I went to visit the RA exhibition: Oceania. It peaked my interest since it includes the land of New Zealand, where I was born(and it was free for NZ passport holders). To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember much about the place, other than flashes of childhood memories...
I do not know the exact time I’ve lived there. It is complicated. I was born in the remote town of Rotorua, in the north island. The only memory I have there is crossing a road. Perhaps glancing right of our house and seeing sheep. and buying sausage-shaped dog food for our golden retriever. I’m not even sure if this happened in Rotorua. My memory is... always foggy. I don’t know when but, at one point I did move to Dunedin and went to school there. I had a purple jacket with electric green-yellow lining. I remember that clearly. I had bread and runny eggs in my lunchbox, when my dad was still there before the divorce. the yellow monkey bars. I was good friends with these twin boys. We would giggle and tickle-tackle each other to the ground. my mother said I was laughed at by other kids, but I didn't know about it at all. I entered a biking race even though I didn’t know how to ride a bike. that side of me is gone. I believed I was Matilda at the time and so did my best friend Rose. I remember jumping over the soft bark on the playground clearly, moving objects around us by sheer willpower. that school was on top of a hill. I walked up it. Sad-windows. Blue-grey shades. Cold, cold winters. Slipping on the bathroom floor whilst walking toward my mother and hitting my head on the tiles full on. Getting an ear infection and having to lie on one side trying to read a picture book while my mum dropped ointment in my ear. all sounds were blurred. my mum laughing, opening my clenched fist, telling me to relax and sleep. I did.
At some point, before the age of 10, I went back to taiwan and studied at the local elementary school. but that was short-lived, I then flew to Tokyo to have a short year or so there, struggling in the local Japanese schools cause I didn’t understand anything, then transferring to an international school where my closest friend were bullies to me. Frosty snow days and huge crows. Then, the day came where my mum said I should decide for myself if I wanted to stay in japan/Taiwan or go back to New Zealand. I was a conflicted 10 year old. In the end, I said I wanted to go to NZ. I still don’t know if this was a good decision or not.
My mum took me to NZ and I started school... boarding school. I remember how empty I felt when my mum left me in the country. I had no negative feelings like anger or resentment for my mum, ever. I am thankful for all the opportunities I was given. She had to go for business or something. I did not think much of it as a kid. I was always like, 'yeah! it's fine! I'll be fine, I love it here!' and I did. I don't remember having many bad memories in NZ, apart from the big Christchurch Earthquake (2011) but that just made me thankful for what I have. My sister was born (11 years apart from me) and we brought her back to NZ and we lived together like a happy family. The house was modern, white, clean, right next to the too-expensive school, overlooking its sports field which I never occupied unless I had to. This period of time was the clearest and foggiest. This was when the biggest trauma of my life so far happened and I cannot let go of the fear to this day. It makes my chest feel tight and heart grow heavy and lose its edges like a cotton ball. I do not like thinking of it but everything I do comes back to this time. Seeing my mum in pain, from an unknown source was the most horrific and helpless experience I have ever gone through. I cannot even begin to imagine how she was feeling. It is walking to the foreign doctors centre on the busy street, walking in and saying my mum can't come in by herself, could he please come to the house, she needs help, she needs help. It is calling the ambulance finally, after a particularly bad pain came and she could not move. In the strange calmness I still remember the lady on the phone asking me questions I had short, numb answers to.
In the foundation year in camberwell I made a series of paintings that drew directly from this trauma. I wanted to have some sort of closure to this matter. What I didn't realise was it was still very, very much there. To this day it comes back sometimes and my mum, despite flying back painfully to Taiwan and getting some treatment, (the pain was from the nerves connecting from her spine to her arm. I wrote in my diary at the time, hearing her howl and cry in pain made me believe that the devil was dancing up her spine then all the way down to her fingertips.) When my mum overworks, which she always does, it comes back. Over the summer she mentioned it and winced when she felt it every time. and every time I was back to being an 11 year old, helpless and hopeless on what to do. I become useless to everyone around me. two summers ago it was really bad and she had to lie down in our living room floor and I had to call a taxi and my small sister and I struggled to get her into it and to the hospital she usually goes to. but before they could do anything they had to do this shot through the nose as procedure and my mum didn't want it, on top of the pain, she could not bear any more of it and she howled like a child in madness and I wept behind my mask. we dragged her out of the emergency room across the road to the main hospital and into the empty hospital cafe and she made us order sandwiches and juice and how could I, just? eat. I don't know how many packs of tissues I used. I am going on and on about my memories but usually these are blocked, a foggy existence bruising the back of my mind, but as soon as I reach out back to it everything comes flowing back and I can't stop, I am back there again. I don't know why I am writing this down but I feel I have to. every traumatic feeling I have makes up how I work and how I am. since this health problem started in NZ I cannot think of NZ and not think of that time. I wanted to die so my mum could live. I had many irrational thoughts. I begged the Buddha to transfer her pain onto me. not all of it, since I was sure I would explode into flames, that it would hurt more than hell, and I was selfish and knew I couldn't handle it like my mum had to. and I swear, lying in that bed in the dark I felt the sparks of that pain flickering at my toes. but it stopped. I remember when my mum was taken away in the ambulance I lied motionless beside my sleeping baby sister and there was nothing. there was the numbness which my mum must have craved the most. I remember wheeling her on a wheelchair into yet another foreign emergency room and her trying to talk to the evil nurse and suddenly feeling the pain again which caused her to howl and cry. the nurse only grimaced and delivered loud, condescending tones you'd only give to a kid or the insane. nobody would listen and I could not feel or move or get my body to coordinate and I resented myself for not being able to do more. after that I do not remember anything. I only know we flew back to Taiwan and got better treatment. but the devil is still dancing. he is always there. my mum is the most important thing I ever cared about, the person I look up to and love the most, and I know that the day she dies will be the day I do as well. I do not like to think of that day. the ground would give away and I would sink so far I can no longer see where I am. I feel like the end is near and I have no control over it. But it is okay. I need to focus on the good things.
In terms of my life so far..overall, I think the order is.. born in Rotorua (NZ), flew to Taipei, flew back to Dunedin (NZ), then to Taipei, then to Tokyo, then to Christchurch (NZ), then back to Taipei where I stayed for high school for the longest duration of years I've been in a school. Now I am here studying in London and my memories are all over the place, literally, and very fragmented. I make friends, usually sticking to a small group or just one person, but never really keep in contact when I move away. Only from high school I made life-long friends who I actually remain close with, despite being in different countries. My mum said moving so much / divorce made me quiet/shy/ghostly and lose the confidence I had before in elementary. I don't know about that. I don't know and am never sure about myself. I have very little confidence and competitiveness that I desperately need. I am still working on it. but am I? I wish I didn't feel so little and so much at the same time. But I take comfort when sadness comes and welcome the notion that I am insane. Everything in me is in conflict. Everything I am scared of I crave. Everything I want to forget punches me in the face everyday. I wish I was not so emotionally fragile so I could handle things like surviving in this new country by myself. I am probably just being dramatic. so many people have it so much worse than me so I should just shut up. Writing this I can feel myself nearing a breakdown. Every time I think deeper into my true feelings I fall into one. Well, I am going to use these feelings for the better and tap into it in my art. it is the least this trauma can do. let's do it! let's let go and always look back! hahaha!
In the foundation year in camberwell I made a series of paintings that drew directly from this trauma. I wanted to have some sort of closure to this matter. What I didn't realise was it was still very, very much there. To this day it comes back sometimes and my mum, despite flying back painfully to Taiwan and getting some treatment, (the pain was from the nerves connecting from her spine to her arm. I wrote in my diary at the time, hearing her howl and cry in pain made me believe that the devil was dancing up her spine then all the way down to her fingertips.) When my mum overworks, which she always does, it comes back. Over the summer she mentioned it and winced when she felt it every time. and every time I was back to being an 11 year old, helpless and hopeless on what to do. I become useless to everyone around me. two summers ago it was really bad and she had to lie down in our living room floor and I had to call a taxi and my small sister and I struggled to get her into it and to the hospital she usually goes to. but before they could do anything they had to do this shot through the nose as procedure and my mum didn't want it, on top of the pain, she could not bear any more of it and she howled like a child in madness and I wept behind my mask. we dragged her out of the emergency room across the road to the main hospital and into the empty hospital cafe and she made us order sandwiches and juice and how could I, just? eat. I don't know how many packs of tissues I used. I am going on and on about my memories but usually these are blocked, a foggy existence bruising the back of my mind, but as soon as I reach out back to it everything comes flowing back and I can't stop, I am back there again. I don't know why I am writing this down but I feel I have to. every traumatic feeling I have makes up how I work and how I am. since this health problem started in NZ I cannot think of NZ and not think of that time. I wanted to die so my mum could live. I had many irrational thoughts. I begged the Buddha to transfer her pain onto me. not all of it, since I was sure I would explode into flames, that it would hurt more than hell, and I was selfish and knew I couldn't handle it like my mum had to. and I swear, lying in that bed in the dark I felt the sparks of that pain flickering at my toes. but it stopped. I remember when my mum was taken away in the ambulance I lied motionless beside my sleeping baby sister and there was nothing. there was the numbness which my mum must have craved the most. I remember wheeling her on a wheelchair into yet another foreign emergency room and her trying to talk to the evil nurse and suddenly feeling the pain again which caused her to howl and cry. the nurse only grimaced and delivered loud, condescending tones you'd only give to a kid or the insane. nobody would listen and I could not feel or move or get my body to coordinate and I resented myself for not being able to do more. after that I do not remember anything. I only know we flew back to Taiwan and got better treatment. but the devil is still dancing. he is always there. my mum is the most important thing I ever cared about, the person I look up to and love the most, and I know that the day she dies will be the day I do as well. I do not like to think of that day. the ground would give away and I would sink so far I can no longer see where I am. I feel like the end is near and I have no control over it. But it is okay. I need to focus on the good things.
In terms of my life so far..overall, I think the order is.. born in Rotorua (NZ), flew to Taipei, flew back to Dunedin (NZ), then to Taipei, then to Tokyo, then to Christchurch (NZ), then back to Taipei where I stayed for high school for the longest duration of years I've been in a school. Now I am here studying in London and my memories are all over the place, literally, and very fragmented. I make friends, usually sticking to a small group or just one person, but never really keep in contact when I move away. Only from high school I made life-long friends who I actually remain close with, despite being in different countries. My mum said moving so much / divorce made me quiet/shy/ghostly and lose the confidence I had before in elementary. I don't know about that. I don't know and am never sure about myself. I have very little confidence and competitiveness that I desperately need. I am still working on it. but am I? I wish I didn't feel so little and so much at the same time. But I take comfort when sadness comes and welcome the notion that I am insane. Everything in me is in conflict. Everything I am scared of I crave. Everything I want to forget punches me in the face everyday. I wish I was not so emotionally fragile so I could handle things like surviving in this new country by myself. I am probably just being dramatic. so many people have it so much worse than me so I should just shut up. Writing this I can feel myself nearing a breakdown. Every time I think deeper into my true feelings I fall into one. Well, I am going to use these feelings for the better and tap into it in my art. it is the least this trauma can do. let's do it! let's let go and always look back! hahaha!