Beauty in Normalcy

December 15, 2016 2016年12月15日

Jun Ngyuen is a Hanoi-based creative, whose journey with photography began seven years ago upon receiving her very first film camera. “It was cheap, only $70. But once I had it, I fell into it – I put so much time into creating every single frame.”

Jun Ngyuen là một nhà nhiếp ảnh tại Hà Nội, khi lần đầu tiên nhận được một chiếc máy ảnh vào 7 năm trước, cô đã bắt đầu cuộc hành trình nhiếp ảnh của mình. “Rẻ mà, chỉ có $70. Nhưng khi có nó, tôi đã thật sự đắm chìm – tôi dành rất nhiều thời gian cho mỗi bức ảnh.”

Over the years, she has traveled around Asia, seeking to capture the sights and sounds of the various cultures that she has come across. Her images tell silent stories of each of the strangers that she has encountered. Images from this series feature her collective trips to Sapa, a small town north of Vietnam and El Nido in the Phillippines.

Sau nhiều năm, cô đã đi khắp Châu Á, lưu lại những hình ảnh và âm thanh của nhiều nền văn hóa khác nhau mà cô đã đi qua. Các bức ảnh là những câu chuyện về mỗi người lạ mà cô đã gặp. Những bức ảnh này được chụp từ chuyến đi tập thể của cô đến Sapa, một thị trấn nhỏ ở phía bắc Việt Nam và El Nido ở Phillippines.

“Photography is both preservation and expression. People get busy and don’t pay attention to the simplest of things – we forget that even normalcy has beauty. There are so many moments that I want to share, but I’m not so good with words. Sometimes, I just let my photos say it all.”

“Nhiếp ảnh là để gìn giữ và bày tỏ cảm xúc. Mọi người quá bận rộn và không để tâm đến những điều đơn giản nhất – chúng ta đã quên rằng thậm chí những thứ bình thường cũng có vẻ đẹp riêng. Vậy nên có rất nhiều khoảnh khắc tôi muốn chia sẻ, tiếc là tôi không giỏi diễn đạt – đôi khi, tôi cứ để những bức ảnh của mình nói lên tất cả.”

Jun considers herself to be part of a lucky new generation of creatives who are currently thriving in Vietnam. “We are enthusiastic, passionate and full of ideas – and now, we’re finally getting the support and opportunities we need from the greater community.”

Jun xem mình là một phần của thế hệ những nhà nhiếp ảnh may mắn đang phát triển tại Việt Nam. “Chúng tôi nhiệt tình, đam mê và đầy ý tưởng – và giờ đây, chúng tôi cuối cùng đã nhận được sự hỗ trợ cũng như các cơ hội từ những cộng đồng lớn hơn.”

To Jun Ngyuen, creation is a remedy, rather than a means to an end. “This keeps me positive. I hope that by doing what I do, people can see how beautiful the world is and draw inspiration from it the way that I do.”

Gửi Jun Ngyugen, sáng tạo là một phương thuốc, chứ không phải là một phương tiện để đạt được mục đích cuối cùng. “Điều này sẽ giúp tôi trở nên tích cực. Tôi hi vọng với những gì tôi đã làm, mọi người có thể thấy thế giới này thật tươi đẹp và lấy cảm hứng đó để chung bước cùng tôi.”

Contributor: Whitney Ng

Người đóng góp: Whitney Ng


December 14, 2016 2016年12月14日

In post-war Japan, cities victim to firebombings were left in a state of ruin and despair. But in the wake of devastation, some Japanese architects optimistically saw opportunity; they saw a chance to prove the country’s resilience, rebuild their cultural identity, and transform the nation into an improved version of its previous self. During this period of time, the influential architectural movement known as Metabolism was born, revolving around the concepts of organic growth and megastructures. The idea was that buildings didn’t have to be static; instead, they could be ever-changing, adapting and transforming according to different needs. One of the most iconic buildings of the movement—the Nakagin Capsule Tower—can still be found today in Tokyo’s Ginza District. Built by the famous architect Kisho Kurokawa, the unique structure consists of 140 removable capsules plugged into two concrete cores and is the main subject of Noritaka Minami’s photo book 1972, named after the year that the building was officially completed.


Noritaka Minami is a Japanese-born and America-raised photographer who only began documenting the building in 2010. At the time, there was a sense of urgency to complete the project. “There was a very real possibility that it would be demolished and replaced with a more ‘conventional’ apartment complex,” says Minami. “As of today, the building does not face imminent destruction, but still faces a very uncertain future in regards to its preservation.” The building was experimental, a prototype that sought to explore the possibilities of alternative methods of urban living in the future. Through his photos, Minami wants to offer viewers an opportunity to see the past’s interpretation of the future.


“Each capsule is a container that has accumulated all of the moves and decisions that were performed by individuals over the course of four decades,” says Minami. “Although I do not directly depict the resident who occupies that space, I want each photograph to suggest that the capsule holds the history and presence of people who occupy or have occupied that space.” With respect to the inhabitants, his photographs are completely documentary in nature; objects, furnishings, and light were photographed as it were without any alterations on his part.


Shot on both medium and large-format cameras with an ultra-wide lens, Minami’s collection of images captures the nuances of each ten square meter living space, revealing the the ways each resident has adapted to the living conditions. “The limited space of a capsule also influences the amount of belongings each resident can possess, more so than a conventional apartment,” Minami mused. The restricted space of each capsule often leads to the majority of an inhabitant’s worldly belongings to sit out in plain view; To this effect, Minami saw each pod as an extension of each resident’s personality. “From a very early point in its history, the criticism against the Capsule Tower was that the individual units are too small and not flexible enough for everyday use,” he says. “Yet, the fact that these small rooms are still being occupied to this day demonstrate the residents’ ability to find new and unexpected applications within the limited area of ten square meters that go beyond the original vision of the building as urban homes for businessmen.”


As the Nagakin Capsule Tower is a private building, gaining access can be rather difficult for non-residents. “The project was only possible through the generosity of the couple that first allowed me to visit their capsule during the summer of 2010,” Minami explained. Many of the photographs in the book were made possible through the couple’s acquaintances in the building. By luck, Minami eventually met others in the building who granted him permission to document their pods, offering a candid glimpse into their living space.


During the time that Minami worked the project, the people that chose to live in the building came from all walks of life, ranging from a young local art student attending university to a construction worker in his sixties. What attracted each resident was different: some were interested in its historical significance, some were curious about living in an unconventionally built structure, and others lived there for practical reasons like convenience and affordability. Although many residents are in favor of preserving the building, aware of its history and cultural significance, there are some residents who aren’t as keen, seeing the potential of maximizing the prime real estate that the building sits on by replacing it with a newer apartment.


Minami’s book was finally published last year, made possible with a successful Kickstarter campaign and a grant from the Graham Foundation for Advanced Studies in the Fine Arts. “The idea of presenting this project as a photo book attracted me because the format could show more photographs than what is normally possible within the physical space of a gallery,” he explained. “Designing the book also presented challenges and possibilities that are different from designing an exhibition. I learned a lot by creating the specific selection and sequence of images in order for the series to be experienced as a book.” 1972 is now available online through Amazon and other select retailers.



Contributor: David Yen
Images Courtesy of Kana Kawanishi Art Gallery



寄稿人: David Yen
Images Courtesy of Kana Kawanishi Art Gallery

Phantom Shanghai

December 13, 2016 2016年12月13日

Canadian photographer Greg Girard has spent much of his career in Asia. As a result, many of his works are candid and stunning documentations of the social and physical transformations that have taken place throughout the continent. Some of his most well-known photo series capture moments and places that are now long gone, washed away with the changing times. Recently, Neocha spoke with Girard about Phantom Shanghai, a hauntingly melancholic photo series that documents the city’s jarring and rapid transformation into the skyscraper-filled behemoth that it is today.

加拿大摄影师Greg Girard在亚洲度过了他职业生涯的大部分时间,因而他的很多作品都直接并生动地记录了发生在这片大陆上社会和实体的变迁。他最负盛名的一部分作品捕捉并记录下那些在时光流转中模糊和淡化的时刻和地方。最近Neocha与Greg Girard围绕《Phantom Shanghai》进行探讨,这组萦绕着忧郁色彩的摄影作品,呈现出上海——这个如今摩天大楼林立的现代大都市,快速发展背后的突兀与激进。

Neocha: Urbanization happened rapidly, and even violently at times, in China. House demolition has always been a very controversial and sensitive topic in China. How did you feel when you first saw these ruins in the centre of the city?

Greg Girard: What struck me was less the ruins themselves, but more so the fact that people were still living amid them as buildings were being demolished—sometimes even the very building they lived in. The occupancy wasn’t always apparent during the day, but in the evening you could see the lights in the windows of the still-occupied homes, signs of life amidst the rubble and half-demolished buildings. Those scenes suggested defiance at one extreme, and obliviousness at the other as this wave of demolition and construction swept through the city.

Neocha: 中国的城市化进程在是非常激进且暴力的,拆迁在中国也一直是个非常具有争议的话题,当你第一次亲眼看到这些城市中心的废墟时,有什么感想?

Greg Girard: 最让我震惊的并非这片废墟,而是看到人们还住在这些因为拆迁而变得残破不堪的建筑(有些是自家的房子)里。白天其实是看不出来的,只有晚上的时候你还能看见住家窗户里的灯光,在残砖破瓦和一半被拆掉的建筑里,展露着生命的痕迹。这样的场景也好像在反抗着,嘲笑着这一轮极端且无知的拆建对这座城市的清扫。

Neocha: The idea of house demolition is a familiar yet unfamiliar occurance for me and many people who grew up in a Chinese middle-class family. What makes it familiar is that we constantly see news report about demolition disputes on TV, but most of us actually never experience it. From a perspective of a foreigner, how do you feel about these demolitions?

Greg Girard: China was more or less isolated for three or four decades (from 1949 onward). The familiar churn of urban development for profit didn’t take place in the gradual way that it does in most large cities in capitalist societies. It started happening all at once, which was during the 1990s in Shanghai’s case, after Deng Xiaoping declared that Shanghai should “catch up”. And so the city experienced urban demolition and construction that usually might take place gradually, over decades, happening on a scale and at a pace that had never been seen before. It was terrifying, and fascinating, and to some extent sad. Clearly there was an opportunity to preserve individual buildings, and entire neighborhoods even, that were architecturally significant and historically valuable; an opportunity, it turned out, that would be ignored on a breathtaking massive scale. So, on one hand there was a sense of a squandered opportunity and on the other there was the sense that it was an accident that the buildings and neighborhoods, preserved by indifference and neglect, had survived as long as they had.

Neocha: 对于很多像我一样成长于中产家庭的人,对于拆迁这个概念既熟悉又陌生,熟悉的是我们经常在新闻上看到关于拆迁的纠纷报道,陌生的是我们似乎在现实中又不曾经历过,站在一个外国人的角度,你对这拆迁这个事是怎么看的?

Greg Girard: 因为中国在过去的三四十年(从1949年开始)里基本上是与世隔绝的,所以它并不是像大部分资本主义大型城市那样逐步的发展,而是一次性的爆发了,拿90年代的上海举个例子,在邓小平指出上海应该“赶上”后,这座城市经历了本应是循序渐进却实非如此的拆迁和建造,在过去的几十年里,用一个前所未见的速度和规模发展着。这是令人恐惧也是惊奇的,在某种程度上也让人感到悲伤。显然是有机会能够保存某些独立的建筑甚至整片居民区,但遗憾的是这个机会被大规模的忽视掉了。所以一方面,很多机会就被这么白白浪费掉了,另一方面很多建筑和居民区意外地被忽视掉,从而被保留下来,才至今得以幸免。

Neocha: Because of the rapid urbanization in China in the last few decades, for many locals, their memories on many things is disconnected. Part of this series seems very intimate, such as the shots of bedroom or bathroom. When you went into their very private space, did you talk to the people who live there? When facing this rather vulnerable group who are unable to fight back against the massive strong arm of the government, it almost feels like their memories are being erased. Are you attempting to capture a certain sense sadness in your work?

Greg Girard: I was fortunate that people were, for the most part, willing to allow me into their homes, including bedrooms and bathrooms, when requested. The shared nature of domestic life was one of the elements I was trying to show. For example, homes built for one family that had been subdivided to accommodate multiple families. What does that look like and how does it work? In other cases, I simply wanted to see the choices people made in terms of how they lived and what they saw when they went to bed at night or woke up in the morning, knowing in many cases that these homes were of the verge of being demolished. So, I think it’s not wrong to say, as you do, that memories are being erased. As for sadness: Yes. Helplessness in the face of the unchecked power is of course tragic.

Neocha: 因为中国过去的城市化,很多中国人的回忆是断层的,这个系列中的有些作品是非常私密的,拍摄于卧室或者厕所,甚至是一些老照片。当你在深入这些住家时,你是否会与他们交谈过?面对着这些城市巨大变迁中的弱势群体,他们的一些回忆似乎也被一起抹去了,你是否在你的作品中尝试去捕捉这种悲伤的感觉?

Greg Girard我很幸运,大部分人都愿意让我进他们家中去拍摄,当我要求进入厕所或者卧室时,他们也欣然同意了。中国人乐于分享的本性也是我想要去展现的,举个例子,一家人居住的房屋已经被改装成了可容纳多个家庭的内部结构。我也是单纯地是想了解人们在知道自己住的房子马上就要被拆掉了,他们做的选择,怎么居住的,晚上睡前或早上刚醒时会看些什么。所以,你讲的也没有错,很多记忆都被抹掉了。对于这种悲伤,是啊,面对这种盲目力量的无力是悲剧的。

Neocha: The houses in your works almost looks like an island on top of ruins. To me, it seems to represent both persistence and resignation. Many people forced to relocate have mixed feelings about house demolition; some people are actually thankful since it allows them to move into a much nicer apartment and receive monetary compensation from the government. Others rather stay in the place where they grew up. What’s your take on this? What are some of the more memorable moments of shooting this projects?

Greg Girard: During the beginning of the project (2000-2001) when I set up my tripod and camera and was photographing in a neighbourhood, I was often asked by residents if I (or someone) was planning to buy the property. Because, as you noted, this could mean that the tenants (those with residency rights rather than actual ownership) would be entitled to resettlement in a self-contained apartment. Most of these older buildings were not meant to house as many people as they did, which meant that residents had to share a kitchen, a bathroom and toilet facilities. These places looked quite grand—in a faded sort of way—from the outside, but on the inside they were very difficult to live in. Most of them, in their public areas, hadn’t received a coat of paint in forty, fifty years, or more. Photographing inside one hallway, I remember thinking that the peeling paint on the walls had probably been applied at some point in the 1930s.

Neocha: 照片中的楼房看上去像是废墟上的一座座孤岛,在我看来暗示了一些坚持与放弃。拆迁对于很多拆迁户是个悲喜交加的事情,有的人可以借此机会分配到很好的住宅或是费用,而有的人则十分保守,不愿意离开陪伴自己一辈子的土地。在你的拍摄中是否也碰到过类似的事情呢?令你印象最深的是哪件事?

Greg Girard: 在创作这个系列最初的时候(2000-2001年),当我在居民区里摆好三脚架和相机进行拍摄的时候,周围的居民经常问我(或别人)是不是要买这些房产。因为就像你讲的一样,这些住户(有居住权但是没有所以权的人)能够有机会被重新安置到独立的公寓。很多老的建筑不是为了居住大量人口而设计的,因此住户必须共享厨房,浴室和厕所。这些地方退远从外看是很不错的,但是内部是非常不适宜居住。大部分这些建筑,公共区域墙上的油漆已经四五十年没有更新过了。我记得我在过道中拍摄过的一张照片,当时的想法是到墙上剥落的油漆应该是在20世纪30年代刷的。

Neocha: Urban redevelopment has always been a major goal of Chinese urbanization. However, the interesting thing is that old Shanghai’s architectural style is extremely complex, being a mixture of European and Chinese style, which gives shikumens their unique character. But after the redevelopments, they’re becoming more and more modern. The unique character of the city also seems to be fading away alongside. What is your take on this?

Greg Girard: I think it’s quite rare for a government—whether in China or wherever—to make enlightened choices about architecture or public space or understand the projected experience of being a city dweller. So I’m not surprised when a union of government and property developers produce ghastly results. Having said that, I am surprised when something decent and human comes out of that, as it occasionally does.

Neocha: 旧城改造一直是中国城市化建设的重点,而有趣的是上海的老城区中建筑风格极为复杂,欧式与中式的混杂使得石库门里弄格外特殊,而改建后的现代建筑则少了些许韵味。这个城市一些独特的特征也在逐渐的消失,你对此是怎么看的?

Greg Girard: 我认为,无论在中国还是在其他国家,政府要在考虑建筑或公共空间与理解居民的生活体验之上做出明智的选择是相当罕见的。所以当看到政府和房地产开发商联合推进下产生的可怕后果也并不感到惊讶。而回过头来,当我从中看到了一些偶尔出现的恰当和充满人文关怀的措施,反而感到有些意外。

Neocha: We can see the demolished building is next to the modern skyscraper, one side is the scene of the broken and destruction, another side is a fancy shopping mall. This contrast is often seen in your work, is it intentional?

Greg Girard: As much as those sorts of contrasts can result in boring clichéd pictures, the scope of what was happening in Shanghai meant that those contrasts were inescapable. The challenge was how to show that without making a cliché. But at the end of day, if the pictures manage to escape being clichés then it’s only because the demolition and construction was happening on such a scale that it doesn’t make sense for the photographer to frame things artificially to illustrate a tired cliché. That scene was the absolute reality. And so, to make these pictures without showing this historical moment of “contrast” (by showing, for example, only intact, romanticized, historic neighborhoods) would have been unthinkable, artificial, a lie.

Neocha: 我们可以看到有很多拆迁的建筑边上便是新建的商业化区域,一边是断壁残垣的破败景象一边则是金壁辉煌的购物商城。这样的对比在你的这些作品中也经常出现,你是否是刻意安排这样的构图?

Greg Girard: 虽然那样的对比一多就会陷入无聊和平庸的构图,但要记录上海正发生的画面,这样的对比不可避免。最大的挑战在于如何呈现这样的对比且不沦为老套做作。但如果摄影在最后都在想办法避免平庸老套,那只能是因为如此大规模的拆迁和建设超出摄影师的理解,从而无法通过讨巧的构图去诠释一个俗套的主题。那样的场景也绝对存在。因而,没有展现历史进程中“对比”(例如只表现出完整的、充满浪漫色彩的历史街区)的图片是难以想象的,也是带着人为角度的谎言。

Neocha: This series of work was completed almost ten years ago, have you revisited these locations you shot? When you see it has changed to skyscrapers, how you feel about that? Did you ever wonder where are all the people who live there? How their life was?

Greg Girard: I still visit Shanghai fairly often, though I tend not to seek out the locations I photographed when I worked on the project between 2001 and 2006. Sometimes I come across them by accident though. Visiting a new museum, a restaurant, a friend’s apartment, or driving on a new road, I might realize that something looks familiar and think, “Didn’t this used to be here…?” But then the moment passes and you’re back in Shanghai’s latest version of itself.

Neocha: 这系列作品是拍摄于十年前,后来你又再去这些地方看看吗?当你看到这些在这片废墟上拔地而起的高楼大厦时,你内心又是怎么想的呢?你会想知道那些曾经住在这里的人们,他们现在过着什么样的生活吗?

Greg Girard: 我到现在都时常去上海,但我不会刻意去重访那些在2001年至2006年的摄影项目里出现过的旧地。不过也有时候会偶然遇到它们。参观新的博物馆,光顾一家餐厅,去一个朋友的公寓,或在一条新修道路上开车……我都有可能会意识到这是我曾熟悉的场景,然后思考:“这个曾经在这里吗?”但那样的恍惚转瞬而逝,旋即又回到了这个当下的上海。

Neocha: You works seems like a documentation of memories of city, compare to other city that you shoot or lived before, such as Hong Kong, Hanoi or Vancouver, is there anything that makes Shanghai feel different from the rest of these cities?

Greg Girard: I first visited Shanghai in 1983, and at that time the city’s built environment was almost completely unchanged from 1949. It was like arriving in a city that had been frozen in time, in terms of its surface at least. Only the street signs, having been entirely renamed after 1949, appeared to have changed. Much later, in 1998, I moved to Shanghai from Hong Kong, and amidst the vast redevelopment taking place, I still had this memory of being in the city not too many years ago and realized how much had changed since then. I knew that I didn’t want to make something nostalgic about “disappearing Shanghai”, but at the same time, I felt that what I was seeing was unprecedented. Already there was a growing sense of loss at the disappearance of so many historic buildings. But from what I’d already seen, taking photographs inside some of these buildings, I felt that it was more than the buildings themselves; it was a whole way of life in Shanghai that was disappearing: living in close quarters in lane housing and in individual buildings, where neighbors had to share more of their lives than they might necessarily want to. In other places, I’d always photographed the “now” without thinking too much about “then”. But in Shanghai it seemed I was photographing right inside the rapidly closing gap between “now” and “then”. That gap was actually there and photographable, though it was clear that it wouldn’t be for long.

Neocha: 你的作品似乎都在记录某种城市的记忆,和你作品中的其他城市,像是香港,河内或者温哥华相比,你觉得记录上海有什么与众不同的吗?

Greg Girard: 我在1983年第一次来到上海,那时这里的建筑与1949年相比几乎没有什么改变。至少从城市外观来说,感觉就像来到了一个被时间冻结的城市。只有一些街牌因为在1949后全新重命名而看上去有些变化。很久之后的1998年,我从香港搬到上海,见证着这个城市重新开发的进程,我仍然记得这个城市几年前的样貌,然后意识到这里从那时开始就已经发生了如此之大的变迁。我知道我并不是想对“消逝的上海”表现出一种怀旧的情绪,但当下我感到自己所见所闻史无前例。当诸多带着历史记忆的老建筑拆迁之后,那种失落感就已经在日益膨胀。不过就我所看到的,以及通过拍摄建筑内部的生活场景,我想失去的不仅仅是上海建筑的本身,更是上海曾经的一整套生活方式:里弄住宅和独栋建筑里的狭小生活空间,邻里不得不共享一些可能并非出自他们本愿的生活空间。在其他地方,我在拍摄“此刻”的时候常常不愿意去考虑太多“过去”。但是在上海,我觉得自己就像是在拍摄“此刻”和“过去”之间正在快速退场的距离,那个距离是如此真实,可供拍摄,但有一点也很清楚,它不会存在太长的时间。


Contributor: George Liu Zhen

Instagram: @gregforaday


Contributor: George Liu Zhen

Conrad Beijing

December 9, 2016 2016年12月9日

Located on Beijing’s East Third Ring Road, in the heart of the city’s central business district, the Conrad Beijing clearly stands out amongst its surrounding commercial office buildings. The hotel is characterized by innovative architecture and design, which serves as a refreshing, energized alternative to Beijing’s often monotonous urban sprawl.


The building’s exterior stands tall and slender, encased in a sleek metal frame that sets its aesthetically apart from the norm. Designed by MAD Architects, the sinuous casing adds fluidity to an otherwise gridded structure. The outer network curves in a natural fashion, a shape reminiscent of moving organisms. MAD worked dilligently to achieve their concept of ‘Living Architecture’, designing a free-form, mutated structure that softened against the city’s urban rigidity.


Stepping inside, the hotel’s décor is characterized by deep block colours, interesting textures and reflective surfaces. Designed by LTW Design Works, its alluring interior is a natural extension of the building’s attractive outer shell. By considering Conrad Beijing’s unique setting and cultural identity, LTW has created a compelling narrative that defines the hotel. Its design is consistently sophisticated, but escapes being too traditional by maintaining a playful balance between the past and the present, refinement and flair. Every room is unique, yet close attention to design continuity allows for a seamless transition from one area to the next.

一走进酒店,迎面而来的就是极具视觉效果的装饰墙:深色的质感、妙趣横生的纹理、以及带着反射效果的表面,都给人眼前一亮的感觉。LTW Design Works的设计延续了精致风,也避免了过于保守。酒店在整体上完美融合了精巧与天然两种特性。每个房间都是独一无二的,但同时也非常注重设计的统一性,加上无处不在的柔和灯光与色调,让人自由顺畅地流转于各个房间中

Traditional ink paintings in the main lobby, an old-fashioned spiral staircase in the Japanese restaurant, and charming silk-lined walls in the Chinese dining room are all nostalgic features that complement the hotel’s distinctly Asian aesthetic. Other rooms are less Eastern and more futuristic, bringing the hotel’s overall design into the present. While the lobby areas are characterized by bright open spaces, dark red mood lighting sets a more sensual tone in the bar, with scarlet light reflecting off its traditional wicker panelling. The further use of reflective, rose gold mirrors and plush pink carpets in the main reception area creates a softer, dream-like environment.


MAD’s intended to project their concept of nature and the great outdoors onto Beijing’s urban landscape, which is clearly illustrated throughout the hotel’s completed design. A dramatic sculpture of five tropical fish made out of rusted metal wires stands as the focal point of the lobby area, which has been warmly lit to bring them glistening to life, as if swimming into the middle of the room. This contributes to an overall sense of fluidity throughout the hotel. The Conrad Beijing is a consolidation of culture and contemporary design, as well as a unique representation of life and movement amidst a comparably static landscape.


The Conrad Beijing is an impressive consolidation of conventional culture and contemporary design. The overall grandeur of its Asia-inspired interior appropriately acknowledges its Chinese heritage, while its attention to detail, décor and intimacy has ensured an enjoyable, aesthetically pleasing experience for every guest.


Website: ~/conrad-beijing

No 29. East Third Ring Road
Chaoyang District, Beijing
People’s Republic of China


Phone: +86 10 6584 6000


Contributor: Ruby Weatherall
Photographer: Shu He
Images Courtesy of GD-Lighting Design



: +86 10 6584 6000


供稿人: Ruby Weatherall
摄影师: 舒赫
圖片由GD-Lighting Design提供


December 8, 2016 2016年12月8日

Juxtaposed against the backdrop of a Shanghai landmark, the Ori.Union pop-up exists at a critical juncture in the history of Zhangyuan 77. Previously occupied by the government and left to languish, plans have been set forth to revitalise Zhangyuan 77 as an entertainment and cultural hub, just as it was at the turn of the century. This concept store from Ori Bazaar serves as a sneak peak of what’s to come in this traditional shikumen-style building.


As the largest freestanding building remaining in the Zhangyuan heritage area, Zhangyuan 77’s structure is impressive. At three-stories high, it’s a symmetrical copper-domed building flanked by thin, long open hallways on either sides. Its most distinctive feature though, is perhaps the expansive white front facade, which no other building in Zhangyuan has.


After seeing too many markets that they considered as thoughtless, not commercial enough, or simply “not as we imagined,” Gabriel and Shan of Ori.Union took the initiative this year to redefine what a bazaar should be. This eventually led them to experiment with the longer duration, more conceptually demanding pop-up store.


Following the idea of experimentation, Ori.Union was constructed around the theme of “lab.” The entire store is decked out in futuristic silver foil and neon signs, which when combined with the old existing woodwork and peeling paint, form a high-contrast, eye-catching space that is ambiguous in time.


After the pop-up ends, Zhangyuan 77 will be closed for renovations. Apart from the front salons housing temporary stores, the rest of the building is already unoccupied. A forbidden visit inside yields eerie, dusty spaces and deteriorating office furniture that whispers of the space’s previous tenants. Quiet and sleepy, Zhangyuan 77 awaits patiently for its reincarnation back to glory.


No. 77 Weihai Road, Lane 590
Jing’an District, Shanghai
People’s Republic of China

December 1 ~ December 22, 2016

11am ~ 5pm


WeChat: OriStudio


Contributor & Photographer: Kiwi Qin
Additional Images Courtesy of OriStudio





微信: OriStudio


供稿人与摄影师: Kiwi Qin

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December 6, 2016 2016年12月6日

Chia Ching Kai, better known as CK, is the photographer behind the lifestyle Instagram profile @chingkaichingkai. His work comprises of a soothing outlook into his everyday life, thoughtfully captured and often coupled with thought-provoking captions. His photography style is candid, yet clean – every image is chromatically consistent, despite differing in subject and location. Neocha recently caught up with CK whilst he was passing through Shanghai, and he shared with us his top five tips for photography.

摄影师Chia Ching Kai(也就是大名鼎鼎的CK)就是Instagram致力于展示生活方式的账号@chingkaichingkai的幕后之手。他的作品用舒缓的镜头记录他的日常生活,精巧地捕捉下瞬间,然后常常配以哲理性的标题。他的摄影风格简明又静雅。近日,Neocha在他途径上海的时候有幸与之碰面,他大方地与我们分享了他摄影中的五大秘诀。

 1.  Lighting is chief.

The soft exposure and even tones that appear across CK’s feed are by no means a pure coincidence – every image is composed of natural light and calculated timing. When traveling, he often rises before first light to get to his first destination, ensuring that he can reap the most from the day’s sunlight. “Whilst I was in Japan, I noticed that shoji and the translucent paper used on them, was almost like a natural defuser. I try to replicate the same effect when I’m taking photos at home now. The result is a very pleasant, soft light.”

 1.  打光永远最重要


2.  Shoot what turns you on, what yields your heart.

Whilst this is not the most technical of photography tips, CK believes this to be a fundamental philosophy that results in the most personal and satisfying type of creations. For the majority of the year, CK is based in Singapore and works with local theatre production companies as an art director. Instagram is a space where he can create his own images without constraint. His personal work is a stark contrast to what he creates for his clients. The space remains as his own stomping ground, filled with what he likes to shoot: homemade meals, snapshots of his travels and remnants of his ever-changing Singapore.

2.  拍来到你身边的,以及你内心的渴望


3.  Use tools effectively

It surprises a lot of people when they discover that CK isn’t slinging a top-of-the-range camera. In fact, his set up is extremely lean; he shoots solely with his iPhone, allowing him to stay light and portable wherever he goes. This is particularly important when he’s hiking and moving between cities with nothing but a carry-on backpack. He favours the camera app from Moment as it allows him to shoot in TIFF. He finishes off his edits in Snapseed to achieve the natural, polished look.

3.  有效使用工具


4.  Don’t just rely on filters to make magic for your images.

Whilst filters can sometimes add some interesting dynamics to an image, it shouldn’t be what defines your images. Focus on creating a good image, rather than hoping for a miracle by slapping a filter on something sub-par.

4. 不要过分依赖滤镜的魔力


5.  Shoot beyond what you see; shoot a story behind the subject, even if it is made up by yourself for inspiration.

“I woke up extra early to explore the lanes leading to the Bund, the very place I once gave up photographing because of prevailing circumstances. I needed to get past that attitude of ‘Oh, this isn’t working so I am not gonna try to make it work’, because even though this is Instagram, it is also reflective of my tenacity (or lack of) as an artist.” Inspiration comes and goes, you don’t always wake up ready to shoot and you don’t always feel like creating – that is more than alright.

5.  不仅拍摄你所看到的,去拍摄主体背后的故事。即使那是你为了灵感而编造的!



Surround yourself with good, inspiring creatives. When asked how an apprentice can improve, a master sheep shearer once replied: ”Shear alongside the best shearer in town.”




Contributor: Whitney Ng



供稿人: Whitney Ng

Mobikes in China

December 5, 2016 2016年12月5日

Eco-friendly, convenient, and low cost—meet Mobike, a Chinese bicycle-sharing app launched early last year. After a mere 299 CNY deposit and a quick identity verification process, users can rent a bike and cruise through the streets. Founded by Hu Weiwei, led by ex-Uber executive Wang Xiaofeng, and financially backed by Chinese tech company Tencent, the app has been quickly ramping up in popularity this past year. Fleets of these orange-rimmed bicycles with sleek silver frames can now be commonly spotted through the cities of Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Shenzhen, and most recently Chengdu.


After completing a simple registration process, the app allows users to scan the QR code or enter a serial number through the app to unlock the smart lock of a bike. Mobikes are installed with a GPS system, which allows users to locate bikes in their vicinity by pulling up an in-app map and even reserving bikes for fifteen minutes. The innovative app also tracks a user’s journey, calculating distance traveled, length of ride, and calories expended. The bike only costs one CNY per 30 minutes to ride. A newer model, dubbed Mobike Lite, is even cheaper, set at a rate of 0.5 CNY for every half an hour.

简单的注册程序后,APP用户通过扫描二维码或者输入一个序列号,就可以智能解码一辆自行车。摩拜单车自带GPS系统,通过地图指引能让用户在最近的地方找到自行车,甚至在APP上还提供保留自行车十五分钟的功能。这个创新型APP还能追踪用户行程,计算旅行里程、骑车时间和卡路里消耗量。一辆自行车用三十分钟只需要一元钱。另外一个最新推出的模型Mobike Lite价格就更为划算,使用半个小时的自行车才花0.5元

Upon completing a ride, users are allowed to park the bike in nearly any public location along the street, as long as it’s within a legal moped and bicycle parking space. This feature sets itself apart from other competitors in the country and is even an improvement over other longstanding bike-sharing services, such as New York’s Citi Bike or Taipei’s YouBike, where riders are required to park and retrieve bikes from designated parking hubs, an inconvenience that can deter users.

用户在用车完成一段行程后,只要在就近的公众场所找到合法的停车区域,就可以停车。这个特点让这款APP从竞争对手中脱颖而出,甚至可以说是同类型产品中一大标志性提升,比如纽约的Citi Bike和台北的YouBike对停车地点就有要求,需要在指定的停车中心里停放,这造成的不便无疑让很多用户放弃继续使用产品。

Of course, with the widespread usage of the Mobike app, there are bound to be negligent riders who might be tempted to park in less-than-considerate locations. To combat this, Mobike has implemented a points system with penalties attached to discourage such behavior. Points are deducted when a user is caught parking inappropriately. Once a user’s points fall below a certain threshold, the cost of renting a bike drastically increases. For repeat offenders, their account could eventually be completely suspended. Points can be slowly accumulated through completing a ride, taking a photo of where a bike is parked to help the next rider locate it, and reporting parking violations.


Last month, Mobike debuted a brand new upgraded bike model in Beijing and Shanghai. The main changes to the newer bike is the addition of a storage basket on the front of the bike and an adjustable seat that allows riders to easily change the height of the bike saddle; the weight of the bikes have also decreased and an improved braking system has been installed, substantially improving the overall riding experience. By constantly improving, focusing on user experience, and being located in Chinese cities where gridlocked streets and sardine-like subway conditions are commonplace, Mobike is starting to establish itself as a clearly superior transportation alternative.


Mobike for iOS users is available for download here. The Android version is available for download here.




Contributor: David Yen
Photographer: Banny Wang
Additional Images Courtesy of Mobike

微博: ~/mobikecn


供稿人: David Yen
摄影师: Banny Wang

Seoul Stories

December 3, 2016 2016年12月3日

For photographer Carl David Jones, the vibrant city of Seoul has become his second home. Originally from South Africa, Jones moved to Korea in 2011 and began working as a freelancer in Seoul. His body of work is diverse, ranging from commercial projects, such as lookbooks for Korean streetwear brands, to personal projects more conceptual in nature like his Tangerine Shower photo series. Often working back and forth between digital and film, his latest project, Seoul Stories, presents his vision of the city he’s called home since 2011 as a series of lo-fi portraits shot solely on film.

사진 작가 Carl David Jones 에게 활기찬 도시인 서울은 그의 두 번째 고향이 되었다. 남 아프리카 태생의 존스는2011 년 한국으로 이주한 후 서울에서 프리랜서로 일을 시작했다. 그의 작품은 한국 길거리 의류 브랜드를 위한 룩북 같은 상업용 프로젝트에서부터 컨셉 사진 시리즈인 텐저린 샤워 (Tangerine Shower)와 같은 개인 프로젝트에 이르기까지 다양하다. 디지털 사진과 필름 사진의 영역을 자유롭게 넘나들며 작업하는 그의 최신 사진 시리즈, ‘서울 이야기’는, 필름 사진 기법을 이용한 로파이 인물화(Lo-fi portrait)로 2011년 이후 그가 고향이라고 부르게 된 도시인 서울을 이야기의 형식으로 소개하고 있다.

Many of the models involved in Seoul Stories have worked with Jones in the past, having either met through commercial shoots or various social media platforms. “Instagram is such a great platform to meet and have dialogues with other creatives,” says Jones. “It’s a weird place but I love it.”

‘서울 이야기’에 등장하는 많은 모델들은, 이전에 상업 촬영이나 다양한 소셜 미디어 플랫폼 작업등에서 존스와 만나 함께 작업한 모델들이다. “인스타그램은 다른 창작가들과 만나고 대화 할 수 있는 멋진 플랫폼입니다.” 라고 존슨은 말한다. “이상한 곳이죠. 하지만 저는 인스타그램을 사랑합니다.”

A majority of the photos in Seoul Stories take place on rooftops, with the city serving as the backdrop. But the cityscape is never the focal point of the photo. While Jones consider rooftops to be some of his favorite places to shoot, it’s not because of the vantage it might offer, but rather because they offer seclusion from the busy city streets below; the privacy in turn fosters a comfortable environment for both him and his models.

‘서울 이야기’에 수록된 사진들의 상당수는 그의 옥상에서 서울을 배경으로 촬영되었다. 하지만 도시 경관이 결코 사진의 중점은 아니다. 옥상은 존스가 가장 좋아하는 사진 촬영 장소중 하나이다. 이는 옥상이 단지 빈티지한 느낌을 제공할 뿐만 아니라 옥상 아래에 펼쳐지는 바쁜 도시로 부터 일정 거리 이상 떨어져 있어 이로 인해 발생하는 프라이버시가 그와 모델들에게 편안한 환경을 마련해 주기 때문이다.

Jones shot the entirety of Seoul Stories using two film cameras, a Contax T2 and a Nishika 3-D N8000. The Contax T2 is a compact point-and-shoot camera with a fixed 38mm focal length. It’s a interesting camera of choice in a time when many photographers prefer working with digital DSLRs, allowing for errors to be easily fixed through a combination of post-production and a rapid fire, trigger-happy shooting approach. “I go into a different state of mind when I shoot film,” he says. “There is a lot more planning and work that goes into creating a film shot that works,” says Jones. “Shooting film pushes me, and the people I shoot, to be on their best form. It’s super satisfying getting rolls of film back and they came out just the way you wanted them to.”

존스는 필름 카메라인 Contax T2와 Nishika 3-D N8000, 단 두 개만을 이용하여 ‘서울 이야기’ 전체를 촬영했다. Contax T2 카메라는 초점 거리가 38 mm로 고정된 똑딱이(Point-and-Shoot) 카메라다. 많은 사진 작가들이 손쉬운 촬영, 신속한 처리 그리고 촬영후 편집과 같은 기술의 결합을 통해 작품의 오류를 쉽게 수정할 수 있는 디지털 DSLR을 선호하는 데 비해 그가 Contax T2를 선택했다는 것은 흥미로운 일이 아닐 수 없다. “필름 사진을 찍을 때는 제 마음 상태가 달라집니다.” 라고 존스는 말한다. “필름 촬영을 제대로 하려면 더 많은 계획과 작업이 필요합니다.” 그는” 필름 촬영은 저와 제가 찍는 피사체가 최선의 모습이 되도록 끊임없이 채찍질합니다. 내가 원하는 방식으로 촬영된 필름 롤을 받아 보는 것은 너무나 만족스럽고 짜릿한 일입니다.”라고 덧붙인다.

The Nishika 3-D N8000 is an even more surprising camera choice. Produced in 1989, it’s a quadroscopic film camera that’s able to combine the images from its four 30mm lenses to produce an autostereoscopic print on 35mm film. To put it simply, the end result is a three-dimensional image. The images these cameras produced can even be considered as the forefathers of animated GIFs. “I enjoy the flexibility there is when making the GIF. The anchor point can be changed and each GIF will have a different feel depending on if the anchor is the foreground, the subject, or the background,” says Jones. He considers moving images to be much more immersive, allowing viewers a sense of actually being there. “I also think that 3-D GIFs are just fucking cool.”

Nishika 3-D N8000 카메라의 선택은 더욱 놀랍다. 1989 년에 생산된 이 4차원적 카메라는, 30mm 렌즈로 찍은 이미지들을 합하여 35mm 필름에 복합 시차 지각 방식으로 인화시킨다. 다시 말하면, 촬영된 최종 결과물이 3 차원 이미지로 나오는 것이다. 이 카메라가 만들어 내는 이미지는 심지어 애니메이션된 GIF의 조상으로 간주 되기도 한다. 존스는 “저는 GIF를 만드는 과정에 내재된 유연성을 사랑합니다. 앵커 포인트(기준점)을 변경할 수도 있고, 또 기준점이 전경인지, 대상인지 또는 배경인지에 따라서 이미지의 느낌이 아주 달라지기 때문입니다.”라고 말한다. “움직이는 이미지가 훨씬 더 실제적이어서, 움직이는 이미지를 통해서 시청자가 실제로 있는 존재하는 것처럼 느낄 수 있다고 생각합니다.” 존스는 “저는 또한 3-D GIF는 그냥 너무 멋지다고 생각합니다”라고 덧붙인다.

Jones has plans of presenting other cities through a similar visual approach. “I have four other stories that will drop soon,” he says. “Hong Kong and Cape Town will be the other cities. Keep a look out for them.”

존스는 비슷한 시각적 접근 방식으로 계속해서 다른 도시도 촬영할 계획이다. 그는 “다른 도시 이야기 4개를 곧 시작할 예정입니다. 홍콩, 케이프 타운이 그 다른 도시들이 될 것입다. 관심을 가지고 지켜봐 주십시오.” 라고 당부한다.

Instagram: @carldavidjones


Contributor: David Yen

Instagram: @carldavidjones


기부자: David Yen

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Gods of the Underworld

December 2, 2016 2016年12月2日



Polish-born and Seoul-based videographer, Au Matt is a multi-disciplinary creative whose work is bolstered by a myriad of cultural influences, a meticulous thought process and an appetite for breaking the rules. Matt’s newest short film, “Gods of the Underworld” was shot guerrilla style, “completely without permission” over 25 hours, in an old Taiwanese neighbourhood that Matt once called home.

폴란드 출생에 서울에 기반을 두고 있는 비디오 예술가 ‘오 매트’(Au Matt)는 다양한 장르에서 창작 활동을 하는 예술가이다. 그의 작품은 무수히 많은 문화 영향, 꼼꼼한 생각 과정, 규칙 파괴 욕망으로 가득 차 있다. 매트의 새 단편 영화 ‘지하 세계의 신들’(Gods of the Underworld)은 게릴라 스타일로 찍은 것으로 매트가 고향이라고 부르기도 하는 대만 구시가지에서 25시간 동안 찍은 것이다.

Taiwan was the first place in Asia where Matt settled in after leaving Europe. Before long, he began to split his time between Taipei, Tokyo and Seoul. Matt currently juggles a multitude of projects and businesses across Asia, including his menswear label, Piri Res and MOTHER magazine.

대만은 매트가 유럽을 떠난 후 처음 정착했던 아시아 도시다. 얼마 후 매트는 타이페이, 도쿄, 서울을 옮겨가며 살기 시작 했다. 현재 매트는 아시아 전역에서 자신의 남성복 브랜드인 피리레스 (Piri Res)를 비롯하여 최근에는 잡지 ‘마더’(MOTHER)다양한 프로젝트와 사업들을 벌이고 있다.

The most recent issue of MOTHER magazine carries the theme of “LIBERATION”, and every story was shot at a location that is unavailable to the general public, including Matt’s photo series which features fashion by Issey Miyake and Korean model, Sang Woo Kim. The backdrop of this editorial was Turner Contemporary, a gallery in Margate, United Kingdom which is largely off limits to all commercial photographers. He flips through each page of his editorial with the lightest touch, “This paper, it’s one of my favourites. I have a fetish with paper – here, touch this, feel how delicate is this… It’s a pharmaceutical paper and was trademarked to a company, but we got enough of it to print a 1000 copies of this magazine.”

잡지 ‘마더’ 최신 호에는 ‘해방’(LIBERATION)이라는 테마를 가지고 일반 대중이 가지 못하는 곳에서 찍은 이야기들이 실려 있다. ‘이세이 미야케’ 브랜드를 한국 모델 김상우가 입고 찍은 매트의 사진 작품들도 이 이야기들 중 하나다. 이 기사의 배경은 영국 ‘마게이트’(Margate)에 있는 갤러리 ‘터너 컨템포라리’(Turner Contemporary)로 이곳은 상업적인 사진 작가들은 접근 불가능한 곳이다. 매트는 잡지 페이지를 가볍게 넘기면서 “나는 종이에 대한 집착이 있는데 이 종이는 내가 제일 좋아하는 종이다. 한 번 만져 보라. 정말 섬세하다. 원래 제약회사에서 쓰는 종이인데 내가 진짜 훔쳤다. 그 회사가 등록 상표를 가지고 있는 종이지만, 우리 잡지 1,000부를 찍을 수 있는 만큼 훔쳤다”라고 말했다.

Matt often refers to himself as the “son” of MOTHER. He says that he wants to create a “high art” magazine, emphasising that there is so much thought and rationale that goes behind every page. Along with MOTHER’s founder, Kate Friend, the duo run a very lean operation; they do not accept submissions and provide their contributors with extensive photography briefs and mood boards. “It’s very militant, but we wanted to create something more permanent, something that you open in ten years and it’s still relevant. There are so many magazines that die so quickly and you just dispose of them after a year to make space for other things. In ten years, I want MOTHER to be worth more than what you pay for it now.”

매트는 자신을 ‘마더’ 잡지의 ‘아들’이라고 말하곤 한다. 그는 이 잡지 매 페이지마다 정말 많은 생각과 이유가 담겨있다고 강조하면서 자신은 ‘높은 수준의 예술’ 잡지를 만들고 싶다고 말한다. ‘마더’ 잡지 공 창업자인 케이트 프렌드 (Kate Friend)와 매트는 아주 절제된 운영을 하고 있다. 그들은 기사 제출을 일체 받지 않는 대신, 기고자로 선정된 사람들에게는 아주 많은 양의 사진 설명과 무드 보드(mood board)를 제공한다. 그는 “너무 공격적인 잡지 제작이기는 하지만, 우리는 뭔가 영원한 것, 10년 후에 다시 봐도 같은 느낌이 오는 잡지를 만들고 싶습니다. 수많은 잡지들이 있지만 너무 빨리 죽어 버려, 1년이 지나서 보관할 공간이 부족하면 미련없이 버리게 됩니다. 저는 ‘마더’ 잡지가 10년 후에는 지금 지불한 잡지 가격보다 훨씬 그 가치가 높아지기를 바랍니다.”라고 말한다.

Beyond creating for MOTHER, Matt says videography is his favourite medium. He enjoys videos that bridge art with activism and real issues, citing Metahaven’s “Black Transparency” as one of his favourites. For “Gods of the Underworld”, Matt draws inspiration from the Guanjing Shou (官將首), ceremonial body guards who protect the Taoist gods once they leave the temple. Many of Taiwan’s temples are run by the local mafia; a religious front allows for easy money laundering as the temples are tax exempt and operate on cash donations. The annual Guangjing Shou ritual wards off bad spirits by individuals who adorn frightening make up and imposing costumes. Many of the performers are actually debt collectors, bouncers or body guards in everyday life.

마더 잡지 편집 외에도 매트는 비디오 예술을 자신이 가장 선호하는 매체라고 하였다. 매트는 예술, 행동주의, 현실 문제를 연결하는 비디오를 좋아한다고 강조하며 ‘메타헤이븐’(Metahaven)의 ‘검은 투명성’(Black Transparency)을 예로 들었다. ‘지하 세계의 신들’(Gods of the Underworld)은 매트가 대만 ‘관징쇼우’(官將首)에서 영감을 받은 것이다. ‘관징쇼우’란 도교의 신들이 사찰을 떠나 여행할 때 이들을 보호하는 전통 경호원을 의미한다. 대만 사찰의 대부분은 지역 마피아들이 운영하고 있다. 종교 시설은 세금을 안내고 현금 기부금으로 운영되므로 돈세탁이 가능하기 때문이다. 매년 ‘관징쇼우’ 의식을 할 때면 무서운 형상의 메이크업을 하고 요란한 복장을 한 사람들이 나쁜 영들을 쫓는데, 그런 역할을 하는 사람 대부분은 부채 수금업자, 클럽 출입 통제 기도, 경호원들이다.

Next up, Matt will be returning to Korea to begin working on his next short film, currently titled “Lifting for Jesus”. His inspiration stems from a muscular statue of Jesus that was erected in Yeongcheon, Gyeongsangbuk-do, South Korea. His vision includes Korean bodybuilders and flying drones, all shot within a tight 24 hour shooting schedule. “I think that the artist is a genius. I like art that is bigger than whoever made it and it’s even better when it’s unintentional. It’s nicer when the ego is actually smaller than the art piece.” As the interview came to a close, I couldn’t help but remark to Matt that he was a very talented person. Fittingly so, he smiled and replied, “Thank you, but it’s not talent, its just hard work.”

매트는 서울에 돌아와 다음 단편 영화 ‘예수를 위해 올라가기’(Lifting for Jesus)를 찍을 예정이다. 이 영화는 한국 경상북도 영천에 있는 근육질 예수상에서 영향을 받은 것이다. 한국 보디빌더들과 하늘을 나르는 드론들을 24시간 동안 찍는 것이 이 영화에 대한 매트의 비전이다. 매트는 “저는 예수상 작가가 천재라고 생각합니다. 저는 작가 자신보다 크기가 더 큰 작품을 좋아합니다. 작가가 처음 의도가 큰 작품이 아니었다면 더 좋죠. 자아의 크기가 작품의 크기 보다 작은 것을 좋아합니다”라고 말했다. 인터뷰를 마치면서 나는 매트보고 참 재능 있는 사람이라고 말하지 않을 수 없었다. 매트는 그답게 웃으면서 “감사합니다만, 그건 재능이 아니고 노력일 뿐입니다”라고 말했다.
Instagram: @aumatt


Contributor: Whitney Ng

Instagram: @aumatt


기부자: Whitney Ng

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