The Glenfiddich Distillery, famed for its single malt scotch, is also home to one of the more innovative international artist residency programs, which began in 2002. It all started when the company wanted to establish a corporate art collection at the distillery.
The artist residency, which is located in the several empty houses on the distillery premises, provides funding, accommodation and studio space for eight artists every summer and stipulates that residents have to create an artwork for the collection. Artists are asked to draw inspiration from Glenfiddich's brew and the local environment.
Taiwanese artist Yao Jui-chung (姚瑞中) spent his three-month residency creating mainly ink drawings combined with gold leaf on handmade paper. The framed results are on display at the IT Park until Dec. 8
PHOTOS:COURTESY OF YAO JUI-CHUNG
The exhibition opening last week at the IT Park was attended by the residency's director, clad in a kilt and sporting dreadlocks.
The residency - located in Dufftown, Scotland, with a population of 2,000 - was a contrast to the hectic pace of Taipei life, which Yao is used to. The artist, who is well-known in the capital's art circle, helps run the nearby VT Art Salon, has published several books, makes videos, photos and drawings and teaches at a university. The Scottish town's slow pace and the country's pre-Christian roots sparked Yao's frenetic burst of creativity.
The drawings include depictions of Yao's hobbies - bathing in hot springs, mountain climbing, appreciating nature, playing chess - while referring to classical Chinese painting from the late Ming Dynasty.
PHOTOS:COURTESY OF YAO JUI-CHUNG
Yao's previous work took a critical view of Taiwan's turbulent political and social situation. In his new works, he has continued painting his dog-faced characters, which represent cynics and devils. Yet, these drawings seem to be the weakest of the series, perhaps because they illustrate the contentious dichotomy of local politics and lose any poetic feeling.
Yao's strongest drawings are those that reference Scottish mythology, ancient Pictish stone circles, the dramatic Scottish highlands and Chinese landscape painting.
Wonderful: The Holy Ridge under the Milk-way, a figuratively-shaped mountain that is formed by intensely worked black ink scribbles, shows the artist's erratic, quick-handed movements. Gold leaf rivulets stream forth from mysterious inner mountain sources. This huge mountain range dwarfs a red-cloaked figure who appears to be at one with nature, enjoying the heavenliness of the scene.
PHOTOS:COURTESY OF YAO JUI-CHUNG
Graphically, Wonderful: Crossing the Taiwan Strait by a Leaf is a perfect work of art. White crested waves grasping the air like greedy hands are finely delineated in black lines and carry a delicate Buddha-like figure on a small gold leaf.
The mystical Wonderful: Looking the Waterfall in Tain-Da-Na is a good example of Yao's merging of Scottish and Chinese landscapes. It feels like a real place, but also a dreamlike, imaginary landscape.
Yao, who abandoned the classical for the avant-garde, was pleasantly surprised to rediscover the richness of traditional art. It was his studied knowledge of the past that helped him create something new. And that is probably one of the best reasons to have an artist residency program. I'll drink to that.
Taiwan’s English education system is being pulled apart by three opposing forces. Bilingual Nation 2030 pulls students toward English and global communication. Artificial Intelligence (AI) readiness pulls them toward digital judgment, verification and AI-mediated work. But Taiwan’s old exam culture pulls them back toward memorization, grammar drills, timed reading and correct answers. If the education system keeps using old exams to define success, it risks producing graduates who are neither genuinely bilingual nor genuinely AI-ready, but trained for tasks machines can already perform. The first force is Bilingual Nation 2030. Launched in 2018, the policy aimed to “help Taiwan’s workforce connect
It seems every few days one bumps into one of those “real man” comments in which Taiwan is urged to “face reality” or similar, and “make a deal,” with the speaker implying that soon it will be too late. “Deal” advocates always present themselves as having a superior grip on reality, and the manly ability to make the “hard choice.” Their testosterone-laden language often echoes that of Taiwan sellout advocates. Note that such commentary always specifies a process (“make a deal, work with, make progress”), never the end state of what occupation by a violent authoritarian colonialist state will entail. In
“Taiwan’s Opposition Leader Comes to US With a Message Straight Out of Beijing” read a May 31 headline in the Wall Street Journal. Top US administration officials and members of Congress almost certainly read the WSJ, and if there was a bullet point takeaway that people in Washington should absorb ahead of Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chair Cheng Li-wun’s (鄭麗文) arrival in DC on June 9, that headline is it. The last few columns have discussed this very topic, and the timing is not coincidental. While those top officials likely do not read the Taipei Times, judging by the number
As someone who normally steers clear of books with “transcendence” or “metaphysics” in their subtitles, this reviewer — a casual observer of local belief systems since the 1990s — found Fabian Graham’s Money God Temples in Taiwan a challenging read. Those who’ve only dipped their toes into temple culture will likely need to parse several sections with special care if they’re to keep up with the author, a British ethnographic researcher whose previous books have investigated religious practices among ethnic Chinese in Southeast Asia. This scholarly volume examines a facet of Taiwan’s religious landscape that didn’t exist a century ago, and
RSS