朋友的不丹團
不丹是人稱「喜瑪拉雅山下的香格里拉」
有興趣的朋友可以參考參考
CCC
6月12-20不丹團 揪人
今年尼泊爾爬山完之後想要繞去大吉嶺一趟 發現有充裕的時間可以再回不丹一次 聯絡了之前去不丹的旅遊公司的CEO (上次去玩完之後成為好友 也介紹一些朋友給他)發現6月有兩個慶典可以參加 請他給我行程 因為有認識 所以只要我們湊團到10人以上 陸路進出9天8夜一人只要1550美金(和簽證費)「註通常一人一晚最低消費是250美」
另外這次也會找中文導遊一天100美金確定人數後大家共攤
這兩個慶典都在很少人去的不丹中部 拉車時間比較長 但是是看到跟格魯派(我們熟知的達賴喇嘛-黃帽)不同(藏傳佛教)教派的噶舉派慶典 (面具舞等等)
我個人3年前只去5天4夜就花了1100
吃住交通導遊都包含 我當時只有買明信片郵票跟啤酒有花到錢, 住宿都是3星旅館有wifi 或者不錯的不丹建築民宿
所以有興趣的朋友快點跟我連絡
想要陸路進出的順變跟我去大吉嶺錫金品茶的 我可以跟你們在Siliguri (機場是Bagdogra目前查到國泰或者華航+印度捷特航空從台北經印度德里到Bagdogra 6/8-6/21 都是台幣24300左右) 碰面 我可以帶你們搭公車到邊界
飛機進出的自理台北-曼谷航線 (威航虎航都是不錯的便宜選擇飛DMK, 價格都在7-8000左右 只是大家要記得跟去不丹是不同機場BKK)我們在不丹見
至於曼谷不丹部分 我查到的機票時間如下 目前來回官網查到是是$635 (~21300台幣)(還沒收到旅行社報價越晚訂越貴)
6/12 KB 141 BANGKOK 09:00 PARO 12:35
6/20 KB 130 PARO 13:35 BANGKOK 18:45
有超過10-15人我才能有這個好價錢 不然就放棄啦 有什麼問題盡量問我啊
下面是我上次去不丹的相簿連結
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/…
-------------------------------
行程如下
09 Days 08 Nights Bhutan Tour(Drive In Drive Out)
June 12th 2016 (陸路)- Day 01: Drive Phuntsholing Punakha (175 km + 75 km, 8-9 hrs drive)
After arrive in Phuntsholing in the morning and done with Immigrations formalities we drive to Thimphu and the drive to Punakha.
陸路有點顛簸 但是多參觀了邊界的不丹小城Phuntsholing 一路上有好多時間跟導遊聊天 當時問了了很多不丹的風俗飲食宗教家庭等等的問題 會暈車的請自備藥物
Dinner & O/N Hotel Lobesa or Similar
June 12th 2016 - Day 01 (飛機進不丹): Arrive Paro by Air & transfer to Punakha via Thimphu (55 km + 75 km, approx 4.1/2 hours drive)
After arrive in Paro International Air-Port, Greet by BHT team & Transfer to Thimphu for lunch . After lunch we will visit Memorail Chorten built in the memory of the late King Jigme Dorji Wangchuck, & Dive to Punakha.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Lobesa or Similar
June 13th 2016 - Day 02: Punakha – Bumthang ( 212 km 8-9 hrs)
After breakfast we will we will drive full day through thick vegetations and many species of rhododendron & high passes of Pele-La (3150 mtrs), crossing Trongsa and visit Trongsa Dzong. Built in 1648, it was the seat of power over central and eastern Bhutan. Both the first and second kings of Bhutan ruled the country from this ancient seat. All four kings were invested as Trongsa Penlop (“governor”) prior to ascending the throne. The dzong is a massive structure with many levels, sloping down the contours of the ridge on which it is built. Because of the dzong’s highly strategic position, on the only connecting route between east and west, the Trongsa Penlop was able to control effectively the whole of the central and eastern regions of the country from here.
We drive and cross a small pass arrive Bumthang.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Mepham Guest house or Similar
June 14th 2016 - Day 03: Bumthang.
Today Morning after breakfast we will drive to visit Mebar Tsho - the Burning Lake. According to the legend Terton Pema Lingpa had a vision of the sacred treasures that Guru Rimpoche had hidden within the lake centuries earlier. However the people of Tang and the local ruler were cynical of his claims. In order to prove his claims, Pema Lingpa held a butter lamp in his hand as he jumped into the lake. After remaining under water for a long time he re-emerged holding a chest and a scroll of paper with the butter lamp held in his hand still burning bright. Thereafter, the lake came to be known as Mebartsho (the burning Lake).
The Burning Lake, Mebar Tsho is located along the way to the Tang village ,over the feeder road under Bumthang valley. It takes approximately thirty minutes drive to the Mebar Tsho from Chamkhar town.
Mebar Tsho is considered one of the most sacred sites in the region as it is related to the renowned religious treasure reveler (Terton) Terton Pema Lingpa. Pema Lingpa is considered an incarnated disciple of Padmasambhava who discovered treasure within the lake in late 15th century.
Today this small fresh water lake is a sacred pilgrimage site for the Bhutanese with bright multicolored prayer flags surrounding it and a small altar dedicated to Terton Pema Lingpa has also been set up. On auspicious days people offer butter lamps at the lake. Many tourist visit the site to observe spectacular beauty of this important historical and religious site.
Then we drive back to Chumey and witness the festival.
NIMALUNG FESTIVAL
Nimalung Lhakhang is located in Chumey in Bumthang. It is approximately a 15 minute drive from the road that branches off from the village of Chumey.
The Lhakhang was co-founded by Dasho Gonpo Dorji and Doring Trulku Jamyang Kunzang, the third mind-aspect reincarnation of Terton Jigme Lingpa in 1935.
The main relic of the two-storied temple is a magnificent statue of Guru Rimpoche. The monastery is decorated with murals of the Nyingmapa and Drukpa traditions. There are also paintings of Guru Rimpoche and his disciples, the lineage of Terton Pema Lingpa, and several Buddhist masters affiliated with the monastery.
One of the most important festivals held at the Lhakhang is the Kaling Zhitro Drubchen. It was initiated by Doring Trulku and he was the first person to have started the rite in Bhutan. It is held on the first fifteen days of the first month of the Bhutanese calendar.
The local Tshechu is held once a year in the 5th month of the Bhutanese calendar. During the Tshechu an awe-inspiring Thongdrol (gigantic scroll painting) of Guru Rimpoche is put on display for attendees. The Thongdrol is nine meters long and twelve meters wide and in addition to inspiring wonder is said to cleanse the sins of all those who look upon it. The Thongdrol which was donated by Lopen Pemala and was consecrated in June 1994 in the presence of a large crowd of villagers by Lhalung Thuksey Rimpoche, the reincarnation of mental aspect of Pema Lingpa. During the festival, a series of colorful and spectacular mask dances are performed.
After the festival we also visit the Yathra (woolen cloths) weaving factory then we stroll in the town and drive back to hotel.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Mepham Guest house or Similar
June 15th 2016 – Day 04: Bumthang (Kurjey Festival)
In the morning, we will visit Jambay Lhakhang, built in 659 by Tibetan King Sontsen Gampo to pin down a giant demon who was obstructing the spread of Buddhism. In the October month, the Jambay Lhakhang Drup, which is sacred & one of the most colourful festivals in Bhutan.
We will also visit Kurjey Lhakhang (left-bottom), one of the most sacred monasteries in Bhutan. Built by the Guru Rinpoche in 1652, it houses a rock with his body imprint. Legend has it that Guru Rimpoche manifested as a Garuda to defeat the demon Shelging Karpo who had taken the form of a white lion. And we will also witness the festival here.
KURJEY FESTIVAL
The festival takes place at Kurjey Temple, located at Kurjey in the Chokhor valley in Bumthang district. It is a 15 minute drive from our hotel to arrive at the temple grounds.
The history of the temples at Kurjey is associated with Sindhu Raja and Guru Rimpoche. Sindhu Raja invited Guru Rimpoche from Nepal to Bhutan to subdue some evil spirits that had been plaguing the land. Upon invitation, Guru Rimpoche visited Bumthang and meditated in a cave that resembled a pile of Dorjis (stylized thunderbolt used for Buddhist rituals). After subduing the evil spirits and demons, imprints of the Guru’s body remained in the rock face. Thereafter, the name came to be known as Kurjey meaning - “Imprint of the body”. The Lhakhang is now a blessed site of great historical significance.
There are three main temples at Kurjey. The oldest temple was constructed on the site where Guru Rimpoche meditated by Minjur Tenpa the first Trongsa Penlop (Governor of Trongsa) in 1652.
The second temple was founded by Gongsar Ugyen Wangchuck (1st King) in 1900 while serving as the 13th Trongsa Penlop. This temple is the most sacred as it was built in the place where Guru Rimpoche left his body imprint.
The third temple was built in the 1990s. It was sponsored by the Queen Mother Ashi Kezang Choden Wangchuck. It houses the images of Guru Rimpoche, King Thrisong Detsen and Pandit Santarakshita.
In front of the temples are Chortens dedicated to the first three kings of Bhutan.
The Kurjey festival is an important occasion not only for the local people of Bumthang but for all Bhutanese. The festival brings together tourists and Bhutanese from all over as it presents the perfect occasion to not only receive blessings by witnessing age-old mask dances but also to enjoy this unique culture whilst basking in the natural beauty of Bhutan’s spiritual heartland.
After the festival we will hike to the Tamshing Goemba, built in 1501 by the Buddhist saint Pema Lingpa. If time permits then we will visit Kencho Sum Lhakhang and Swiss farm for local cheese, wine beer and honey.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Mepham Guest House or Similar
June 16th 2016 - Day 05: Bumthang - Gangtey (193 km, 7-8 hours drive)
After early breakfast we will drive to Gangtey. Whole day drive back the same route. The one of the best country side to see.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Gakiling or Similar.
June 17th 2016 – Day 06 : Gangtey to Thimphu (140 km – 5 hrs drive)
After breakfast we will visit the valley and take a short walk, the valley of Phobjikha is well known as the winter home of the Black necked crane (Grus Nigricollis). Bhutan is home to around six hundred black-necked cranes with Phobjikha being one of the popular places that the birds migrate to in the winter months from the Tibetan plateau. The elegant and shy birds can be observed from early November to end of March. This is an old monastery that dates back to 17th century. Lao visit Gangtey Goenpa. Then drive to Punakha and visit Punakha Dzong - Built in 1637, and then also visit
Chhimi Lhakhang – also the temple of Divine Mad Man. We the drive to Thimphu.
Dinner & O/N Hotel Kisa or Similar
June 18th 2016 – Day 07 : Thimphu – Paro (60 km 1.5 hrs drive)
After breakfast in the hotel we will do the Thimphu sightseeing - visit the Big Buddha Dordenma staue, then visit Motithang mini Zoo to see the rare "Takin" national animal of Bhutan, then visit Zilukha Nunnery , Visit Zorig chusum 13 varities of Arts & Crafts. Then we drive to Paro.
After Lunch in Paro we will visit Ta Dzong, once a watchtower, built to defend Rinpung Dzong during inter-valley wars of the 17th century, Ta Dzong was inaugurated as Bhutan's National Museum in 1968. Then drive to visit Paro Rinpung Dzong. Built in 1646 by Zhabdrung Ngawang Namgyal , the first spiritual and temporal ruler of Bhutan, the Dzong houses the monastic body of Paro, the office of the Dzongda (district administrative head) and Thrimpon (judge) of Paro district. The approach to the Dzong or we exit and walk around through a traditional covered bridge called Nemi Zam where our car wait for us in the parking.
Dinner & O/N Olathang Hotel or similar
June 19th 2016 - Day 08: Day hike to Taktsang Monastery (Tiger Nest)
Day hike to the view point of Taktsang Monastery. Horses can be arranged with an extra payment. The hike which is all the way uphill takes about 2 /3 hours through villages and pine forests. The monastery clings to a huge granite cliff 800 meters from the paro valley. It is believed that the great saint Guru Padmasambhava came in the 7th century on a flying tigress and meditated in a cave. The demons were subdued who were trying to stop the spread of Buddhism and converted the Paro valley into Buddhism. During the end of the 17 century a monastery was built on the spot where the saint mediated and it is a pilgrimage site for every Buddhist to visit once in their life time.
Will have lunch in the cafeteria and walk back. If time permits then we will visit ruins of Drugyal Dzong.
Dinner in Farm House can make stay overnight also and Hot stone bath.
O/N Hotel Olathang or Similar or Farm House.
June 20th 2016 - Day 09 (陸路): Drive to Phuntsholing (Indian Border town) .
After breakfast in the hotel we drive to Phuntsholing and checkout to India by evening.
June 20th 2016 - Day 09 (飛機出不丹): Drive to the Airport.
Rate for the above package for the off-season month (Dec, Jan , Feb,June,July, August)
USD $ 1550 (陸路)per person above 10+ in the group.
USD $ 1550 (飛機)per person. above 10+ in the group. 曼谷不丹進出機票不含
Services Included:
• Twine share room in 3 star standard hotels.
• All meals (B,LD,)
• English speaking guide
• Entrance fees
• All necessary permits
• Land Transportations.
• Visa fee
Services Excluded:
• Mandarin speaking Guide ($ 100 per day )
• Travel insurance
• Airfare
• Expenses of personal nature (laundry, phone call etc)
• Liquor beverage (hard and soft drinks)
• Tips
• Pony hiring charge during Taktsang Monastery 虎穴寺 (走路的話 3/4小時來回)
• Service not mention here
• Hot stone bath.
• Lunch on the last day to Phuntsholing as the service ends with breakfast.
「black and white painting for room」的推薦目錄:
black and white painting for room 在 YOSHITOMO NARA Facebook 的最佳貼文
Nobody’s Fool ( January 2011 )
Yoshitomo Nara
Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.
It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.
But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.
While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.
As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.
In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.
Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.
Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!
I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.
Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.
By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.
After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.
And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.
Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.
But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.
The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.
Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.
After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.
Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.
After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.
I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….