"I'd like to see the project go ahead, but a lot of so-called artists villages never get off the ground because they lack strong management," Huang said. "We will need to take a cautious approach to the matter." Shih says the artists are willing to compromise and have even proposed applying for financial assistance from the county's cultural affairs bureau. This last suggestion is a major concession to Huang, because the artists harbor a deep-rooted distaste for any form of interaction with the government.
"Aborigines have often gotten the short stick when dealing with the government," Shih said, "so, we'd rather not turn to them." Even if the whole plan is abandoned, though, Siki said, some members of the group will continue to live at the factory and use it as an art space much as he and fellow Aborigine Talaluki do now with Huang's permission.
The two have erected tents and set up a makeshift kitchen in the cavernous storage room of the factory, where they do most of their carving and welding work and where the other artists congregate to work and discuss plans for the space.
Strewn about are chunks of driftwood hauled up from the beach, chainsaws, axes, chisels and dozens of completed works leaning against the wall and resting on the sawdust-covered concrete floor.
Occasionally a carload of tourists, drawn by the sculptures at the factory's gate, pokes their heads in to see some of the carvings, sculptures, totems and metal pieces that the artists make to earn their living. Some visitors are intrigued and linger for closer inspections, but most are put off by the shabby appearance of the site. If the group's plan pans out, Siki said, they'll have a more inviting space for visitors where the artists have a greater chance of selling their works. It's clear that with the factory's mountain backdrop and view of the ocean with Green Island on the horizon, the commercial potential for the site is enormous. Huang already runs a hostel in a primly restored administrative building on the factory's grounds and he says his enthusiasm in the artists' village at the site is based on practical business grounds.
For now, the artists persist with their work and hold on to their hope for the site. Looking through the obscurity of the space and watching the rain leak through the ceiling, Siki said "At the beach we were running on an ideal and it was a bit like vacation. But we need to make a living. This place seems like it could be perfect."
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