This is the second year the Asian Forum on experimental cinema is held. Along with it, the first ever, EX!T 2010 – Experimental Media Art Festival in Taiwan organised by Image Movement. It brings together similiarly independently spirited groups in the region such as EXiS-Experimental Film and Video Festival in Seoul, China Independent Film Festival, KLEX-KL Experimental Film and Video Festival, FILMVIRUS, fuangrupa & forum lenteng. What I am most excited is the Taiwan retrospective of experimental films in Taiwan since the 30s.
The 3-day event will be presented at the GULING STREET Avant-Garde Theatre and Taipei Contemporary Art Center. Tickets are available here.
I’ve also curated a watery programme that features Riau by Zai Kuning and It’s Not That I Forgot but Rather I Chose Not to Mention by Charles Lim Yong Yi.
Date: 27 Nov 2010
Venue: Taipei Contemporary Art Center
Riau is an ode to the Orang Laut (sea gypsies) by a free-spirited artist who spent years exploring the Indonesian islands south of Singapore. It’s Not That I Forgot but Rather I Chose Not to Mention is a silent one-take 50-minute live painting by a former national sailor of a man cleaning a much neglected pool filled with debris.
“I know two species of men. The vast majority are men of society. They live on the surface; they are interested in the transient and fleeting; they are like driftwood on the flood. They ask forever and only the news, the froth and scum of the eternal sea. They use policy; they make up for want of matter with manner. They have many letters to write. Wealth and the
approbation of men is to them success. The enterprises of society are something final and sufficing for them. The world advises them, and they listen to its advice. They live wholly an evanescent life, creatures of circumstance. It is of prime importance to them who is the president of the day. They have no knowledge of truth, but by an exceedingly dim and transient instinct, which stereotypes the church and some other institutions. They dwell, they are ever, right in my face and eyes like
gnats; they are like motes, so near the eyes that, looking beyond, they appear like blurs; they have their being between my eyes and the end of my nose. The terra firma of my existence lies far beyond, behind them and their improvements. If they write, the best of them deal in “elegant literature.” Society, man, has no prize to offer me that can tempt me; not one. That which interests a town or city or any large number of men is always something trivial, as politics. It is impossible for me to be interested in what interests men generally. Their pursuits and interests seem to me frivolous. When I am most myself and see the clearest, men are least to be seen; they are like muscae volitantes, and that they are seen at all is the proof of imperfect vision. These affairs of men are so narrow as to afford no vista, no distance; it is a shallow foreground only, no large extended views to be taken. Men put to me frivolous questions: When did I come? where am I going? That was a more pertinent question — what I lectured for? — which one auditor put to another. What an ordeal it were to make men pass through, to consider how many ever put to you a vital question! Their knowledge of something better gets no further than what is called religion and spiritual knockings.” – Thoreau