When is a dress more than just a dress?
When it takes a day browsing Moron’s black market to select 2 beautiful and complementary fabrics. When you travel with this fabric to the next city in search of a tailor to transform it into a traditional del with a modern twist. When you spend an evening at the tailors flicking through photographs, mixing and matching elements, discussing without a common spoken language in what direction you would like the design to go. When you return a week later for 2 afternoons of fittings, finishing, and last minute adjustments.
As modern wardrobes overflow with ready-made clothing, has it become too easy to own clothes? Cheap easily accesible clothing is what drives the underpaid child labour industry. Maybe we need to start investing more effort and thought into clothing purchases. It may be time for more dresses to be more than just a dress.
As entertainment becomes louder, brighter and more 3D, we are drowning out the sensory delights nature has to offer. Should it be a rarity to hear the flapping of an eagle’s wings flying overhead? Should it be a surprise to look up and see a blanket of stars?
Boldbaatar runs one of the three remaining traditional bow and arrow (num sum) workshops in Mongolia. Custom-designed and hand-created, he uses old working methods to manipulate a mixture of traditional and modern materials. Admittedly, I felt a twinge of disappointment when my eye wandered from the beautiful carved horn onto the green nylon rope. Was this development of combining natural and synthetic materials a decision made to save on time and cost, or was it to improve performance?
There is no denying that despite the addition of the synthetic, these num sums hold the mystic of an old Mongolian craft. I just hope that the modern world does not dilute too much of that magic.
No cars, no shopping malls, no artificial frozen yoghurt fads. This island village is only half an hour by ferry from Hong Kong island, what a difference some distance by seawater makes.
I was taken by my aunt who had heard from someone else (who had probably heard from someone else) about this man, who after he retired started building his own model village halfway up a steep hiking trail. First an impressively long miniature Great Wall of China appears, then all along the path what seems to be an endless clusters of little worlds. There were well known world landmarks, recognisable Taiwan locations, Taipei places only familiar to the locals, little fish shaped seats…Carved out of existing rock, moulded from clay, improvised with toys, statues and whatever took his imagination.
Despite all the work, there is no advertisement of his name, no entrance fee, no patrons or donations requested. There had been no publicity or fancy private opening. He made these little works of art out of dedication and purely for the joy of it, and for anyone to enjoy as long as they are lucky enough to hike by them.
That day I definitely came across the creations of a true artist.
One incoherent overhyped show later, and we are shuffling once again through hordes of tourists back in what is supposedly a 5-star hotel. I guess these new mega-hotels provide everything that the new affluent Chinese tourist wants from a holiday. Free coaches to shuttle them around to shops to consume big brand names until they drop, and some kind of backdrop to pose for photos in front of. Is this China’s answer to Vegas or Disneyland? It seems to neither deliver the kitsch over-the-top fake promise of “living the dream” that Vegas does, nor does it create a complete Disney-like dream world of characters that sets a child’s imagination alive. I cannot help but be reminded instead of packed shopping malls in Hong Kong at the weekend. It appears that the new Macau is full of promises, but not quite right.
Venturing through the side entrance of a run down traditional family ancestral hall building (祠堂), I realise that the crude drawings on the outside are not graffiti, but rather a hint to what can be discovered inside: a basic children’s classroom and playground. Amongst the crumbling walls and pillars, are metal climbing frames and plastic toy planes. On one side of my mind, I question how the community could allow such historical architectural elements fall into such disrepair, and wonder if it is taking away the building’s integrity by removing it’s original purpose. However, as I watch my uncle being followed by shy curious children, I realise that perhaps we are sometimes too quick to judge. Clearly there is not the money to restore the building, and in many ways the school is doing an equally important job in serving the community and keeping the building alive.
Of course it would be ideal if the building could be restored with the school integrated, but where would the money or time come from?
