Art Nomad: Sh. Baatar and B. Khongorzul

Gobi Zokhiomj & Khangai Zokhiomj, Sh. Baatar

There were times over the last two years that I missed Mongolia simply because I thought it would be nice to have some down time.  Japan was my own personal wonderland, but I ran myself ragged.  Starting my master's with painting sent me on an art-making adventure that took up so much time that I didn't finish a single plushie until I got home that first summer.  I didn't have much of a social life, but that was a moot point because my weekends didn't exactly leave much space for friends (especially since mine weren't really the kind to drop everything at a moments' notice to take a train to the other side of Tokyo for festivals or otaku events).  I did manage to sit down and post a blog relatively regularly, although this was mostly thanks to the drink bar at Denny's on Saturday mornings.  I know that someone, somewhere has said something about how you can't do it all.  I can't think of what the exact saying is, or who came up with it, but the gist is that you have to make choices, and that was kind of the story of my last two years.

Well now, here I am, back in Mongolia, and I've hardly known what to do with myself the last two Saturday mornings.  There's no Denny's, and Shibuya is too far to drop in for a nihonga lesson.  This is compounded by the fact that I lived in Mongolia for five years last time.  If there's something to do here, I have, most likely, already done it.

Going gallery hopping is no exception.  In fact, a long, LOOOONG time ago I mentioned in a post that visiting UB’S art galleries was a good thing to do in UB when you're broke.  However, I realized during my course in multiculturalism that I hadn't really studied Mongolian art; in fact, I was in the middle of that course the last time I was in Mongolia, but I didn't get to see a single show, in spite of spending an entire day walking from one gallery to the next.  There are almost no resources on Mongolian art in English, but this has led me to the conclusion that this should be my raison d'écrire this go-round.  To the extent that I can, at any rate.  I mean, I'm not really an academic writer (too many swear words, for one thing) and I have few journalistic credentials.  And by few, I mean none, unless you could second place in a blog contest and publishing a few yearbooks.

Nutag-2, Sh. Baatar

For my inaugural post I decided to visit my old favorite gallery, the Union of Mongolian Artists Gallery.  They had a joint exhibition that ended yesterday, so I figured it should have priority over whatever else I might come across.   The gallery was divided into two discrete sections, but I found myself drawn to Shagdarsuren Baatar's work first.  It was characterized by earthy colors and energetic, flowing line work.  Although she draws on a lot of well-worn Mongolian imagery - horses, knot work, Buddhist iconography, deerstones, and Chinggis Khaan, to name but a few - her style keeps them from getting stale.  Many pieces shared the perspective seen in traditional Naadam paintings.  Nutag-2 is one example, showing the way her treatment makes for a fresh and interesting take on traditional Mongolia.  I was less inspired by her more polished portraits, such as Ezen; these more figurative works felt more pinned to reality by their treatment, losing much of the liveliness of other works.

Khair, Sh. Baatar

Her ability to play with historical Mongolian art forms was also brilliantly demonstrated in paintings on leather.  Some of these were done on remnants stitched and applied to canvas, but she also makes use of traditional wooden stretchers to showcase her work, resulting in a beautiful recollection of the past.

But perhaps my favorite, somewhat predictably, were her erotic works.  (Remember please that I was hentai long before I moved to Japan).  She had a series of monochromatic drawings all titled Tatalbar in - best guess - charcoal, depicting couplings within gers.  These stood out to me not only because of the exuberance of their eroticism, granted by her trademark linework, but the careful details included, such as the stitching in the felt rugs being frolicked upon.  A more subtle reference to classical Mongolian artworks was found in Khair and Orshikhui, in which the subjects are posed similarly to tantric Buddhist sculptures (a replica of which - fun fact - I found in the school cafeteria this week.  It wasn't particularly explicit, but I would be surprised if the high school boys hadn't picked up on it). 

Uya-2 & Uya-1, B. Khongorzul

The other half of the gallery was taken up with the somewhat impressionistic work of B. Khongorzul.  Her art consisted of monumental sized portraits and historic scenes, as well as some flowers.  I was first struck with the feeling that her portraits were reminiscent of John Singer Sargent's, somewhat loose brushwork effectively rendering the cloth of her subjects' apparel.  I never felt that Sargent portrayed people as they were, though, instead layering grandiosity upon them (to be fair, he was painting the filthy rich for money; they didn't exactly want to look like their everyday selves).  Khongorzul's subjects, on the other hand, are everyday Mongolians, and her depictions of them as they are grants a feeling of dignity to such everyday people.

Khun Gurnii Uilchid, B. Khongorzul

Her historical works, on the other hand, have nothing everyday about them.  Although these are grandiose - in a couple of cases even mythological - they are nevertheless grounded in reality.  The labels demonstrate the meticulous research that went into making these works believable, even when the scenes depicted, such as the women sewing a felt carpet of which only a fragment remains, may not have happened at all.  I can respect the hell out of that.

I have to admit that I may have been having something of an existential crisis since leaving Japan.  The artistic work I've done over the last two years has been firmly rooted in my experiences there, so I feel a small bit justified in at least some panicking.  Will I be able to finish my works in progress when cut off from their source, let alone begin new pieces?  I'm still trying to figure that out, but I'm holding out hope that the sum effect will be a positive one.  I've found myself struggling to decide whether or not my ideas have relevance, or if my appropriation of Japanese culture and imagery into my art is worth anyone's attention.  Maybe by going outside my context I'll figure that out; if not, I at least hope seeing the ways in which Baatar and other Mongolian artists own their own culture might inspire me.  Either way, at least I no longer have to live for the weekends.  Even though it's only been a week and a half since work started - three days with kids - I remember why I loved working here so much.  It didn't feel like work, and that's a wonderful thing.

Your Home is Behind You

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."  -Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

My first post after arriving in Japan pondered the possibility that it was better to be a tourist than to live here.  After two years I'm not sure I figured it out.  On one hand, I have had far more experiences and learned much more than I ever could have hoped, even if I'd spent every vacation I had in the last two years in Japan.  However, the truth remains that work was...challenging, at best...and my salary low enough that after two years I've decimated* my savings.  It was a two-year whirlwind, but the school year finally edged its way into thankful oblivion.  I got my Mongolian visa, eventually** finished packing and cleaning, and headed back to the States for the summer.

Iowa might not exactly be my favorite place in the world, but it's got a few things in its favor, other than my family.  There are times that I think you could film a live-action Studio Ghibli film here.  Although spaces as green as the shady spot in a corner of my dad's field are few and far between, the sheer numbers of fireflies are mind-boggling, and the number of butterflies this year was just unreal.  I mean, every time I drove anywhere I felt like I was mowing down nature, although this presented an excellent opportunity to collect...let's say...art materials, although I don't have a project in mind yet.  It was also pretty cool to feel like I was stepping into the Shire whenever I left the house.

Under the circumstances, maybe it was inevitable that I'd want to celebrate achieving Level 40 with a bonfire/fairy party.  I spent so long making wings for the various Winter Lords and Summer Ladies that it didn't turn out to be quite as big a dog and pony show as I originally envisioned, but that was probably for the best.  The kids had fun playing together and the mortals invited to the revel all went away unscathed and still in fashion, as we broke up the fairy ring somewhere short of a hundred years.  

A couple of days before that my old rival and fellow Faerie Queen, Baby Chicken Wing, invited me to go see Japanese schoolgirls (and one schoolboy) play in a handbell choir.  Could there possibly be a better event for me?  I say nay.  Both of us were familiar from handbells from attending a certain church in our hometown...Babysis turned down the opportunity because she still goes there, thus it ain't no thing for her...so we kind of had expectations about what a handbell choir would be like.  Which they proceeded to smash with their first song, the main theme from Star Wars.  They played some jazz, a traditional Japanese song, Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers...of course they played a couple of hymns, but they were so completely entertaining to watch that these couldn't even be compared to the old ladies that play at church.  My mind was also occupied with thoughts of the social dynamics of the boy in the cultural club from a Japanese high school, when it wasn't busy thinking that I ought to reread the Old Kingdom Series by Garth Nix (necromancers with handbells...you tell me YOU wouldn't have been thinking it, too).

The family, on the other hand, convinced me to go to the zoo with them.  Okay, it was actually Shaggy - I figured if he drove (just under) 5 hours (in his new Beemer, no kids or dogs, obvs) to celebrate with me I could brave the heat and sun, especially when he promised we weren't staying all day.  He kept referring to the Henry Doorly Zoo as "the best zoo in the world," and while it is a damn fine zoological park I have reservations about it being the worlds' best, although since zoos aren't really my thing, I can't provide any annoying counterarguments.  It was neat to see how much it's changed since the last time I was there, which was probably around 10 years ago, and I loved seeing the niblings together.  Later I shared the photos with the family, prompting my dad to admit this might be the best way to experience the zoo.

On my actual level-up day my Mom and I packed up the niblings - detained to give their mom the chance to get shit done - and headed down to Shaggy's place.  This is kind of important, since it gives me the chance to visit my grandmother and my great uncle along the way, but what I was really looking forward to was...less a mini-reunion than a micro one, since it's always just me and the Nice One.  

That said, this is the third or fourth summer we've gotten together to catch up, providing some much needed sanity and at least a couple of reality checks.  Also, a good browse through Barnes and Noble and more food than is probably a good idea.  I mean, seriously, America!  Who puts brisket on a burger?***  And THEN tops it with a bajillion onion straws???  That thing won't even fit in your mouth!  For the record, I ended up knocking most of the onions out of the middle and eating them dipped in sauce, which, also for the record, was excellent, but probably made the order of onion straws we ordered as a side totally unnecessary.  Hours later we chased it with custard from Andy's, which Shaggy pointed out they sell at the restaurant, but even if he has room for ice cream after a burger like that, I sure as hell didn't.  We discussed taking a road trip for our next act, and now that I've seen this year's school schedule, we might actually be able to make that into a mini-reunion after all...the Evil One's going to be Stateside in January and with a longer vacation the fates may, perchance, align.  We shall see.

Somehow vacation was over before I felt like it had really started.  My mom always complains that my holidays are too short, but this time I couldn't really argue...in spite of the fact that I spent a whole month at home, it seemed to fly by.  I'm not really complaining, since I'm happy to be back in Mongolia, although I'll be a lot happier once school starts and I get to spend time with my kids.  Still, it felt strangely short, the way time is a little different in the realms of faerie, where a year can go by in the space of a cicada's song.  There aren't any of those here in UB, but I have a feeling the next year will pass in the blink of an eye nonetheless...

*I mean that very literally...I have 10% of the savings that I had two years ago.  But if my parents are reading this right now, fear not - I'm planning to save more this go-round.
**6 a.m. the day I left Japan...
***Blaaack Sheep, that's who.