Art Nomad: S. Shurentsetseg and G. Gerelkhuu

It's been three weeks since I got back from Japan.  I mentioned last time that I made at least a passing attempt at resisting its pull, and it's possible that I should have tried harder, shouldn't have given in.  It's not that I didn't enjoy every second; in fact, it's exactly that.  Going back showed me what I was missing, and it's been a hard adjustment going back into the daily grind.  After all, back in August I was overwhelmed with the homecoming vibe, but now we're over it. 

And that's leaving aside the fact that I had just gotten used to saying Mongolian things, and now I'm stuck on "sumimasen" again.  Had gotten used to putting toilet paper in the bin and now I keep forgetting and flushing it.  I'd kind of accepted Mongolia's lawless laissez-faire and now I want people to follow the damn rules.  I never had Mongolian Days when I lived here before, but then, China was my last watermark.  After a refresher course in Japanese etiquette, my temper is short, and I don't really like acting like a pain-in-the-ass foreigner.  That said, I'm sure I'll get over it, if I give myself time.

Mongol Queens series, by S. Shurentsetseg

The art I'm writing about today has actually been off the walls for a long, long time; I just couldn't get around to finishing this post.  The day I went I was trying to make it to Naran Tuul to find some supplies before going to Blondie's for dinner, and my brain wasn't as into art analysis as it probably should have been when I made my first stop, at Altan Khaan gallery.  Their current show was S. Shurentsetseg's "In Search of Origin," a body of work focusing on the female perspective on Mongolian cultural and social life.  Like a lot of Mongolian artists Shuren uses the image of Mongolian women in traditional clothing and hairstyles, but rather than the icy perfection that you often see portrayed her figures seem to have more going on beneath the surface.  Troubled expressions mar their faces, inviting the viewer to contemplate the causes of their discontent.  As I stared at her "Mongol Queens" series, the gallery owner came over and suggested to me that these women may have been queens, but it was not entirely by choice, and often involved leaving behind their own families and cultures.

Mother and Daughter, by S. Shurentsetseg

Her compositions are, by and large, relatively simple; the figures are positioned in the middle of the canvas against a simple or abstract background.  Shuren's color palette brings a certain amount of life to these figures, but also helps to set the tone of each piece.  Some are much more somber, while others have an undeniable warmth.

Daughter-in-Law Coming From Afar, by S. Shurentsetseg

What struck me more than anything else about her paintings was her use of pattern.  Lines freely twine over clothing and background, helping to establish a sense of visual cohesiveness regardless of Shuren's color scheme or use of space.  This also reinforces the "Mongolian-ness" of the women, referencing the patterns often found on the silk used for deel (the Mongolian national dress).  Overall I think she made a good start of subverting the idealized female in Mongolian art, and I'd be interested to see the direction Shuren goes in from here.

Eternal Tale III (left) and I (right), G. Gerelkhuu

That said, "In Search of the Origin" isn't the art I've been hoping to find since that trip back in March, 2018, but it was just down the street.  The 976 Gallery was my second stop, where the current exhibition was "The Demon's Egg," by G. Gerelkhuu.  THIS was exactly what I'd been looking for in Mongolian art ever since beginning my master's with that painting course.  Here was mixed media, pattern, life, motion, cultural references that are both accessible and yet, somehow not overplayed.  At first glance, they appear to be monumental abstractions.  Each piece is several feet long, stretching up toward the ceiling.  As you look closer, you realize that these are not abstract pieces, not canvases, but rather works on paper, using collage, printmaking, and other processes to recreate chaotic scenes of Mongolia.

Eternal Tale I, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

These reminded me, to a great extent, of the Mongol zurag paintings of Naadam and other daily scenes, but there was a sense of historic importance given to these pieces.  Hordes of mounted warriors in traditional armor swarm across the paper, attacking everything from faceless foes to colossal dragons, gunmen to monks.  In some cases the cavalry swirls their way through the composition, but more often it's absolute chaos, a battle royale between anyone unwise enough to stand against the Mongols.

Over There, detail, G. Gerelkhuu

Gerelkhuu's work feels almost monochromatic in nature, so that when he uses more color it really draws in your eye.  But possibly what I loved most about these works is the way he uses printmaking to create repetition.  Although I'm a long way from my bachelor's degree, back then the media I loved most was printmaking - intaglio, woodcut, anything really.  While I haven't done as much of it personally since then, that passion haunts me, and my biggest teaching regret is that somehow I've never managed to pass it on to any of my students - the way each printing matrix holds infinite possibilities, and can make as many pieces as you want.  Gerelkhuu's art struck a chord in me, made me feel challenged to try it myself, see if I can develop an image I can work into my studies of Japanese art and experiment with making something that would fill the height of a wall.   It hasn't happened yet, because, you know, grad school.  Taking two courses is even harder than I thought it would be, especially when they both involve a lot of reading, but I've only got about a month yet, so I suppose I'll manage somehow.  Most likely with a lot of coke.

The World Ahead

It's one week tonight since I stepped through the arrivals door at Haneda Airport and into my next great adventure, here in Japan.  It's been a long time since I dealt with the upheavals that go along with rebooting your life from a new server, so to speak, and over the last week I've been dealing with a dawning realization that goes something like this:  being a tourist may be better than being an expat.

Okay, stick with me for a while and hear me out.  The whole premise of my so-called career is that I'd rather see the world long-term, rather than the snapshots you get breezing by in a week or less.  However, the last seven days have presented some rather compelling evidence that perhaps I would have been better off staying in Mongolia and spending every vacation here instead.

For starters, there's the major issue of not having the internet.  Which is to say that I, in my very humble abode (pictured above, and a lot better looking on the inside, but you should know better than to think I'll show you that until I've got everything the way I want.  Yes, Babysis, I am looking at you), have no hope of getting an internet connection for possibly months.  Apparently the Japanese bureaucrats like to jazz that shit up with red tape.  Now, I dealt with this very issue once, many many moons ago when I moved to the UAE, but it was Ramadan and I had no options but to suck it up.  This time around, I cracked after 3 days and ordered a pocket wifi router, which is why you're getting this blog tonight.  You're welcome.

There's also the fact that I have been in Japan for an entire week and not visited a single temple.  Last fall I think I made it to at least one every day, but no.  Even when I haven't been at work, I've been too busy setting up my apartment and finding my way around Yokohama, particularly to the Ikea...yeaahhhhhh, who am I kidding?  My first excursion was actually to the Animate at Yokohama Station, and it was a glorious experience.  I mean - look at all the Gachapon machines!  Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?

I did manage to stumble on this section of a walking/sightseeing trail my first morning at around 6:30 while looking for someplace open that would break my 10,000 yen note so I could get a coke.  It spit me out onto a street that had a 24 hour cafe called Jonathan's.  I enjoyed both the trail and the "drinks bar" at Jonathan's, which featured free refills of coke, but I haven't seen more of it, because it's Too Darn Hot, and no part of me is interested in sweating that much.  There is only so much a fan and a hankie can do for you.

Working also kind of sucks.  Not the actual job of course - so far, I like everything about my school - but rather, you know, working.  Instead of running around all day seeing cool shit I spent Wednesday and Thursday getting orientated for said job.  And here's the thing: I haven't actually been a newbie in five years, and I forgot how incredibly, painfully awkward it is, not to mention the vast information overload that goes along with it.  Meanwhile, Pikachu Outbreak was happening right over in Minato Mirai while I was sitting in meetings.  Admittedly I had a three-day weekend to check it out, but it was rainy, so the airship didn't take off, and although the Pikachu cruise went when I first got there I was too far away from it to wave to them and they apparently cancelled the next launch - at least the people in the official shirts said some stuff in Japanese and everyone went away so I assume that's what happened, and the big ass carnival parade is tomorrow, and I won't make it down after work in time for it...

What's that?  You feel no sympathy for poor old me?  I suppose you probably shouldn't.

I can NOT overemphasize the fact that adjusting sucks.  It is a ginormous pain in the ass, especially when you're out of practice, but the ability to be in the front seat for all of the wonderful, weird things that happen in Japan - and the Pikachu Outbreak is a quintessential one - is exactly why I gave up working with people I absolutely loved and jumped into the unknown.  And it turns out that the hardest part thus far is not having those people around.  I'm not the most social person by any means, and although my introversion suits me well in my lifestyle of choice, I've been around my family non-stop for the last month, so I feel a little untethered.  What I really want is the chance to chat with Engrish about my impressions of my school, Blondie about the trials and joys of living in Japan, and my little Weebs about all the cool shit I see on a daily basis.

From experience, I know it takes me a while to find my place, and that when I'm patient, I find the people who appreciate me - not in spite of my craziness, but because of it.  Til then, I'm lucky to have extended friends around.

It's funny how when you announce that you're moving somewhere everyone comes out of the woodwork.  I'd already tracked down a family I went to church with in Shanghai, but I learned I have a distant (as in, I'm not sure what ordinal to assign him) cousin in Nagano, that the Evil One's nephew is in Yokosuka, and that a dance sister from Seoul's best friend lives right here in Yokohama.  When I posted a photo on Facebook at Minato Mirai, he replied that he was there too, and I had the chance to meet him and two of his friends.  Even though they weren't Engrish, or Blondie, my Weebs, or the others now scattered to the four winds, they were my kind of people, and it made Japan feel a little more like home.

Home Again (if you wanna call it that)

I am, once again, settled into RAK, and the long month is over. Now we are free during daylight hours to eat, drink, smoke, or...okay, well, I guess we still can't do THAT in public, and it's not like I was, or am, anyways, being a good little Mormon girl and all, but...yeah, we'll leave it at that.

Probably going off on a jaunt five weeks after getting into RAK was not my best decision. If this had been my first time out, I don't know if I would have come back. It was so nice to see the Evil One, and I haven't quite worked out my social equilibrium here. Also, payday is STILL a day away, and the dirhams I had left in my knockoff Coach wallet as I disembarked at Dubai International Airport were rapidly cut in half by the taxi ride to get to the church in Sharjah (okay, to tell the truth, it should have cost 20dhs less, but someone gets his jollies by driving in a slightly different way each week, and although I got to the general vicinity just fine, we proceeded to spend 15 minutes blundering around and having to take long loops to get back to where we started so I could try a second time. Aish). And I had some trepidations about beginning school again, with full days, and a project I hadn't quite worked out how to complete looming over me. Five years ago...I was much weaker than I was now. I actually took sick days back then, would occasionally sneak in the bathroom to cry a little from homesickness, and don't even get me started on the parents (suffice it to say that there were days when I wanted to hide under my desk). I'm not that girl anymore. I took a flying leap back into RAK!
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but only after a full day of reading, napping, reading, more napping, swimming at the beach, watching the end of Buffy's second season, and - once more, with FEELING! - pasta for dinner. Friday I was not a very pleasant person to talk to. One well-meaning lady asked me, as I was walking into church, about my vacation, and I told her not to talk to me. I alternated between snappy and soppy and sleepy, and I was NOT impressed by our 1.5 hour long visiting teaching workshop that didn't start til 30 minutes after it should have and the people that kept trying to take pictures with ME in them for the bulletin boards to show what a great workshop it was, because
I'm sorry...
but I have been crammed in a little seat for 8 of the last 24 hours...
and 11 more of those hours I have been stuck in the Mumbai airport, which, my friends I must warn you, does NOT have free wifi, although it does have a sort of uncomfortable "slumber room," and the flight attendants will occasionally come by and wake you up to be sure you're not supposed to be on their flight...
and I just spent 100 dirhams getting here from the airport...
and I have not had a shower since I woke up yesterday...
and I am not dressed well enough, by my standards, for church...
SO DON'T TRY TO INVOLVE ME IN YOUR WORKSHOP. DON'T MAKE ME PLAY PAPARAZZI WITH YOU BY TRYING TO TAKE PICTURES OF ME LOOKING LIKE A SKANK. SINCE I HAVE TO BE HERE AND THERE AREN'T COUCHES IN THE FOYER, LET ME SIT IN THE BACK, LEAVE ME ALONE, AND LET ME NAP IN PEACE!

Also on my mind, strangely enough...whether or not I'm an uber-bitch, but I'll leave the pondering of that for another day.