(in)visible cities BLOG DAY 2

Nhan Duc Nguyen installs "Heyseeds" at Little Saigon restaurant.

(in)visible cities BLOG DAY 2

Friday 12 September 2008

Report by Jeanne Randolph, Photographs by Scott Stephens

The Little Saigon restaurant on William Street here in Winnipeg is, like the best of Winnipeg, unpretentious. As I walked toward the entrance, my first impression was that the restaurant was not open; it looked kinda dark in there and no one was sitting at the tables by the window.

And then, the tell-tale signal – the sound of laughter, clinking glass and music hovering above the murmur of mingled greetings and conversation.

I entered the aquamarine room and hugged my way through the crowd of friends and friendly faces. There were two prominent features of the environment, Nhan Duc Nguyen’s artworks on the walls and the chandeliers. The artworks were heartbreakingly subtle, gentle but in no way saccharine. No one except a true poet should be allowed to describe them. They deserve careful studious appreciation and afterwards more conversation. Well there was a third feature – I was so hungry my attention swerved toward a huge serving platter of sweet-fried chicken chunks mingled with red bell peppers in a glistening blood-scarlet sauce. I sat down with a plate of this yummy concoction on my lap and gobbled, using chopsticks and my ballpoint pen.

It’s preferable to enjoy alcoholic beverages while imbibing the intellectual delights of a panel discussion. The lighthearted brain fizz inspires convivial attention and unhinges the imagination. Tipsiness prevents audience passivity, because this event did not last beyond the equivalent of two ounces of hard liquour.

I have no intention of providing a synopsis of each artist’s presentation. I am committed to the idea that if you aren’t there it is better to have a conversation with someone who was. This position is in keeping with the modus operandi of each of the presenters, which included Cheryl L’Hirondelle, Nhan Duc Nguyen, the Dempsey/Millan duo, and FASTWÜRMS.

The ideas offered included:

“Empathy can create positive change;”

“Communal meals can enact how categories and boundaries are not the only reality;”

“An art practice that values labour, no matter how subtle that labour, can serve as a diplomatic exchange between all us hostages of Capitalism;”

“Experience can be shared without translation into English;”

“The performer-audience divide is unnecessary;”

“Art is NOT SOCIAL WORK;”

“Harming an institution or a system that objectifies people is not the same as harming people.”

“Artist-as-amateur can’t lord it over the audience.”

Or to interpret this event in my own shrill voice:

Maybe professionalism stinks.

Maybe teacherless learning is more effective.

Maybe competition is stupid.

Maybe creativity emerges equally from the audience and the artist;

Maybe creativity emerges from exchange just as floridly as from solitude;

Maybe we can keep ourselves vigilant down to the last nuance in pursuit of inclusivity.