Columns by Artists and Writers
Bob Black / bq / Cem Turgay /
Fiona Smyth / Gary Michael Dault
/ Holly Lee / Kai Chan / Mak Fung /
Shelley Savor / Tamara Chatterjee
/ Wilson Tsang /
+ New Stories (Lee Ka-sing)
MONDAY ARTPOST published on Mondays. Columns by Artists and Writers. All Right Reserved. Published since 2002.
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“Where can I find a
man who has forgotten
words so I can have a
word with him?”
bq 不 清
空 想 性 錯 視
不 知 道 該 披 上 誰 的 皮 毛 :
一 隻 過 時 的 羊
和 狼 也 曾 有 牠 們 非 一 般 的 時 刻
而 你 想 過 扮 演 灰 姑 娘
把 時 間 慢 慢 地 滲 濾
到 那 對 玻 璃 鞋 裡 , 於 午 夜 過 後
成 為 另 一 位 相 同 的 追 隨 者
月 球 , 正 大 光 明
並 不 需 要 裝 扮
而 太 陽 , 有 舒 芙 蕾 般 的 雲
將 之 掩 蓋
Not sure whose clothing I should be in:
An expired sheep
And a wolf had their unusual moment,
But you who thought of playing Cinderella
Percolated time bit by bit
Into those glass slippers, and past midnight
It turned into a new, yet identical follower with
The moon being out into the open,
And didn’t dress up,
While the sun was covered
by soufflé of clouds.
聽 說 這 一 片 像 你
像 你 害 羞 時 躲 藏 的 樣 子
沈 靜 、 不 可 觸 碰
如 昨 日 在 你 背 後
那 位 軟 弱 鬆 弛 的 跟 蹤 者
來 到 城 市 的 盡 頭
碰 壁 , 繼 而 張 開 眼 睛
他 發 現 城 外 有 峻 嶺
山 上 的 樹 木 , 於 秋 天
並 沒 有 如 寓 言 所 說
落 起 紅 葉
I heard that this particular one looked
like you when you shied away,
like that flabby stalker
behind you yesterday,
Who hit a wall, after arriving at
the city’s end. He opened his eyes and
Discovered these mountains outside the city.
There were trees and in autumn
no red leaves were falling
as it was described in the fables.
From the Notebooks
Gary Michael Dault
Number 159: Ice Cream--for Marilyn Powell.
(September 24, 2022)
watercolour, pastel on paper
For the Birds is a multidisciplinary exhibition and program series inspired by the Garden’s resident
birds, as well as “For the Birds: The Birdsong Project,” a multialbum set of original recordings
celebrating birds by 200-plus artists, compiled by Randall Poster.
Poem a Week
Gary Michael Dault
Inside a Lightbulb
inside a lightbulb
there is a filament
but also a vacuum ocean
of warm glowing fishes
sometimes a bigtail shark
hot as a radiator
France (March, 2022) – While gallivanting
the city streets we wandered down to see
what remains of Notre Dame. It was highly
upsetting to see the hallowed building in
partial ruins. It was hard to escape the
juxtaposition of reconstruction with emotions
running high. The giant and I circled back
to reality walking along the banks, people
watching and reminiscing of our yesteryears.
19 Fragments of Youth, Athirst
“Have you feared the future would be nothing to you?”--Whitman
I left home awoken
all limbs and eyes,
boys scribbling along the swelling of my lower lip,
boys writing love songs along my breasts and beneath my chin,
boys whispering sound upon my collarbone, words canned as rusted tin
I was beautiful but indifferent, the stars frozen teeth above me, splintering
What they could not understand, until I met one who listened, actually
was that my heart, a heel halved, chaffed under the obvious
such as story-telling or gift-giving or re-arranging of hair and midriff:
before him, boys’ words stiffened like clots and cloven dirt.
What those who chased me had not realized was transparent as ice,
I was unbowing quicker than thought, arranged.
Euclidian geometry, horse brushing, stanzas left on the shelf:
if the moment met man or a twinning turned right,
my heart could be drawn up without fret or slipping away.
not needled words or cast aside insurances, cadavers or complicated plots
only something lucent, touch
an ear to my story,
the many who had failed to see or
who failed to allow their missteps and markings.
Rune upon the light and lacquer the box, after this.
and winters and summers would rearrange carelessly before
his bones would splinter in front of me,
phosphate and calcium, as if my own.
Mended what was left poured from the netting
later leaving black nylon wet with sea brine on the rocks
and we became there alone in the dunes
I came to him because he noticed I was listening
silence replacing the easy algebra of words and winks
only later I noticed the parts of him, long in the limbs.
hands reminding me of chicken bone, knotty elbows, flesh de-feathered,
the color of mottled hen and meat-stamp blue
finger tips like a tree’s rings, the forearms all goosebumps and wind-scars--
not that he was old but that he wore his geography on his skin uncomfortably
carried his heart in his mouth like a caged sun
carried shadows along his outer edges,
slow buckets of hope in his strides, running tendons along sidewalks.
Here was a man unafraid, and I fell
in love with the back of his palms
and the way his back recalled my grandmother pouring tea.
His spine, her bending while humming and careless concentration.
I had taken him into my arms long before i took him into my arms:
barn lass, horseshoe, bridle, looming.
He, though he did not know at first, had returned me home
after such a long journey and I watched him,
I first wrote him along the lines of my wrists,
and memorized the way he fell toward Earth when he walked by me,
and around others as Icarus toward the sea,
only not of fear but audacity
the looseness of love from which he tumbled.
And I knew then that before his shadow and his confusion
I had caught him before his bones broke fully
Yesterday Hong Kong
Stanley Street (Central Hong Kong, 1956)
8x10 inch, gelatin siver photograph printed in the nineties
Edition 4/10, signed and titled on verso
From the collection of Lee Ka-sing and Holly Lee
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An excerpt from
Reality. Irreality. Augmented Reality.
DOUBLE DOUBLE September edition
photo print paired
200 pages, 8x10 inch (20x25 cm), paperback, perfect bound
Published by OCEAN POUNDS, 2022
“2K 2.0” was the second exhibition I collaborated with Kai Chan, which was held at my gallery in the
Spring 2018. Kai used images from my “Mobile Poetry Lab” series as base-lines for his collaboration
pieces, and I made photographs from a shoebox of things and objects he gave me. Those works were
later grouped into part of my “Time Machine” series. In the exhibition I set my photographs into five
pieces of vertical panels, and I named them “Five Poems”.
Apart from the main body of collaboration work, on a wall of the side gallery, in a playful mood I
tried to pair those objects Kai gave me, with fragments of photo prints from my archives, test strips of
jobs that I collected from our studio from the eighties to nineties. These juxtapositions, I called them
“New Stories”, pined spontaneously on the wall, and I wrote the caption line after each pairing.
Published here is the documentation of the pairings photographed on site. I always long for a chance,
that I can set up the shots once more and do it in a proper way, or even develop it into a larger body
2K 4.0 - the fourth chapter of Kai Chan and Lee Ka-sing collaboration exhibition, will be held at
50 Gladstone Avenue artsalon, begins on the second week of November 2022.
An exhibition catalogue is available for Pre-order
Secrets with a Large
An Artificial Satellite
Sending Messages to
the Fake Planet
The Wind, the Cloud,
and the Songs of a
Two pieces of Sliced
Forward to Being as
A Happy Day in the Life
of a Baby Phoenix
This Book, in the Shape
of a Fingernail, can
Teach you How to Light
up a Piano
Languages in the
Alarm Signal Pop-up
from the Pink Colour
Data Being Transmitted
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