city with a lot to offer, perhaps rivaling Oakland or San Francisco in its own right. The art-tech scene is fueled by a lot of Silicon Valley spillover and it's really a refreshing and inspirational environment. During one of our evening walks, we passed Jim Conti's Show Your Stripes, a light sculpture on the facade of a building that was programmable by cellphones, and I realized it's pretty special and quite rare to see a public art installation of that size supported by the city and developers in the public sphere.
It was exciting to be there for the American Arts Incubator Orientation, and after several months of correspondence, to finally meet the folks at ZERO1 and Michele Peregrin from the US Department of State in person.
While in San Jose, we did all the orientation activities you might expect: a speed walking competition break, learned more about our roles as artists in the program, and raised and probed into the many questions that would be facing us along the way.
One of the main questions that came up was the embeddedness of us as American artists, sent to a country as vehicles of cultural diplomacy. It reminded me of many conversations on anthropological fieldwork, and a lot of thoughts that surround artistic practice which has to negotiate the notion of “the Other” while being an outsider. In the context of the AAI program, the duration of the overseas trip is so short and an incredible whirlwind, so the issues of embeddedness are really important: How do we make successful projects without seeming like we're swooping in all of a sudden? In 4 weeks time, we will arrive in a different country, hold a one-week workshop, and have 3 weeks to deploy a project. It's difficult enough to plan a project in the US where I know places to get materials, can speak the same language, and can follow up on the afterlife of a project, let alone in Mongolia.
Sustainability of the projects also seemed to be a key issue for all of us artists. We're optimistic that once we are on the ground, we will build enough community and lasting connections that will help maintain the projects, especially if they are more about intangible products – from art as a new kind of commerce to knowledge production.
During orientation, we were also lucky enough to head to Montalvo and have dinner with some of the artists in residence there. We saw artist in residence Justin Lowman working on his light installation, and he kindly explained to us the story of the Winchester House that was nearby. We also saw a great installation from Allison Wiese exploring the use of pick up lines.
After a week of discussion, exploration, and play, I headed back to the Bay Area, not without stopping by the Computer History Museum in Mountain View first. The contents of the museum were fascinating, exciting, and brutalist. It was interesting to see the trajectory of computing from visceral, mechanical machines all the way to large black boxes sitting behind glass windows. It made me reflect not only on how the aesthetics of computing had changed, but also how the sociocultural relationships to computing had changed, and were physically imparted onto the tools themselves. The physical objects also reflected the broader industries at play, economic shifts and kinds of labor -- all thoughts that continue to spin around as I work through my project proposal for Mongolia.
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The American Arts Incubator kicked off at the ZERO1 Garage in San Jose, California this past week. After over a year of planning, the excitement in the room was palpable as the four participating artists gathered for the first time with the ZERO1 staff and a U.S. State Department Representative to discuss the details of the project. We talked at length about the challenges and opportunities that the artists will face in each of the countries that we will be visiting: Mongolia, Papua New Guinea, Laos and the Philippines.
We tackled some big questions. How do we come alongside local artists and community members in each city and empower them through a communal exchange of ideas and artistic expressions that is not only impactful but also sustainable beyond our visit? How do we leave enough room in our plans to allow unexpected ideas, voices and circumstances influence the outcome of our project while still honoring the overall intent of the program? Innovative ideas and strategies came to light through numerous brainstorming sessions and roundtable discussions. The ZERO1 staff is incredibly talented and is deeply committed to supporting the artists and setting us up for success by helping shape the vision for each of our projects.
After years of leading community based murals projects in the States, I look forward to the unique challenges of working in Laos. I was truly inspired by all of the participants at this three-day orientation. I left feeling motivated to push myself to reconsider what a mural can be and how it can function in a society whose perspective and relationship to public art is vastly different from our own. Stay tuned as our projects continue to evolve and take shape!
“Why Mongolia?” Zaya asks me, as we walk through patches of evergreen trees, near the ruins of a Buddhist monastery on the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar.
In many ways it's obvious, why Mongolia might be the perfect place for a designer to work at the intersection of art, design and technology with a community focus. It's a country full of contradictions with a rich cultural legacy, and the growing pains it faces are extraordinarily complex, especially when confronted with its past.
Mongolia might present images in people's minds of Genghis Khan, fierce warriors or nomadic herders, but the place it is today has incredible nuance. Deemed a “middle income” country by the World Bank, it is also a so-called "developing country", one that faces the resource curse – with billions of dollars of untapped mineral wealth all the while navigating a democratic government that has been in place since the 1990s and the environmental impacts of mining that severely affect the country's other major industry: nomadic pastoralism.
Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia's capital embodies many of these contradictions. On my visit, Beijing Street was entirely under construction, leaving residents to walk alongside tractors and construction equipment. In the city center, a Louis Vuitton and luxury hotel loomed large. I was also fortunate enough to see the work of Les Joynes during my visit, who collaborated with Mohanik and local Mongolian artists to create a performance at the Zanazabar Art Museum, replete with a ger or circular yurt structure located inside the museum and combination of old, new, and extremely contemporary art. Meanwhile, the fall air was already smoggy and polluted from the power plants put in by the Soviets and the small household, coal-burning stoves being used in the ger districts.
Before the democratic revolution in the 1990s, during the last days of Soviet influence, only 26.8 percent of Mongolia's population lived in Ulaanbaatar; by 2010, 45 percent of the country's population lived in UB according to the Asia Foundation. Out of this figure, more than half of the city lives in ger districts, areas that have been described by a few organizations as “shantytowns” or “slums”. Many of the districts lack access to essential public services. However, unlike slums, by Mongolian land law, the ger district residents own the land that they have claimed, leaving the Ulaanbaatar city government to negotiate with each household on relocation on a case-by-case basis.
Yet on this day, in the outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, the skies are clear and we are away from UB's incessant honking, traffic, coal-burning and exhaust fumes. There are few sounds of airplanes overhead and it is so quiet that you can hear a wall of wind crash through patches of evergreen trees. Vultures circle the top of the mountain, surrounding a dead animal somewhere in the rocks.
I'm with Zaya, a young video artist who lives in Ulaanbaatar and whose husband's work is up at 976 Gallery, the partner organization for the American Arts Incubator project. We are about an hour outside of Ulaanbaatar, having made it to the ruins despite a major road closure. Instead we drove as cars and shipping trucks have clearly driven for many times before – on bumping informal roads that crisscross the grassland.
The monastery itself is a reminder of all the intricacies that are part of Mongolian history – formerly home to llamas and monks, the monastery was destroyed in the 1930's as part of the Soviet purges on religion and the ruins are now preserved with a tourist ger camp at the foot of the hill. Two Americans pass us on dirt bikes during our visit, careening down the hill with athletic aplomb.
As I've learned, it is more difficult to answer questions that one innately knows the answer to, rather than the questions based on pure rationalization. The question of “Why Mongolia?” can only be answered and understood upon being there and engaging all five senses fully. To understand, one must be there.
Fortunately, I was allowed a few days reentry into this question, meeting with folks at the US Embassy in Mongolia and the partner organization at 976 Gallery. Much of it was a whirlwind but what made the trip markedly exciting was everything the meetings and conversations with people reiterated – for all the promises of technological advancement or innovative futures, the platforms and websites that would revolutionize our world, what transcended words and boundaries were still the very social networks and ties created by culture, imagination and arts. A better question may be, what marks a culture and what shapes a culture?
Statistics & more information on ger districts:
http://asiafoundation.org/in-asia/2013/10/23/mapping-ulaanbaatars-ger-districts/
http://thediplomat.com/2014/03/mongolia-puts-ger-shantytowns-on-the-map/
A tropical cyclone (Typhoon Kalmaegi) hit the north of the Philippines today, September 15th, 2014, causing floods and landslides, and killing several people. The list of catastrophic typhoons in the Philippines is huge, but still, perhaps one of the most destructive was the Haiyan (Yolanda) typhoon, which took place on November 3, 2013 and destroyed the city of Tacloban.
I’m lately absorbed by this intense history of meteorological disasters, all related to the unpredictable behavior of temperatures and atmospheric pressure in the Pacific Ocean. As time goes by, I’m more and more interested in understanding how Filipino culture develops in such a tense relationship with the natural environment.
In a way, it seems like the local community is being hunted by the surrounding ocean. A simple search on the Internet of the word Tacloban (epicenter of Typhoon Yolanda) still brings to the top of the list images of the tragedy. The destruction and violence of the typhoon are still spreading in the form of images, as if the storm were still propagating and the waters were high and muddy. However, it’s surprising how little information there is about other aspects of Tacloban’s life. The references I find on Tacloban only suggest loss and decay, but leave out any possible hint about the culture, social structure, or even energy of the city.
As I start this research, I’m finding inspiring references that soon will lead to an answer. Among the most fascinating examples are the Badjau, an indigenous ethnic group from South East Asia that is present in different areas of the Philippines. The Badjau live a seaborne lifestyle, using small hand-made boats to transport not only their people but also entire villages and supplies. This tribe was referred to as Sea-Gypsies for to their nomadic way of living. Their cosmology and rituals (from giving birth to celebrating funerals) encompass the oceanic world that sustains their society. However, due to constant attacks from modern pirates, territorial disputes, and religious confrontations with autonomous Muslim sects, some Badjau have been forced to temporarily settle in the most economically depressed areas of coastal cities, like Tacloban or Bacolod (Philippines), and therefore struggles with of a sort of reversed migration into stationary lives.
Meanwhile, unemployment and poverty in the Philippines are forcing other people to adapt to a similar kind of ‘unsettled’ way of living, which exists in a constant journey over defined trajectories, instead of set destinations. That is the case of the Pa-aling divers, fishermen who practice an extremely dangerous fishing style. Only connected to rubber tube that pumps oxygen into the lungs, multiple fishermen breath through a precarious diesel air compressor as they dive several feet into the ocean. They fish in international waters now, as the seas around the Philippines are already overfished. And because this all takes place on the 'high seas' (no man's land), there isn’t any person, government, or organization that can control this deadly practice.
I’m wondering: How could art practice and somewhat precarious survival ways of living coexist? Perhaps, one adapts to the other one, while creativity (or possibility) emerges within.
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Environmental protection has been something I have been addressing in my work for the last five years. As we continue discussions with the U.S. Embassy in Laos, one of the issues I’ve come upon in my research that interests me is deforestation.
In 2009, I spent eighteen months teaching at Chiang Mai University in Northern Thailand. I was initially struck by the beauty of the sweeping rice fields, the lush vegetation and the overall beauty of the countryside. Over the course of the year I began to notice numerous construction and development projects consuming much of the open space in and around the outskirts of Chiang Mai. In a city that already suffers from dangerously high pollution rates during the summer, this growth and expansion places more strain on an already strained microclimate. Unsustainable farming regulations implemented by the government puts rural communities who depend on crops for survival at risk as land becomes unusable over time.
Early research of some of the top environmental issues in Laos revealed circumstances similar to what I witnessed in Thailand. Robust economic growth has created conflict between foreign investors and the loose government regulations that control the extraction of the rich surplus of natural resources in Laos. Villagers have lost land to foreign investment projects, which has led to more people moving to cities. This increased urbanization places pressure on natural resources and creates new environmental problems in urban centers. Illegal deforestation and mineral extraction are two main concerns as foreign agencies easily exploit loopholes and blind spots in the system.
As I work to identify the main challenges that the country faces, I am also discovering many groups and agencies doing wonderful work to help protect natural resources and the communities most affected by these issues. I hope to find more first-hand accounts from Lao people who are being impacted by all of this change. All of this will help inform the imagery and themes that will eventually become the foundation of the mural itself.
UN Development Program - Lao PDR:
http://www.unpei.org/sites/default/files/dmdocuments/PEI%20brief%2008_2010_Mining_english_d.pdf
http://www.unpei.org/what-we-do/pei-countries/lao-pdr
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