The Nude Orange Juice Drinker

Liao, Shanghai. 2009 © Shen Wei

Orange juice in China is not so much the "national juice" as in America. My generation grew up in China drinking water mix with sugar and a local Cola named Lucky. Even now there are too many choices of juices on the menu, orange seems to be the least popular. Watermelon juice is the orange juice in China, we stick with the national color! This guy who I have been asking for a photo session since January prefers an orange juice over a diet coke in a late afternoon in Shanghai. There is something so sensual about this movement of a glass of yellow liquid slipping into a naked body, both erotic and raw, almost transparent. The mattress was naked, too; something that I am always interested in.

Photograph nudes in China is a entirely different experience as in the US. People are extra cautious and nervous. It took me longer time to convince someone, especially a stranger to pose for me, full frontal is an extra work. In the Chinese Sentiment, I experiment the juxtaposition of these intimate bedroom portraits with the moody landscape and still life, intent to create a contrast between the public views and the private situation that perhaps only Chinese people can fully understand.

June in China.

Black Swan, Xi'an, Shanxi Province. 2009 © Shen Wei

June is a moody month. It has already gotten very hot and humid in Shanghai. When I was younger, I remember it rains a lot from mid-May throughout the month of June. I was looking forward to shoot the city wet. Unfortunately, it didn't happen. One day, I decided to go to The Bund, and half way to the subway, I turned myself into an air-conditioned coffee shop and spent the rest afternoon watch the city steaming.

Friends ask me how I choose which city to photograph for my Chinese Sentiment project. Honestly, I don't really choose, I just randomly go. For me, the different location is not what this project is about, I want to show China in a most authentic way, strip away from its political and economic phenomenons, a simpler view of China, an idea that I can relate to my childhood memory. I go cities that I personally desire to, explore them with my instinct and be inspired by the different culture and people. When I look at my images, I don't see where I was, I feel the emotion that I had for the subject I photograph.

I consider it was very lucky of me that every city I went had rained. I particular like the city in the rain, for the freshness and the magical light. As much as I love Shanghai, you just can't feel that kinda freshness in Shanghai, for a few moments maybe, definitely not to compare a city like Guilin. It was also raining when I was photographing a young boxer in Hangzhou. The young man was surprisingly relaxed, half naked and innocent. I later let him keep my umbrella and then ran in a vicious storm as I waved down the taxi in the Shanghai Rail station. The rain always tastes a bit tart in Shanghai. I shared a cab with this young women. She was upset because she has just been dumped at the gay pride.

Beautiful and sweet.

Today I saw this subway ticket vendor machine in the Spring Street station on the E line. He stood there alone, seemed very patient and emotionless, his lips is plump and red. I have never looked at these machines ever. Why should I? I must unconsciously decided they are too ugly to deserve a look. I assume his friends who used to stand right by his side are retired or getting a face lift. Now that he is more visible on his own. He looks actually quite cute! With patches of color and everything, a little nerdy, a little tacky, but sweet.

My parents was visiting me in New York last month. They spent that whole time stuffing my refrigerator with all sorts of delish. My usually empty freezer now is fulfilled with homemade dumplings and stuffed tofuwraps. I especially love the handwriting on the aluminum foil by my mother, it is quite elegant and old-fashioned (writing from up to down is very ancient to me). The writing reads like a poem, even though they're just the instruction of how to cook what's inside. The dumplings are the work of art themselves, they make that orange package of whatever looks so guiltyly unattractive.

NYPH2009, books and big hair.

There are way too much events going on during this week's New York Photo Festival. I went to last night's powerHouse Arena opening and the crowd was huge. I met old and new friends, drank exotic cocktail and grabbed some freebies. It was all kinda fun and interesting!

My Almost Naked limited edition book is also nominated for the New York Photo Awards among a list of great nominees, including a couple of my favorites - Michal Chelbin and Simon Roberts. Last year's winner is my jet set friend Amy Stein's Domesticated, published by Photo Lucida. Speaking of books, my very sexy photographer friend Juliana Beasley also has a limited Edition book Lapdancer, the book also comes with an original print. The hottest new book at this moment is got to be Richard Renaldi's Fall River Boys, published by Charles Lane Press, the book is truly a work of art.

Tonight, I went to an artist talk with Nan Goldin and Lisa Ross at the Daneyal Mahmood Gallery. I have never seen Nan Goldin in person, I was extremely excited. I must have written every single paper on Nan Goldin when I was in the college, I just love her. She was intense (love her gaze), funny, calm, and has a big red curly hair. There is something about woman with big crazy curly hair that I love, they are special! I remember one afternoon I saw this woman with an amazingly huge messy curly hair walking in front me. I had to speed up a little bit to see her face. It was Tama Janowitz! Later I met her in a few dinner parties, one time she was sitting right next to me, of course I was way too shy to say anything.

Chinese Garden and Chinese Banquet.

Today I spent some time finally look through the photos that have left in my digital camera for a while. Last time I point-and-shoot was in the Metropolitan Museum of Art a few weeks ago where I had found my new muse - The Chinese Garden Court. For someone who grew up in an area that's famous for its ancient Chinese garden, this garden should not be something I'd wowed about, but strangely I did. I had a strong feeling wanting to observe at the garden. The fact that I can not sit inside the pavilion gave me an urge to really look at it from outside. The garden in the MET was not so spectacular, it is small, elegant and almost too tidy, it kept reminding me that I was in a Chinese garden in a museum. There was very few people there, I sat down and meditate. It was strangely silent, no singing birds and frogs, very strange. When I walked out of the garden, passed though the Water Lily Garden of Monet, there was layers of people staring at it and wowing. And I thought: would that be nice if they put some lilies in the Chinese Garden.

Appearently, before my MET visit, I only used my camera way back when I was in China in January. I took a few photos when I was in this hotel attending a banquet. There I discovered another banquet across the street. The banquet room was so over the top, like a set out of the Moulin Rouge, it is hilarious. After a few minutes of giggling, I quickly found myself sitting among a row of cream colored plaster Roman columns.

Poems

I have been reading some poems lately. Friend of mine gave me a Walt Whitman's classic Leaves of Grass. I read it when I first moved to the US, I was just getting used to English, so I could not really fully understand it, now I read it again, simply amazed of its depth and beauty (although still not fully understanded). I am now reading Jim Moore's Lightning at Dinner, which was given by Troy Williams on my exhibition opening night, it is contemporary and light, best to be read in a perfect sunny afternoon in the park.

Yesterday, I happily received 2 more poems from Marc Nieson who had written a couple of poems on photographs from Almost Naked. He had a reading in Pittsburgh recently and presented along with my photographs. Here is the most recent writings He did for Jody and Alex&Fumi.

Fumi and Alex, 2004.

Almost Naked

daily we sit across tables
clothed in ritual
it's what we grasp for
the teapot, the spout
the windowsill, the salt
pass the windows
pass the salt,
please
please me, please
pretty please
but don't you see
the glass is stained
the view obscured
cover your privates
pot your plants
carnations of the nation
dieffenbachia, fig
private eyes
private enterprise
private practice
practicing privacy
it's what we grasp
the edge of frame
the ledge of falling
but don't you see
the tablecloth's transparent
the flowering of light
the body always says more
the articulation of joints
it's what we grasp for
every day we shed ourselves
every day we can
reach
the mosaic is still somewhere
overhead
translucent

Jody, 2003.

Everything You've Ever

Sometimes it's all moonlight and movie magazines. All hemlines and heartbeats. Chandeliers. The backseats of Buicks or Saturns. 1939, 1999. All windshields and waiting.

Or say Sinatra at the Paramount in 1944. The cue curling clear round a full city block. Bleach-white bobby socks and saddle shoes, glossies from the radio station clutched to your chest. A parade of inches, of hours, until finally that marquee blinks into view, his cutout towering three stories overhead. Bigger than life.

That torn ticket stub between your fingers, the stone stairwell spinning all the way up to the 2nd balcony. Up among the gold leaf and tinkling crystal, the painted angels, you swear, humming hymns. Almost heaven. Still, down down below stands that single microphone, dead-center stage and spotlit, the moment all chrome and breathless and him, him, him just offstage. In the wings, as they say.

And when finally he steps out, the din is overwhelming and all you can see are plaid skirts jumping up onto the seats before you until finally, finally . . . there

There he is, if only big as a finger. As his bowtie, really.

But it doesn't matter, he's live and floating up to the microphone now, glowing with everything that, that inhale of . . . that first, forever . . .

The People across the Street.

I have a mixed feeling about the views of my apartments.  Since I moved to New York, I have always ended up in an apartment with a slightly interesting view.  My first apartment in New York was a new skyscraper one block from Time Square.  I can see New Jersey from my apartment, beautiful sunset, along with a couple of hooker's corners and the sex shops on 8th Ave.  Then I "upgraded" to the Upper East Side, everyday I saw nothing but a row of empty balconies at the back of those fancy prewar townhouses.  Occasionally, there was this nanny sat in the gray colored backyard, file her nails while the babies were taking a nap.      

Now I live in downtown Manhattan.  I mean down-downtown, Financial District that is.  This is rather a unique area.  During the daytime, this place is flooded with yuppies, tourists (normally attached with at least one Century 21 shopping bag), news anchors, protesters, deliver trucks, college students, etc.  It is completely crazy.  But at night time, it becomes very peaceful, not quite a ghost town, but a small town with giant buildings.  Once I walked my dog along Wall Street in the evening, right at that corner of Nassau and Wall, you can see the building of Stock Exchange, the Creek Roman styled Federal Hall National Memorial with the Statue of George Washington, a silhouette of a Church nearly, and a policeman on the horse.  I thought, this must be how New York in 1932 looks like, it was stunning, romantic and mysterious.  

The next morning, I looked outside of my window, what is a massive office building with endless windows, everyone is doing their things.  There is this woman getting interviewed while a man working on his charts next door.  I see them everyday, indeed.  I think they know me every well.  They have seen me naked walking out of my shower, they waved at my dog sometimes, possibly admire my tastefully arranged apartment when no one is here.  

But I know nothing about them (except where they work).    

Pictures from Peru.

© Andres Marroquin Winkelmann

Check out my friend Andres Marroquin Winkelmann's new project Zapallal/Yurinaki. I especially love some of those very stunning still life pictures.

Viewfinders Interview on Zoom In Online

Zoom In Online has released their new video series Viewfinders on Portrait Photographers, it is a series of video interviews of photographers talk about their work. I am very happy to be part of this project. You can also see more video interviews here. The videos are produced by Magnet Media.

Almost Naked Opening @ RSG

Tonight is the opening night of my Almost Naked solo exhibition at Randall Scott Gallery. The opening was very successful, special thanks to Randall and the gallery staffs for the hard work. I am happy to see many old and new friends. It was a wonderful opening. The show will run through May 2nd, come to see the work in person and experience the surprisingly vibrant DUMBO art scene.