The Time-travelling Story Teller
By: Elias Rafael Decena
May 25th
Every man has a story to tell. Whether it may be about his glorious past, something about his present or his promising future, man will find a way to tell his story. Every story differs from each other, different but intertwined. Loosely Coupled by turn of unexpected events, we find ourselves having a series of connection with other people. And in every day we venture on with life, we see clearer these connections with others who can be a part of among our past, our present or our future. Though we are connected, we differ in telling our own stories. Some like to tell about how they are able to achieve things they have and what they did to be where they are now, some like to narrate their wonderful adventures as of late and for others, find it amusing to foretell what could be.
So, how do you tell your story? What chronology do you prefer?
For the time I have been talking with artists here in New York, it has been clear to me that they tell their stories through their form of art. Paintings, structures, photographs and other medium has been their way of expressing themselves. Most often than not, I have found paintings to be abstract that you have to have a keen understanding of what you are looking at to be able to come up with something to feel about it, the same with structures and sculptures. But when it comes to photographs, which tend to be clearer and more direct to the idea, most people, including myself, tend to conclude something basing on what we just see in front. But is it always what it seems?
One of the featured artists in the upcoming Loosely Coupled exhibition hosted by the West Harlem Art Fund is Wayne Liu. I checked out his photographs 2 days straight, hoping that somehow his photos would impart some lesson for me to bring with. Especially when I am to write something about an artist who is at the time of “immersion” with his art, as Mr. Liu said.
I came to the address he gave me. I found myself in front of this huge building. On front walls of that building are different posters of varied exhibitions going on inside, most of them are theatrical performances. There are posters faded by time, others have just been posted and some telling of what to expect. Inside the building, you could tell that many things are happening.
I walked up the staircase to reach the suite where Wayne’s studio is at; unfortunately when I got there he wasn’t in. “No worries” I told myself, it was my mistake after all, I didn’t give him any notice that I would be coming. But I keep thinking of what was the last time he had been here; just 20minutes ago? 30? 1 hour? Just a click of the time and I missed him. So I went down and headed to the nearest train station. But just a few minutes of walk away from the station, I saw a familiar face, it was Wayne. I approached him and told that I had just stopped by his place. He told me that he was about to leave for an appointment with a friend and he had only five minutes to spare. Though it was only five minutes, he was generous enough to share it with me (the fact that he was in a hurry).
Together with Wayne, I came back to suite 411. Wayne took pout his key, from that moment I anticipated what to see inside (maybe be photos hanged on the wall with lightings on them, maybe photos framed with polished wood and clear glass). So we entered his studio. The cold air that occupied his place welcomed me with chills. Upon entering, no frames greeted and no lights shone on his photos. Inside Wayne’s studio are piles of photographs scattered on the floor, on tables and every corner of his place. Then and there I thought “this is something different”. I was told to feel free to wander around his studio. I was very careful not to step on his photos given that they’re on the floor.
I saw Wayne’s photos printed on old papers with quality that seems surpassed by time, as too his photographs which portray a past event on China, I could only think of things that happened in the past while looking at his photos. Looking at them, I took a trip to the past. His photos were taken in China, on a trip he had back to the birthplace of his grandparents until their displacement to Taiwan, some were taken on the streets of New York.
I had a chat with Wayne and he shared with me some texts about the way he takes pictures and his motivation behind them. From his texts, I read his point-of-view about China’s moving to progress and the two tracks of time China came from and went to. Wayne also told me what he is used of doing almost every day; visiting random openings and exhibitions, being with friends, helping out with other artists. As of the future of his work Wayne explains “I don’t really plan” telling me that he uses what he sees and dwells on what is available. This day, almost every aspect of what I did and what I asked from the artist is concerned about time. Speaking of time, it seems that Wayne had been so generous about his time that he seemed to forget that five minutes have passed and he was getting with his appointment. So I told him the time and took some quick photos for posting. It was all very quick.
May 26th
As if I felt I haven’t got enough to write about so I set an official appointment with Wayne. Again I found myself in his studio staring at pieces of time-driven photographs. They kept me on thinking about the past that seemingly I forget what I am to do, which is to write about them and what I am to do after that, which is to publish them. His photos have trapped me within the past; maybe their colors had some effect on me, or I was just thinking of the past too often because that is what Wayne’s photos seem to exude. Again, is it always what it seems?
Wayne and I talked about random things jumping from his past photographs, his ideas for the upcoming exhibition on Governor’s Island to stuff like travel food and everything else, losing our track of time. And the point? The point is that I had no point as of those moments. Time flew over me and I had no idea what to write. Being a writer, that’s bad news.
So another day is about to end, and with me is Wayne Liu, a photographer who has a lot of story to tell and has me to write about them by pondering on his work. But as I said as of those moments, I had nothing to think of writing, I had lost my sense of time, my track to write. I had no clue why it happened to me, but it did. But if something was clear, it was the fact that Wayne is telling a story through his photographs; his black-and-white photos of the not-too-distant past.
So how do I tell my story?
I was sitting on the train looking at the pictures I’ve taken inside Wayne’s studio and I thought “How time flies”, just a few moments ago I was talking with Wayne and now I’m sitting in this train thinking of what to write later on. Past, present, future. How time really flies.
Then as I was taking a quick look at the pictures of Wayne’s work, I saw this photo of a man looking at something that seems to be distant. From the photo itself you could tell that it is taken some time ago, but the eyes of the man, though a little closed due to his viewing far, looked so alive for me, it’s as if it was in the same track of time as I am. Describing what the man looked like on the time-passed photo of Wayne, he seems to be looking “ahead” of where he was at the time. It dawned on me, past, present, future.
Every man has a story to tell. Whether it may be about his glorious past, something about his present or his promising future, man will find a way to tell his story. Every story differs from each other, different but intertwined. Loosely coupled by turn of unexpected events, we find ourselves having a series of connection with other people. And in every day we venture on with life, we see clearer these connections with others who can be a part of among our past, our present or our future.
Maybe that was why I lost my track of time, with it my idea of what to write, because I was talking with an artist who used time to put story on his photos. Wayne’s photographs, though looking taken a long time ago, impart some lesson of today and some ideas of what to expect.
I needed to be lost in time to see this from his photographs. From these, I had found a connection among people, aided by time. Wayne took the photograph of this man in the past, I was able to see it in the not-too-distant present and now I’m writing about it for the future people to read; Wayne, I and the person who will read this, three people in three tracks of time. Though we may all differ in telling our story, somehow, though we may get lost in the process, we’ll find ourselves connected bound to happen by time.
