Visual Dialogues III, December 2015

Visual Dialogue 3

It was a Sunday, slightly rainy and drizzly but nothing too out of character for Taipei. Walking through the Taiwan Air Force base to the Red Room always filled me with a sense of electricity. I hope I’m not late and I can’t wait to get there.

Making my way up the stone stairs surrounded by the white walls, I see photos. I would stop and admire them but I’m being dragged inside by my need to see the space and what’s been done to it this month.

I open the door and am met with an energy that is new. There are photos that capture times that I have not yet experienced and places foreign to me. Arranged in a manner that are at once calculated yet relaxed. Marveling at the subject matter and some of the artistic style of the photographer I wander into the main part of the room when I see them.

The umbrellas, not strewn across the floor or laid in a nice pile by the entrance, but hung as if though they were red lanterns at a night market in Taipei. All with different designs and markings. They were the production of another artist. Both artists had come together to use the space to present their creativity and I was brought to smiles when I saw what they had done.

The space had an energy that was interjected by the art chosen by these two creative beings. A beautiful photo of the Taipei cityscape hung in the corner surrounded by photos just as entrancing. Renderings of the artist perspective of Taipei turned into quirky comic books sat as a welcome to guests of this event.

Voices hummed and people were nibbling on some food provided by Sababa. But everything quieted down as the artist took their place in the front of the room to talk about their process. Both Alex and Bara had complimentary vibrations. They smiled and joked about their process but you could see that they took their craft seriously. Yet in the space you could see that the ego was not such a big part of the process.

Sharing and letting the world experience what you have seen or your perspective seemed to be the ultimate goal for this visual dialogue. Two artists, one that realized the beauty in the world with his camera and the other that created her own with a paints, pens and tools… Couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday.

23317692060_3c64266728_zDaniel Black

Performers at Aside 7

Saturday, November 29th, 2014 Time: 6:30pm – 10:00pm
Red Room’s seventh exclusive event, where these artists share their most imaginative, courageous and inspiring performances.
You can register online ( or email us at
[email protected] to confirm your attendance.


Coming from Indianapolis, U.SA.

Apelles Johnson is a poet of simplicity. His poems vary in subject matter and mood, but he tries to maintain a style of speaking clearly and giving a message easily understood.

He is proud to have performed in Taipei as it shows an appreciation for his style of universal poetry. He has also hosted a poetry workshop here through the organization ‘Becoming’ as well as written and performed short plays with the Taipei Players. He loves listening to live music and works as an English teacher at Tamkang High School.

[email protected]


Like most artists, in younger days Tina was a Taiwanese hippy, rebelling against anything that interfered with her free will. She loved playing the guitar and learned American music while participating in all the social movements when Taiwan was seeking its identity in the early 80s.

After 30 years, she knows that the voice and sound must come from her own ground and soil now.

Having explored different art forms, she has finally chosen telling Taiwanese stories through songs from the ancient Chinese to current days, and to follow her bliss…

She likes to see herself as someone who uses this ancient musical instrument – moon guitar, to share shamanic spirits from nature and folklore of the mother earth. The instrument is two stringed, but says a lot in a simple ways, as most of life’s wisdom does.

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Conor Murphy’s compelling Irish voice carries any crowd, and when pulling back to circle around a more delicate turn in a song, audiences instinctively lean in to hear where he’s going next, lost in the narrative.

One remembers his work long after listening not only for its uniqueness, but his uncanny and marvelous ability to transmit the richness of human experience into word and song.

The subtle, enveloping, and sometimes explosive presence Murphy wields onstage combines remarkably with his lyrics, which carry all of the raw and the marvelous of life. His work inspires a nostalgia for the present, like all great art.

Performance statement: With every song comes the tale of its creation. No one person will be left unengaged, of this you are assured.

E: [email protected]






Daniel was born and raised in NYC. His first foray into storytelling was with taking  photos in Lower East Side. From there he graduated to film.  Ever since then he has been trying his best to translate the visuals he sees in his own mind to the public. A good portion of his stories are drawn from real experiences, either his own or others.

[email protected]

Daniel Black, June 2014


The smoke filled room was dimly lit by hanging paper lanterns.

I had a tough time dealing with the smoke only cause it would periodically rise from my own cigarette and hover over my eyes, causing a slight sting but nothing unbearable.

She looked on across from me. Worrying thoughts flitting across her eyes. I could see her preoccupation with a thought. It was written in the way the emerald green of her eyes shone in the candle light .

The waiter appeared with our drinks. He placed them in the center of the table and moved back through the fog to service another couple.

I looked on as I reached for my drink.

The brisk smell of twelve year old Japanese whiskey filled my nostrils as I went about bringing the cup to my lips.

She stared at me for a moment. The tension building as I waited. We had spent the better part of the night talking about life, books we’ve read, places we’ve been and things we wanted to do.

I could feel the ebb and flow of our interaction, and now we were at a very pivotal point. All because of a question.

“ How are you really feeling?

She blushed slightly as the words left my mouth. I could see that she had anticipated my inquiry.

The cherry of her cigarette lit up as she inhaled deep. Biding her time to either make up a lie or to gauge if I was asking honestly.

I was.

“ Daniel, I –

The faint crack of her voice was noticeable. Her eyes became wrapped in a light film. Either because of the smoke or the truth of the statement that was about to leave her lips.

“ I’ve been so lonely since I’ve been here. I think the most alone I’ve ever felt”

She took another drag. The ash building up on the end. She tapped it lightly on the edge of the ashtray. It fell amongst the rest. I could also see that it wasn’t just the weight of the ash that had been lifted.

She breathed out the smoke, it billowed over our heads as I sipped on my whiskey. The red light fixtures adding to the confessional ambiance in our corner of the lounge.

“ Such a beautiful woman, how could you be lonely?

She laughed at the remark. The remaining smoke escaping in her laughter.

“ The men I’ve met want me for my body”

And a body she had.

5’11” with dirty blond hair that down over her tanned skin. A frame that insisted on recognition regardless of what she wore. I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that a portion of my intrigue was to see what her dress was hiding.

But believe it or not my penis doesn’t do all the thinking.

“ I just don’t want to feel this way”

She extinguished her cigarette. The small wisps of smoke rising up.

She looked me square in the eye,

“ I was thinking maybe…

I caught on immediately but I hesistated so as to not ruin the moment.

We go back to my place and finish this conversation over a bottle of wine?

She smiled. So did I .



The lavish marble designed with patterns that weaved in and out of each other. I stood in the hallway. Mesmerized by it. The wall lamps that shone with such a brightness that made sure to light the decadent nature of the place I was standing in.

“ How had I gotten here? ”

The questioned echoed in my head as I tried to keep my vision from swimming.

The champagne glass in my hand was no bordering on half empty. Although I’m a glass half full kind of guy I’m not unrealistic.

I walked down the hallway admiring the décor. The noise of the party in the distance quietly grazed my ear drums.

The gold curtains covered the windows. I touched them to feel the soft texture and to make out the subtle designs.

As I reached the end of the hallway and the bottom of my glass I looked around and saw a figure standing to my left.

I couldn’t make out a face. My vision started taking a dive in the deep end my champagne filled pool.

I grasped onto one of the tables next to me. Barely maintaining my balance. The sound of the champagne flute shattering next to me echoed in the corridor.

The person was saying something, I couldn’t quite make it out. I focused as hard as I could. Finally being able to make out a few words I heard

“ Not yet, You’re not ready for this yet”

I tried to respond but my voice was gone. I looked down at my hands but they were gone. I looked up and I saw that I was in my room. No lavish hallway, no marbled floors. It had been a dream that felt as real as my waking life. Yet I wonder still what it meant and what I wasn’t ready for.

Daniel Black  is a native of New York. Is in Taiwan teaching and working on his short film for release in October. He writes often from the memories of his own life. Hope you enjoy it.

Daniel Black [email protected]

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