In the Wings, Brook Hall, November 2015

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In late September, I posted on social media that the government of Taiwan, after long deliberation, had made significant change to the work permit conundrum of foreign performers. More than five hundred people responded favorably to the post. When I got the news from the law team that lobbied on our behalf, and from Ping Chu’s advocacy group, Forward Taiwan (of which I was a taskforce member), I was sitting, looking at the water on the East Coast. I immediately jumped up and danced for joy. The old interpretation of the law had been an absolute albatross; the “cost” of living on a beautiful island with great people; and, the final insurmountable frontier to making a life as a full-time performer/director a possibility.

While performers could live in Taiwan, they could not perform unless they prepared about twenty documents in a folder, stamped them with the appropriate stamps, got the appropriate permissions, and spent a solid week navigating the always-changing, opaque requirements and procedures for each performer, performance, film, song, or dance. Few foreign performers are told about the necessary paperwork, and a scant handful of local companies have the knowhow or desire to apply for it. When I asked a local agent if he could get one for a recent commercial they replied “Why would I go to that trouble for one day of shooting?” Yes, why indeed? Of course, the local film industry, which employs the most foreign actors, had given up on following this regulation years ago.

It should be known that matter at hand isn’t a “law.” It is an interpretation of the law–a “regulation”—which Taiwan considered a necessary evil to protect its own performers. The rules were made intentionally difficult to prevent the loss of Taiwanese performing jobs to foreign singers from the Philippines, who dominated the entertainment industry in the 90’s. Unfortunately, this long-held interpretation has created a rather toxic situation. A situation that, at times, caused me to doubt my decision to move to Taiwan, and resulted in many of my professional peers leaving, or deported.

It took a few weeks before the ruling was made clear. The gift from the current government allowed foreigners to gather and put on a show, get on a stage, sing a song, or read a poem without fear of deportation as long as they are not paid, and they are not working with the venue management. So let’s celebrate, for a moment, the once-in-twenty-years attention to this issue. In 2001, no one cared a whit about foreign performers or their complaints. In fact, the only foreign work permits issued were for the big jazz bars in the international hotels.

While this is a long-overdue move in the right direction, the barring of professional performers who earn stipends, unfortunately, makes it abundantly clear we are not considered valuable to local society. The recent ruling was a consolation prize; a token of understanding. It is necessary for quality of living for the part-timers, and it is welcome. Even so, much more can be done for local professionals who can make a real impact when given the freedom to do so.

There are too many stories experiences to fit in this article, but I would like to share a few which illustrate the depth of the problems these regulations cause. In 2001, I was invited to participate in an international arts festival in Southern Taiwan. My friend C, who invited me and led the festival, warned me when I arrived. “You will like it here, but you can’t stay here. The government won’t let you do what you want to do.” I have always appreciated a challenge, and I was just coming off a Broadway National Touring musical with my Actors Equity Card, several directing/choreography credits to my name, a resume of big name co-star/collaborators and bag full of big dreams. But he was right. The government won’t let you do what you want to do, and, as a corollary, they do not understand what kind of impact you can have.

After running into problems getting permits and starting a theatre company, my friend C could not take it and left. Taiwan lost a professional producer and director with many international credits. He now serves as Resident Artistic Director for THE HOUSE OF FALLING WATER-「水舞間」in Macau- the biggest show ever in Asia – and Taiwan’s loss is Macau’s gain. (Taiwan’s government recently invited the show producers of 水舞間 to Taiwan to learn how Taiwan could make something similar. If only they knew.)

As for my small part, having worked with several major local theatre companies, I see my fingerprints all around. Pick up any current local theatre direct marketing flyer (DM), especially in the area of musical theatre, and you’ll find a popular leading actor that I had a part in training. Dancers I used to hire or teach are now choreographing and using my style. My director style is now employed by my former actors. Triple threat actor/singer/dancers are now standard after the hoopla caused by my production of SMOKEY JOES CAFÉ in 2008. In fact, the director and producer of the perennial tour of MY DEAR NEXT DOOR (2010-present) called me while that show was in production and, just like ‘SMOKEY’ before it, that show has a big 60’s style partner song/dance in the second act. Furthermore, sailors entered the common show language, started appearing in music videos, local product launches, and lingerie fashion shows after my production of ANYTHING GOES at the National Concert Hall and the International Trade Center. I brought Broadway performers over to work with locals in that show. Now at least four of the Taiwanese locals I cast are in New York, making an impact, representing Taiwan. I have directly helped an additional six local actors get into prestigious university performing arts programs. All of this happened while I fought to stay in this country, making visa runs every two months. “Visa run in the morning, lead a National theatre dress rehearsal at night.”

I share these not to highlight my resume, but to demonstrate the impact foreign and local workers can have together when allowed to collaborate. I have since been contacted over twenty times by email from abroad. The opening salvo is the same: “I hear you made a life for yourself as an artist in Taiwan. How can I go there and do what you did?” My truthful answer is “You can’t. The government won’t let you do what you want to do.” One such “You can’t” recipient from Korea decided not to listen to my advice. M came here and, right away, gathered a group of performers, put on short plays, found venues, and made a name for herself. She continued for many years and many nights of short plays. Eventually, she and I co-produced the musical TITLE OF SHOW. Unfortunately, M couldn’t take the chorus of “nos.” For ninety percent of available venues, the government refused to allow foreign work permits, and made it difficult to acquire the required documents, such as re-modeling documentation, and tax compliances, for ninety percent of the venues. All of these issues and more led to M leaving Taiwan. Taiwan lost yet another amazing artistic asset when she did.

M did not start the company alone. She had a partner, S. S was a promising young actress and her story is one of legend. One agent or manager (no one knows for sure) had a grudge against another agent. S was an extra actress in a Television commercial, and the real insidious side of these regulations reared their head. You see, if you know a performer is working without a performance work permit, you can report that person and earn a substantial financial award. In the case of S, she got caught up in the grudge and a call was made to the authorities. Those Taipei authorities have since said (direct quote) “We do not want to investigate foreigners performing illegally, but if we are called, we have no choice.” So, foreigners are often wrapped up in a risky situation: local producers say “Why should I go through the trouble for one day’s work?” and papers are not filed, or one of the myriad requirements isn’t met and permits are not issued and the project goes forward. IF the foreigner is reported, the foreigner can be punished with deportation. That was what happened to S. The company founded by S and M was no more.

The loss of C, M, and S by Taiwan only scratches the surface of what these twenty year-old regulations have wrought. For years, it has been those of us that are most vulnerable who try to get clarity on the regulations. It has been those of us with the most to lose who push for local companies to know and follow the laws. In seeking to do the legal thing, we are often punished. M ran into real problems when the witch hunt for local performers who dared play a song in a local bar created enough fear to cancel a show forty-eight hours before curtain. These venue challenges M encountered kick started the most recent outcry and media coverage of the impossible work permit situation. Forward Taiwan got involved soon after. After examining the facts, and the sacrifices foreigners made to stay in Taiwan, the government responded with its mini-gift. If it takes a long view, though, and is serious about improving and helping Taiwan stay competitive and educated, changing the albatross will encourage more talented foreigners to come and even more to stay and share their gifts. They are in the wings. They are waiting to take the stage.

Brook Hall currently serves as the Artistic Director of 實演場 The LAB Space, Taipei’s only international residential theatre company. More information about its mission and its events can be found at www.thelabtw.com . A book about his 15 years in Taiwan show business is in the works.

Meet the artist: Interview with Ted Pigott

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Photos from Ted’s current exhibition at the Red Room
Visual Dialogue 2

I burst through the doors of The Toasteria, out of breath and late. As I approached the stairs a man in black appeared. “Are you looking for Ted? He’s upstairs,” he said gesturing past staggered rows of drawings. Ted Pigott had been drawing over his lunchbreak at the Toasteria for a year when the owner of the restaurant asked him to display his drawings of the scenery and the food. The drawings in question featured a variety of styles from point work, to watercolor, black and white ink sketches, to colored pencil. Each drawing was encompassed by a simple, matte black frame. Though the frame stands out from the white walls of the Toasteria, it doesn’t dominate the space nor does it obscure the art. Like the artist, it eschews ostentation and exhibits a genuine, relaxed feel.

toasteriaWhile some artists may define their main inspiration as another artist or as a lofty philosophy about what art should be, Ted’s philosophy is often delivered through a series of simple mantras: Draw what you see. Share what you draw. Every day is better when you draw. As long as he has his pen and pad of paper, he’s happy. In fact, his Facebook, which is covered with portraits of strangers, flowers, scenery, food, is a testament to his philosophy.

As I opened up the menu, Ted leaned over to recommend the three cheese omelet. “It’s my favorite. That’s why I drew it twice.” He chuckled. Sure enough, the wall behind us featured two omelets: one in color, the other in black and white. I looked back at the drawings for a moment. “Did you ever envision, when you were young, that this would be your life?” I asked him. He confessed he hadn’t. In fact, he hadn’t drawn for over two decades when he picked up his pen again in 2014.
It all started with a single line drawn over his lunchbreak. He had a sketchbook and, as the server placed a coffee mug in front of him, he decided to pick up his pen and try to draw it. “It probably wasn’t that good,” he told me. “But at least I did something that day for myself.” What began as a hobby soon became his full time job when he began sharing his work on Facebook. He speaks highly of the internet which has allowed him to share his art and aided his getting noticed by the Toasteria and the Red Room.

He has since largely overcome the fear and excuses he made for himself before that year. When I asked how an artist might overcome such a fear he replied “It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just get it on paper. Draw that first line.” After that, it’s just honing your craft. Throughout the video he maintained that anyone could become an artist if they wanted it enough. The way to do so is simple: Do what you love, love what you do, the rest comes from diligent practice of your craft.
Perhaps most important to Ted is his passion and his independence. He espouses the importance of following your own perspective and maintaining your own artistic integrity. He claims the internet is a large part of what has allowed him to sustain that independence. “The world is my studio, the internet my gallery,” he told me toward the end of the interview. With a sketchbook and a pen he’s happy wherever he goes, as long as he can draw what he’s passionate about.
If you’re looking to speak with Ted about his art, you might find him at a Red Room event, with his notebook and pens out. His drawings of the Red Room community, as well as other things he likes, are currently featured at the Red Room for the month of November. If you’d like to view Ted Pigott’s art, you can visit the Red Room where his art will be displayed next to JJ Chen’s for Red Room’s second installment in the Visual Dialogues series. You can also hear more about their art and their involvement with the Red Room at their Visual Dialogue Vernissage on November 18th.
You can read the full interview below or visit Ted’s Facebook page to see more of his art.

Did you ever envision, when you were young, that this would be your life?

No, I never did. That’s why I stopped drawing for twenty some years. I was working full time as a consultant nearby here, so I was traveling around and very busy, but then one day I thought “Hey I need to do something for me.” Before I’d work at my desk; I’d have meetings; I’d read Bloomberg business week. I thought I needed a bit of a change. So, number one, I thought I had to get out of the office. I thought I’m going to walk around and see the neighborhoods. Number two, I wanted to find good food and a good place to sit for the full hour—not like a dumpling place, not a noodle shop, not like a café. And the third thing was I wanted to do something I wanted to do. [I didn’t want to] read work e-mails, or do copy writing.
So I had a sketchbook and I decided that “hey, maybe I should try to draw this coffee cup”. So I just tried to draw it, and it probably wasn’t that good. Then my food came so I closed the book and I ate. It probably wasn’t that good but at least I did something that day for myself. You spend so much time doing things for somebody else that it’s rare you find time to do something for yourself. Anyone can do it. You can work on a play. You can draw. You can do whatever, but you can take that one hour and give it to yourself. [You should] not just sit and watch the news, or trying to get ahead of work. It’s up to each person.

When did you start deciding you wanted to exhibit your work? It seems like something that started to decompress, something to do for you. When did it become something more than that?

ted portraitsWell, I started sharing my work on Facebook. Share your work. That’s another philosophy of mine. Social media is the best way to do that. Before all my stuff would just be in my sketchbook and you would never see it. You might see it and think “Oh, he’s got a sketchbook.” But you would never see it unless I showed it to you. Now if you like my page, if you are my friend on Facebook you know I draw a lot. It’s a great way to share. Also, if I show you my sketchbook now you might feel, out of politeness, “Oh, that’s good” or they don’t know what to say but they see it on Facebook by themselves, they might think “Hey I’ll give it a like”. I think the internet to day is very visual. If you write a story, a fictional story, not a lot of people are going to read it. They might think: I’m not going to read this, it’s too long, but a picture of flowers? ‘Like’. I like that. So it might make someone’s day a little better.

It connects with people a little quicker than written word? It’s more accessible?

I think so. I think because it’s so visual and it’s a picture. It’s not a photograph, it’s different. You’ve taken some time to draw something so it has a more personal feel to it. You draw something and people like to look at it. [Photographs are still useful though—especially with camera phones.] Before I had to scan it, but phones are so good I can just take pictures of my drawing and upload them. That’s how you share you work and [phones] are a very valuable tool to help you share.

Another mantra is “Draw what you see”. Do you mean that literally? Do you feel there’s so much to see that it’s better to render ‘real life’?

That can be taken quite a few ways. That could be taken literally, or it could be like what you draw what you imagine. Draw what you see. The first part of the mantra is just draw. Every day you gotta draw –draw, draw, draw. Then what you see is the things that you, as an individual, see. I see these flowers, probably in a different way than you see these flowers. I gotta draw what I see. It can be imaginary, I’m not saying everything’s gotta be realistic but it has to be from your perspective. My perspective is probably different than yours.

[Your perspective is different] in more ways than one.

Yeah, exactly, the things I see are different. You live in Zhongli and I live in Taipei. I’m a man and you’re a woman. I see things differently than you. I’m interested in these flowers, MRT, beer, what I see what I ride around in Taipei.
I don’t draw a lot of temples. I don’t go to a lot of temples [because] that’s not what I see. You have to draw your passion. That’s another one of my mantras: Draw what you love, love what you draw. You gotta love what you draw. You have to draw what makes you excited. This [three cheese omelet] I like a lot. Beer, I like a lot. Pizza. These are things I like. These are things that make me excited, make me want to share. I’m not forced to draw something.

You don’t force yourself to draw things you aren’t inspired by.

Yeah. I think it’s possible to draw things you aren’t inspired by but I don’t think it has that same feel or magic. That’s what an illustrator has to do. They have to draw pieces they don’t want to draw. I’m not interested in technically possible. I think something that really moves people has to come from a place of passion.

When you first started you said your drawings probably weren’t that good. I feel a lot of people, especially beginners, they tend not to get past that stage, the ‘It’s not good stage’. How were you able to push past that? Were you able to do it because you told yourself it should be about you, about relaxing and de-stressing? How did you get yourself in the mindset to continue drawing? Then, when you decided to pursue it in a more serious way, that is, in a way that would allow for exhibitions, how did you transition from it being more personal, and private to public? Did you change your mindset at all?

That’s a tough question because I think it’s a real paradox. You care about what people think, but you also have to not care what people think. You know, you put stuff on the internet; you put it out there; you share your work. You have to just be strong enough to put it out there. People are going to criticize it. They’re going to take it in ways you didn’t think [about]. They’re going to make fun of it—all that kind of stuff. But who cares? You can’t care. That’s another one of my mantras: Don’t think. Just draw. Don’t think about what they’re saying. Who cares what they’re saying? Don’t think about what they might say about it. Draw it. Make it. Get it out there and then post it. If they like it [then] they like it. If they don’t then you still drew it. You can’t take that positive or negative feedback too seriously. It’s kind of just noise. You’re going to do it anyway. If you really love it. I would draw even if I couldn’t share it. It helps to get feedback, to know people are seeing it but I’d still do it even if I couldn’t share it.

Of course it’s nice to get validation.

Of course it is, but you can’t let that control you. “I think I know what people want to see,” that’s where you get into trouble. A lot of people are suggesting I publish a book [because it’s popular to do so]. You know, maybe what’s popular is not really my passion right now. Maybe I could, but I don’t know about now. You have to do what you like.

So, maybe, in the future you might do so?

Yeah, maybe, I mean I’m open to anything.

You’re not concerned about the future. You’re just enjoying the present.

Yeah, maybe, maybe [I’m] not enjoying but just doing. [I’m] sort of, like, thinking: don’t think, just draw. You have to draw every day. That’s just me. It could be you gotta sing every day, you gotta draw every day. You gotta make something every day. You have to do it for you.
I think a lot of us just sit back and we watch five season of Breaking Bad or we gotta get caught up on Homeland. There are so many great shows but, maybe, you should do it. You have to just do it—create something.
I don’t know. There’s room for both. There’s a balance. You can get some inspiration from shows, they’re very well done, but someone else made those shows. Most of us just sit and watch them. Let’s all go and make something. I’m really passionate about that. I think you have to make it yourself.

I read the Facebook post you wrote at the end of 2014 and I think it’s really interesting to see how far you’ve come from “I’m afraid” to “I’m okay with making mistakes” to “I’m just going to do what I feel is right.” It seems like 2014 was a pivotal year of learning and discovery for you. Do you keep all of your drawings? Do you even keep those that become more a lesson than a final sketch? Is there such a thing as final sketch? (Perhaps it’s when you’ve stopped being interested in the subject matter– if that ever happens?)

I do keep all of my drawings.
I think a famous artist once said no piece of art (or novel or whatever) is ever finished–it’s just abandoned. And sometimes you may return to them later, just to look at them again or to try to learn something from them or even to add something new.
In any case, I do think 2014 was a big year in my life, when it some to learning and discovery, as you mentioned. I still feel as if I’m learning every day, though, and I still feel there’s so much left to learn.

And now you have an exhibition here. How did that happen?

Well the owner saw it on Facebook and he really liked it. He’s an artist himself, he’s a musician. He really appreciates the passion I put in. He contacted me and asked if I would like to exhibit. I selected sixteen different drawings. Over the course of a year I sat in different places and drew then I brought them all together and we picked the ones we wanted to show. He was really nice to give me free reign to decide what I wanted to show.
That’s why I like the internet. Before you had to go to gallery owners and beg them. You had to beg them “Please, please show my work.” Now, you can just post it on the internet. It doesn’t have to go viral immediately. It doesn’t have to get a million views, but you can build an audience. The world is my studio, the internet my gallery.

I’m now looking at your website and I see this picture of the Toasteria.

Yes! It’s the outside of the Toasteria. All the drawings I did for this exhibition were done here over the course of a year or so. So this is the place I would come to draw– here and a few other places—and I’d sit here and draw as much as I could. In September of last year I left my job and drew full time, freelance, and did some freelance writing and editing. Mostly my whole thing is just to draw I try to make myself my top priority. It’s easy as a freelancer to take case you don’t want to do, but if you do that a few years later you’re going to have a lot of drawings but nothing for you.
I try to limit that as much as possible so I can draw for myself.

It seems you really value your independence, and you follow through on your passion.

I’m very lucky. I feel blessed to be doing what I love. You know, other people might not be so lucky. They might need expensive equipment, a studio. All I need is a sketchbook and a pen. That’s all I need and I’m happy.

Leah List

Meet the Artist: An Interview with Ben McCaffery

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We will be posting a series of conversations with some of the creatives from the Red Room and also the volunteers who make it possible to make our events happen.

Leah List in conversation with Ben McCaffrey, artist and creator of ‘Betsy’, the Red Room bar.

ben-P1140499How might you describe your art?

I wouldn’t. I don’t mind when other people do, but I always feel resistant to voicing some fleeting intention or aim that I may have entertained but which may not now even apply to the finished piece. Most of the process is intuitive and it passes without being willful or having some internal dialogue. I try and work on something until I’m pleased with it and then, if it’s any good it will resonate – describe and present itself suitably. The work itself is the intended expression and it shouldn’t need more.

What inspires you to create it?

Curiosity.

A distinctive part of your art is the materials used to create it. Others have described you as an avid upcycler. What drew you to upcycling?

I’m actually more of a finder. There are so many items to be found. I tend to be drawn to discarded or abandoned objects – you can find them on the beach, the roadside, in second-hand shops, all over the place – and when lucky or awake you may stumble across some this or that that you like that has some quality you admire, and nobody has taken charge of loving it or putting it to use. So, then it’s your obligation to preserve this treasure that may otherwise go unappreciated. It doesn’t have to have universal value, the connection will be personal. And I will keep it for a while trying to figure out where it best belongs. Some objects are perfect as they are, like a chair or a glass bottle for example, and some may have no purpose at all other than being liked by me, but usually anything found and picked up will present itself as a timely solution to some puzzle down the line, and find its way out of the studio. I like to keep the inventory liquid and manageable.

Some of your art, like Betsy bar and Brutus Campbell shelf is more architectural and also serves very utilitarian purpose. How is the process for creating these pieces different from creating your visual art, if at all? Are there any architectural elements, beyond upcycling, that you feel are distinctive in your art?

I like ‘Brutus Campbell’ as a name for the shelf. And, Betsy Campbell, the bar girl makes me laugh. Thinking about it now, one difference in process between making furniture and painting may be that when painting I would never think about how tall the average viewer would be or what composition would be easier on the viewer’s eye movement. In painting, it seems there is no artist concern for the viewer’s physical needs. I better get on it.

Betsy Bar was created at Red Room’s request. Do you often make pieces for clients this way?

Yes, most of my work now is by commission.

Would you tell us a bit about some of your favorite art pieces you’ve created?


Picture 1 and Picture 2: I like it because of its independent and androgynous nature. Oh yeah, and I like red and green.*
Picture 3: Lady and chair. I’ve kept this painting for myself. It is from 1991. The attraction to it is simple for me but I won’t explain, see number 1.

It has been mentioned that you’ve often chosen to live in shipping containers out of pure preference. What about that lifestyle appeals to you?

Small inside, big outside.

Are there any questions you wish people would ask you about your art, or about you?

Any question suits me fine. “Would you like some more pie?” is a pretty great question.

What do you hope your art will achieve?

I hope that it complements whatever is good in the viewer.

*Ben McCaffery is accepting offers for the first piece and is available for commissions. wildben@gmail.com

Meet the Artist: An Interview with Charles Haines

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We will be posting a series of conversations with some of the creatives from the Red Room and also the volunteers who make it possible to make our events happen.

Leah List in conversation with Charles Haines, Red Room volunteer and one of the two artists featured in Visual Dialogues 1, currently showing at the Red Room Gallery.

How would you describe your art? What inspires you?

Well, generally I don’t like talking about myself. Generally I’m a very self-effacing person, so when someone asks me a question [about my art] I try to answer the best that I can. One of my biggest inspirations is Norval Morrisseau. He’s an indigenous artist. He’s an Ojibway artist. I am inspired by indigenous art in general. Taiwan indigenous cultures are a big inspiration to my work. I would describe my work as full of the colors of my spirit.

What is it about these cultures that are so special beyond the ideas of spirit and change. What draws you to it?

I guess there are two reasons. The first one is that my [adopted] sister was more than half indigenous. I knew that from a very young age and that was something that affected me. Even if she, at that time, wasn’t interested in her roots, I was interested in her roots. Later she become interested and helped me to discover more. The other reason was the gallery in the community I grew up in called the McMichael gallery. They have a wonderful collection of Canadian art. In their collection they have indigenous works of art– some of which are considered artifacts, not necessarily fine art. They have some totem poles and masks by the Haida people and then they have paintings by Norval Morrisseau – as well as Canadian landscape paintings by the Group of Seven who painted in an impressionistic style.

The most vivid memories I have are these very striking, colorful indigenous works. Even the totems, [which were] not painted, were very distinctive. At a very early age, I was running around the gallery.

What parts of these cultures do you take and change? How do you mix these two things together to create something that is uniquely yours?

Actually, for the most part, I hope I’m taking something and making it my own. I’m not consciously copying anything, so it is my own and I always try to put myself into my work. I suppose one of the things that I’m most interested and that I try to put into my work is morphology: something changing into something else or some spirit inside another person or animal or, it could be a tree. I’m interested in the life of things.

I remember, in an earlier conversation, you mentioned crows being your inspiration. What is the importance of the ‘crow’ spirit to you? How do you separate the spirits and what is it about morphology and change that really captures the essence of life for you, do you think?

Well, for me, it’s that I was a crow in a former life and now I’m a person, so I changed, so I have a crow spirit. Also this idea of change is influenced by our modern culture. We’re endeavoring to improve on the human species and through that– some things are positive some things are negative– it’s like, every once in a while we do achieve something and change our DNA… I kind of maybe focus a little bit more on the darker aspects sometimes because that’s change, too. We all have this person on the inside that no one sees, our inner self that is something that interests me.

Many of them have flowing lines depicting one spirit changing to another. You also have a range of colors from vibrant to dark. I’m wondering since you’ve mentioned this positive-negative change, how to you capture those differences? You also mentioned focusing a little bit more on the “darker aspects sometimes”, is that something you consciously try to capture or is it more often affected by your mood?

The Changing spirits are showing what they are on the inside. I think it’s definitely affected by my mood, but also my earlier work is much darker. It has darkening tones with black and white and very little color. Though I suspect it has more to do with something else, I am a very happy person so I think my art work was an outlet for my darker side. I was releasing this dark energy in a constructive way. This was my young work. My later work has much more color and it’s much more vibrant.

So even your art has transformed? It’s another example of change.

Yes, absolutely, and I’m enjoying the color. At the time I started painting –I used to use color a lot, but I painted with oil. With oil you get a silky tone, a muted tone. You don’t get such vibrant colors– you get satiny colors most of the time. If you really want vibrant colors you can achieve that, but it’s satiny most of the time. Now I’m painting with an acrylic paint. Again, you can get a satiny color, but most of the time you get stark, vibrant colors.

When people look at your art, what is it you want them to feel? What is it you hope to achieve? Or do you just want to leave it to the viewer’s interpretation and connect with them in that way?

Maybe not. I hope I’m conveying some sense of myth or story or something, because I’m taking from these sources and interpreting them myself. I’ve done a lot of reading on mythology, so I hope some of that comes through, but I also hope that viewers can bring their own story to it too. That they will connect with the art. I really like it when a viewer says “Oh, I see this and this and this.” I love that.

It sort of brings the story to life and the spirit you created?

It does. It does. If somebody connects with it, when I first started, I thought to myself as a professional artist, my goal is not to, y’know, touch the people. It was to touch one person profoundly.

You talked about creating the story and allowing the viewer to connect to it in their own way. I’m wondering if you might elaborate on those stories. Perhaps, I’m sure you have your favorite, most artists do. Would you mind, maybe, telling us the story of some of your favorite paintings?

The story of the image is sort of a leaping off point, so it’s not necessary to try to convey a whole story in an image. It’s not an illustration. Some of my favorite ones include “The Siren”. The name was taken from a Greek myth. For me it’s also a lady that I know, who is– for me a kind of positive image– [because she has the body of a crow and] I consider myself a crow. At the time, when I put her head on a crow’s body, it was meant to be positive. Of course, a Siren could be read as a negative as well as Sirens lured men to their death, but also there’s the positive part of the siren which is their song which is very strong. They are very, very strong female characters and I sort of wanted to draw from that.

So, in a way, you’re playing with the positives and negatives we find in life through this painting? There’s definitely a bright, strong uplifting quality about the painting but, even the detail and the muted tones, also captured some of the darkness probably we all have?

Well, yes, it’s a picture of a person. So there is this positive energy and also this negative energy. It’s very wonderful and complex.
There’s one, it’s called “The Sun Spirit”. I’ve never, ever, ever been a sun worshipper. I don’t know where it came from. I’m more of a moon person, but since the sun and moon in my mind are quite close. They’re opposites, but they-

They complement each other?

Yes. Absolutely.

Spiritually they’re often dependent on one another and perhaps both are necessary for Earth, the way it is, to survive.

Yes, absolutely. Absolutely I think both are necessary for Earth. Actually, now that I think about it, this could be read as a very bright moon painting. I called it a sun painting, but it could be read a different way. That painting “The crow in the Sun” is inspired by a story about a crow that is in a sun. It flies to the top of a tree and that’s sort of the basic description. That tree is where it sits, at the tress apex. I thought that’s cool, that’s really interesting and it’s a Chinese story so it’s really interesting that they have a crow in a sun since crows are not looked upon too favorably here.
Another legend I read is about an archer who shoots down nine suns. There are ten suns in the sky and he shoots down nine suns. Actually there’s an aboriginal story with the same kind of idea, but in the Chinese story, each time he shoots down a sun, a crow spirit falls dead from the sky.
“Pangu makes order out of Chaos” which is another Chinese legend. [Pangu] separates the Earth and the Sky. Actually, the name came later. The painting I was thinking of was more of a raven spirit, but it has so many celestial things going on that the title fits it– even though it’s not a Chinese painting, it’s very aboriginal looking character.

Why the Red Room? Why did you choose the Red Room to exhibit your art?

Well, I’ve been with Red Room for six years and, being the master of cups, for that time, so I’ve been around. I have a very, very close connection with Roma, Manav and the other members of the Red Room community. They asked me if I wanted to show my art.

You mentioned you were involved in the community a lot, would you mind expanding a little on that. What is it about the Red Room that you feel is special or you feel nurtures your art? Six years is a long time to be with any community. What is it about the Red Room that made you want to stick around? Do you feel it has influenced your art?

Well, it started with Stage Time & Wine, that platform, and, for me, I just thought it was an amazing idea and I enjoyed being a part of that creative energy during Stage Time & Wine. I stuck around with Red Room because I believe in it. I think Red Room is one of the places, I’ve seen it, for artists who may not have their footing. They can come and share and gain their momentum and grow in confidence. For me, the influence comes from growing because I felt comfortable here. It’s a comfortable place. Red Room is also an outlet. At the Red Room I could come and visit my friends, and sort of hang out.

You said earlier Red Room was an outlet for you and a supportive community. Do you think that helped your confidence in your own art and, maybe, in that way influenced what you were creating?

That certainly could be. I certainly feel more confident with myself and it largely has to do with the community. Yes. Of course. I have a great example. A couple years ago I went back to Canada and while I was home I rediscovered Norval Morrisseau’s paintings and they inspired me. They brought out something in me. I returned to Taiwan and was scared to let this inspiration have full rein over me. I was scared to appropriate anything. I spoke with Roma about it and she could see how excited I was by what I had discovered, what was being brought out in me. Her advice was to let him be my guru, my teacher. She told me that if I embraced the spirit in all things that things that I could let Norval Morrisseau teach me.

When you’re inspired by another culture there’s always that question about which lines you can cross and which you can’t, so you always have to approach it with a level of sensitivity. So, how did you cultivate that sensitivity and how do you continue educating yourself to ensure you are being considerate of that?

That’s a huge, huge question and it’s always in the back of my mind. How [do I] do my own work and express myself while letting these influences come into my work? At the moment, it’s something that’s always there, but I’m trying really not to think about it and just to let it happen. I don’t know what I would do if, at some point, it caused a controversy or how I would answer that because I’m very aware of appropriation. I don’t want to appropriate.

I know that some way some people try to avoid appropriation or maintain sensitivity is by interacting with the communities they’re inspired by, speaking with them and learning their history. Would you say that’s something you’ve done diligently?

Yes. I’m continuing to do that. I actually just spent the weekend doing a workshop in an indigenous community in Hualien and I continue to collect literature and study. I’m not an anthropologist so I’m just reading and trying to take in these stories.

I’m curious, could you tell me a bit more about this workshop in Hualien?

I was giving a workshop on paintings and art in an indigenous community. We first did some hand-tracing and patterns as a warm up then we interacted a bit more. This was in partnership with a friend Amy Liu. She invites foreigners to come and do workshops in their specialty with the Indigenous children.

My sister passed away not too long ago. I think that’s also a way my paintings are the way they are. I think it could be her spirit influencing me; she’s definitely looking down on me. For me, some things I do are to honor her memory. This past weekend’s workshop fell on her birthday weekend 10/10 and I couldn’t think of a better place to be than there to honor her memory, a better thing than to work with those kids.

What is it about this workshop that was so fitting, do you think, to honor her memory? How involved was she with your art?

She wasn’t very involved with my art but she was always very, very supportive. I think, later in life, she was exploring her roots and I think that she would have been very touched that I was doing that.

So in making connections and helping others explore their own roots, you were honoring her?

Yes. I think she would have been very touched.

Charles Haines’ paintings will be on exhibit at the Red Room until the 31st. You can come and see, or purchase many of them any time the Red Room is open and most of them are for sale. Proceeds should be given to the Red Room and go to the artist.
If any viewers would like to talk about the paintings, or even just to meet and have a coffee at the Red Room, they can send Charles an e-mail at: murder.of.crows.10.5@gmail.com