I wanted to test the waters by seeing how my Suliao Xuan Ban technique would be perceived; and received.
The works I selected were:
Oblivious
Pillars
Midnight
Journey
Going Home
Dream
Aside from presenting in the Suliao Xuan Ban format, all these paintings were done in a monochromatic fashion, where I used ink or tea and coffee to effect the gray scale studies.
Before I was even notified of the jury results, I was doubtful that my two pieces that showed faces would be accepted. I based my forecast on the fact that I've never studied human or portrait drawings and I'm sure that genre has its own rules of determining workmanship; and my demerits would be plenty.
I did not disappoint myself. Both Oblivious and Dream were rejected. Despite the fact that I predicted the results, I still felt dejected. Rejected would be more accurate.
I had a chance to speak to the curator of the show and was told ( referring to Oblivious ) "the painting is strong, but the faces are not familiar to the West"
How dare you, was my knee jerk reaction. That comment was almost racist! To reject my works because of poor artistry is one thing, but to shun them because the faces are unfamiliar to the west is asinine. Our local art scene is still catering to what is familiar to the West? How could this be happening in today's world? Am I being naive? What about Picasso's cubism? How familiar are his faces?
I calmed down after fuming for a couple of weeks and became philosophical; sort of. I realized that I am a guest in this country and culture; regardless of whether I am a citizen of this great nation or not. I need to know my place, and know that I am at my host's discretion.
What brought this understanding was my recent visit to a Historic Site.
A tiny stone building in a Central Oregon town called John Day is now on the Register of National Historic Places. This humble building is the Kam Wah Chung museum.
It was a complete surprise to me that out in the middle of nowhere, in this desolate part of Oregon, in the Canyon City, John Day area, there once was a population of close to 2,000 Chinese. This was the late 1800's.
The two occupants of this building were Doc Hay, a traditional Chinese herbalist and his partner Lung On, one who spoke English and was savvy in business practices. The recorded history would tell us that Doc Hay was a well respected healer because of his knowledge of herbal medicine and his kind heart and generosity towards the sick, even to people outside of the Chinese community. His position in and outside of the community was revered, despite several attempts from the medical community to paint him as a quack and to bar him from treating people. Lung On on the other hand dressed in Western garb and knew the customs and in fact owned the first automobile dealership in John Day.
So the program presented by the Oregon State Parks system would have us believe that these two gentlemen were upright citizens in good standing and were sort of a folk hero at the time, in spite of their ethnicity This is a far cry from the "sundown law" that was in existence throughout much of Oregon. I visited the underground world of Chinese immigrants in Pendleton ( Eastern Oregon) and was told that Chinese had to go to their underground tunnels and chambers after sundown or face even greater peril. A lot of the Chinese immigrants in the early days were miners, lured in by the nascent gold and silver mines. Subsequently the Chinese were brought in by the Central Pacific railroad when a large labor force was needed to expand the rails to the Pacific coast.
The last occupant of that tiny stone building died in 1952 and both Doc Hay and Lung On were buried in John Day. Their wish was to deed the building and all the contents to the City of John Day.
It wasn't until 1967 when the city of John Day was about to demolish the building and through a search of the Title realized that the building actually belonged to the city. For 15 years the building was locked up and deserted and forgotten. A building that was generously given to the citizens of John Day by their own celebrities was left unattended. Such was the account from the State Parks department.
I came to realize that despite the fact that these two people were Chinese pioneers, and well liked folk heroes in the community, they were still two unknowns; two errant ships lost in the sea of an alien culture. Their contributions to the community meant nothing to the city government, at least during their lifetime. Their generosity to the city they called home, their well gestures were all but forgotten, taken for granted. After all, they were from a different place, a different people; victims of the Chinese Exclusion Act, which was enacted in 1882 by President Arthur. What Doc Hay and Lung On thought was their dedication to the community, to the city, to their host country, were all but just entries in the Tax Deeds Department, locked up in the city vault. It was not a scenario where the city was strapped for funds to do anything with the structure. It was clearly a case of not appreciating the ownership of the bequest.
Not until the time when it was deemed appropriate, or opportunistic, to document the Chinese presence and make the site a Historic landmark, perhaps to promote tourism, did their story take on a different fate.
Who knows, nobody in the city government of John Day cared about these two legends back in 1952, and somehow someone recognized the opportunity to tell their stories in 1967 and seized upon it. The timing has to be right, and that requires the precise convergence of 3 elements; time, place and people. Call that fate, as nothing will happen sans any of the 3 requirements.
The Parks Department found over 30 thousand dollars worth of un-deposited checks in a trunk beneath a bed. Some of these checks were from places outside of Oregon, perhaps from people who sought Doc Hay's services. He had a mail order business at the time. There was speculation that Doc Hay was not well versed in money and did not know to cash the checks. I found that not plausible. His partner opened up the first car dealership in town, for heaven's sake.
I came away feeling bitter sweet. I was able to peep into the lives of early Chinese immigrants, at least the version that was told today. I felt proud of their accomplishments, and empathized with the fact that they lived in the shadow of their hosts' good graces, or sometimes the woes of their hosts' nefarious deeds, as evidenced by the bullet holes in the wooden door to the building. They even installed the water well and hand pump inside the enclosure of the building for safety reasons, so I was told. One thing that legislators could not legislate is attitude.
Be gracious; good guests know their places.
