opheliaswims

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore–” Edgar Allen Poe The Raven

I deal with shadows all day and all night. The shadows are random thoughts, mine and others. Even in the white light of the noon sun, I have shadows follow me. Each one has its story. One is about insecurity, another is when I lied about being home when I wasn’t, and a few about missed opportunities. The others are thoughts that carry in from afar. “What are you doing?” “Are you lonely?” “I don’t like you” “I miss you” “You are wrong and will always be wrong” “Why did you leave me?”

You see these shadows follow me because I like their company. Without them I would be by myself. Alone with thoughts of nothing. I am working on casting them aside; once they are gone, I can fill my own shadow with what truly reflects me.

©Ophelia Chong

I am an optimist. I always look at the glass as half full. There are times I lay awake thinking about the times ahead and I worry about finding my way out of the maze. I eventually find my way out and into the open, because I believe it’s there.

Sleepy and overworked. I actually love my work. It’s the not sleeping part I am not dealing with very well. And with the heat, it makes it even more like I should be curled up and taking a nap under a table somewhere.

I am installing new air conditioning and heating next week. It’s about time. More energy efficient and I was just not very proactive in calling up Sears. So now it’s signed and sealed. It should be all done by the time my sister is out here.

Too Hot. Thought for the day. I have figured out I am the embodiement of this Star Trek: Next Generation character Deanna Troi. All I want is for everyone to get along. “I am feeling bad vibes,  quick everyone HUG!”

617B Issue 6

A wonderful art and design magazine based in Taiwan, Edited by  Gung  Yu-Han.

Written for HowToSplitAnAtom.

You know where I went to High School (High School Reunion), you listened to my latest playlist (Muxtape), you know where I was at lunch (BrightKite), you know my favorite blogs (Digg, Tumblr), you’ve seen my latest vacation photos (Flickr), you probably know who my friends are (Facebook) and it’s all my own doing.

With every click of the keyboard I build tendrils that stretch across other tendrils. Each one intertwining and spinning off to new directions. My tag cloud meets your tag cloud and will spawn a rainstorm of commonality.

Too Much Information

Our intersections meet and fuse with similarities and differences. We connect or disconnect with each glance at our flickering images. I can hold you at your word, the ones you wrote two years ago. You can tell me that I was never in Geneva, or that the statue I am standing next to is a copy of one in Las Vegas, which is a copy of the original in Rome. I have no where to hide because I have shone the light on my life.

One of my favorite Jerzy Kosinski novels is Being There (1971). The main character “Chance” is a middle-aged gardener who lives in the townhouse of a wealthy man in Washington, D.C.; “Chance” has lived in the house his whole life, tending the garden, with virtually no contact with the outside world. In today’s world he would be the man who has no cell phone and no computer. He has no email address, he doesn’t even consider getting one, no matter how many times he’s offered one. He owns only a single lens reflex camera. He reads the newspaper. He has basic cable. His phone is connected to the wall. You probably get a birthday card from him in the mail, and his handwriting is legible. He will only say hello to you if he’s shaken your hand. He is the 20th Century man, and you can’t find him, because he sees no value in being known by strangers.

We made our bed and we must lay in it, and in twenty seconds you will see images of it on Photobucket. We are at the mercy of our need to leave a mark, to show we exist. “I am here!” you shout, “look here and here! I am unique!” you cry. Yes, you are and I am forwarding your uniqueness to all my friends. And if you are really special I will add you to my RSS feed.

Once we have reached our limit TMI (too much information), will we back off and start taking down those bits of jetsam and flotsam we sent out to the ocean of collective memories? Can we? Words on the internet are like raindrops in the ocean, it’s virtually impossible to erase yourself completely.

You know too much, yet you know nothing because its all just words until you have shaken my hand.

My friend Judy called me and told me that she had something special for me. Judy runs estate sales and knows my taste. Now, my taste runs to the bizarre. I don’t collect China or crystal. I collect the bits that no one wants. Odd pieces, lost things, the items you ask me “why would you want that?!”

I drove up to the house, built in the 20’s. The back story is that the home was owned by a model from the 1950’s. She was on a billboard and her future husband looked at the ad and said “I’m going to marry her!” Married her he did. The marriage evaporated after he found out she was 3 dimensional. She married a furniture maker after that and had a long marriage (fifty years). Then she fell in love with a woman. Out went the second husband and in came the love of her life. I call her a late bloomer.

Judy opens the door and we exchange happy greetings, and we get to business. She pulls out a faded pink greeting card box and opens it. I jump back. I jump back another two feet. In the box is a prosthectic for someone who lost half their face. The forehead to the left eye, to the tip of the nose. On the latex face are traces of dry make-up. On the back are clips where she adhered the prosthetic. I could only hold it for a few seconds before letting go and putting the lid back on.

Courage. This woman had courage to re-enter the world with a mask. Whatever happened to her was tragic. How I choose to display this is still up in the air, even if I will. In Los Angeles there is a market for such macabre items. It’s an item I will have to think about and weigh carefully. It is not a freak show and I do not want to exhibit it as such. It has to be given respect.

Here is a link to the item: Her Face

Image: ©Ophelia Chong

Now appearing in Issue 11 / pause&wait

Interview on Not Paper by Aprile Elcich

Q: Describe your work in 10 words or less.
A: Glue, paper, exacto knife, band aids.

Q: What do you like to work with (magazines, photographs, vintage)? Be specific!
A: Magazines, Rococo, Renaissance, flemish, religious, romantic paintings.

Q: How long have you been creating collages and what made you start?
A: Since I was 10 years old. In an art class where the teacher asked us to create an image using old Sears catalogues.

Q: Are you solely an artist, or do you work in another profession?
A: I am a graphic designer by trade, and a published artist by luck.

Q: Do you have any formal art training?
A: Yes, I have a BFA in Fine Arts Painting from Art Center College Of Design.

Q: Explain your favourite techniques.
A: Free form thinking, not planning on how a piece will look. Only finishing when I know its finished.

Q: Describe your favourite piece ever created.
A: The last one.

Q: What other artists do you admire?
A: Joseph Cornell, Raushenberg, JMW Turner, Lucian Freud, 18th century painters.

The time has come to stand behind your words. Your opinion matters. I will listen. We are at a time of uncertainty. We are here together and each one of us matters. Lets start talking

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On Sunday I pulled a vicious dog off my neighbor Anna’s dog as she fell to the ground screaming. I watched other neighbors jump into the fray by shouting from their balconies to sound the alarm to other people coming near the attacking dog. A community came together to help one another without stopping to think twice.

In the last two weeks I have watched and participated in a blog that has opened up a discourse of discontent. The blog was a spring board for students, faculty and alumni to voice their concerns about the  conditions at Art Center College of Design, my alma mater. Of those comments on the blog, over ninety percent were Anonymous. Tonight I organized a Potluck to bring together the students, faculty and alumni. My goal was to let the students and faculty know that the alumni supported them. The president of the college, who was at the center of the firestorm flew back into town and came straight to the potluck. We all sat down and asked questions, voiced our concerns, anger, frustration and vented what needed to be said. It was a beginning.

I have always believed that the physical interaction of humans is the greatest tool in taking down the walls. Yes, we have the internet to communicate, but nothing compares to the sound of a voice, the body language, the flicker of an eye and the handshake. If we are to communicate we need to take down the barriers that we put up in defense.

And in this open face to face forum we truly own our words. It takes courage to stand behind your words. They can be wielded as weapons, and also to heal. Choose wisely and you will succeed.