I remember one of my lunch times with Sam and Jared at Ox-Bow. Somehow we started to talk about where we are from and how that relate to our making - from that conversation, I realized how much of my childhood memories have become a fantasy rather than an existing reality.
This morning - with a cup of coffee and yogurt mixed with dried raisins and banana, I experienced a very heavy conversation that started out as an artist's response to market and our struggle with genuine urge to create and intuition we follow... to our identities and labels we carry (which stemmed from societal and political structure) as artists and what that means. The dynamic of the table was incredible - a composer from Houston, a Chinese-American author from New York, a young Caucasian woman writer from Virginia, and a Jewish-descent photographer and painter from nowhere, and me, Korean-American artist from Atlanta.
It was only about 30 min. conversation, but quite hefty for a breakfast chat. But I was so delighted to be a part of discussion that rarely surges up back home in Atlanta. Is it... just being in the South that people don't talk about these things? Shouldn't it be a vibrant part of our conversations, especially amongst artists who are constantly battling with where we come from and why it is that we are making?
Oh - so I have plenty to think about today. I will be plucking a few boxes of white flowers today.
- G.
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