Vivians Verden

She wears instant noodles as accessories and posts Internet photos on her body. She ties iPhone charger as shoelaces and sticks voice message on of her tongue: say hello to John Yuyi. Yuyi has the Mida’s touch for making magic out of the daily grind, with the Internet as her chocolate factory, she was nicknamed the Willy Wonka of the art world.  After several solo exhibitions in New York, we talked to her at the opening of < Why Didn’t You Like My Pic? >, her first collaborated show in her hometown Taipei. 

•  Please introduce your works showcased at <Why Didn’t You Like My Pic?>. 

These are earlier projects of mine, including Face Post and Body Post. They originated from campaigns for my clay swimsuits collection. A year after the campaign, I played with the same concept and put posts by my friends and me on our bodies just for fun. It went viral. So I continued to work on this theme with many more girls and their social media. The one exhibited in <Why Didn’t You Like My Pic?> is called Messenger. 

The work in the middle is Skin On Skin, which I shot in Japan. I went to Japan to shoot Japanese culture, and pornography is one of its most distinguished. So I shot the male version of Face Post and stuck female pornstar tattoos on a male model’s face. What's funny is that at first, several models are greatly interested in collaborating. But after acknowledging what it’s about, they all exclaimed voluntarily, “ きつい！” ( English: This is too intense! ). Eventually yet, unfortunately, I found a gay friend who was willing to do the job. 

I also display one of my works from Tape Tape Furby. I stuck Furby on the wall with different shapes of tape. 

《SKIN ON SKIN》, 2016

《TAPE TAPE FURBY》. Model/ Olivia Furby Cobra

2. You graduated with a fashion design degree. As an artist, how did you figure out creative mediums that suit you best?  

Only until recently was I called an artist. Before that, this title had never really crossed my mind. In New York, I met a Belgique artist, who’s also my creative pal, called Tom Galle. We’ve been Internet friends for a while, and when we finally met, we spent nearly every day in the studio experimenting and creating stuff. Back in Taiwan, I accidentally got into clay and slowly grew to love it. Eventually, I made a small collection out of it. But my goal in Taiwan is to accumulate more projects, so I experimented with many more other mediums. Despite my background in fashion design, making clothes for others seasonally really isn’t my thing.

• The clay swimsuit collection is one of your earliest works that received recognition. Why did you choose to create with swimsuits?

The structure of swimsuits is simple without complicated cut nor sophisticated design. I can easily put patterns and images on them, plus they look cute. Regard of its production cost, the clay swimsuit collection was then made from artworks into commodities.  

• You once said that so far, your own favourite work is Skin On Skin. Why is it?

I love anything related to skins and bodies — my artworks are all somehow linked to this idea. I printed my skin on pig’s skin, therefore naming this project Skin On Skin. It’s my favourite because the others are a bit too girly or childishly colourful. This series is presented relatively more thorough than my other collections.

《SKIN ON SKIN》, 2016

《AV女優》, 2016

• There are plenty of human bodies throughout your several projects. Does photographing human bodies mean something special to you?

For me, the human body is the most intriguing and interactive topic. I often scale in for micro shots on body details. People are different in so many details it’s fascinating!  Some people have many freckles while some have more moles. Some have lots of acnes. These small features are all very compelling to me. Each and every person has different skin tones. Some artworks may not stand out on dark tones, but they may work on lighter ones. But then again, I’m not professional in photography. My skills still need sharpening.

《BACK POST》, 2014

• What’s your relationship with your social media?

Social media are my source of inspiration but also an emotional outlet. Some emotional release later developed into art projects. I printed Faye Wang’s  Way Out lyrics on one of the body posts, for instance. Another example is the Ice Cube From Heart series.

《Ice cube from heart》, 2016

As for my relationship with social media, I think social media are beneficial for creating self -images. A strong and distinctive personality is more impressive and recognisable. For example, there are three collaborators for our Macbook Selfie Stick project, but people often forget the third person, because he doesn’t invest in building his Internet image. I think this is the main difference. For now, Instagram is my main platform. 

•  You’ve mentioned that one of your motivation for doing art is to soothe your anxieties. Have your anxieties changed within your creative process?

Yes of course. My conditions are pretty bad when I first arrived in New York. I’m often anxious and restless. I have to keep on working and visiting many cities because I can’t be doing nothing. I’m afraid to stop. This is one of the reasons why I create art. 

• Apart from Taipei, you’ve stayed in New York and Tokyo to produce art. From a young artist’s point of view, how are these cities different?

I found New York a great place when I first arrived as an intern. I encountered amazing people and opportunities, such as the chance to model for New York Fashion Week and photography shoots for high-end clothing brands. I also met Grace Miceli, the curator of <Why Didn't You Like My Pic>, in New York. In the Big Apple, you have the potential to do many things, but the cost is relatively much higher than in Taiwan.

Tokyo surprised me the most! I had only been to Tokyo for traveling, but as an artist, Tokyo took my arrival by storm. I worked on my projects every two to three days, other than that, I was flooded with unexpected invitations and opportunities. When I announced my Tokyo trip on Instagram, several familiar magazines contacted me at once. For instance, Nylon Magazine invited me to their street snaps, further introduced me an It Girl issue they were working on. Before that they even offered a six-page presentation of my works. It was so flattering.

I think in New York, artists can gradually build themselves. As I accumulated my works in New York, media in Tokyo noticed what I’ve been up to and decided to contact me. Japanese treats me like an honourable guest, while Taiwanese can’t care less. Even Chinese media contacted me. It’s pretty sad actually. Taiwanese media would wait until foreign media’s acknowledgments to decide what to report on. I have a friend who wanted to present my works to the press, but his superior didn’t approve his pitch until media like Dazed and i-D did a coverage of my works.

• How do you feel about finally exhibiting in your hometown Taipei?

I am so touched! Finally, there are some Taiwanese who noticed me! I love Taiwan so much but only foreigners care about my works. The same works received different responses on Facebook and Instagram — the latter from more international viewers. 

Maybe my almost all-English social media accounts attribute to the attention gap. I’m still very local, though, I’m made in Taiwan! There are lots of talented young Taiwanese creatives on Instagram, however not all have the chance to go abroad and campaign their works like me. I think it’s due to the lack of diversity in Taiwanese’s media culture, which results to poor exposure chances for young artists.

I used to work as a freelance styling assistant for a Taiwanese magazine and experienced the conservative atmosphere led by superiors. They believe the things that haven’t gotten attention are uninteresting to people. So they add more flame to those already very acceptable and popular. Taiwanese are still pretty conservative and traditional, I guess. This timid attitude worsens the lack of art diversity.

•  Do you have any future projects in mind?

I’ll be making projects in London like I did in Tokyo. Currently, I have a collaboration with London-based Japanese singer Rina. She had a social media tattoo similar to my FacePost as her album cover, way before FacePost made its hit. Later she told me that it was inspired by me. I'm so utterly flattered! Besides that, I’ll be collaborating with a Hong Kong fashion designer Robin Wun. 

《FACE POST》. Photography/ Chien-Wen Lin aka Things i Lost

All Artwork Images Courtesy of John Yuyi.
Interview Photography/ Manchi.

Recently, Taipei has been generous towards summer countdowns by withholding its typical pouring rain and offering buttery sunlit afternoons. I seized these precious golden hours and spent the last few days of vacation in this city’s meandering allies. As if to resonate with my peaceful amble, the streets unraveled two unexpected exhibitions that modestly portrayed Japanese Zen with delicate art and craftsmanship — Rhythm by Tempo at Pong Ding and Yuko Ikeda’s ceramics exhibition at Xiaoqi. 

Unlike Kant, who believed that only objects without practicality withhold beauty, 18th French painter Jean Siméon Chardin once said that utensils all have their own souls.We can perceive and enter their souls through generous encounters. I, and certainly Yuko Ikeda would agree with the latter. 

Ikeda graduated from Pratts with an art degree, but only got her hands on pottery after she returned to Japan. Through self-taught and uncountable hours in her garage studio, Ikeda whirls daily inspirations and her unique feminine personality into pots and plates.

As I ran my fingertips along Ikeda's ceramics, trailing behind are their blossoming spirits, which some resonate a tree, a shimmering river, clouds before a storm, or an aging petal. Suddenly, plates and cups are no longer containers for the daily frivolity but the sum of everyday beauty throughout our lives. 

RHYTHM by Tempo

Rhythm features a collection of handmade mobiles by Japanese studio Tempo. Geometric shapes idly dance and twirl in the air, creating a gentle rhythm and special balance between itself and space through time. Their structure changes gradually through different perspective with its shadow as a double, like a slow waltz with itself. 

Constellation is a mobile of dots connected with thin threads in perfect angles. Gazing upon its three-dimensional movement is like watching stars flicker and dance above our heads. Every dot’s minimal weight plays an important part in the whole structure. With their pattern and order as guidance, gravity unfolds its own shape and its kinetic beauty.

Designers create their foundation. Space, gravity, and time bring them life. The beauty of Tempo mobiles is a collaboration of craftsmen and nature. So often artworks are solid pieces of artists’ minds and visions, but artists of Rhythm step back from the usual spotlight and let the mobiles interact with their audiences and the exhibition space. 

Both Rhythm and Ikeda’s ceramics unconsciously capture the intangible spirit of living and breathing with our surroundings. Humble and almost reluctant to articulate, these Japanese designers and artists know best how to let their artworks speak for their own. When I left the gallery, the dusk had darkened, pedestrians scurried frantically. Cars and flocks of scooters rumbled and shook the ground. But Ikeda’s tender ceramics and Tempo’s meditative mobiles still lingered inside me, and I feel oddly peaceful and generous towards time and everything within. 

Exhibition Info:
RHYTHM - 9/3 ~ 9/25  at Pong Ding Art Gallery
YUKO IKEDA CERAMICS - 9/3 ~ 9/21 at XiaoQi Gallery

Personal space, as French philosopher Bachelard described it in his book The Poetic of Space, isn’t only a geometric term of height, width and length, but also where we treasure our memories, intimacies and our souls. It is our first universe. But I-Ping Peng throws a question at us in her solo exhibition Women’s Rooms : “ Do you know less than 2% of Taiwanese women own a space of their own?” Peng visited more than 50 countries, stepped inside 200 personal rooms of women, and brought out their unobstrusive stories and personalities. Her exhibition comes in three parts: Global Women’s Rooms, Taiwanese Women’s Rooms, and My Room. Together it is a journey from the very alien to oneself.  

photo via: I-Ping Peng

In Global Women’s Rooms, I-Ping Peng satirically named one of her collection Rear Window, a heads up for men on the voyeuristic view of feminine domestic privacy. Spoiler alert: Peng hasn’t found anything Hitchcock had borne in mind. Far from it, actually. For the record, women’s private rooms have been linked with the idea of sex. Even a male tutor would avoid teaching in his female student’s bedroom, fearing that they might end up as the next  Abélard and Héloïse. But Peng showed us these 200 rooms of diverse women have only one thing in common: they do not serve as a luring and sexy imagery for men's desires. Peng spent more than 20 years, used more than one medium to sophisticatedly portray these women and crushed society’s stereotypes on feminine cultures.

But what interests me the most isn't the those who own privacy, but the other 98% who does not. Are there other places where women sans space privacy can nurture their personality and gain independence? If there are no solid walls and doors for privacy, can the spirit of private spaces live on ?

According to Bachelard, if personal space doesn’t exist between the walls, then it might as well be kept in other domestic components. Between prudent lines on floor plans are rooms with names: main bedroom, kitchen, living room. For that 98% of Taiwanese women, privacy is nameless, scattered and unrecognizable by rulers and compasses. Instead, drawers are filled with dusty secrets. My grandma, for example, retains her personal space by creating unique habits and rituals: only grandma understands how to organise the fridge properly, only she can find hidden recipes from an inconspicuous drawer. A cabinet opened is an entire cosmos, every habitual action or a simple routine is a password that opens another dimension of her existence.  

Beside French philosophy, the fashion industry has its own way of shaking the dull framework of female’s bedroom since the 17th century, long before Peng held her exhibition. Le manteau is a piece of clothing so common nowadays that no one bothers much, but it certainly is something to fuss about during the 17th century. Le manteau used to serve as loungewear for aristocrats, while haute couture is the proper outdoor outfit. After 1678, it inflamed the déshabillé trend as it was made more sophisticated and elegant for outdoors. Fashionable Parisiennes put on what was once private for public in pursuit of a sexier style, and it’s not hard to imagine what a bomb le manteau had been. What le manteau had brought isn’t simply another fashion breakthrough, but an empowerment for women to break down the wall between female public and domestic image. It pushed society’s slim imagination (sex) of women’s privacy out of sealed doors and made “sexy” an outspoken charisma. 

Peng’s voyeuristic journey explored how women imagine and create themselves in their personal spaces. She set aside our traditional “Rear Window” perspective and delved into the true meaning of personal space for women.  Only if we think outside the boundary of sex and the outskirts of rooms can we profoundly shape ourselves and build our own universe.