‘If I had to be there for over three minutes I would space out’. When dragged to temples by his parents, Lee Lichung, like many young Taiwanese saw them as relics of a world that had no association or relation to his current life. He would go to make offerings to deities on their birthdays and zone . . .
Reaching Li Xiaodong’s Li Yuan library (篱苑图书馆) which lies on the outskirts of Beijing takes a bit of a pilgrimage. We took a two hour bus to Huairou encountering a ragbag of tricksters who tried to get us to dismount at earlier stops along the way. Then it was another 45 minute cab up a twisty, . . .
Hutongs, the grey paved alleyways lined with grey tiled roofs that slant atop red painted wooden structures still split the middle of Beijing into uneven chunks. Wandering down these leads to unexpected encounters, a military uniform hung up on a washing line, hole in the wall hotpot places with . . .