Inheritance

2023

Several tall residential towers with wavy balconies and large rectangular sky windows.

Transcription: WangShui, From Is Mouth Came a River of High End Residential Appliances, 2018

Running Time: 00:13:03

Mobile captioning is available.

The day of our shoot, Hercules and the driver picked me up in a luxury van. He's wearing black cargo pants, ultra boost sneakers and a baseball cap. We drive to the south side of the island and get dropped off on a bridge about a kilometer away from Bel- Air. The high-end residential gated cliffside property I had only seen on Google Earth. That's the two of us standing together near the bottom of the frame. It was an overcast day, as I hoped, and the property, which consists of six 50 story buildings formed a towering wall between us and the South China Sea. We have a quick conversation about how we will approach the holes and in what order? Hercules launches the drone and we watch it fly towards the first hole. In a city where residential real estate can fetch up to $200,000 per square foot, it was impressive to me that millions of dollars of square footage could be displaced by Feng Shui. The Hong Kong skyline is perforated by these gaping holes designed as gates through which dragons can fly through to drink from the sea. This design approach, stemming from the ancient art of geomancy, prioritizes the proper flow of energy between the natural and built environment. The practice of Feng Shui was banned in 1949 after the founding of the People's Republic of China. During the cultural revolution, it was further suppressed as practitioners were beaten and their works burned by the Red Guards. During this period, many Feng Shui practitioners fled to Hong Kong and Taiwan, where the practice developed and thrived. I was immediately drawn to the holes, because to me, they represented an ideological resistance. Resistance towards the Chinese government, but also to Western rational thought. Anti-monuments that oppose authoritarianism and monumentalism by comfortably assuming the form of voids. When I first met Hercules, he told me that he doesn't usually take small jobs like this one, but that he found it very strange. He asked me why I wanted to fly drones through the holes of these buildings. I explained to him that it was the only way I could become who I wanted to be. He then told me the shots would be highly illegal and technically very difficult because once the drone passes through the hole, there's a high risk of interference and loss of reception. The next day, I interviewed a young Feng Shui practitioner named Thierry Chow, who uses her father's Feng Shui office and desk for her own consultations. He waited outside while she talked about bringing fashion and Feng Shui together. Her parting words were to wear blue for luck on the day of shooting. Weirdly enough, I had an urge to buy a pair of blue women's silk pants and a blue vintage Diane von Fürstenberg silk pajama shirt before I left New York. Hercules seems to get the height of the hole perfectly on his first shot without making any noticeable adjustments. He explains to me how most of the drone operators in Hong Kong are his students, but he is the only one who uses two fingers on each joystick. This whole time, I'm filming him with my iPhone. I zoom in on his fingers, which are very gently twisting the joysticks. Through my phone's screen, I watch the screen on his remote as we fly through the first hole together. 

Ding of a high-pitched cymbal

In Chinese mythology, dragons are often connected to Emperors. These interspecies relationships between dragons and men were mythologized not only as a way to add value to power, but also to explore the process of becoming. In most cases, the Emperors remained in heavy pursuit of the dragon, depicting, eroticizing and associating with them. While in rare cases they immortalized into dragons and ascended to heaven. Each Emperor would customize their own mythical creature that would be their vehicle into the afterlife. Signature features pulled from other animals and stitched together. The antlers of a deer, the head of a crocodile, a demon's eyes, the scales of a snake, a tortoise's viscera, a hawk's claws, the palms of a tiger. The dragon I have in mind, doesn't have a singular body. It shifts between endless vantage points, aggregating an infinite live image of me. Its name is Wang Shui. If the camera is the body and the lens the skin, it becomes almost entirely undetectable as it mirrors its surroundings while recording. It leaves a thin black residue on the sensors, drastically affecting the image resolution, depth of fields, and dynamic range. 

Ding of a high-pitched cymbal

When they opened his eyes, he said the word, "Media." Plural. He said that I should never stay still, that shifting was inherent to my way of being. Perhaps that is why I'm so interested in Feng Shui, a slippery global phenomenon that always points back to unseen natural forces. After meeting with as many Feng Shui practitioners as I could in Hong Kong, filming them and getting read by them, I still don't know what it is. I don't want to know what it is. I don't want to know what I am or where I am or whether or not this is cinema. Call me an Orientalist, a hyper-Orientalist Chinese-American raised  in East Asia, but not China, who has made it their life's goal to lose all cultural traction but ended up making work about being Asian anyway. Because the personal seems more political than ever. Clock me as a gay Asian bottom, even though I haven't had anal sex in years, because I refuse to accept that my physical body must dictate how I have sex, who I have sex with or that I should trust my highly suspect sexual desires that still propagate a Eurocentric hierarchy of desire, even though I probably don't want to be male anymore anyways. I don't want to know. What I do want to know is how to, in Richard Feng's words, push beyond the cinema of legitimacy, of homonormativity, of homonationalism, beyond stable identities, beyond a Civil Rights agenda, beyond the military, beyond the neoliberal consensus, beyond pride, beyond rote formulas, beyond tokenism, beyond the people of color version of, beyond stereotypes, beyond positive images, for an intersectional cinema. In the classic Of Mountains and Seas, an anonymous Chinese text that is the largest compilation of imaginary Chinese geography and myth, dating back to the fourth century BC, foxes have nine tails, creatures are polymorphic human eaters, deities are transgendered corpses and have names like Cry Spiral, Fish Wife and Terrace, and they eat jade grease by Brocade River on a mountain named Feather. Mulberry trees everywhere. Why wouldn't I go there?

Ding of a high-pitched cymbal


WangShui, From Its Mouth Came a River of High-End Residential Appliances, 2018. Video, color, sound, 13 min., aspect Ratio: 16:9. Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; Promised gift of Robert Rosenkranz P.2019.1

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