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Friday, January 30, 2015

Camellia


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'The mountains are high and the emperor is far away', is a proverb that originates in the Yuan dynasty, a chaotic time when the rapacious Jurchen's had managed to overthrow the Southern Song dynasty, chasing the last boy emperor to the furthest reaches of the the empire, to an island known as 'broken head mountain'. In this instance the emperor himself was the one far away from his own palace, with the humiliation the dynasty suffered of having to relocate the capital below the Yangtze for the first time in history.
The proverb itself is still used today, and in some way its meaning is unchanged only the particular co-ordinates of state power vary. In a way, it is an admonishment, that perhaps in the privacy of a conjugal bed, or the back of a taxi cab, one can speak and act freely. 

A boy emperor walks along a moonlit beach in the South China sea, a plums nest, and contemplates an empire he will never reign and a palace he will never command. 

In this museum of humanity, in the fragrant, cool mountains of Yunnan where the women wear beads in their hair, dance and weave while the men hunt, the families will retreat to the mountains when the officials arrive to collect tributes for the emperor. At what altitude does the emperors power wane as you climb the mountains, how high does the plane fly before the cold reach of the satellites begin to wane and those pullulating binaries with electronic ears being written with lasers turn to noise? 

Climbing alone, in the midnight, across wet grass, moss and stones Purple feels her chest get tight so she sits beneath a tree to rest, as the leaves of the camellia fall weightlessly on the ground and she breathes in their sweet earthy scent. 
She was getting close to the border where she knew her comrades were waiting for her in an old Toyota.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Day Zero


41 years had past. 

For some, those years had been long, too long. After all, so much had changed. 

For others, the world was as it had always been and would always remain: people were people. People which had hopes and joys, both of which often left them terrified in broad daylight. They had disappointments too, which animated them the way that a body wears a coat. They had deep yearnings, most of which they would never even suspect. And sacred objects, sometimes even ideals, for which they might give up everything. Some had cherished memories while others things they had negligently forgotten, but either way it was the same with people, and these things lived alongside them like a phantom twin. Yes, for some, all you needed to know was that people were people: it was memory that ran long and it time that runs short.


Special Agent Purple saw her targets approaching. He, the son of a US political dynasty, and her, the daughter of a self-made Greek-american supermarket tycoon. They spoke so blithesomely of the past, noticed Special Agent Purple, as if it all had somehow ended. Yet here they were once again, retracing the very same steps of their grandfather, the President, circling a path around the Forbidden City. 

"My grandfather always said that a peaceful and prosperous China was critical for stability and peace in the world. And I think that that is more true today that at any time. If you look at the Korean Peninsula, and what is happening in the Korean Peninsula, clearly China has a very important role to play. And I'm very encouraged by the meetings that happened between State Councillor Yang and Secretary of State Kerry just a few weeks ago, and how China reaffirmed its commitment to the 2005 Six-Party Talks and to the non-proliferation of nuclear weapons in the Korean Peninsula."

They spoke of that week in 1972 as "the week that changed the world". But Special Agent Purple knew differently. She was there. What is it exactly that people think has changed, she wondered. Did people really think those days of old were over?



'Funny they should bother talking at all', thought Special Agent Purple. For her, knowledge was an ideal she gave up long ago. She did what her role required of her, figuring that was all that could ever be asked of a person.  Effortlessly Special Agent Purple approached her targets. Her heavy disguise made the job easy, and making use of the Mid-Western manners and persona she had learnt from a textbook helped her cause all the more.  Special Agent Purple arranged for a photograph to be taken together with her targets. Her superiors would be satisfied with that.  



From the Forbidden City, turning away, Special Agent Purple slinked though the endlessly renewed jetsom of people, pathways and things, joining the amorphous mass that they still call Beijing.





Post Stats

Incidentally, I noticed we've already done 30 blog posts in one month, which is almost as many as we did all year in 2012 (I guess because you were in Korea for much of it). Our peak was the first year with 161 posts, and I think we're well on our way to beating that already, I think between the two of us we can do at least one a day, one for everyday of the year, maybe we should have a theme like the 365 days project, one weird song a day or something, I'm enthused! 


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Black Coal, Thin Ice (2014)

Chinese hard boiled detective film noir is such a good idea because all the neon lights in contemporary Chinese cities make them look like American cities in 40's noir films.



It's so tempting to see contemporary Chinese film and documentary within the frame of, 'what if video cameras were around during the Industrial Revolution in 19th century Europe?'




































































Tuesday, January 27, 2015