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Suzy Cheung 張啟新 Suzy once gave me a white button made of clay, with two drawn figures, one winged, one tailed. One paw reaches for the other’s wingtip, gently, as is placing a word there. She says our connection feels like that. -- I once gave Suzy a dark grey stone with a pale thin line through it. An oval loop. The stone came from a strip of beach where a lake meets the sea, and I thought of her, nine thousand kilometers away. I thought of her inspiration from nature, of a terra-cotta and porcelain necklace she had sculpted. A necklace that rustles. She says the grey line through each link is random, and the sound of porcelain translucent. -- She gives me a white vase with a drawn mosquito. -- Late one evening, I see three of her slate-grey vessels. They sit inside a boutique of flowing clothing, and I wait until the top-floor store has closed to view them. Quietly. And there is so much quiet. And grace. The way the three are placed, together, yet not touching. The exquisite arcs, the power in the roundness, the warm calm. I see the vessels as sentries and they take me to Cairo. Dusk. Friday. Almost everyone praying at the mosque. I had entered a small household shop left unattended but for incense and censer, set on the floor of the main aisle. A quiet guardian. A quiet trust. -- With Wong Yankwai, there is also quiet. The way his photography is psychology. His way with the guitar, which has become part of my heart. The way he fills and fills the canvas, as if it can contain all he might want to say, or maybe he cannot stop playing, with the corners often being particular points of exclamation. His painting in my study has two orange-red squares in the top outer edges. The way he will say he is fine, he is always fine, and I think of the lyrics by Bob Dylan: ‘she’s got everything she needs, she’s an artist, she don’t look back.’ The way he says, ‘thank you.’ -- I met Suzy and Yankwai about eight years ago. It was probably late in the evening. We have a sure circle of friends – vocalists, painters, lyricists, writers, critics, filmmakers, academics, journalists, musicians, sculptors, actors, activists, dancers, performance artists – people who believe in their work, in themselves, and in love for the world. We believe in integrity. And Suzy sees Amaronap 2 as integration. -- I have visited three of Suzy Cheung’s studios over the years, each one larger and brighter than the one before. She calls her workspace Sun Studio, and maybe the current studio, on the sixteenth floor of a building on the tram line, is the most sun-like, sky-like, with walls tangerine orange, the ceiling blue, and with her Amanorap work seemingly lighter, brighter, with colour, whimsy, discovery, joy. Suzy says she is still a child sometimes, and Yankwai may or may not say the same. She sees Amanorap as integration, not collaboration. |
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