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Posts tagged ‘北京 beijing’

II:回归周口店之旅将在5月1日早6点在北京协和医院东门口正式启动。自计划公布以来,我们已经收到了很多十分有趣的项目题案,当然题案征集仍在继续,请想跟我们一起去但尚未取得联系的同志抓紧了!

请参与者尽量选择舒适合脚的鞋,带上所有出行必备的物品并想办法将行走过程以不同方式记录下来。不计划行走全程的参与者可以在途中与我们相遇。沿途沟通请致电15001127304(英)18910792649(中)。如果你想在周口店过夜,请在4月28日之前与我们取得联系,统一订房,费用由个人承担。第二天,我们可以一起“参观”周口店猿人遗址公园,呵呵。一路顺风

The journey back to Zhoukoudian starts by meeting at 6 am on May 1st at Xiehe Hospital.
A number of participants have signed up with their contributions to the story, but participation is still open to all!
Please consider footwear and clothing carefully and any equipment necessary for your participation. Also consider methods of documentation.

Participants can also join at other points along the way if not for the whole walk. Please call 15001127304 (EN) 18910792649 (中文) to find out the progress of the walk and possible meeting points.

If you wish to stay overnight with the group, please let us know by April 29th so that we can make a reservation at a local hotel (costs covered by individuals).
The next day, we will proceed on to the Peking Man site at Zhoukoudian where we will make some collective actions.
Bon voyage!

章节…… Chapters:
蓝T恤 The Blue Shirts ……………………………………………. Adam Chapluski
地形与地层 Landscape Stratoscape …………………………. Patrick Conway
砖头到水泥再归来 from bricks to concrete and back …  François Dey
当穴居人碰上太空人 Caveman Meets Spaceman ………. Michael Eddy
北京人拉松 Pekingathon ………………………………………… Gordon Laurin
丽莎 LISA …………………………………………………………….. 李丽莎 Lisa Li
留 Remains ………………………………………………………….. 欧阳潇 Ouyang Xiao
北京人,你是谁?Peking Man, who are you?……………. 植村絵美 Emi Uemura

…………………………………………和其他勇敢的冒险者…. And other brave adventurers

……………………………………………. 包括 ….. including …. 曲一镇 Qu Yizhen, Alessandro Rolandi, Orianna Cacchione, 王大船家 Wang Dachuan and family

项目招集 /// Call for Participation


直立行走II:重返周口店

5月1日,家作坊将举办第二期“直立行走”项目,再次步行去往北京房山区周口店北京猿人遗址公园。目的地离北京约60公里,耗时约18个小时,晚上在周口店过夜。 作为一个公众参与项目,我们希望每一位参与者能在活动开始前规划出自己的行走路线(走不了全程没有问题,量力而行),并以其为基础,将行走本身视为一种写作,在运动中构建另一种轨迹,无论是历史、个体故事、 意识形态还是任何一种同一性或连贯逻辑的生产或颠覆。 沿途的历史遗迹、当代景观与日常生活系统都可以成为构成上述运动的概念/物理节点。 如果你对本项目感兴趣,欢迎你将你的想法与联系方式发送到我们的邮箱lianxi@homeshop.org.cn。 我们也会于近期发布本次活动的具体日程安排与活动背景。

路线图:
https://maps.google.ca/maps/ms?msid=210439387421320430949.0004d924ec7b761d071c3&msa=0

 

Walking Erect II: Journey back to Zhoukoudian

On May 1st, HomeShop is embarking on its second walk to Zhoukoudian, location of the famed Peking Man archaeological site. At nearly 60 km from central Beijing, it is a full day’s walk, and our plan includes an overnight stay near the site. However, this journey through time and space is open to those willing to participate.

See the basic route here:
https://maps.google.ca/maps/ms?msid=210439387421320430949.0004d924ec7b761d071c3&msa=0

As a walking project, we are taking the actual historical as well as current sites we pass by as sites for a series of actions along the way, triggering a form of writing-by-walking. (Participants who can’t commit to such distances can also come in at certain points along the route.)

Because of the destination’s symbolic place in modern history and contested place in prehistory, we invite participants to consider histories, stories and false trajectories as contributions, in relation to particular features of the route. The schedule and background of this walk will be rendered in detail soon. Please indicate your desire to participate a.s.a.p. and send your proposals to lianxi@homeshop.org.cn

Join us!

 

On the Problem of Transplantation
Julie Ren (julie.ren@hu-berlin.de) visited HomeShop in 2012 and spoke with Elaine W. Ho and Fotini Lazaridou-Hatzigoga about the various issues around initiating and sustaining art/project spaces in Beijing and Berlin for her Humboldt University dissertation research. While gentrification is not her area of research, it is something she is trying to approach critically, especially as a dominant framing of urban change. In preparation for an upcoming publication on the topic, she continued the discussion with Michael Eddy.

 
Julie: I’m still doubtful about applying the gentrification lens to Beijing, and I plan to focus my contribution to the book on the problems of transplanting urban concepts. To me, it’s a hermeneutic lens and it reflects the need to interpret urban change in terms of dominant academic canons—whether it’s global/mega cities, cosmopolitanism, network societies, mobility paradigms… or gentrification.

My doubt is two-fold. First, I’m skeptical about its being an accurate means to interpret the socio-economic and demographic changes in Beijing neighborhoods. Sure, many neighborhoods are visibly changed, there is high turnover of residents and prices are increasing. But is this the result of an urban gentry moving in to displace residents with a lower average income? With a view to neighborhoods such as Gulou and Wudaoying within the 2nd ring, this seems more a top-down business development scheme rather than a residential real estate-driven change. Especially in the Hutongs, I wonder about the issue of demographic change – to what extent is it income and to what extent is it elder residents being replaced with younger residents? To what extent are they being displaced, and to what extent are Hutong residents moving out to become new landlords? 

Secondly, I’m concerned about the embedded normative question of: Should we interpret urban change in Beijing in terms of gentrification? As I stated above, I think it’s a hermeneutic instrument that reflects the academic background and experiences of those seeking to understand urban change in Beijing. Moreover, there are assumed notions of urban inequality and social justice accompanying the term that allude to the realities of a neoliberal city in which mobility and privilege often function in tandem. Yet mobility in Chinese cities is a fraught issue, often a result of broad macroeconomic changes driving rural poor to find work in cities, exacerbated by remittance obligations and a lack of legal status. (A much more pressing issue of urban inequality might be Hukou reform rather than neighborhood-level change.) 
It just seems to me there are fundamental assumptions about gentrification that fail to account for the realities of the urban context in Beijing. I can understand why especially the growing international community in Beijing might be thinking in these terms, but I wonder if it doesn’t have more to do with them, than the city in which they live?
 
Michael: As for your first doubt, it is well-founded. However, I wonder where you can draw the line between the good-intentioned BoBos and top-down gentrification, even in Beijing. If you think of the Richard Florida school of thought and the thousand waterfront loft conversions and creative districtings it inspired toward the “creative cities” obsession, I would still need to consider the relation of that to possible forms of gentrification.

Perhaps I misunderstand the technicalities of the terms. But it is on the one hand often a rebranding and intensification of the gentrification already at work somewhere, as well as not totally predictable as to its effects. Some go with it and profit from it—but maybe now I am thinking of the experience of being in China. Mai Dian (a friend from Wuhan) has been involved in projects about development around East Lake, notably the privatization of once publicly accessible lands, including “Our East Lake.” For his contribution to the recently-released Wear journal 3, published by HomeShop, he discussed one of the problems in the activists’ resistance to the developments: that many of the farmers and other landowners who they would have hoped to share some solidarity with, had been more disarmed by the imagoes of “contemporary living” presented by the developments and ideas of progress than gathering together a concerted resistance.

Because of its action of government-aided corporate appropriation of large tracts of land, maybe it is not realistic to call this gentrification; my only curiosity is in this imaginary relation to development and contemporaneity. Maybe it would be absurd to humor the idea of a kind of “self-gentrification” though. This imaginary to aim for is brilliantly embodied in the fetishization and commodification of culture—with contemporary art sitting near the top. In many places, including China, art is braided within this tension; it is hard as an artist not to fall on the conspirators’ side at least sometimes.

Richard Florida’s insistence that the economic category of cities could be assessed and enhanced by the number of “creatives” (and homosexuals) is not totally inapplicable if you look at urban change in Beijing, which is not to say that his theories are correct (look at Martha Rosler’s text for an overview of the problems relating art to real estate).
To take a tasteless example, the 798 art district taking over the factory spaces near Jiuxianqiao Road was “authentically” started by artists, and only much later became an art district by edict. Art-inspired rebranding of a place with actual roots in artists first settling there is also taking place in Tongzhou, Caochangdi (which has so far miraculously managed to avoid being razed for at least 2 years since I heard the threat) and other far-out places. In these places, complex cooperation and co-existence between migrant workers, landlord and the art world takes place, though it surely totally disfigures their original states. I guess you could say these also launched a thousand top-down developed gated communities themed on art as well.

In our experience at HomeShop, it is a slightly different story inside the 2nd Ring Road. To some degree, there are the local administrative plans—and in some areas, like Dashilan, I should also mention there are at least nominal attempts to retain local character and occupants at least for the foreseeable future as an architecture firm (sorry can’t recall name at present) develops the area—but the aspect of cultural tourism predates that. (For instance, Nanluoguxiang, which is now the pinnacle of hutong tourism, may have been initiated by some locals, though at present I can’t substantiate this beyond hearsay and less than rigorous journalism.) You also see local hutong-dwellers making adjustments to benefit from the potential returns of tradition (Elaine mentions this in one of her posts on the HomeShop blog, though the residents she mentions aren’t well-to-do by most measures).
HomeShop also adds to the ingredients of the area, of course—I am not sure whether I mentioned an architect friend took over the space across the hutong that used to be an old Shouyi shop? I feel that is a pretty textbook gentrification move, assisted by our presence there to some degree, even if things like this only happen in pockets—but that’s how it happens, if I understand correctly.

So I agree that it is different in China, for instance these several levels co-existing sometimes precisely because they are so different (in the cases of migrant workers living next to fancy condo complexes… at least temporarily), and because of government involvement awkwardly fitting, but I do not think it is a normatively inappropriate to use the term in selected circumstances, especially those relating to culture.
 
“Artlife,” an upscale mixed use residential development under construction on a stretch of highway near Hangzhou, Zhejiang Province.
 
 
Julie: I’ll pick up with the idea you suggest at the end, of a selective application of gentrification to culture. The example of the architect displacing the Shouyi shop could certainly be a part of gentrification, but is it culturally-led gentrification? Or is it more simply economic? Gentrification and culture are connected in a multitude of ways, but I think most commonly, culture is seen as a driver of gentrification. And it’s this conceptualization of culturally-led or culturally-driven gentrification (in its pioneering activity) that most directly, most explicitly implicates artists and creative industry workers. It is rare, let’s say, for an artist or graphic designer or architect to push out a low-income shop in London. More common would be for them to inhabit available spaces in unkempt neighborhoods, rendering them attractive for the middle classes, the urban gentry, who in turn do the heavy-lifting in terms of displacement. This is at least the “common” example, but perhaps this is how Beijing differentiates itself – artists/creatives can directly displace lower income people. Whether the Shouyi shop pushed out or they moved due to the cost of rent, I’m assuming from the example that the architect was able to pay more rent than the Shouyi shop, implying the rising cost of the area, and ensuing displacement. What I find dangerous is simply attaching “gentrifier” to anyone who lives in/moves to a city and works in a creative field.

The Hutong neighborhood changes definitely deserve more attention. But I wonder if the changes in areas like Nanluoguxiang and Wudaoying (which you described as Hutong tourism) should really be understood in terms of gentrification. Why don’t we interpret it in terms of commercialization? I also don’t think enough attention is brought to the longer view – the issue of preservation in the context Hutong evisceration. In German there is the term “Aufwertung” which means “revaluation, giving something additional value,” and I wonder if those changes can’t also be interpreted in terms of simply urban regeneration. This is what I mean by the “gentrification hermeneutic” – that it is a way that people interpret changes, because that is how urban change happens in the cities we are most familiar with. (I mean, it’s its own canon of urban theory!) Of course, the commercialization comes at a cost to the neighborhood, to what it looks like, to what people do there, to the transformation of a residential area into a leisure destination. But, like the case above, I don’t want to label all architects moving in as gentrifiers, and I don’t want to label any street with a cafe as a gentrified area, unless they are really participating in an active process of displacing low-income residents with a higher income group of residents. But, like Elaine said, it’s often the residents themselves participating in these new commercial ventures, so I wonder about actual displacement…

In relation to the attempt to preserve “local character” I want to put in question the idea of an “authentic” art area. From the interviews I did last year, there is broad consensus about the development of 798—from its initiation to its Disney-fication through to the current state. The grassroots nature of its initiation is legendary, especially in the broader scheme of centralized urban planning in China, and served as the inspiration for starting my dissertation. Beyond the consensus about the history, however, the views of artists and curators I interviewed about the nature of artistic space are widely divergent, often contradictory. What is authentically creative seems to at times contradict the very nature of having a stable, long-term, protected, sustainable space. By that I mean, many artists seem to fear stagnation, and I wonder if the very idea of an “authentic” art area is not temporal? Maybe an art space can only be authentic for a moment? Is it maybe in the nature of artistic practice to also be pioneering in terms of occupying or selecting new space (BEYOND the cheap rent argument)?

Michael: Indeed, I use the word “authentic” with great reluctance, and only in the face of the top-down approach, whether that is government or Florida-inspired regeneration. I agree with your assessment of the term otherwise, and how artists are not really looking for it, or expressing or embodying it.

I also realized I had skipped over the point of commercial vs. residential change, which I think is harder to say. Unless we very narrowly define them, figuring out the precise dynamic of the distinction between commercialization and gentrification in that sense would be quite difficult though! It suggests misuse of the terms by many commentators.

Oh, and though this would not represent a very general trend, the issue of how foreigners interact in local economies is something else, both influential (defining standards, prices) and powerless (subject to higher prices at times) at the same time. Really quite marginal though, unless on symbolic level.

Okay, that’s just a quick reply, gotta run! Cappuccinos 加油!


The neighboring Shouyi shop, photographed July 13th, 2012.

春天来了!起床,来城里种菜

在过去的两个星期,家作坊与北京都市农耕联盟的简明清准备了一个很NB的项目:复合养殖! 想法是在屋顶上构建一个鱼与植物的共生系统。具体措施是在一个面积15平方米的穹形暖室中,放置一个容量为2千升的鱼缸并在鱼缸的周围种植蔬菜。计划目前尚处于筹备阶段,在基本结构完成之后,我们会在下个月开始养鱼。如果你有种植,养鱼,工程设计,网页设计,翻译等方面的才华,并希望加入到这个项目中,那就尽管来吧。

3月9号(周六)下午两点,我们将在家作坊召开一个项目筹策会,给参与者介绍一下本项目与复合养殖的基本知识。超希望你的参与!欢迎!

Spring is in the air! Let’s wake up from hibernation and plant the city.

Over the last weeks, we (HomeShop and Beijing Urban Farmers Union’s Jonas Nakonz) have been preparing a pilot project for urban aquaponics in HomeShop. The aim is to grow fish and vegetables in an integrated system on the roof. So far, we’ve been gathering information and creating a rough design for a 2000 Liter fish tank and about 10m2 of vegetables, in a geodesic dome greenhouse. Now it’s a matter of refining the design, sourcing components, and starting to build. We hope to add fish to our tank within a month from now. We would be glad for any contribution of ideas/skills in gardening, fish farming, building, engineering, web programming, translation, etc. Everybody is cordially invited to join our learning journey!

We meet at HomeShop this Saturday, March 9th at 2pm for a kickoff meeting. For newcomers, the idea of aquaponics will be introduced. We’ll discuss where we’re at and how to proceed. With a little luck, we may be ready to build the greenhouse structure that day. (If we aren’t killed by sandstorms.)

北京都市农耕联盟
Beijing Urban Farmers Union

日期/时间 date__ 9月7日周日,下午5点 | Friday, 7 September, 17:00
地点 location__ 家作坊 HomeShop

(在家)堆肥工作坊,北京都市农耕联盟

第一次北京都市农耕联盟的活动反响不错,大家都表示要继续开展一系列的工作坊和会议来继续学习如何在城市内种植。第一步当然是土壤,但是如何获得土壤和有机肥料在城市里一直是个难题;而同时,周围的填埋场63%填埋的却是厨余垃圾,在污染环境。所以,厨余堆肥毫无疑问是都市农耕的优先行动之首。

2012年9月7日下午5点,也就是本周五下午5点,我们很荣幸的邀请到一位很特别的专家来分享户用厨余堆肥技术,她是来自日本旅居柏林的艺术家、园艺师Ayumi Matsuzaka。在过去几年中,Ayumi Matsuzaka在全世界推介她在食物,废弃物及自然循环方面的知识。最近她也参加了在伊比利亚当代艺术中心的“改变的力量!美学与可持续性的探索”系列活动。如果你错过了她在伊比利亚当代艺术中心的活动,人生将在家作坊给你第二次机会,不容再次错过哦!

我们将会了解有关在柏林的都市农耕运动,重点学习这种适用于公寓、阳台或者楼顶的小规模无臭味的堆肥方法。如果你有一个有盖的桶或者箱子(不超过40L),你可以带来参加这个工作坊,之后就可以带着属于你的“启动工具包”回家!

请提前注册,我们好准备相应的材料。谢谢!

Beijing Urban Farming Union: home composting workshop

The first Beijing Urban Farming Union event has met with great interest and we vowed to continue a series of workshops and meetings to learn about growing food in the city. It all begins with the soil, but accessing soil and organic nutrients has proven to be a problem in the city; meanwhile, the dumpsites are still filled with 63% kitchen waste, polluting the environment. So practical solutions for home composting are at the top of the priority list.

This Friday (7 September 2012) at 5pm, we will have the pleasure to learn a proven home composting method from a very distinguished specialist. Ayumi Matsuzaka is a japanese artist and gardener living in Berlin; she has travelled the world spreading her knowledge on food, waste, and natural cycles for several years; in Beijing she also takes part of the sustainability/art series “Examples to Follow” at Iberia Art center. For those who couldn’t meet her there, life gives you a second chance at HomeShop. Don’t miss it!

We will learn about the urban gardening movement in Berlin and focus on a small-scale non-smelly composting method for your apartment/balcony/rooftop. If you have a used bucket or box with a lid (up to 40 liters), you can bring it to the workshop and take home your starter kit.

Please register in advance for us to prepare the materials.

价格 cost__ 20元

报名请联系 please rsvp__ lianxi@homeshop.org.cn

北京都市农耕联盟 启动会:8月11日,16:00 @家作坊
Beijing Urban Farming Union kickoff meeting: August 11, 16:00 @ HomeShop

诚邀您来家作坊参加这次有关都市农耕交流,来认识志同道合的朋友,了解关于都市农耕的实际情况和DIY自己动手的技术,与其他朋友分享自己的知识和经验。 从哪弄土壤和肥料? 从哪获得种子? 用什么容器? 在哪种? 该如何共同努力才能把都市农耕变得更容易更有趣呢? 为了解答这些问题,我们将组织参观家作坊的实地小农场、堆肥实验及种子交换库,对小型的民间及社区农耕行动进行介绍,探讨连接不同的农耕群体(包括潜在的农耕者)并促进他们的合作的可能途径。 我们应该在城市里种植更多的粮食和蔬菜! 这次交流会就是为了邀请大家参与进来!

Please join us for a gathering at HomeShop to exchange on urban farming in Beijing. It’s an opportunity to meet likeminded people, learn some facts and d.i.y. techniques, and share knowledge and experiences. How can we access soil and fertilizer? Where can we get seeds? What materials can we use for containers, and where can we put them? How can we work together to make it easier and more fun?

To address these questions, on the agenda will be a tour of HomeShop’s on-site small farm and composting experiments and Seed Exchange Bank, presentations on small civil-society and community initiatives into agriculture in Beijing, and envisioning possible ways of linking up and cooperating among diverse groups of growers (and potential growers).

We should grow more food in the cities! This meeting is an invitation to get involved.

共同组织:家作坊和简明清
Co-organized by HomeShop and Jonas Nakonz 

其他:
在家门口种上一株黄瓜,即刻你就被转移到一个包含所有下列事物的宇宙:全球政治,复杂生态系统,社会变化,减缓气候变化,DIY技术,大大提高的生活质量和关注自然之美带来的精神上感悟。 民以食为天,但是平常你吃的食物可能带来生物多样性破坏,全球气候变化,土壤和水的污染。
数据: 在中国,农业一个部门排放的温室气体是整个工业部门的将近两倍。每年中国使用约有5千万吨化学肥料,但只有17%被作物吸收,其余的则都流失到了环境中。更不用说,每年喷洒在你食物上的150万吨农药,还有在生产这些农药过程中使用的煤炭能源。而在中国,马路上30%的耗油大卡车实际上是在运送粮食。如果你能闻到饭菜里的燃油气味,肯定吃不下饭!
中国的城市化带来了人类历史上最大规模的人口迁移,也创造了大约1万平方公里的可使用的屋顶面积,这些空间给有机种植者提供了一个庞大的舞台来解决前面提到的问题。此外,大量的有机质以厨余垃圾的形式被浪费。北京每天就填埋处理8千吨,焚烧处理2千吨厨余垃圾,而这些厨余垃圾完全经过堆肥处理制成有机肥来供都市农耕使用。 在市区,“桶园艺”令人耳目一新,尤其在中老年人中很流行。但都市农耕的潜力远远不止于此。技术琳琅满目,从利用回收的瓶子完成自灌的简易系统到由传感器控制的自动化农场,非常有意思。任何空间和环境都有其用武之地。都市农耕能把灰暗压抑的水泥空间变成令人耳目一新的的放松与聊天场所。它创新社区、交流网络、以及教育和能力建设的平台。不要再等政府来帮忙解决我们这个星球的问题。如果你种下那棵黄瓜,那么你就为一项伟大的事业贡献了一份力量!

More:
Plant a cucumber at your doorstep and you’re instantly beamed into a universe of global politics, complex ecosystems, social change, climate change mitigation, d.i.y. technology, massively improved quality of life and spiritual enlightenment contemplating the beauty of nature. Food sustains life; but eating your average food can contribute to the destruction of biodiversity, global warming and poisoning of soils and water.
Some figures: Chinese agriculture emits almost twice as much greenhouse gas than its entire industrial sector. Of the yearly 50 Million tons of inorganic fertilizer poured onto Chinese soil, only 17% is taken up by crops. The rest is “lost to the environment”. Not to mention the yearly dose of 1.5 million tons of toxic pesticides sprayed on your food, and the coal-burning energy to produce that stuff. What is more, 30% of all fuel guzzling trucks on Chinese roads are actually transporting food – if you could smell the carbon in your dish you’d choke.
Chinese urbanization – the largest migration in human history – has led to the creation of an estimated 10,000 km2 of unused rooftop area in China; that’s a big playground for organic gardeners to counter these problems. There’s tons of wasted organic matter; Beijing alone sends 8000 tons of food waste to the landfills every day and burns another 2000 tons. All of that could be put into compost bins and provide clean nutrients for your food. In Chinese cities, bucket gardening is refreshingly popular, particularly among the elderly. But the potential of urban farming goes far beyond. There are fascinating technologies, ranging from easy self-watering systems from recycled bottles to sensor-controlled automated farms. There is something smart for every space and condition. Urban farming can transform gray concrete into spaces of relaxation and dialogue. It creates community, networks of exchange, a platform for education and empowerment. Don’t wait until governments solve the problems of this planet. If you plant that cucumber, you’re part of a big thing!

A traditional courtyard house.

A church, for training purposes.

A real post office, on the left.

A fake coffee shop next to a real tea shop.

 A fake Carrefour

A real supermarket

 A fake bank.

 An alleyway next to a real print shop.

A consulate for “Country A.” 

A fake government building.

A real police station.

 

On the edge of town.

My first attempt to enter the Chinese People’s Public Security University at 7 o’clock on a Thursday morning met with abrupt rejection. “This university is not like others,” the sympathetic but inflexible guard smiled. The following Tuesday I returned and through the magic words of a few contacts, fairly waltzed into the vast and well-kept campus, abuzz with the meticulous workings of early evening. We walked along streets with names like “Loyalty Avenue” and “Diligence Avenue” in a self-contained parallel universe populated by young cops and athletes in various groupings and formations breaking apart, flowing through a corner together, founding blue constellations across the immense, dusking Culture Plaza. No trash cans in this world: trash cans mean trash. No holding hands in this world. 

After a review of evening roll call followed by substantial dinner in the cafeteria, we proceeded to a large installation near the heart of the campus, formed of a massive free wall surrounding a model of what appeared to be a European style town center. The traffic lights stood blind and waiting, and through a window above a real dry cleaners came the keening quasi-tunes of karaoke. 

The town was neither completely real nor completely fake. Perhaps this diversifying was to make it more interesting, to create a sense that this dead space was somehow half alive, like a permeable, banal amusement park. But as a training ground for how to tackle situations like traffic control and bank robberies, one could also imagine this mixture of shops for daily necessities and the neighboring empty simulations as furnishing the leitmotif of preparedness for social breakdown even on one’s habitual off-hour trips to commissary.

Passing again outside the wall, we cut across the gigantic sports fields to a low building of studio rooms where extracurricular clubs convened. One of our guides, whose major is in processing foreigners and who loves punk music, had offered to let us watch their brand practice. We were treated to a suite of Chinese and American standards including “Every Breath You Take” by the Police, “Desperado” by the Eagles and “Holiday” by Green Day. 

No irony in this world. Just the shining, armed citizens with their perfect eyesight (mandated to make it through the gate), honing their creative, sexual energies for the republic.

Holiday

“Say, hey!

Hear the sound of the falling rain
Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!)
The shame
The ones who died without a name

Hear the dogs howling out of key
To a hymn called “Faith and Misery” (Hey!)
And bleed, the company lost the war today

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

Hear the drum pounding out of time
Another protester has crossed the line (Hey!)
To find, the money’s on the other side

Can I get another Amen? (Amen!)
There’s a flag wrapped around a score of men (Hey!)
A gag, a plastic bag on a monument

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday

(Hey!)
(Say, hey!)

(Wait for it!)

“The representative from California has the floor”

Sieg Heil to the president Gasman
Bombs away is your punishment
Pulverize the Eiffel towers
Who criticize your government
Bang bang goes the broken glass and
Kill all the fags that don’t agree
Trials by fire, setting fire
Is not a way that’s meant for me
Just cause (hey, hey, hey), just cause, because we’re outlaws yeah!

I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
I beg to dream and differ from the hollow lies
This is the dawning of the rest of our lives

This is our lives on holiday”

 (from the album “American Idiot” by Green Day, 2005) 

城市农夫比赛



你是否身居城市的钢筋森林,却有一颗向往田园生活的心?

你是否在阳台、在房前屋后、甚至在郊区租了一小块地种菜、育苗、浇灌果树,而且不使用化肥、农药等各种化学合成物质,是个骄傲的城市有机农夫?

你是否觉得自己也是种菜能手,傲视京城?

如果以上三个问题的回答都是YES,那么请参加北京有机农夫市集为您度身定做的“城市农夫比赛”,向专业的有机农夫和各路专家(以及“砖家”)证明你的实力吧!

时间:2011年9月25日(周日)12pm-4pm

地点:城市农夫比赛及农夫市集周年庆祝活动
天窗临时咖啡店/酒吧, 大栅栏燕家胡同2号

具体比赛流程和时间安排稍后公布。更多信息请见新浪微博@北京有机农夫市集 http://weibo.com/farmersmarketbj;和博客http://t.cn/adIcwx

奖品:奖品将由市集农户和商户,以及部分合作伙伴提供,包括:新鲜蔬菜、香草茶、红酒、《贝太厨房》杂志,手工首饰,手工糕点等。

您和您家的蔬果可以报名角逐以下类别的奖项:

  • 瓜拉松奖:最佳南瓜造型;最坚强丝瓜;最搞怪冬瓜;最美丽葫芦奖。
  • 最红西红柿。
  • 香草盆栽造型大师。
  • 豆你玩奖(豆科种类大比拼)
  • 珍稀品种奖
  • 自由类别(您可以为您家的蔬果设计专门的奖项哦)

比赛结果将由消费者和评审团共同评选产生。评审团成员包括:

  • 经验丰富的专业有机农夫
  • 园艺专家
  • 美食作家
  • 吃货砖家等

比赛奖品由市集农户和志愿者提供。当然,更重要的奖励是来自专业和业余农夫的经验交流,技术分享,甚至种子和苗圃交换。

有兴趣报名参赛的城市农夫请把以下信息发到farmersmarketbj@gmail.com,请务必在标题注明“城市农夫比赛报名”:

  • 参加比赛的蔬果品种和竞技类别
  • 蔬果及其生长环境的照片,尺寸不超过1M
  • 您种菜的地点和环境(阳台上?市内?家门口的院子?还是在郊区租的地?)
  • 蔬果生长的方位(具体到马路、小区或村即可,最好网上地图可以搜索到大致方位)
  • 联系方式(电子邮件、电话;如有微博,请注明)


URBAN GROWERS COMPETITION!



Are you a city-dweller who grows food (home-grown organic, no chemicals!) in or around your home?
So you think your vegetables are the best in town, huh?
Come and prove your skills at the next Country Fair, happening September 25th in Dashilar!

Urban Growers Competition & Country Fair’s First Anniversary Celebration
at Sky Light pop-up Café, No. 2 Yanjia Hutong

Sign up for the following categories:

  • The Gourd Quadrathlon: Best pumpkin shape; strongest sigua; monster beigua; perfect hulu aesthetic
  • Reddest Tomato Award
  • Potted Herb Arrangement Masters
  • Bean Variety Open
  • Exotic Vegetable Prize
  • Freestyle Entries

Judges will include a combination of esteemed farmers, distinguished gourmets and food writers. A great way to share your knowledge, techniques and even your seeds! Serious fun! Great or strange prizes!

Interested participants please send Country Fair an email <farmersmarketbj at gmail.com> including:

  • What vegetables you will submit
  • A small (1mb maximum) photo of your plant and its location in your home.
  • A short description of your growing location and conditions (where in home, what location)
  • The name of the street where you live
  • Contact information (phone, email, and weibo if applicable)



家作坊的选手 HomeShop’s contenders:

Beigua is indeed a vegetable! 北瓜是一种菜!

Hi Grandpa,

How are you doing?
Far too long since we have spoken.
I just got your new email address by Nina forwarding a message with some nice old pictures you had taken.

I am still over here in Beijing, China. I have lived here almost 3 years, once fall arrives.

Just yesterday, I had a very funny experience. I went to a fake “Jackson Hole” north of Beijing, past the Great Wall. Supposedly, the developers copied the master plans directly from the Wyoming town, and just plotted the whole thing down onto some hilly countryside on the border of Hebei Province (the province surrounding Beijing). As a development including more than 1000 new homes, it’s not finished yet but there are already a few weekend “cowboys” living there.

We were there because of some interest the developers had shown in supporting our organic farmer’s market—but I found it incredibly difficult to get past the innocent and yet eerie surroundings (innocent, because what do they know about Jackson Hole? and so an innocent delight in surfaces; eerie because of such enthusiasm for surfaces—but I suppose the same could be said about the “real” Jackson Hole!).
Most of the wood was just imitation, made of plastic; although our guides claimed the rocks were real, and kept asking me as we toured a house “Is this how you live in America?

After the tour they gave me a cheaply-made bolo necktie with “Jackson Hole” on it.

They couldn’t tell me which house was a copy of Dick Cheney’s.

I thought you would like to see some of these images.
I hope all is well!

Love Michael


Hi Michael

So good to hear from you. I talked to your father yesterday and he told me who or where you were in that group picture that Nina sent to me. I would never have known you with all those whiskers.  Is that Emi beside you?

I am sending you some pictures of Lupine in the Big Horn Mtns taken on July 9, 2011. We had lots of snow in the Mtns this past year so the wild flowers are flourishing. We also made a trip to Jackson so will have to send you a few of those pictures. The pictures you sent about building a replica of Jackson Hole are interesting. Cheney, I believe, is still in the east. Think he has to be pretty close to medical assistance and he isn’t that popular.

I thought that was fun looking back at pictures when you and Nina were little. I thought she may have been interested.

Arleen and I are doing quite well. We take trips into the mountains quite a lot. She is legally blind with macular degeneration but she does very well. She has had quite as few sick days since you and Emi were here.

Lets keep in touch Michael, it’s so good to hear from you.

Love, Grandpa Eddy

(Note: Grandpa Robert Eddy lives in a town called Cody, Wyoming, named for the 19th century showman “Buffalo” Bill Cody, and situated at the eastern gate of Yellowstone National Park. Last time we visited Grandpa Eddy, he took us south to the Grand Teton mountain range and into a valley called Jackson Hole, where the small elite ski town of Jackson was home to ex-US Vice President Dick Cheney and John Walton (son and heir of Wal-Mart founder), and where nobody looks twice when Sting, Sandra Bullock, or Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston whiz down Dick’s Ditch on snowboards.”)

I have to be honest, leaving Beijing and entering another climate, one with bees, dramatic cloud formations carried on cool breezes, and sunsets, it rather briskly plunges into an abstract idea. Of course, it doesn’t help that the transitions are managed within the privations of air travel and its dreamy borders. Something of the vague shadow of recall remains even after landing elsewhere (and even after returning, in this case to Beijing). We hear back from our friends and collaborators, in those bursts of attention, when they are not engulfed in the gentle rustling of the sprawling pumpkin vine, a lost bank card, jobs, and all immediate and present things, and isn’t it amazing how clothes and cups air-dry? But somehow those things that actually seem to make an idea or sentiment make sense—the lick of moisture, the depth of layers of sounds, synesthesia—fail to reach us. I have for a long time harboured a feeling that appeals to presence magicalize ordinary things, placing sense beyond explanation and language, glossing over and rendering inaccessible the potential, tacit domination of charisma, taste, identity. I wouldn’t be the first to muse on the values of absence, chance and indifference as contributing to a democratic aesthetic (which some might place in a properly Modernist and therefore outmoded tradition). But I have to acknowledge never having been able to fully account for why things fizzle at a distance.

I gave a talk while I was away, in an art centre in Montréal. I tried to present my experiences so far living in China, including projects and jobs I had done, the work of friends, and a general description of what living in Beijing and practicing art here is like. This was a format I had never tried in an artist-talk. My throat became dry because I talked so much, I worried I appeared like some kind of Lonely Planet ambassador, and feared my monotone delivery was driving some people’s eyelids to flutter druggedly. Those may be my paranoid projections on a listenership (and the feedback was positive, seemingly), but there were other creeping feelings behind the performance anxiety. The question a friend had asked a few days prior hovered somewhere in my descriptions, why do you live there? (Well, I ended up there rather *indifferently*…) I remarked on the visceral qualities of the urban makeup that make life exciting and challenging, and the state-in-formation that characterizes the place and people, which I announced might lead any of us to question the unfinished nature of our respective origins and positions. The motivations straddle all divisions, but in the context, I was referring to art. I went on: If there is no existing measure for how to gauge my success, neither based on the intensity of inclusion in the local art world, nor on my entrepreneurial exploits, nor rate of publication, nor institutional power, freedom, stability of life… then the ensuing parallel could surely be drawn that those in Canada who I was addressing, or my peers in Germany, the USA or anywhere, certainly had no such measures either. If success had been globalized, so had irrelevance, so had decadence.
Perhaps I’d better mention other examples before this turns into an analysis session about my particular case of ressentiment (and it’s a thin line whenever a self-reflexive voice is assumed). Meeting with some friends in my hometown Halifax about a project involving portable galleries, I sat back and watched a fascinating discussion unfold among the locals (I no longer the local) on the limits of the Canadian artist-run centre system. It seemed from other such conversations in different towns that this is something of a national hang-up, as particular players position themselves toward international networks and markets, and others solidify institutionalization, and most of them struggle.
We could argue the responsible use of a commercial system and the apparent independence it brings (not only in China) trumps the legalistic-bureaucratic state funding systems, which in any case support and are supported by the galleries; just as we could argue the cleverest position to be in is that of the court eunuch. For a little while this fancy played in my head when visiting old friends from Europe or Canada, as their practices circulated them around the whitish public art spaces, drinking good liquors, getting high marks on risk assessment from facilities management; as all the young poke around the daydream, what’s the best city in which to live? The given provides a host of calculated answers—including perhaps the narrative I seem to be advancing (here and in my Montréal talk—for the sake of the audience, of course): because I am nowhere I am everywhere, I am a representative.
But it is not a matter of a facile choice, and the stinging truth is that it’s not such an interesting debate, still assuming the tone of a report back, to one side or another. So what is interesting? What is particular, beyond our obsessions with conventions, power and our whatever singularity?

These questions connect back to one of those that lingered for me after our Continental Drift, that of practice (conveniently, practice entitles a moody and self-absorbed preamble, or it is sterile, doctorific.) In discussions on the approach for people who were not on it, it was stated that the experiment—or experience, as some emphasized—of Continental Drift would be shared and made public through subsequent works, texts and water-cooler anecdotes, the affects that feed into practice. We all gently contemplated what forms, what connections the latent and the stated alike would develop over time; would there be a future?
But a drift is not only a means to gathering materials for our practices, otherwise it would be a research trip, properly speaking; in its carrying out, it is meant as a practice in itself, one by which we expose our moods and personal dramas to various stimuli (reality) and to each other’s common experience. There are no objectively safe ways to go about it, echoing the ethical dilemmas of art mentioned above: one cannot prove one is not a conventional tourist, but neither should that stop one from going. As a group coming from different backgrounds, with different interests at stake, our interactions ranged from particular to common, from encountering each other, to discussing the massive changes apparent in China, which we are all somehow part of. Regarding this latter issue, given the topical relevance of globalization, even though I live here, I might have expected to take in visions of the forces of manufacture and development that drive global trade. Maybe they did in a way, but not how I anticipated; in Beijing, for instance, we observed the organization of space not according to the establishment of heavy industry, but according to priorities of culturalization: a model for the management of society, as Brian put it to me on our first day of meandering. This could be seen around Wuhan’s East Lake as well, as a natural resource was transformed into a capital-intensive development without passing through a significantly industrialized prior state; the post-industrial imaginary also permeated descriptions of the agrarian-becoming-peach-themed fantasyland in Lijiang. Maybe these correspondences aren’t surprising, as shifts in Chinese culture are feverishly tracked by foreign and domestic marketeers, and this is the face that asks to be seen anyhow. We did catch glimpses of the underside of this narrative, the chaotic, organic and banal, the preferential and the securitized, and the devastated. As empirically subjective as these firsthand experiences are, they are not the motifs that stick with me the most, that would come back most directly to ideas on practice, though the “method” itself is empowering, and must be repeated and improved upon. Rather, the most striking momentum on our Continental Drift was that of recognizing peers, whether they are in Hubei, Yunnan, New York, the Midwest, Beijing, or wherever. The point here was not in finally being acknowledged or something tragic like that, but simply in seeing that others have similar concerns and are there, doing it their way, whether or not the whole enterprise entails a sense of failure, a possibility we floated in our final meetings. Late one night, Claire Pentecost invoked the term “networks of validation,” which in my mind rescues the idea of the network from the hegemonic necessity that compels us all, all of the time. This doesn’t mean an alternative network that we can navigate for success; nor is it even a network for really breaking the distance between us, like a guarantee of a holier, democratic variation of presence. The world will hardly allow that, at least in this way. It is more useful as an ethical construction by which our practice sees itself, sees its potential expansion, as a constellation of knowledge, faculties and passions; sees its faults, its different faces, and that doesn’t romanticize its incongruity with its context or its powerlessness; and by which, perhaps, the idea of a common project is resuscitated. My own investments in such a construction are in figuring out how the paragraph above, on the vicissitudes of art practice at home and abroad, can be turned into something more interesting, as promised; which means not simply reflecting the inside/outside nature of an art world whose ambivalence won’t wash away; which means producing meaning tangled up with a messy world, with the tools I know how to use; which means conferring gravity to abstract ideas and places; which means having a screwdriver thrown at me, told to hot-wire a car, to go on a road trip.
What would you do?