MONDAY ARTPOST 0130-2023

MONDAY 

ARTPOST 

0130-2023 

ISSN1918-6991 

MONDAYARTPOST.COM 

Columns by Artists and Writers 

Bob Black / bq / Cem Turgay / 

Fiona Smyth / Gary Michael Dault 

/ Holly Lee / Kai Chan / Kamelia 

Pezeshki/ Lee Ka-sing / Shelley Savor 

/ Tamara Chatterjee / Wilson Tsang 

/ Yam Lau + Ten Poems for Wood 

(Gary Michael Dault / Lee Ka-sing) 

MONDAY ARTPOST published on Mondays. Columns by Artists and Writers. All Right Reserved. Published since 2002. 

An Ocean and Pounds publication. ISSN 1918-6991. email to: mail@oceanpounds.com

DOUBLE DOUBLE 

City Mirage Snow 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/cms.html 

The Painter The Photographer The Alchemist 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/ppa.html 

The galloping jelly pink horse with pea green 

spots 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/phgs.html 

Reality Irreality Augmented Reality 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/rar.html 

Terrain Little Red Riding Hood Rosetta 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/03/dd202203.htm 

The Book The Reader The Keeper 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/09/dd202208.html 

Windmills Fields and Marina 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/07/wmf.html 

Island Peninsula Cape 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/05/blog-post.html 

The Fence the Garden the Connoisseur 


Hana Picnic Stones 


Donkey camera and auld lang syne 


The Fountain the Shop the Rhythmic Train 


Terrain Little Red Riding Hood Rosetta/ DOUBLE DOUBLE March edition 2022/ Ximena Berecochea

Lee Ka-sing 

CODA (2020) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/coda.html 

Diary of a Sunflower, Book Two (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/ds.html 

Eighty Two Photographs (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/10/82p.html 

Time Machine (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/12/tm.html 

Songs from the Acid-free Paper Box (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/sa.html 

Songs from the Acid-free Paper Box 

Museum edition (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/sab.html 

“That Afternoon” on Mubi, a dialogue: Tsai 

Ming Liang and Lee Kang-Sheng (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/11/ta.html 

The Travelogue of a Bitter Melon (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/11/tbm.html 

Swan House (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/swanhouse.html 

“Journeys of Leung Ping Kwan” (2023) 

http://books.oceanpounds.com/2023/01/pk.html 

“That Afternoon” on Mubi, a dialogue: Tsai Ming Liang and Lee Kang-Sheng/ Lee Ka-sing

Holly Lee 

Nine-Years (2020) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2020/02/ny.html 

Istanbul Postcards (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/07/ip.html 

DOUBLE DOUBLE Box in a Valise a closecropped 

(2020) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2020/05/ddb-cc.html 

DOUBLE DOUBLE Box in a Valise on-site 

(2020) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2020/05/ddb-os.html 

Six Poems (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/11/6p.html 

The Air is like a Butterfly (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/07/tab.html 

Gary Michael Dault 

Still Life Still A Book of Vessels (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/09/bv.html 

The Book of The Poem (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/08/bp.html 

The Nearby Faraway Small Paintings on 

Cardboard (2022) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/09/small-paintings-on-cardboard.html 

1 

Time Machine (2021) photographs by Lee 

Ka-sing, Haiku by Gary Michael Dault 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/12/tm.html 

Swan House (2021) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/12/swanhouse.html 

DOUBLE DOUBLE Box in a Valise on-site

Calendar Beauty Vintage Calendar posters 

from China 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2020/03/cb.html 

Kai Chan 

2K-4.0 (Kai Chan + Lee Ka-sing) 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/2k40.html 

Twenty Twenty An exhibition by Kai Chan 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/09/tt.html 

Shelley Savor 

Mushrooms and Clouds but no Mushroom 

Clouds 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/09/mcmc.html 

Libby Hague 

Libby Hague Watercolours 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/11/lhw.html 

Tomio Nitto 

The Diary of Wonders 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2021/10/dw.html 

Fiona Smyth 

CHEEZ 456 

https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/05/c456.html 

Calendar Beauty Vintage Calendar posters from China/ Hang Xi Ying Studio

CHEEZ 

Fiona Smyth

ART LOGBOOK 

Holly Lee 

Philip Guston Now, at National Gallery of Art (March 2 to August 27, 2023) 

https://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/2023/philip-guston-now.html 

Philip Guston 

https://news.philipguston.org/

The Photograph 

coordinated by 

Kamelia Pezeshki 

Caesura series by Jennifer Long

… 談笑間 … 

Yam Lau 

Dear artists/architects, 

I am Erik Satie, a composer. You may have heard of my music, but then you may not be 

aware of the fact. Surely this presents a paradox- my music aspires to drift at the remotest 

edge of consciousness, and never quite reaches its destination. 

Some compare my music to a skit; some call it muzak. Some find it humorous though 

mostly almost nonsensical. But my dear, the “almost” is everything! 

My composition is “almost” too loose… it lacks coherence, closure and rigor… etc 

My melody is “almost” too weak… it lacks development and drama... etc 

My music is “almost” idle…it lacks direction and motivation. Instead of travelling to meet 

the audience, it languishes and floats in the background, …becoming almost noise… 

My music lacks music. 

Project 2 

On the “Almost” of Nothing 

-An open letter from Erik Satie to commission the design of a house 

Over the years of teaching, there are certain projects that afforded me a great deal of 

satisfaction and happiness. They also inspired the most adventurous work by students. I 

once taught a course on the intersection of art, design and architecture. The following is a 

project inviting students to design a house for the French composer Erik Satie. 

I deeply regret that I did not retain any records of their works. Many of them are 

fascinating and still make me smile today. I learned to give students interesting projects 

and take pleasure in writing them, which is the start of taking their intelligence and 

creativity seriously. In teaching as in art making, I look for surprises. Often, surprises 

happen! 

And for this reason, my music cannot be disturbed by the intrusion of noise; it melts into 

noise. It is indestructible in its lack of presence. 

… 

My music requires little attention, and demands almost nothing from the audience. (This 

is something I take pride in… achieving the “almost nothing”!) Therefore, it is ideal and 

fitting to leave it alone in the background, while you go about your daily routines such as 

washing dishes or hanging out by yourself daydreaming. It is always perfectly calibrated 

for a snow day, a warm day, a rainy day… 

Sometimes when you are sipping fancy cocktails at a gala art opening, or chit-chatting 

during an intermission of a long and serious performance, you may discern in the air 

certain vibrations - a certain mingling of chatters, small talks and the barely audible 

sound-as-fragrance from my compositions … that is where you might notice my trace… 

somewhere in the background, intermission and periphery of art. 

Thus, my name, following the fate and character of my music, lingers at the edge of the 

western canon. I am only almost famous, yet not totally irrelevant. 

Forgive me for this rather circuitous introduction. My point is this: I would like to 

commission you to custom design and build a house for me. You see, at this juncture of 

life, I have neither a lover nor dependents. I enjoy my solitude, especially my solitary 

walk- a daily ten-kilometer walk to and from Paris. Since I understand my habits do 

not appear to be the most transparent, I offer no dispute when others characterize me as 

eccentric. Indeed, I am singular, but I am not a pervert… and I like children.

Yes, the house should be an intimate dwelling made for one singular individual. It should 

fit my soul the way my fourteen identical suits fit my body. Living in and with it will allow 

me to become acquainted with myself. In other words, the house should be an extension 

of my work and my personality; they should share the same fate, the same lightness, the 

same irreverence, and the same suffering. I become myself as I live in and with the house. 

Some more specs… remember my daily walk? Some have likened the “flatness” and 

seeming monotony of my composition to this extremely mundane activity. I would like 

you to design a house that walks, slowly and not always forward, but also sideways and 

backwards simultaneously. You see, I am a misfit and have no choice but to go against the 

grain. 

My dear, I understand this is a daunting, almost impossible task. But please be noted and 

take account brightly- this is a house for the soul…and the soul needs not to be enclosed 

by drywall. It can be clothed by thin air, which I regard as a coarser kind of soul. In this 

house, I am alone, but with The Milky Way just upstairs! 

Finally, do not forget we are artists. We have no liabilities…. 

Please prepare a set of six drawings to communicate the design on 11X14” paper. I am 

ready to be convinced by you (a roundabout and polite way to say “you will have to 

convince me”). You need to indicate dimension, material, etc… anything that will win me 

over. 

Please prepare a model of the house of no less than 2x2x2 feet. There is no restriction on 

the material. 

Please prepare a “speech” to explain your work. 

I offer you my blessing…. I await your gift. 

Your, 

Erik Satie 

Satie once wrote a play only as a pretext to premiere his music during the intermission. 

Satie is known to spend his meagre income on treats for children.

ProTesT 

Cem Turgay

Poem a Week 


A Mad Rabbit 

there’s a mad rabbit 

in the garden 

the sweetest creature ever seen 

twinkling through the snow 

I call him mad 

because he rises 

to all the creatures out there 

because five or six birds 

at a time 

ride on his back 

they can’t walk in the tall snow 

and flying all the time is expensive 

our mad rabbit poet 

living outside of his time 

feeds on a vision 

of what birds are 

in comparison to 

his impeccably earthbound fluff 

he sees the birds as bits of universe 

on wings 

we adore him 

we swear by him 

we leave him carrots 

in the snow 

our mad backyard rabbit 

is a composer 

he gives birds a lift 

if he likes the trill of their asking 

but otherwise not

Caffeine Reveries 

Shelley Savor 

Winter Walking

From the Notebooks 

(2010-2023) 


From the Notebooks, 2010-2023 

Number 164: Mask (August 5, 2010)

Greenwood 

Kai Chan 

Study 

basal wood, paper, wire, acrylic paint

Archive 

Lee Ka-sing 

Lee Ka-sing (1954) 

From archive.leekasing.com / c.leekasing.com

Open/Endedness 

bq 不清 

赤壁 

RED CLIFF 

它始於一個想法 

或者疑問譬如如何安全地 

採火 , 使其恆久而 

不傷人的體膚正如那次 

擦身而過所留下的 

只是一個年數而不涉及 

圓周的計算 

It all started with an idea 

Or a query, e.g. how we could safely 

Tame fire that lasted and 

Wouldn’t burn anyone, like that time when 

We crossed paths only to leave behind 

Certain number of years that didn’t involve 

The calculation of a circumference. 

風來的時候我們便知道賽果了 

We found out the outcome as the wind blew.

TANGENTS 

Wilson Tsang 

The Sleeper

https://oceanpounds.com 

New at Poetry section - 

New Look. More Content 

To Grandma (after so many years, I still miss you) 

by Holly Lee

Travelling Palm 

Snapshots 

Tamara Chatterjee 

Uzbekistan (November, 2019) – Samarkand 

is a geometric haven for those who enjoy 

masterful repetition upon repetition. 

It caused moments of heart thumping; 

conceptualizing that each tile has been hand 

cut and inlayed into the monumental facades. 

As with most of the historical sites we visited, 

the Registan was a glorious architectural feat.

Leaving Taichung 

Station 

Bob Black 

一一 Yi-Yi 

台灣 : The Raindrop in her Ear 

May they remember their days uncording 

as the sea secrets in his eyes a lifetime of turns, tactile 

Yushan raindrops jade her ear, silver shells awaiting the rhyme in the wave of the ocean’s netting 

a braid socking each-to-each, ankles and toes snucktuck on the beach 

the food they fingered as flora and fauna upon a table of entwined driftwood and bone, each other 

grass, light lanterned, wordfever, 

fear’s flight tracking mouths which recalls the world, accordioning 

the lights harbouring on the shoulders of the Pacific’s distance, New Territories 

alone in a breached moment as boulders above slip their purchase, 

it may be their hearts or an unbuckling 

“your stitching unbelted me” he scribbled “and loosened time,” 

“your tongue wagging long in its linger, unsure!” she snapped back. 

What is gone in the untying of 10,000 minutes? 

What was to be gone? 

What was once lost in the language, together 

remains still Rhodophyt on the rock, loamy and aquatic 

abundance of absented time and the wind that pricks their spines under the soft breath of tiderivers, 

leaving 

unlost and rounding, an oxbow of dream and beveled circumstance, 

calamity forever bound. 

Yet there along the whorl of the island’s margins, they remain arched in privation’s embrace, 

dexterous, irreducible and concomitant in their arms, in their shackles and their waving 

forlong.

香港 : Enfolded into the Sea 

fire in the fields nimble in its nibbled night, 

the breath’s palimpsest of saplings and crackled tin, 

you slippery in your nightgown and iridescence 

passing mirrors radiant of loss in the rooms and along alleys where cats bark at one another 

the heart mad in its spiney undoing 

the batons and umbrellas and boiled noodles bubbling as rain 

teeth grinding under the sheet of sleep, ghost stories and canaries from the faucets-- 

this land 

later 

he bites your bruised lips mistaken for tenderness, 

you spat at him dryly but the unspooling words grew dewey and darned, your metamorphosis 

mistaken belief for ecumenical bargaining-- 

the apocryphal panhandling of love, the rights stuffed in the back of the drawer 

a house burned down and language left in the shape of a key, dangling 

later, 

she licks his panicked ears, hinder 

alchemy a tongue risen from the sea: 

lemongrass, star anise, dill, beefbones, temple incense 

weeds from the hills: Luo Sang Tang 

singing scent stirring a skeletal rhyme, the laundry of love 

finally, 

her kisses ripen by relic and briny depth 

abloom in an algae night 

neither longed for poetry but carved stanzas into each other, 

rooms filled with argot and cloudy articulation, Nazca lines, 

the panoramic view above their bodies 

an early-winter Saturday and an elongating amid snow, 

fall away desert love, fall away-- 

coincidental? 

later 

he guides her face through the shipwreck of his ribs 

her fingers trace gold circles on his jaw, ecumenically 

they seed the struck wounds of bruise that came from the street, quick as light 

And the earth and their burdens folded into the sea. 

for two poets: Amang Hong and TimTim Cheng

Ten Poems for Wood 


/ Lee Ka-sing

Ten Poems for Wood

1 

if you scrape away 

a passage of 

the world’s paint 

what lies beneath it 

is always the colour of wood

2 

forcing different woods 

together 

gives you a sylvan battery

3 

to attach one piece of wood 

to another (glue, nail) 

is to have turned a phrase

4 

hospitable wood 

sits still for the chisel and saw 

holding its breath 

(if wood had breath) 

but there is anxiety 

in every cut and chip 

you feel it

5 

wild wood 

would prefer not 

to end as a vicious 

horned table 

or a feral lamp

6 

in a wooden statue 

of the Madonna 

standing with great bowed 

head 

you can still detect 

the reverent tree

7 

a woodpecker 

taps at a tree trunk 

until 

the tree’s door opens 

and the persistent bird 

gets its afternoon tea

8 

who can bear 

the solitude 

the forlorn freedom 

of a block of wood?

9 

a door opened 

into the middle 

of the forest 

where, in a sunspot, 

a ring of polished wooden cubes 

circled a big table cube 

in the middle 

all very promiscuous 

and yet not unexpected

10 

the skin of a piece of wood 

which is too refined 

to call bark 

rushes the eye 

like the softness 

of a woman’s throat

Poems by Gary Michael Dault 

Photographs by Lee Ka-sing

Under the management of Ocean and Pounds 

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MONDAY ARTPOST 0130-2023

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