Sunday, May 3, 2009

May 3rd Email between Eric and Kai-Yuan

Subject: FW:_Hello_ ~_I'm_Taiw an_artist‏Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2009 01:13:04 +0800



Hi EricI am your partner for "Art Sync" Project.My name is Kai-Yuan,Chi but my friends always call me "New-York,Chi" , that is my nickname~So you can call me NY ~Yesterday night I thought of your artworksIt was glamorous The people in picture looks like waiting for somethingThe time is stop , the facial expression is stop ,all things are stop in the lifeI like the magic feel from your artworks Sorry my english is poor.. If you can read chinese words , maybe I can express too perfect for your artworks ~and this is my BLOG -> http://nypark.blogspot.com/It is full of pictures and chinese words... 呵呵!the pictures in my blog are all about me ~so you can see it and than maybe you can know what i'm aiways doing and know my way of life ~nice to meet you ~ NY

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Hello Kai-Yuan Chi, or Hello NY (wink)

Thank you for writing so soon. I've made sure to "white-list" your email address, since your 3 emails were delivered as spam.

Anyway, I've been thinking about your email, and I've found myself returning to parts of it, and thinking to myself, what did Kai-Yuan mean when he wrote that my artworks were "glamorous"?

After giving this some thought, I'd like to pose the following question: In the context of this project, how important is language in being understood? Should we interpret words at "face-value," or look for the more "loaded" meaning behind them. Communicating in English is deceiving, and I'm tempted to explore the conversational dynamic that we introduce by language. Without even trying, we will create the converse of cliché - this is where the really exciting communication begins!

After giving this some thought, I'd like to pose the following question: In the context of this project, how important is language in being understood? Should we interpret words at "face-value," or look for the more "loaded" meaning behind them. Communicating in English is deceiving, and I'm tempted to explore the conversational dynamic that we introduce by language. Without even trying, we will create the converse of cliché - this is where the really exciting communication begins!


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Sun, May 3, 2009 at 11:35 PM

Hello Kai-Yuan,
In an effort to provide you with a more steady information feed, I've modified the format of my email. Let's see if this works...
Thoughts & writings:

1.)When you want someone to become someone else hard enough, it seems as though they've always been that person anyways, and why even think that they could ever have been two different people?

2.)When the moon gets closer and closer to becoming full, I often think it's full and someone else tells me it's not, but it's close and I go on with my evening but I've never seen the "new moon" because in its absence the clouds cover the night sky and I forget that I should have been looking in the first place.

3.)I waited, shoulders hunched, on my freshly snow-covered porch. Trails of strangers walked among whizzing automobile headlights to avoid the icy sidewalks. My toes pinched with cold. The cellphone was cupped in one hand, a half finished cigarette in the other. I took a drag, and held it. My insides toasted like firewood. I wanted to preserve that feeling as long as possible. I held the drag for what seemed like hours. When the smoke finally leaked out my nostrils, my eyes shut, accepting the winter chill. I tapped the filter, and a shower of gray dust danced towards my feet. A girl with a burgundy colored wool jacket crossed the street and smiled. I nodded, and took another drag. My desire to hold the smoke faded, and I exhaled. I blew for a long time; unable to tell what was smoke, and what was frozen air.

I dialed a number from memory, and held the receiver to my ear. Ring... ring... ring. I sighed, and decided not to leave a message. The front door creaked open, and a burst of warm air tapped the backside of my neck. I flicked my remaining cigarette onto the six inch comforter of snow on the lawn. It hissed, and dove to the grassy earth below. Out of habit, my free hand burrowed into an empty jacket pocket. I leaned against the front door, and coughed. Across the street, my neighbor used his sleeve to wipe snow off his truck's windshield. I waited for him to leave, before going inside. The door locked itself behind me.

Links & suggestions:
You can follow me here, daily:http://twitter.com/ericbessel
Read this:http://www.ericbessel.com/index.php?/about-the-work/
and read this:http://www.ericbessel.com/index.php?/bio/
Best regards,
Eric Bessel


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