meta :: μετά

One week in Yunnan (1) : 01-21-2012

Depar­ture : snow­ing in Wuhan, taxi, air­port, wait, impa­tience to be there, tired of the dull­ness of this city, of this grey con­stantly sur­round­ing us like a suf­fo­cat­ing cocoon.

Board­ing. Fly­ing and get­ting out of this swamp.

Arrived. Redis­cov­er­ing the idea of light. Daz­zled. Burned.


Strange drawings/structures in the Chinese Gansu desert :: 甘肃 > 敦煌 > 疏勒河

I stum­bled upon this post today on Gizmodo.com. I couldn’t believe it. Every­body is won­der­ing what are these struc­tures in the mid­dle of the Gansu desert… Works of art com­mis­sioned by a Chi­nese bil­lion­aire who bought this part of the desert ? Mil­i­tary train­ing facil­i­ties ? Struc­tures meant to be seen from space (by who?) like the Great Wall ? The desert knows…
What strikes me is that the struc­tures are partly already cov­ered by sand… They are all located in the extreme west of Gansu (甘肃) province, near Dun­huang (敦煌), above the Shule river (疏勒河). I want to go there as soon as I can.

Here are some screen shots:


New work : CHASMA

A new work has been added to the Veg­e­ta­tion Cycle of my work : Chasma. The final series of this cycle, named Like Flies to Neon Lights, will also be added to the site soon.

Chasma is a work that sparked from the col­li­sion of the Greek words χάσμα (chasma) and  χάος (chaos). χάσμα des­ig­nates a chasm, a gulf, a yawn­ing hol­low or any wide expanse. χάος has a mean­ing close to χάσμα in Greek, but chaos nowa­days evokes for us pro­fu­sion, con­fu­sion, mul­ti­plic­ity and dis­or­der, all phe­nom­ena that one can expe­ri­ence when walk­ing in the for­est out of the paths. In my  mind, the mod­ern accep­ta­tion of the word chaos col­lided with χάσμα.

On the chaos of the for­est, a black hole is form­ing, a door swal­low­ing all light,  a pas­sage to another reality.

(click on the pic­ture to view the full series)


The Revolution of 1911 Museum \ 辛亥革命博物馆

Yes, we live where the 1911 Rev­o­lu­tion, also called Xin­hai Rev­o­lu­tion, started, here in Wuhan. This new museum is meant to cel­e­brate and com­mem­o­rate the 100 years anniver­sary of this event. The archi­tec­ture is quite sur­pris­ing, the museum looks like a red space­ship. The first pic­ture shows the view from the back. The front is the last pic­ture on this page. Although I like it from the out­side, on the inside the archi­tec­ture doesn’t really breathe, the rooms being rather dark and the ceil­ings low. But then dark­ness is nec­es­sary if you want to dra­ma­tize the event in question…

The Revolution of 1911 Museum, Wuhan / 辛亥革命博物馆


My little catastrophe

It has been a long time I wanted to do a project about clut­tered and chaotic Chi­nese web­sites. Dur­ing these years in China, I tum­bled upon them many times and was every time in awe in front of their anar­chic design and also (I have to admit) deeply repelled. It goes against every­thing a west­ern web designer is taught to do and not to do (I guess, I’m no designer). It’s flashy, it’s over­flow­ing, it’s gifed, it’s a for­est, a jun­gle, it’s the big bang. Maybe that’s why I took an inter­est in them : chaotic like forests.
The title of this series comes from a poem by Ken­neth White, “Mathematician’s Love Let­ter”, in Terre de Dia­mant, a won­der­ful col­lec­tion of poems I heartily rec­om­mend (I’m cur­rently finally read­ing his L’Esprit nomade and it’s an amaz­ing ideas stir­rer). This poem has only one line, the begin­ing of the let­ter : “My lit­tle cat­a­stro­phe…“
P.S : I don’t go on these web­sites daily and I didn’t know some of them before doing some research for this project. Look­ing for chaos…