Hofan is home

Nausicaa 的耳環

2010-03-02T09:22:00.006+08:00

小時候明珠台不時會播映《風之谷》。這部動畫是宮崎駿的開山作, 以至今天, 仍是我最喜歡的電影之一。除了它壯麗的世界之外, 動畫的女主角 Nausicaä 令我印象深刻。她在空中自由飛翔的能力、對眾生的熱愛以至到她做事堅定的個性，早就在我心中扎根。我相信每個女孩子都有自己想模仿的形象。回想我這十年周遊烈國的生活（到粵北山區教書；到波蘭和法國留學）和一直追求的意向（大學主修「和平教育學」；現今學太極和手療等）都可說有 Nausicaä 的影子。

當然，我也其他崇拜的人。很記得中三時老師問道: 「你們的偶像是誰? 」同學們逐個回答 —— 全都不是周慧敏就是郭富城等明星。當我答「伊麗莎白一世」，大家就大為驚訝。你可以想像到我中學時已經多麼「硬頸」. 偶像不是伊麗莎白一世就是花木蘭等女強人。當時，我已認定自己不夠美，十分抗拒身邊朋輩對 designer jeans 的追求。在我眼中，化妝衣著都只是為了得其他人認同。當我最討厭自己的時候就會把自己打扮得最華麗。當別人讚我外表, 就證實世界怎樣「不了解我」。

很記得有次在美國的時代雜誌看到一幅相片. 相中有幾名女新聞主播員: 有黑人, 白人, 亞裔或西班牙裔的。我看後大驚失色, 因為不論是什麼血統的. 每個面容經過化妝後樣子簡直是一模一樣 . 除了皮膚顏色的不同, 她們簡直是克隆! 人天生就是不同的, 為何將「美」的定義限制得這麼狹隘? 同樣, 當我在地鐵看到四周的修身豐胸廣告，就會質疑我是否要有這身材和打扮才可算「美女」?

直至到歐洲留學，才了解到衣著不一定是「裝扮」，而可以是一個自我表達的方式。我很記得零五年從倫敦 Heathrow 機埸乘地鐵入市中心時，心裡嘩然，那裏的人打扮是多麼有性格！既有打扮斯斯文文的，又有濃重 makeup，頭髮染成五彩繽紛的也有。Why not?原來「女人」的定義是可以多麼多元化!

近年重讀《風之谷》的漫畫。漫畫是動畫電影的前體，宮崎駿由1982畫到1994年，花了十二年心血才完成。漫畫也反映到宮崎駿十二年的歲月中美術和思想上的轉化. 在七冊的過程中，可見到宮崎駿對他描畫的女主角的認識過程。第一冊時 Nausicaä 活脫脫是典型日本漫畫女角形象，有著一雙水汪汪大眼睛. 但讀者慢慢看到筆下的表情越來越細膩。漫畫的劇情和探索的議題也比電影版複雜得多（電影只是包含漫畫首七分二的劇情）, Nausicaä 後期問的問題、遇到的事物、作的決定，比電影的劇情更富哲學性和神秘感（例如 Nausicaä 有一幕昏迷了，朋友Selm 要打坐進入她內心的森林找她）。

漫畫中有很多細節，令我想像到很多不同的東西。有一段描述她耳環的來歷, 十分有趣。Nausicaä 平日衣著這樣樸素，為何會穿耳? 原來是媽媽送的。

近年回港, 生活穩定下來.找到我喜愛的工作和一些志同道合的朋友. 在這段期間決定穿耳.其實穿耳已經是我想做多年的事, 但因為怕碰到某些穴位,掙扎很久還沒有實行 . 最後去年暑假的某日, 才在銅鑼灣花了短短十五分鐘完成這個小小的儀式，仿佛進入了生命的另一階段.

耳環實在奇妙, 兩夥小光就可突顯一個人的五官特徵 features 。真好玩。唔, 過了這麼多年, 衣著打扮終於可成為一件「好玩」的事。幾個月前明報登了一些照片，題為 “一張張安靜美麗而年輕的臉”, 相中我和豆豆(Club O 的掌門啤啤熊)都戴上了耳環. 爸爸看到時, 說: 「相裏的你很像你媽年輕時。」

他這樣說時, 我想像他腦海中是他多年前已愛上了的媽媽 .

This is the French trailer of the re-release of the movie. As a trailer it's not very good because it shows you the ending, but for the purposes of capturing the spirit of Nausicaa, it's perfect.

> Bonus: An interview with Hayao Miyazaki "Now I Understand Nausicaa a Bit Better than I Did a Little While Ago" (translated, 1995)

I can code until my eyes hurt

2010-02-23T21:14:00.001+08:00

I like to write computer programs. Like film editing or knitting, there’s something obsessive about coding that appeals to me. When I code, I am completely oblivious to everything else. I once did a take-home computer science exam for twelve hours in one go -- I sat down in front of the computer at noon and by the time I was finished, it was midnight. (I may have made some spaghetti for dinner, but if I did, that was just my hands on autopilot. My mind was still working on the program) It must have been the single longest concentrated activity I’ve ever done. I can be similarly absorbed when it comes to writing or dancing, but I have to come up for air. There's a sort of natural cycle that ends after an hour or two; and on very rare occasions, three, four, five hours. But I've never done twelve for anything else.

What makes coding so absorbing? I think part of the reason as to why it’s so obsessive is that it is a continual problem solving process. You have a big problem (e.g., let’s design a new template for the blog), which you chunk down into smaller problems (let’s have a header and a sidebar), so at the end of it, all the problems you are dealing with (e.g., what is the hex code for this shade of red?) become sushi sized problems…

Yum yum.

I once applied for a programing job, which is a bit of a joke, really, because I’d had very little experience in programming. I told them, “I only know C++ and not much else, but I’m very quick at figuring things out.”

They e-mailed me back, “Ok, let’s ask you a few questions. e.g. What’s the difference between malloc and calloc?”

And I said, “Well, malloc allocates bytes of memory and calloc allocated blocks of memory. And by the way, I didn’t know this, but I knew how to look it up on the web. So you want to hire me because programming isn’t about what you know, it’s about knowing how to find out what you don’t know.”

It’s really true. This week, I’ve been trying to rewrite the template for my blog. It’s a bit like walking into a carpark, and making a minibus based on the material around you. Some parts that work fine (aha, car motor here), you can just steal and put in your minibus. Others parts you learn to build through the examples of others (ok, so I have to connect the windscreen wiper like so). It’s really a lot of observing, breaking down, rebuilding.

I'm very close to done.

The finger is not the moon

2010-02-12T20:50:00.021+08:00

"The way to Tai Chi begins with the teaching of a mentor; the mastery of the art comes from enduring self-practice."
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Over the past few years, there have been times where it’s been a struggle to keep up with my tai chi practice. On those muscle-sore or muggy-headed mornings, the bed just seems like a wonderful place to stay in. Oh, why get up for practice in the park; or to commute all that way from 大埔 to 青龍頭?

Nevertheless, I get up. On those days, the thing that kicks me out of bed is the thought of my 師傅’s mortality. As far as I know, Victor is not in any particular danger of dying, but since his sister’s funeral a couple of years ago, I’ve become aware of how transient our lives can be. And I would hate to look back and say, “Oh, I wish I had paid more attention then.” No, on that day I would want to be able to look Victor in the eye and say, “I did my best to learn from you.”

Honestly, there’s nothing worse than feeling you’ve wasted your sifu’s time. I hate being corrected by Victor for something that I know I am capable of, but due to my physical/mental state, am unable to deliver. Over the past three years, I’ve become physically and mentally much stronger, and so I can push myself a lot further in my theatre, and still be generally present in my kuen. Still, I can tell when I’m not at my cutting edge, and it’s always a relief to return to the kuen after all those productions.

Although we’ve never formalized the sifu-disciple relationship, in practice our lives have been intertwined in ways beyond usual teacher-student interactions. Victor co-signed the bank account for Burnt Mango, acted in my first drama production, and even went with me to look at my first flat (which I ended up not buying, but that’s another story). We’ve been to weddings and funerals together, and spend every Thursday in the Club O kitchen serving food to the community. But we have, by and large, skirted around the commitment of a proper 師徒 relationship, in part because it really is a very binding and official commitment.

But clearly, Victor thinks it’s now time for me to move on. On Monday he suddenly announced: No more lessons as a student. We’re going to break for two months while I move house, and then if you choose, you and Carlos can come back for disciple-like training on Sunday mornings.

Argh. Sunday mornings are bad. Very bad. It’s smack-bang in the middle of my teaching weekend, and in the short-term, difficult to wriggle out of. But it’s an ultimatum: take it or leave it.

I realize how accustomed I have become to going to Victor’s twice a week.

I feel like a boat suddenly cut adrift upon the open sea.

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00:19:30 Tai Chi	心中有劍	反覆在當下

When consulting the gods...

2010-02-05T18:58:00.036+08:00

今天路過車公廟, 進去求簽:

96簽上簽 - 竇燕山積善
巍巍寶塔不尋常
八面玲瓏盡放光
勸君立志勤頂禮
作善蒼天降福祥

哈哈. 有冇人想嘗試解簽?

Today I went to visit a friend, and passed by Che Kung Temple on the way home. On impulse I got off the train, and went to have my fortune told. Che Kung Temple is a very famous Temple in the territory to have one's fortune told with joss sticks, and the joss stick the government received last year was surprisingly prophetic.^[1]

I have a sort of rule for myself when it comes to fortune telling. That is: ask when you don't need to ask. Or to be precise: don't trust the answers when you're in a bad state. Ironically, though, when I am most confused, that's when I'm most inclined to be superstitious. I remember throughout the first year of Lecoq, I kept making bets with myself: if I'm able to walk to the end of the street without stepping only on the cracks, I'll get into the second year. However, it is in those times that it actually becomes difficult to truly hear signs from the universe. My desire, my need is so great, that I seek for any kind of affirmation from the universe. In short, I am in the danger of reading more meaning in the universe than it really is giving me.

Sometimes I get quite impatient with people who are too eager to read affirm any sort of coincidence as "messages from the universe." Sometimes coincidences are just that. Shit happens. I remember after the car crash I was in, people started reading into the fact that my friend (who unfortunately died in the accident) bought a second hand car. Some people even said that she had a death wish from her failed marriage, etc. I thought that this was a rather violent distortion of events; but I could quite palpably feel people's need to make sense of this terrible event. But having been with her in the crash, I can tell you. The reasons were much simpler. Much much simpler.

I do believe in patterns in the universe. I will, for instance, suddenly have a periods of my life where I will keep missing the bus / train / everything. Or I will have another week where people on the bus will want to chat with me. When this happens, I think of it take it as a reflection of my energy.

So I miss a train. The question is, how do I feel about missing the train? Do I feel that I'm going to have a bad weekend of teaching? Or do I feel, what the heck, the train left. Thank goodness I left enough time before class? Noticing how I'm feeling means that I have the capacity to change things. Anyway, if you think about it, how good my class is actually depends on my ability to manage them. And even if the kids are tired, or unruly, it's up to me to deal with them. So all you really do is just do the best you can to prepare, respond, and enjoy the moment. If you do that, you can leave the rest to the universe. I did my best, and no one can ask for more.

【解曰】修来福分众人皆见
不用心忙福德前定此卦福德现身之象凡事大吉大利也

【典故】窦燕山积善。宋朝。窦燕山中年无子。一夜梦中。其父训他去恶从善。自此窦燕山痛改前非。力行方便。并得五子。三字经有载：窦燕山。有义方。教五子。名俱扬。

All the answers we need are inside. The cards or joss sticks are but tools for reflection, but the best reflections are found when the waters are calm.

---
^[1] The joss stick the government recieved had with references to the first emperor of China building the Great Wall with a great disregard for the common labourer. When you think of it in collusion with the proposed railway, it starts to sound very prophetic. Hin yan even put it to song, which you can listen on Youtube here: 車公顯靈高鐵要停

獨舞

2010-02-03T06:23:00.008+08:00

前幾天醒來，想編支獨舞。意思是想親身到排練室研究，用自己的身體作前綫。

這幾年有了自己的班底，是一件非常難得的事。從事劇場最高興是可以和一班老友癲癲傻傻, 經歷一些非凡的日子。但我同時醒覺到創作上越多人，越多元素，可變成一個自我逃避的方法，詩歌的演出不知道怎樣? 快快找老友衍仁幫手!

但創作的源頭應該是由最簡單, 最核心的地方開始。
很記得我第一次編獨舞，卡着，就想到: 唔，我可以試用燈光, 和自己的影子交該. 那時的老師（Sally Hess）對我說不行 —— 你不可依賴外在的因素，而不向內追尋，請用自己的身體找方法吧!

最簡單, 最核心, 也是最難。

獨舞的過程, 就是獨處的認識。

零三年第一次編獨舞，十分無知。只知道是大學副修舞蹈的要求，所以在排練室閉關. 那時正在波蘭留學，那兒的冬天冷得要命. 從屋子踏單車到劇場只需十分鐘車程，但已足夠把我兩眼凍僵. 到了排練室，都不知道怎樣開始。只知道一個原則: 無論如何，每天都要嚴守到 studio的習慣；最少要在那裏逗留一個半小時. 周可凡，我不理會你在排練室幹什麼. 你躺在地上睡覺也可以。但最少要起牀, 爬到排練室去!

起初不習慣獨個兒，九十分鐘是一段漫長的。有時候真的像坐牢或者等放學，不知道怎樣過才好。但說也奇怪…在地上躺得多, 會悶得想做點事，想跳舞!

七年後，學會少少創作上的紀律，但仍然是赤手空拳入排練室，不知怎樣編一支獨舞。只有再次認識自己的念頭和誠意。

近日很多事物都感到很新鮮。聽音樂時, 發現自己的喜向好像轉了。聽我兩年前喜愛的歌, 有點像翻讀一些舊情書一樣: 有感覺，但不大了解。昨天在火車突然想下筆素描我對面的女人, 這是我很多年來沒有特別想做的事。唔.. 春天來了，不知道會帶來什麼?

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怕靜	Hofan's 52 week commitment	反覆在當下

It's not about the human being in front of you

2010-01-26T11:05:00.027+08:00

".. In view that the freelance jobs were on a part-time basis, it will be a little bit difficult to count them against your work obligation in a quantifiable way."

What?
Ten years ago, I received a scholarship for my undergraduate education. They nearly didn’t give it to me: they were concerned that I was going to take the money and run. So they put me on the waiting list, but as their preferred candidate accepted another scholarship (that gave him more money), they decided to give it to me, with the provision that I work for full time in Hong Kong for three years after graduation.

It has been one rocky relationship ever since.
It’s not like I mean to cause trouble, but it’s just that I don’t fit neatly in box.

I asked to take a semester off my junior year to go to Dharasalam, India; they were concerned because it wasn’t an official study abroad program. I pointed out that I had enough credits to graduate. I even went to one of their dinners to schmooze with the Board members, where a very friendly lawyer patted me on the shoulder and said, “It’s not about you, it’s about setting a precedent…”

That is the problem about bureaucracy. It’s never about the human being in front of you.

Anyway, I tried. I really tried. I even stuffed myself in a cubicle when I graduated for 11 months before it became stark raving clear that I was unsuited for this work. And so I ran away to Paris to study theatre. (There was a clause that said I could do that… education under an institution is acceptable activity)

When I came back, I dug in my heels. Yes, I would very much like a full time job, but the fact is very few theatre artists have the luxury of a full time job. And I was not going to take a full time job for the sake of taking a full time job. I was going to teach, part-time; and immerse myself in the theatre.

Okay, they said. But we want documentation of everything. So I painstakingly started to collect all my rehearsal schedules, etc, etc.

Last Friday, I suddenly got the above e-mail, telling me that my theatre work was difficult to quantify.. and therefore didn’t count. What? This is the core of the work I am doing!

It makes me want to tear out my hair!

In fact, every time I think about it, I get tense all over. The frustration/tension/anger permeated my whole weekend of teaching. At its best, it remained as an undercurrent of irritation. I called the office. The Secretariat was really super-friendly: “We want to help you… it’s just that we don't know how to count it...”

“I appreciate that it’s difficult, “ I said, taking big, deep breaths of air.

As I was doing tai chi this morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about why this small thing should cause such disproportionate amount of irritation in me. I think that on some level, I’m scared. I want to be judged and valued for the things which are important to me, and when I’m pitted against a value system that prefers paperwork over human beings, I feel immensely frustrated.

The truth is, most of the time I actually ride the system pretty well. I do enough of the right things, get the right pieces of paper. That's how I got the scholarship in the first place. But then, you find out, this thing also bites.

In search for the image this week, I remembered an image from the movie Baraka where they sort out the chicks. What I didn't know - and only found out while browsing the web for an image- is that they were actually sorting out the male chicks, who then (because they are of no use to the egg industry) are gassed or ground up! Not funny at all.

(For busy people who don't even have 10 minutes to spare, start from 5:25 mins.)

There are no boundaries

2010-01-20T09:21:00.011+08:00

是一個非常明確, 清醒的兩星期. 我嘗試在非凡的氣氛下, 融合我平常的生活.
The past two weeks has felt like been a fortnight of choices: To teach, or go protest. To go to Club O, or go protest. To do tai chi... or go protest.

Since my return to HK, I have been juggling a number of identities: Hofan as teacher. Hofan as tai chi practitioner. Hofan as theatre director. And in the past fortnight, I have somewhat publicly embraced another one: Hofan as social activist. (After seeing my photo in 明報, the security guards downstairs ask, “Are you 八十後?” I think he was quite surprised to realize that this “周老師”, whom he had been seeing every week for the past two years, was involved in other things too.)

Yes, it’s a wonderful moment, when these so-called identities collapse. I discover that as a teacher, as a hands-on-healer, or even as a family member, I’ve been able to share why I am doing what I am doing with my protest work, and begin conversations with people I come into contact with. In many ways, this is what I have been striving to do these past few years -- to integrate all these different parts of me so that they support (rather than take time away from) each other.

Above all, I have come to sense that there are many ways to “be with” a protest, and to be active in one’s community. On Thursday morning I hung out with Hin yan, Phoebe, and the rest of the group that was fasting. We lay there, and enjoyed the two hours of sun. Because of the tall buildings, the Statue Square side of Legco only gets about two hours of sun. And there is nothing so wonderful to feel the warmth of the winter sun on a chilly day. Some of us read comic books; others napped in their sleeping bags. I marked some papers from my students. Hin Yan led a sun salutation. There was little need to talk, just the pure enjoyment of being together.

Later, I went to Club O to lead a stretching class and hands-on-healing. I talked about how lucky I felt to have a place like Club O to cultivate a spiritual practice, so that one has the strength to be at peace when things get much more complicated. I talked about how I learnt about the importance of quiet practice from the satygrha walk... how I was glad, for example, that we progressed from a small, quiet group walking around Legco in December, to going out into the city. This quieter practice gave me the stability when we finally came back to Legco on Jan 8th, in front of thousands of cheering people and a myriad of cameras (and really, the photographers have no sense of boundary).

While I was healing, I felt my consciousness expand. Just as when I am an actor, I can expand my consciousness to include the audience, so I had this sense that I could reach through space to “be with” my fasting friends. And then I discovered, not only could I reach through space, but that time too, is a construct. I suddenly had this sensation that I could reach through time to “be with” those moments where I - or the community I loved - would need strength.

There are no boundaries.

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Satygrha Walk	五區苦行	Hamlet, the tragedy of inaction	示威 Protest	The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村

Satygrha Walks

2010-01-13T07:56:00.007+08:00

For the past few days I have been doing a satygrha walk in protest against the building of a high speed rail that will raze down Choi Yuen village. Unlike the past round of walks, which circled the Legislative Council for 3 days, this time we’re going into different districts of Hong Kong to do these slow, mindful walks.

If you ask me, I much prefer this way of protesting to the usual yelling rallies. It simultaneously demands an inward connection, and yet it is clear external expression. Walking at a pace slower than normal, and prostrating once every 26 steps (a symbol for the 26km of proposed railway), done over a period of 4 days in the build-up to the budgetary committee on Friday, this type of protest demands a strong physical, mental and social commitment.

What I like about it really is its simplicity. Compared to the myriad of protest activities available, this is a very clearly non-violent, non-extreme activity. (After all, we’re just walking and touching the earth.) And yet, the effect it has been having on the public consciousness is unexpectedly large. For some reason, the act strikes a chord with people -- perhaps its humbleness, perhaps its the repetitiveness and stubbornness of the activity. I’m not even sure what it is is. In any case, the activity has received an unexpectedly large coverage.

Unlike the quieter vigil of the Legco building last time, this time really is about going into the community. For this, the work of the support team (who are with us to distribute leaflets and engage passerbys in conversation) have been indispensable. That for me is the most valuable outcome of these walks -- the aim is not necessarily to convert people to our side, but to begin a dialogue in the community on the issue, which, up until now, has been sorely lacking.

It’s been a few days since the walk, but I still dream of it in my sleep. I can hear the steady drumbeats that have carried us through Sheung Shui, through Tsuen Wan, through Kwun Tong... I remember the slow descent towards the earth. In that beat of silence, as I surrender my weight to cold concrete, my senses are flooded with car sounds, footsteps, the smell of the city grit.

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There are no boundaries	五區苦行	Hamlet, the tragedy of inaction	示威 Protest	The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村

-----------------------------------

Because there's been a general lack of English coverage on the whole matter, I'm going to paste two articles from the South China Morning Post here.

SCMP Editorial : A vote that is about far more than just a rail line
Jan 08, 2010

Passions are at fever pitch over today's vote by legislators on the high-speed rail line connecting Hong Kong to the national network at Guangzhou. The railway may well be necessary for our city's future - an argument that has its merits - but issues of its cost and route, and a lack of transparency over the HK$66.9 billion project, tap into growing frustration with the manner in which we are being governed. Lawmakers should be satisfied that authorities have properly answered outstanding questions before they vote.

Expensive infrastructure projects are bound to raise questions, as they should: after all, taxpayers' money is being spent. At a basic level, people worry whether this project will be cost-effective and generate the projected benefits. In pushing the rail line, the government has promoted a number of reasons, backing each with anticipated financial payoffs. Economic modelling is an imprecise science, but the government's track record on such promises is less than stellar. Little wonder, then, that there has been scepticism about those projections.

There is an argument that the benefits of linking to the mainland network cannot be modelled; that there are new, and as yet unforeseeable benefits, to building the rail line. That may be true. After all, it can sometimes be hard to predict how a new technology or route will change behaviour. But if authorities truly believe that, they should simply say so, and stake their reputation on it, rather than citing figures that do not seem to stand up to scrutiny.

Protests are also being driven by insufficient transparency. Authorities have not been forthcoming with essential details, have given misinformation and explained their actions poorly.

The government originally promoted the link as substantially cutting the travel time to Guangzhou. This was clearly not the case: the station for high-speed trains is in the suburb of Panyu, some distance from the city's central business and shopping district. There will only be a small difference in the time presently taken.

A village in the New Territories will be torn down to make way for the line, prompting protests from villagers demanding a route change or more compensation. All of this fuels anger and a perception that the government is not serving the people's interests. The gap between the rich and poor is widening. Poor handling of the rail project has helped drive such thinking towards a tipping point.

Discontent spilled over during a rally for universal suffrage on New Year's Day. Three people were injured when a police cordon around the central government's liaison office was charged. Officials fear more unrest today during demonstrations over the rail line at the Legislative Council Building, and hundreds of police are being deployed. Beijing's top official in Hong Kong, Peng Qinghua, has called for calm.

The issue is emotive, but violence is no way to deal with concerns; the law must be abided by and cool heads kept. There may be frustration over how the government has dealt with the issue, but ratcheting up confrontational tactics also fails to promote needed dialogue and reasoned debate over an important issue.

Legislators will be voting on a railway line, but their decision is about much more - whether we can have robust, inclusive and informed debate on critical policies. Lawmakers have previously deferred approval; the time spent should have been used to raise and discuss the details. Any vote should be an informed one. This is, after all, taxpayers' money and should only be spent after careful debate.

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A bumpy ride

Will spending HK$66.9b on the controversial cross-border railway be a wise long-term investment, or could the money be better used? Indeed, have we thought it through?

Jake van der Kamp (SCMP: Jan 08, 2010)

Let's shed a tear, but one tear only, for the inhabitants of Tsoi Yuen village, who do not want to abandon their homes to make way for a new cross-border railway. They are not the first people in the New Territories to be pushed aside for infrastructure projects and they are unlikely to be the last. Set the price high enough for them and no tears need be shed at all. Let us also dispense with the argument that we must build this railway because Beijing says we must. It is not always stated so baldly, but fists are fists even when gloved and, if we nod our heads to this fist, then we can say goodbye to all talk of "one country, two systems" and a high degree of autonomy. It matters little, then, whether arguments for a railway are well or ill founded. Hong Kong's own foundations will be gone.

The question that really faces us on this railway is a simple one. Does it make sense to spend HK$66.9 billion, about HK$30,000 per household, to reduce the time it takes to travel by train from Kowloon to the border and connect with the mainland's high-speed rail system?

Have faith, say the railway's proponents. There were many naysayers when the Mass Transit Railway was first proposed, but who now doubts the wisdom of that investment decision? We must be ready for all eventualities and perhaps this means building more than we immediately need to build. We are building to be ready for the future.

Yes, but what future? The problem with this thinking is the assumption that the future is a straight-line projection of the past. The path that Hong Kong's economy took over the last 40 years required a heavy investment in transport infrastructure. It is a phase of investment that many economies encounter at a certain stage of growth. It does not continue forever.

The United States, for instance, went through a highway building phase in the 1960s but just imagine how slathered in roads the countryside of New Jersey would now be if this pace of road building had continued to the present day. In the last 40 years, the US has torn up far more railway track than it has laid.

It may be true that the mainland is now in the high-growth phase of transport investment but this does not say Hong Kong need be. The two systems are truly different. We have already made that investment and, given the relative emptiness of our latest roads, bridges and rail extensions, perhaps we have already made too much of it.

Whether we have or have not, however, it is on this sort of question that the debate about the railway should focus, not on the complaints of villagers or the supposed will of heaven.

In debating the question, we can ignore the favoured contention of our bureaucrats that the railway will create jobs and bring Hong Kong an economic benefit greater than the cost of the railway.

The simple fact of the matter, easily gleaned from any Introduction to Economics textbook, is that we create employment any time that we spend money. If we were to spend HK$67 billion to create a bubblegum manufacturing industry in Hong Kong, we would create thousands of bubblegum jobs. Would we create more jobs this way than if we spent the money on something else?

Good question. It can be applied to this railway as well. Could we generate more jobs if we spend the money on something else? The answer in general is that the most jobs are created, and the most economic benefit generated, when our money is spent to provide the goods and services that most people want at the lowest possible cost to them.

This admittedly does not tell us whether a high-speed railway would be such a service. It does tell us, however, that we need to consider this question of jobs and economic benefit much more closely than we have done. The railway may not be the best use of our money. Whether or not it is, however, we should certainly not make our decision on the basis of whether some Tsoi Yuen villagers are sad to leave their homes.

Equally, we can ignore the assertion that businessmen will find a high-speed journey across the border useful and, therefore, the railway will be good for the Hong Kong economy. It certainly would be if it cost us only HK$1 million. It is to cost us 67,000 times as much, however. Perhaps we should ask these businessmen if they would invest that much unless they can generate even more from it in profits. If they say "yes", let them build it from their own resources. If they say "no", let us hear no more about it being good for business.

The simple fact is that we are rushing to approve this railway project before we have even begun to study it properly. That's a mistake.

Jake van der Kamp is a former Post columnist

五區苦行

2010-01-08T14:03:00.003+08:00

這幾天參與五區苦行, 用另一個方式體驗我們的都市.
在苦行的過程中，最奇妙一刻是每二十六步的停頓.
引導的鼓聲停了下來，我們下跪, 把全身放下給硬地.
在靜默中, 聽到周邊的車聲, 腳步聲; 嗅到石屎混合四周的味.

在忙碌之中, 我們很容易忘記很多很基本的關係.
希望大家也能停一停, 感受自己與大地, 與生於的社區、周邊的人的關係.

Photos by Rraay

--------------------------------------------------
轉念始於足下寸土
music and lyrics by 黃衍仁

轉念始於足下寸土
今天我從新學會走路
一步可會是一次禱告
一步可會帶著憤怒

冰冷的石屎路向我宣告
所有答案你早已知道

一生接一世的準備已經做好
我們流淚又帶笑上路
一生接一世的準備已經做好
難道要坐著等誰把未日宣佈

鐵一般的秩序是路障只會讓我們跌倒
洶湧的資訊教我只看到虛無
扭曲的信仰把歷史與直覺消耗
要我忘記結局並未寫好

冰冷的石屎路向我宣告
天黑了別再跟它們跳舞

一生接一世的準備已經做好
我們流淚又帶笑上路
一生接一世的準備已經做好
難道要坐著等誰把未日宣佈

.

Related posts
Satygrha Walk	There are no boundaries	Hamlet, the tragedy of inaction	示威 Protest	The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村

The Midori Question

2010-01-05T11:33:00.007+08:00

I have all these thoughts but they are not so organised. However, I also know that I promised to post here regularly. So in the meantime, here is a letter I wrote to the (No)rwegian Wood cast as a sort of stop-gap. I'm going to write this one up properly when I have time. 談開太極,用中文表達會更貼切, 可惜寫中文這麼慢!

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Dear cast,

I just had a minor revelation this morning. Adrian has been trying to make you do tai chi!

Josephine was expressing how it seems that Adrian and I give completely different feedback when it comes to the speed of the performance. For example, in the dress run where Adrian was very satisfied that you were taking time to sense every moment, I was going, "Well.... that's ok, but you need to pay attention to the tension and drive of each scene."

Actually, while on the surface there appears to be contradiction, I'd like to think actually it's a question of process. The more I think about it, the more I realise that Adrian and I are actually addressing the same question. Let me use tai chi as an analogy.

At its heart, tai chi is a martial art. Behind every move is an intention to defend or attack. However, the main practice of tai chi is a slow movement form. 太極的修練表面上就是有這樣矛盾. 為何要慢練? 憑這個速度去打交, 一早比人打死了!

In tai chi, the purpose of making you practice that slowly is so that you can take time to understand the process of each movement. To taste the nuance of the weight shift, the transfer of energy from earth through center through the hand to the heel of your palm where you will 發勁 . And in the same way, good acting, like tai chi, is about the actor being able to feel the nuances of each action and reaction. And that's why Adrian was continuously asking you to take time, take time. It's so that you could be conscious of every detail.

Now the tricky thing is, this process is a very grounded, deliberate practice. The challenge we had in this play is that we actually have characters who are much younger, more unstable than we generally are in life. Walter needed to make the shift from his usual grounded self to become a 19 year old. Haruka needed to make that shift to be someone more fragile and unstable. And Midori is, by nature, a very pure form of wild energy.

And so when I was saying "Wynne, great stuff" and Adrian said, "That energy was too high.. there was not enough detail.." what I was responding to was actually Wynne's energy. There's a very clear colour of Midori for me, that Wynne has in a very raw form.

Now in the process of grounding Wynne, I felt that -- argh, this is like Midori after she has been dating Toru for years, when she's sort of absorbed a Toru rhythm! So for a few days I was really pondering over this contradiction about training actors to be grounded and the fact that we actually want some characters to be ungrounded. Unlike film, where you just shoot and capture that moment, theatre seems to demand a more deliberate, consistent process.

How then, to swing between the two poles and enjoy the freefalling moments in between?

It was really on Sunday's afternoon show that I began to see the fruit of this slow, deliberate process. Wynne really nailed her performance in that show. The two things came into one in a character that was clearly Midori energy and rhythm, but with an aware actor.

Yes, this is what both Adrian and I have been looking for. Just like in tai chi, after months of slow practice you come to understand the movement, you are then able to transfer the energy very fast in the right path, because you know what you are doing. So on the occasion you do fight, intention and form are one. 拍! They will fall dead on the spot (or cough up blood exactly twelve hours after you hit them.)

In many ways, the show is still young for me, just at the age of 17 or 19. We have just begun to discover many things. Certainly, it's taught me a lot about the process of acting.

It's been a real privilege for me to see everyone take their acting to the next level. So thank you, Adrian, for giving us this playground to play in. Arigatou gozaimasu.

love,
Hofan.

Wander: A Human Landscape 遊蕩於人生風景

2009-12-23T10:05:00.010+08:00

A group of us were walking back from dinner to rehearsal near Nam Cheong, when I asked Rachel (our director for the inclusive dance project between Symbiotic Dance and Blue-Eyed Soul Dance Company) how she found the city.

Rachel had to think about it. “Well, I find Hong Kong to be a very tolerant place.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Tolerance and generosity are not really the first things that comes to mind when I think of our bustling metropolis. But then, Hong Kong is home. It can be a bit hard to tell from the inside. 旁觀者清, 當局者迷.

“Well, for example, just now at the restaurant [and we were with 國華, a wheelchair buddy], they were happy to set a table outdoors for us. In England they might have thought it to be a lot of hassle, made a lot of fuss.”

Much later, when I was struggling over the two lines of reflection I had to hand in for the program notes when things finally clicked into place. The world is our mirror: Rachel finds Hong Kong to be a friendly place because she is a generous person with a wide-open heart. And when I say wide-open, I mean flood-gate wide. It’s a sort of life-force that sweeps aside all jet-lag, embraces the struggle of working in a different language, and says yes, yes, YES!

Looking back, it’s pretty incredible to realise what the group has managed to achieve in a period of twelve days. It makes me realise how if the director is clear about what she is doing, and is backed up by a solid team (Arnim + Tids)…. kapow! Anything is possible.

“For this jump to work,” says Rachel to Vinci, “You have to fly past Maru. If you imagine jumping into Maru’s arms, you’re going to be heavy. But if you go past Maru, you’ll be much lighter.” She demonstrates, slamming into 丸仔, who catches her in a spin.

Watching them at work, I realize that this actually can be a much more general principle. If I’d stopped – as I did the first couple of days – to consider how I should be pacing myself: yesterday’s rehearsal, today’s tai chi with 師傅, back to rehearsal, teaching, parent-teacher conferences; rehearsal for (No)rwegian Wood, a school tour performance, not to mention the ongoing 高鐵 protest… I would be exhausted. (Actually, looking at the list, I have every right to be exhausted.)

But the trick is to let all of that go. Prepare well, stay present, and embrace the company of people you are working with. Let that give you energy.

This was particularly easy with this ensemble, because we had people who was so direct with their affections. Wai Yin would grasp my hand and touch it to their cheek; 蘇 will clutch at me in his strong hands and not let me go to dinner. May will whisper (at two words a minute), “Can you help me get my bag?”… and then give us souvenirs of pottery and Chinese knots that she has made with her feet…

This project brought out many beautiful things in all of us. For myself, it was a wonderful combination of things I love doing: assistant teaching, listening, dancing.

Photos by Arnim Friess.
> Read another review of the show here - 共容是共生，共融則是你強我弱的權力遊戲

心中有劍

2009-12-15T11:52:00.009+08:00

(x= 發白日夢)

十一月份本來出國，師傅叮囑我「記得練拳」。我說時間許可的話，我會找地方練。

「沒有地方，也可以在腦海裏耍。乘飛機花那麼多小時，可把握時間。這種訓練是非常好的，因為會逼你確定每個動作，清楚知道自己正在做什麼。」師傅是這樣細心…太極訓練是沒有假放的!

結果我沒有出國，沒有飛機坐，所以沒有需要「心中耍太極」來消磨時間。但幾個星期前在大圍火車站等朋友時突然記起師傅的提議，就儘管試試心中耍拳。

站在人來人往的火車站，我靜了下來，氣沉丹田, 一呼一吸從一個簡單的單式套路攬雀尾開始在腦海中耍。原來經過日日反覆的練習，呼吸已有自己熟悉的節奏，身體已有熟悉的勁路。站在大圍火車站的大堂，身體比平常還要熱，氣感比平時用身體耍拳更明顯。

但最奇妙的是: 當我分心發白日夢，浮雲回到當下時，發覺自己的意識在某個連我都不知是什麼的層面上，已不斷地把套耍下去。像一個人在家裏可以在黑暗和半清醒的狀態下能夠穿過客廳到廚房倒一杯水給自己喝一樣，原來經過日積月累的練習我能夠跟隨我的身體記憶。Amazing. 發白日夢都可以在潛意識繼續耍拳!

.

買樓 November, almost a flat

2009-12-08T08:42:00.020+08:00

29歲半。第一次認真考慮買樓。

In November, I almost bought a flat.

I’d thought of moving out before, but it has never really crossed my mind to actually buy a flat. Buying a flat presumes stable income.

What happened was that since my grandmother passed away, my grandfather has been living with different members of the family. First he lived with us, now that he has permanently moved to live with my uncle Wai in mainland China, my aunts and uncles decided that we might as well put his flat on the market.

Obviously, with my current income as a freelance theatre practitioner, there’s no way that I’d be able to buy a place on the Hong Kong market without family intervention. Not without getting into serious long-term debt, and that’s something I don’t want to do.

聽一個風水佬說過: 「當你欠別人債務，你的運氣就與他們聯繫起來。」雖然我不是個迷信的人，但總覺得這番話有點道理。如果我欠人東西 (無論是錢還是人情) ，就算平日不想它，債務都會遺留在下意識。思想就是一種能量，我和「債權人」除了金錢上有牽連，還有能量上的牽連。

Granddad’s flat is in Tai Wai, an old 唐樓on the 7/F. with high ceilings. As I hadn’t been there for at least five of six years, I went to look at the flat with Victor. It was late afternoon when we went, when the flat (with its western windows) was really at its most charismatic. The flat was bigger than I remembered, probably because whenever we used to visit阿爺阿嫲 the place would be full of extended family, all crowded around the mahjong table that would get turned into a dinner table. Location wise, it’s ideal, and it overlooks some greenery on the far side.

I thought, if I had this flat, it would make bringing friends over to collaborate so much easier – I’d only have to worry about the plane ticket, instead of both the plane ticket and accommodation.

In the end, I didn’t buy it. Despite it being family, the conditions of sale were beyond what I was ready to commit to. And it really made me realize how – while on one hand I’m ready to commit to more stability than I ever have before in my life, on the other hand there are things which I am not ready to give up just for the sake of a flat. I’m unwilling at this point in my life, for example, to give up my happy balance of theatre, teaching and tai chi.

It’s a sudden, odd feeling of lightness.
I’ve suddenly become aware of things that would become more challenging once if and when I do commit myself to a regular mortgage. For example, it’d take a lot more planning to spend half a year in Poland on a project that had next-to-no pay. Or if I got arrested for civil disobedience and was tied up with the legal proceedings, at the very least, I wouldn’t have the additional worry of paying off the mortgage.

師傅常說我下盤弱，不能相信我學太極這麼多年，推手還會這麼容易給他推倒。近日我開始懷疑除了自己懶惰之餘 (低馬真是一樣吃力的東西) ，是否我心理上未準備「墜澱」下來。

最有趣的是, 當我看二十多年前拍我們一家的鏗鏘集(紀錄片), 發覺爸爸二十年前走起路來十分像我現今「彈吓彈吓」的步伐。人大了，是否會穩定下來?

示威 Protest

2009-12-01T08:25:00.031+08:00

很多朋友聽到我去遊行, 都有不同的反應。

有學生問: 「你有朋友是菜園村村民嗎?」

我答: 「沒有。」

人要有有幾親, 有幾「近」,我們才覺得事情與我相關, 因而採取行動?

又有朋友表態: 「你這樣示威都沒用...他們不會理, 高鐵還是會建的。」

我只會答: 「值得做的事就是值得做。」

On hearing that I was out protesting, responses from friends and family have been quite varied.

One of my students asked, "Do you have anyone related to you in Choi Yuen village?"

"Nope."

(Mm... how closely related must we be, before we decide to intervene and stand up for something that is not right?)

Other friends: "What's the point? You know that they're going to build the rail anyway."

Yes, but the point is: if something is worth doing, then it's worth doing."

**These beautiful photos are from 2009.11.29 反高鐵大遊行 by Sam Lau, 羅健熙 & 嚴偉迅

Related posts
There are no boundaries	Satygrha Walk	五區苦行	Hamlet, the tragedy of inaction	The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村

Hamlet: The Tragedy of Inaction

2009-11-24T13:59:00.011+08:00

“Is Hamlet your favourite Shakespeare play?” asked my students after class.

“Well,” I hedged, “It’s certainly the play that I studied the most in school.”

I don’t know why I was so hesitant to admit my love for this particular Shakespeare play. I’m sure my fervor for this play must have been obvious, that’s why they asked if it was my favourite. Aside from studying the play for IB, my father actually wrote his PhD dissertation on different Chinese translations of Hamlet. So whenever there is a production of Hamlet in town, our family goes to see it. Over the years, we have seen many productions, from the brilliant adaptation (in Russian) in the round to a version by TVB actors so terrible that the audience was laughing during Hamlet's death scene in Act V.

“Hamlet,” I tell my students, “Is a tragedy in five acts. At the heart of the play is our hero, the Prince of Denmark, whose tragic flaw is his inability to act. By Act I, he knows what he is supposed to do -- he’s supposed to avenge his father. But he can’t bring himself to do it. He thinks too much, he decides he needs more information, he makes excuses to him, he delays, he hems and haws, and because of his inaction, everyone and everything dear to him gets destroyed. His mother, his girlfriend, his girlfriend's father, his girlfriend's brother, his uncle.... it’s a complete bloodbath... and all because Hamlet couldn’t bring himself to act.

I notice myself thinking like Hamlet these days, stuck in the same cycle. Hamlet knows what is right in his heart from Act I, but he comes up with all these elaborate ploys to rationalise his inaction. He spends, for example, Act II acting mad (in order so that people might reveal their true selves), and Act III staging this elaborate play in order to watch his uncle’s reaction (and thereby convince himself of his uncle’s guilt). It’s all excuses, designed to delay the inevitable action that he must take.

Like Hamlet, I find myself needing information to act. Like the recent conflict of the Choi Yuen villagers vs. the high speed rail to Guangzhou, I know in my heart that it’s unfair for a government or corporation to say to a bunch of villagers: 你哋阻着我們發財, 所以我哋要郁你. You’re in the way of development (a.k.a. profit) for HK, so we’re going to have to move you.

And yet when it comes to action, because we are in a world where the rich and powerful have the law on their side, we have to be informed and rational and work through the power structures that we do have. And this is the part when it can get overwhelming. Ok, so there was a proposal to stop the rail at Kam Ting and use the currently underutilized West Rail to connect to the city center. This apparently will add an “extra 12 minutes” on to the trip, but (a) will save $10 billion and (b) will be completed two years earlier and (c) will cause less disruption to people en route… so why aren’t we doing this? Given that the decision to abandon this has already passed through the Executive Council (Exco), what options are available? In short, it’s not that simple to fight a power structure from the inside; and one can become stuck -- and not know what to do.

Until it comes to the point, because there is no other recourse, to need to put yourself physically on the line.

This comes down to this point that Hamlet has been avoiding; and as rational people, we want to avoid committing to: the point where has to make a decision to put oneself physically on the line and challenge authority.... because in this case, the authority is in the wrong.

Hamlet is a five act play, which ends in tragedy because the hero fails to act. Choi Yuen village, is but one small drop in a much wider trend of development. When I think about social issues, and all the things that I ought to be doing (climate change, for example, is such a huge one that I don’t even know where to start ) -- it’s really overwhelming.

In this sense, Hamlet is truly a play for our time. We want to stall because it's overwhelming to confront all the things that are injust, or that we should be doing. But if we continue to stall, there's a huge probability that we're going to wake up in Act Five to realise that all that we held dear (which we somehow took for granted would be ok) to be destroyed because of our inaction.

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out for me.
-- Pastor Martin Niemöller

Ok, I can start small. I’m read up some more, and then go to convince some friends to sign the petition going around protesting against using the West Kowloon as a “cultural hub” to justify the high speed rail terminus. Also, if you want to join me, I’ll be also going to the protest on the 29th November at Causeway Bay at 2pm (meet outside Sogo, wear green).

And to Rachel and Shana, I’d like to commit to this: “Yes, I love Hamlet. It's my favourite Shakespeare play, and it kicks-ass.”

Related links: The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村, Anti-rail Protest 示威,

The Girl who wrote about Dragons

2009-10-28T18:15:00.245+08:00

I read so many books as a kid, my mum used to get worried about my eyesight. In fact, I used to be banned from reading books like the Dragonlance Chronicles because of their small print. I had to read them in secret. I’d be reading in bed, but as soon as soon as I heard my mother’s footsteps on the stairs I’d have to fumble my book under my pillow.

“Er… hi, mum!”

I don’t know any other kid in my class who had to hide the fact that they were reading. Sheesh.

I used to write fantasy stories too. I started many, but finished none. I would type them studiously on Word-Perfect, and print them out on the dot-dot inkjets. Those were the days when computers were still in black and white, and the printouts had holes on the sides.

It’s easy to talk about my love for fantasy in past tense, but I find myself somewhat embarrassed now to talk about it in present tense. Fantasy has become the tag-along sibling that I feel I should have outgrown. The bulk of my fantasy novels now sit in the second row of my bookshelf, behind Peter Brook and Thich Nhat Hanh. In fact, when it crossed my mind to write a martial art novel for National Novel Writing month, my first thought was: But don't you want to write something more serious? (Didn't you want to do Crow? What about Craig & Miriam?)

My god, I thought. You really have become a literary snob. What on earth is wrong with writing a fantasy novel?

Here we are. I had to rummage in the cupboard for this.
I must have written this when I was 12-14 years old. There are a couple of stories here, all unfinished. The longest one is 98 pages long. (98 pages? I don't think I've written anything quite as long since then!)

<----------

The font is pretty faded, but the story itself is surprisingly readable. It's odd, I really don't have any recollection of the story at all. Did I really write this? It's a bit, in a way, like going back in time and meeting a younger self.

What startles me is the ferocity of the story. It's a story centered around the jealousy of two classmates, and there is something very fierce, almost animal-like about their rivalry. The setting of the story is unremarkable, the dialogue unmemorable, but the plot is decent. This again, surprises me, because for the past couple of years, my struggle in theatre-creation has mainly been with plot (c.f., Craig & Miriam, Berzerk!). In fact, I had almost pigeon-holed myself as someone incapable of larger architecture. "It's not hard for me to come up with poetic moments," I'd tell my friends, "But writing a full length is another mode altogether. It's one thing to make a collection of songs; another to write a symphony. I guess that's my challenge..."

But this manuscript disproves this theory! At some point in my life, I could plot. Plot is not the problem here! The story builds quite naturally as Tangarita and Elliyara grow in power. The two friends come so close in friendship, but then turn so viciously upon each other that by the end of the 98 pages - where the reader is left hanging -- I want to know what happened! (I can't believe I got bored with this project, it's 3/4 of the way through and it's just missing a final confrontation!) What's bizarre too is that my loyalties are so fairly divided between the two, it's really terrible. They've hurt each other so much, I can't tell if they are able to have an happy ending any more, or if they will completely destroy each other.

"Well, why don't you finish it?" said Homei, when I told him about it over dinner.

The truth is, I don't think I could write this now. This story captures an emotional truth of a much younger volatile Hofan; but to try to write it now would be like those pictures where adults try to draw like children. You would immediately be able to spot the pretense. If anything, one has to find a new medium, as Picasso did.

Still, I look at Ein & Gum-gum (the puppies) and think: I could write a story. I could write a story of two sisters: one dark, fiercely intelligent; and yet acutely jealous of her quieter, milder sibling.being and doing. The Yin and Yang of my life.

We'll see what comes out in November.

00:19:30 Tai Chi

2009-10-26T10:11:00.007+08:00

“I want you to time yourself,” said Victor. “See if you can do the whole 108 sequence in 20 minutes.”

“Why 20 minutes?” I asked, “I mean, I know this is the standard asked by the Hong Kong Tai Chi Association. But why is the standard to 20 minutes? Will I achieve an altered state of consciousness if I hit 20 minutes exactly?”

“Just try it.”

In the old days, they used to have a rule where if you had a question you wanted to ask your 師傅 he would tell you to go away and practice for a week. And after one week, if you hadn’t managed to solve the question yourself, only then were you allowed to bother your teacher. Actually, I think there’s a lot of wisdom is setting this time lag, because many questions (such as the one above) are asked in ignorance. Even if the sifu answers, he or she can only answer on a verbal level. “Well, if you do it too fast you won’t taste the details; if you do it too slow you will train your muscles”… that sort of answer. But some questions can only be answered with an experience; words are but an approximation.

So, I tried timing myself one Thursday morning. It really wasn’t the best of mornings, because I hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before, so my mind was racing at 300kmph. But the air was crisp, fresh autumn, and I was glad to be outside in the park.

When I first started tai chi, my kuen would be really affected by my mental state. For example, if I didn’t get enough sleep, or was stressed out by a theatre production, my 套路 performance would really suffer. What I discovered that morning, however, is that my body now knows the way. In the same way that I am able to navigate my path in the dark to the kitchen to get a cup of water without bumping into furniture, my body knows the path of the 108 sequence blindfolded. So even though my mind was running rampant, my body was steadily keeping time. Breath by breath, it was like wading through clear water. And because my breath was steady, my mind gradually allowed itself to be shepherded back into the fold.

When I finished, I looked at the watch. Nineteen minutes and thirty seconds. Ha!
I timed myself again on Sunday. Twenty minutes thirty seconds. Ha!

But numbers are meaningless. Time is but a physical structure. It was fun to know that I could do it, but inside I know the quality of my practice is not at cutting edge.

“I still prefer to do it slower,” I told Victor the next week. “Here I’m catching the flow of the kuen. It’s like I’m listening to the flow. But I feel to really progress, I need to really take time and taste the details.”

“It’s two separate things,” he said. “You should practice the listening to the flow, but you should also take fragments of the sequence and study it in detail.”

“And then put it back into the sequence,” I said. “I know. I know.”

But it’s one thing to know with the brain, and another to be able to grok it.

Related posts
Sifu 師傅	心中有劍	反覆在當下

The Choi Yuen Village protest 千人怒撐菜園村

2009-10-20T17:52:00.021+08:00

-------------------------------

Update: I know a lot of google searches for "Choi Yuen Village" end up here.

Regrettably, there really has been a general lack of information in English

on this whole affair. There is a resource list (a bit of history) from October at the bottom

of this post, plus an updated entry on more recent activities here with two SCMP articles.

-------------------------------

On Sunday a couple of friends and I headed to Shek Kong (石岗菜園村) to support the Choi Yuen villagers whose homes are in danger of being razed down to make way for a emergency station in the proposal high speed rail link from HK to Guangzhou.

It felt good to be out in the countryside, and the bus-trip from Kam Sheng Station (West rail) was much shorter than I thought it would be. When we arrived, the atmosphere was a bit overwhelming. Hundreds of people were jammed together at the bus-stop of vegetable station. We signed our names, took our photos and then slipped off into the actual village itself to get away from the crowd.

I have discovered that I have an aversion to this kind of crowd emotion. I always have, I think... when I sense some sort of mob emotion, my tendency is to step away. So for example, on the last days of high school, while everyone was getting all teary (and to be fair, we had lived together for two intense years); I was rather unmoved by it all. I think I am by nature skeptical of these mass emotions -- which is unfortunate, I think, because I did want to support them. But I guess each of us have to find our own way of expressing our feelings.

Earlier in the week I was having a conversation with Hin-yan about "protest as dialogue", and how one can protest in a way that provokes thought -- rather than a shutting down -- in all parties involved. (This was in reference to earlier protests with 夏韶聲, and also in protest of the mismanagement of The Link / 領匯 )

Later, everyone came into the village to take a big group photo to show our support for the cause. Josh and I climbed up on the roof of one of the houses and waved our banana leaves around.

Afterwards, they had a sort of discussion forum, which I really appreciated. where they had a number of eloquent speakers who spoke passionately about the meaning of this protest. In particular, Cho Ho Dick (朱凱迪) helped me contextualise this project as a general questioning of large and unnecessary infrastructure projects in Hong Kong

More poignantly perhaps, the Choi Yuen village protest raises the question: do we have a right here in HK to choose a different lifestyle? The rail link is going to provide us with high speed access to the mainland, which will be good for business, which will make us rich. But do we really need to be so rich? Do we really need faster trains that connect to Shenzhen every 15 minutes?

If you look at the South China Morning Post today, "Cross-border railway to turn villagers into multimillionaires", behind this headline is an assumption: That it's only a matter of paying these villagers off, and the villagers are really lucky (and should feel lucky) to have held out for all this money. But as Mrs Lo who moved here 30 years ago, and built a home with four generations living under a roof says in this ATV news report, it's not about money. It's about a home, and just wanting to farm and live in peace. To move these people out (and surely we can find another place for this emergency station! I cannot believe that there is nowhere else to put this station than on someone's home) is to say as a community -- we put business and speed above all else. Anyone who wishes to seek a different lifestyle, and happen to be in our way -- just bulldoze them.

To learn more or to add your voice to the protest:
> Facebook group: 石崗菜園村關注組

> Villagers fight for Rail that will cut them out (SCMP)

> Train to Nowhere (HK Magazine)

> LEGCO meeting minutes (May 2009) --> (scroll to p.10)

---

Related posts
There are no boundaries	Satygrha Walk	五區苦行	Hamlet, the tragedy of inaction	示威 Protest

Solid wood from Belarus

2009-10-18T20:28:00.013+08:00

"Your letter catches me in an awkward moment. Our performance tour to Newcastle just fell through and I am in the middle of assembling a desk from IKEA. It’s a twenty-two step procedure with fourteen pieces of wood, and some of the screws are really hard to get in. Despite my efforts, I’m developing blisters on my thumb and forefinger.

It’s going to be great though when I’m done. The wood is from Belarus, and it is a perfect length between my bed and the window. You would have thought that after a year of swapping rooms with Homei I would have gotten a desk and a lamp by now; but I guess I’ve been pretty busy with theatre + teaching.

And now it looks like I’m going to have quite a bit of time to myself at home.

I’m floundering too, Christine. It’s always like this when I have time to be with myself again. Sometimes, the solitude slams into me, knocks me breathless. Other times it sneaks up on me on the minibus when I am commuting home at night. You would have thought that I would be used to it by now, but the bite always surprises me. Ow! Hello, you.

I’m surprised by how volatile I feel. In this state, small things have the ability to become disproportionally large. Like a plant unrooted in water, I find myself scrabbling for ground. I feel needy, but paradoxically, I don’t want to be among people either. I hate being around people when I feel needy. At the same time, my friends are my lifeline. I don’t know if you know this, but you have got me out of writer’s block many times. When I get stuck with an idea, what I do is write a letter: Here I am, it’s 4.24am. the wood is from Belarus, and it makes me think of a guy I once met from Minsk. He was teaching us butoh, and to help us understand the feeling of “water” we waded into a lake in Broellin. On the last night he was drunk, and I was drunk – not from alcohol, you know me, but from the occasion -- and somehow, I ended up on his lap. To this day I don’t know how I got there. But that was a bizarre summer; I was pretty drunk that summer… careless, and slightly irresponsible in love.

Seriously, writing helps. There’s a satisfaction in being able to nail a certain emotion or feeling down in words. And, as you know, I tend to do my best writing in letters. When I write for myself, my writing tends to be unfocused and slightly muddy, but when I have to communicate with someone, I’m forced to become really clear. So when I get writer’s block, I take a step back and write a letter to you. Or Dan, Chris Gallimore, or Sally….

In being precise about my feelings, I notice how fluid they really are. Yesterday I wrote: I briefly considered going on holiday somewhere for these three weeks, but instead I bought a desk. You want to fight? I’m going to fight on my terms. I’m going to write a script. But in the light of another morning those words no longer ring true. Running, staying, fighting are already non-issues. I have moved on..."

-- from letter to Christine, 16/10/09

怕靜

2009-10-12T20:29:00.002+08:00

十月份沒有演出, 沒有戲排, 正好是時候靜下來。難得有時間專心練拳，見一些好幾個月冇見的老友。好吧 ! 去英國前，給自己一個機會定一定。

但定了下來，反以覺得腦海是多麼噪雜。

想專心寫劇本, 但發現一天是一件非常複雜的事。只是讀一些書(一些Woody Allen 的訪問，Ted Hughes的散文)，上上網，耍一些拳… 但一個人靜了下來，平凡的事物可以濃得像法國洋蔥湯。連從大埔乘小巴/巴士/小巴到清龍頭見師傅的過程都變得相當刺激。在一個半小時能夠觀察的，能夠想的念頭原來是可以很多很多的。都是回程較好，因為每次和師傅切搓後都已筋疲力盡, 一上巴士就睡!

知道自己零亂的狀態，是因為野心大，想導自己的戲了。這大半年較多當演員，讀得太多有關導演的書, 覺得是時候再次實踐了。但口裏說要導戲, 但自己根本還未清楚自己想導那一齣. 是《Craig & Miriam》? 還是《Crowsongs》? 好像還未天時地利人和.

藉口! 藉口!什麼天時地利人和? 要是有誠意做，一定有辨法的!

你怕什麼? 是怕失敗? 還是怕創作的孤獨?

現在的阻力大部分都是來自後者。

歸根究底，創作是孤單的事。以前我是十分相信集體創作的，但近年感到過度依賴其他人來給我靈感也算是一種迴避。舉例說，為了我們上一個齣舞蹈作品《Hallelujah》，我們集體排了幾個月，大家等大家. 到最終，最核心的意象和劇場手法都不是集體構思出來的。《Hallelujah》的核心是黄衍仁對Leonard Cohen那首歌的演譯，是我不知從那裏來的、用手語的決定，還有某個清晨其他人來之前我獨自在排練室想出來的佈景。當然，Haruka, Josh 和Walter 的參與對整個舞帶來一些不可缺少的刺激, 所以我相信六月份的演出是我們全組人培育出來的。但從這個製作我當真學到獨處對創作的重要性，醒悟到原來最逼切的靈感是自己和上天熬出來的。(或者其實是自己和自己熬練，上天只是恩典)

站在泳池邊，明知自己想游水，又明知跳下去游幾個堂就一嘗心願. 但把腳尖伸進池裏，水仿佛真的很冷! Oh shit, 為甚麼每次都是這樣的？

* * *

後記: 這是星期五早上寫的。星期六、日整天都要教書。教書和太極都有「淋花灑」的作用---無論自己有什麼情緒，因為要求我全神貫注，都會一一擦清!

Love is about making exceptions

2009-10-05T17:45:00.006+08:00

Last year, for reasons of global warming and everyone’s general busyness, our family spent our annual holiday in a half-built amusement park near 小梅沙, not far at all from the Lo Wu border. The amusement park was incomplete, but there was something quite earnest about the half-painted concrete pretending to be boulders. The park was huge, and we’d intended to camp there, but it was “winter season” already and they weren’t having any more campers.

They weren’t really serving lunch either, because they were renovating the kitchen. Still, the sofas were plush, the view fantastic, and they could do noodles.

“Can you do this without meat?” asked mum of the waitress, “Just some vegetables would be great. Unless Homei would like chicken.”

"Sure," said my brother.

“Please omit the MSG,” I said to the waitress. "I'm allergic."

"And go easy on the salt," said mum. The waitress didn't even raise an eyebrow.

Meanwhile, dad was browsing the drinks menu. They were offering freshly squeezed juice for $40 a glass, or $70 a pitcher.

“Let’s have a jug,” said dad, happy that he had found one thing that we could actually drink. Mum and I hemmed and hawed at the price. After all, we did have a juicer back at home, and could make all this at a fraction of the price. But then again, we weren’t home, and having hiked and taken the scenic train as far as it would go, we were ready for a drink.

“Grape juice,” I decided, settling on something we would not make back home. Dad frowned.

“What about apple or orange?” he asked.

I could read between his lines. Grapes are a prime candidate for pesticides, and given that we were in mainland China, the probability of those grapes being organic was pretty close to zero. But for reason, I really had a craving for grape juice. I didn’t want tartness of apple or the acidity of orange. I wanted something sweet.

“Grape,” I insisted. “We can have the others at home.”

“Ok,” said dad. “Let’s have grape juice.”

I felt a warm rush of sunlight. If I hadn’t been so comfortably eaten up by the plush chair, I would have gotten up and hugged him. Dad has probably written fifteen books on the evils of pesticides, and yet, because we were family, he was willing to make this exception.

反覆在當下 (太極與戲劇 i)

2009-09-28T17:32:00.005+08:00

排練 —— 英文為 rehearsal, 有再聽一次 (re-hear)的含意；法文則為 repetition, 有反覆多次的意思。但我還是比較喜歡波蘭語的 próba。在字源上說，próba（排練）和 spróbować（嘗試）同根，反映一種重視劇場實驗探索的精神。反觀中文，「排練」一詞仿佛有安排、整理的意味。難道我們中國人相信好的戲劇是有規有矩、有條不紊的?

反覆練習的意義

起初到法國留學, 第一次聽到 repetition 這個詞時, 就覺得很奇怪. 難道在法國人眼中，排練只是不斷地「重複」演繹? 若是如此，哪裏有改進的可能？

不過，近年開始學太極，就發現不斷「重複」一些指定動作也不一定是件事。練習太極是非常奇怪的一回事，反反覆覆都是練一個套路。當然, 江南上套路千變萬化，一世都學不盡。但真正練功求精不求多, 重點是從反覆的練習過程中, 深化自己對套路的領悟。

正因為每清晨都是耍同一套動作, 才突現出一天與一天狀態的不同：這幾天睡眠不足,身體狀態差; 那個星期有演出, 精神難以集中。覺醒之後，方學到怎樣放下雜念，追求活在當下的「無極」和身心靈的純淨澄明。

對於演員, 尤其是舞台演員,「無極」的修煉是非學不可的。舞台演員不僅渴求一場無懈可擊的演出，而是每晚都要發揮出應有水平。反覆排練就是要讓演員鍛煉出穩定水準。無論白天與情人分手或和老板爭吵，晚上的表演都不容有失。演員的工作就是尋找劇場的當下。一齣豐富的劇，反複排練/演出是一個精彩的過程。演員會不斷發現一句台詞能夠包含的意思和可能性有多千變萬化，而不禁發出讚歎. 。

--------------------------------
畫家畢卡索(Pablo Picasso)就曾經說過：「糟的藝術家只會複製，好的藝術家則是偷取」.讀過 Anne Bogart 的 A Director Prepares: Seven Essays on Art and Theatre (Routledge, 2001) 的朋友會認到本週的靈感是從她偷取的.

A very rude audience

2009-09-24T22:54:00.010+08:00

When we started to get interviews for the current show, I got quite baffled by the general emphasis on this being a deaf production. Nine out of ten questions addressed to me were questions like, “What misunderstandings, problems or revelations have arisen from working as a hearing person in a deaf ensemble?”

These types of questions basically make me want to shake the reporter and say, Number 1, I think it is healthy to have disagreements in the creative process; and number 2, I’ve always thought of them as actors first and deaf second.

“Do you mean that you think it’s the same working with deaf people as hearing people?”

“No,” I’d say, “Of course it isn’t the same.” (Argh! Shake-shake-shake-shake-shake! Don't reduce what I am trying to say!)

Argh. I mean, obviously there are challenges of language, but it’s no more than working with people of different cultures. I guess I’ve been in so many situations (Linnan, Poland, Paris) where I didn’t speak the language very well that I’ve just learnt how to get around this and figure out ways to express what I want to say with simple words and the most direct means possible. Similarly, in Burnt Mango we work with people of different nationalities/mother tongues, so we’re pretty much used to translating and making sure that everyone gets included in the conversation.

But today I could really feel a difference between the fact that I could hear and the rest of the ensemble couldn’t. I can now finally answer the question, “What’s the most challenging thing you have found working as the only hearing person in a deaf ensemble?”

Our show opened today to a theatre of secondary school students. The whole theatre was packed, and when we turned on the UV lights, you could see the whole audience glow from a sea white uniforms. The students were an unruly bunch, somewhat hyper, and took to commenting (loudly) on the show while we were performing.

I was furious. The students obviously thought that because the performers couldn’t hear them, it was ok for them to talk during the performance. Little did they know that I could hear…

On the level of acting, it was interesting for me to see what I could do to adjust. Acting is, after all, a projection of energy and a manipulation of the audience’s attention. As the first person starting, for example, I took more time than usual and made my movements slower and more deliberate in order to dampen berserk energy. (Ideally, if I was the one calling the shots backstage, I would have refused to start until the audience was silent – something I do all the time as a teacher with unruly classes. I’ve learnt that waiting them out is usually more effective than yelling at them to be quiet, because when you set the norm of being calm.)

Actually, it felt a bit surreal to hear all those comments, and to know that I was the only one in the ensemble that could hear them. I really had to push myself to focus upon the reality of the play; and failing that, the next best thing is to channel my anger into my performance. So if my volcanoes were more explosive than usual, or my raptor more vicious, so much the better. This sort of scenario is a definite challenge to my professionalism (to deliver one’s best no matter how sucky the audience is), but on the other hand, it also crossed my mind: if theatre is a dialogue, what is the purpose of conversing if the other party is not ready to listen? I wonder if it had been my own production, if I would have had the guts to stop the show and say to the students, “Ok, this is out of bounds. We need some basic respect here.”

Of course, historically theatre audiences were pretty uncivilized. Even in Shakespeare’s time the pit of the Globe Theatre was full of rabble who would eat and chat while the show was going on, and throw things at the performers if they didn't like the show. So the norm of a polite, attentive audience is something that developed over time. Still, I’m pretty sure that the students would not have been so blatant if it had been a hearing ensemble, and that – for me, makes their behavior downright rude.

I was thinking, (unfortunately, during the performance, which almost made me miss a cue), how I would like to sit down and have a proper dialogue with the students. For example, one of the comments I heard a student say quite loudly during the scene where the dinosaurs were wiped out was「又死啊.. 死過又返生」(Not another death... just wait, they’re going to come to life again… ) . I actually think that this is an interesting observation, that throughout history things keep getting eaten and wiped out, and new life takes its place. I would have loved to address that student and say, “Well the question is, do you think we’re going to wipe ourselves out?”

But of course, the Q&A was not really a forum for proper dialogue, and for some reason, I also found it hard to speak. It felt much more natural to speak sign language, and be part of the ensemble.
I better get some rest. Tomorrow is another performance.

-----------------------------

「無言天地」劇團:《創世記》
Theatre of Silence's "Creation" has two student shows, but members of the public can join us on:
Saturday 26 Sept (8pm), Sunday 27 Sept (3pm) 2009
Ngau Chi Wan Civic Center
(I'm expecting the audience of the public performance to be more mature.)

The inconvenient actor

2009-09-21T12:40:00.011+08:00

I'm afraid that I'm a rather inconvenient actor. I have a tendency to think in director mode, which means that I tend to challenge things that ruffle my theatrical instincts.

Right now I’m working on a piece with Theatre of Silence (無言天地劇團). As the only hearing actress in a hearing-impaired ensemble, I’ve had to come up with a number of creative ways to make myself heard. When my rudimentary sign language fails me, I’ll bring in video clips or resort to e-mailing the directors. Sometimes we have a translator, but for the most part I’m on my own.

Sometimes I question: am I overstepping my boundaries as an actor ?
In the heat of creation, I wonder: Should I just shut up and do? Why am I bothering to fight for this?

The answer is really: because I can’t bear to see shoddy work. If we’re going to bring this on tour to the UK and Brazil, it even becomes an ethical issue. If we’re going to burn fossil fuels to fly this piece there, I have a responsibility (more than ever) to make this piece worth seeing.

Thankfully, the directors and ensemble have been patient and open to ideas from this rather vocal actress. It’s been a wonderful experience working with this group. There is so much laughter in rehearsals.

As we near production week, I notice myself turning off my director’s mind in order to commit to my job as an actor. There’s a delicious sense of freedom in doing this. (Actually, I need to do this. Acting isn’t something that comes naturally to me, and I realize that I’m pretty bad at unison work. I am the only goldfish whose thumbs are sticking out; or the wing in the airplane that is not flapping properly.)

By committing my work as an actor, something new happens. I’m suddenly aware of how I can transform the piece from the inside. I am no longer divided. I trust in the power of the ensemble.

Theatre creation has to be all or nothing.

Fame: a disquilibrium

2009-09-14T17:20:00.014+08:00

A man becomes famous when the number of people who know him becomes markedly greater than the number of people he knows. The recognition enjoyed by a great surgeon is not fame. He is admired by not by the public but by his patients, by his colleagues. He lives in equilibrium. Fame is a disequilibrium. "
– Milan Kundera, The Curtain.

One of the reasons that I finally left Linnan, the village in the hills where I spent my gap year, was that my fame was preceding me. Villagers that I came into everyday contact knew me, of course, and life proceeded as normal. But after the press got hold of the story, reporters started to trickle in. First the local papers, then the national papers, then the papers from HK, and a documentary team from RTHK. In general the reporters didn’t cause much disturbance -- they’d just turn up for an afternoon, and then life was pretty much back to normal again.

However, I began to get rather uncomfortable when I went to nearby villages (e.g., 油嶺which was a 3 hour hike away), and have villagers whom I have never met grasp my hand in gratitude for the work I was doing. I started to receive letters from admirers, including university guys who would send me their photos of them posing next to their bikes. When I turned on the radio one day, I was rather taken aback to hear a letter I’d written to my Primary 6 class read out in the air. Ok – I did post it on the classroom wall, so in all fairness it was in public domain. But still. Still.

Enough was enough. So I left.

Growing up as 周兆祥 (Simon Chau) ‘s daughter, our family has always had to deal with being semi-public. Dad would announce the arrival of some reporter or TV crew, and we’d have to all pitch in and get the house in a presentable state. (This usually involved throwing our mess under the table, into a cupboard, or somewhere upstairs)

In Club O, I can see people’s reactions to me change when they learn that I am my father’s daughter. So I generally keep it quiet; and anyway, those who come regularly on Thursday come to know me as me.

So in general, I do my best to keep my relationships in balance. It’s discomforting to have people relate to a fixed idea they have of me, rather than who I am right now. I have family friends who still think of me as the girl who went to China, and still dredge that up even though that was over ten years ago.

I was thinking about all this again this week because I got pleasantly surprised by my summer paycheck. I wrote on facebook, “Hofan earned enough money this summer to fund another theatre production.” The response I got from my family and friends was immediate and resounding. I don’t think I received so many comments and thumbs up in a short space of time.

The heroic narrative of “Hofan who has finally managed to figure out a way to do what she loves and make it financially viable” is undeniably potent. In retrospect, the audience came to see Berzerk! because of this. They didn’t come because they wanted to see their daily grind in the city put on stage, but because they were attracted by an ensemble who were proving that, “Yes, it is possible in Hong Kong to do what you love, and somehow make a living.” The excitement of someone, having next to no budget, no actors, nothing, but somehow believing that – through sheer will and the generosity of friends - this piece was going to happen was infectious.

But that was last year. It’s time to move on.

The trick is, I think, not to get stuck.

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(Look back at it, the newspapers are pretty funny. The more sensational article is from 東方日報. The article in English is something I wrote for IB World (here in .pdf form)