Chongqing eats and experiences

Having been to Bei Bei district, north of Chongqing, to review the latest Banyan Tree hotel, (we’re talking misty mountains, hot tubs, tall bamboo and a thousand year-old Buddhist temple) I was kindly chauffeured to the city of Chongqing.

I have no expectations after Googling travel ideas for the city, which pretty much lead me nowhere (no, I don’t want 364 ideas from Trip Advisor and I don’t want to head 50-100km out of the city again to see things like the town of statues of underworld gods or visit Foreigner City).

The city is huge, the traffic is so-so. It’s warmer here but the air is quite gross and I almost think we in HK should stop complaining. Then I catch myself and remember that we can always have better air, so we should complain and act. But this is China and the air isn’t bad for a big city like this.

// Something I like about visiting China (not Lo Wu) is that it reminds me that Mainlanders are nice. In HK it’s so easy to get into the habit of finding them ma fan, being rude, but that’s just a portion of the section of society who visit HK.

And whose fault is it that we don’t really have the infrastructure to cope with so many tourists crossing the border every day? Not theirs, they don’t make the rules. I realise this is a bit controversial but I want to say it. I easily get into the habit of ‘oh I HATE them!’ so I come here to recall what their history was and what their culture is, to be patient, instead of feeling harassed as I rush about my city, in my busy daily schedule.

So, that means, I accept the spitting and the talking shouting and the pushing in the elevator. Because there’s so much nice and awe-inspiring and quirky. And they actually stop at the red pedestrian light when there’s no traffic coming, which just blows my mind. //

I choose a more budget hotel, staying in a decent spot frequented by lots of local Mainlanders. I’m still in the area where all of the international hotels are, like the Intercontinental, Marriot etc so there’s lots to do, with Chongqing locals, Mainland tourists and international tourists around.

That said, I laugh out loud (really) when I see the Dairy Queen and Starbucks right next to my hotel, but there are also local fruit sellers squatting right outside the hotel, so I feel gratified.

It’s no joke that Chongqing is famous for hotpot – a short stroll down the road shows me that pretty much every other shop is a hotpot restaurant, mixed amongst more local cha chan teng (茶餐廳) that serve the popular xiao mien (not because the noodle or dish is small but because there’s not many different ingredients in it) along with ma lat tong meen (麻辣湯麵) and other regional dishes.

I’m staying by Hongya Cave, and soon realise that my hotel room is almost underground – that is, we’re on a cliff face and I’m facing the rock, not the river. But I didn’t book this place for lounging in.

After checking out a local shop to eat xiao mien (yummy, not spicy, containing choi (greens) preserved mui choi and meat which I didn’t eat) I pass through a local mall. Not much interesting for me, especially since the brands are either present in HK or too local to be my style (bright is ok, fru-fru is not). So, off I head to the Hongya cave, which my friends at Banyan Tree kept telling me about.

It’s pretty much what I want: Tons of fresh made local goodies like peanut candy, date candy, Chinese cookies, peanuts, chili products and so on as well as lots of local food stores that sell all kinds of local dishes, all of which I want to try (except the meat).

I’ve now picked out my breakfast of shun lat mai meen (酸辣米麵), lunch (more ma lat tong meen), sides (cold eggplant) (茄子) and dessert (any kind of local style tong yuen (湯圆) all of which I will have to consumer before I leave at 2.30pm. Oh and I also ate my second dinner in the form of dan dan meen, which was ridiculously good and might mean I never eat it in HK ever again.

// One warning: These small local eateries are cheap and yummy (5-15RMB per bowl of noodles), but there’s a ridiculous amount of MSG in the food. I know that’s what it is because there’s a half aisle dedicated to MSG at the supermarket and later, I find myself drinking litres of water  – with a slight MSG headache, which believe it or not, never happens to me in HK //

I also find a sweet shop on the ‘traditional folk shop’ floor CHECK of the cave, where they make Chinese name chops. As a painter LINK I like to collect these in different shapes and sizes. I’m even more excited that they have chops made of clay, which I’ve never seen before. It’s cheaper than HK and the skilled man is offering a range of styles, so I’m all in. As a pottery fan, I’m really excited by this. Call me a geek, I don’t care.

People here are friendly and will chat with you, even if you can’t understand. I’m pretty relieved that some bits of Cantonese are useful and I'm very proud of my highly limited and crap Mandarin (I’ve had 12 classes in my life) as well as what I hotchpotch together by trying to figure out bits of simplified Chinese (give me details any day, I’m a purist, let’s be traditional with the written, ok?).

At the chop shop, the owner’s daughter who’s about eight talks and talks to me; I finally get her to speak a bit of Cantonese (she can, a bit) and we connect. I tell her and her mum I’m mixed raced and later, other Chinese customers chat with me saying that Hong Kong people have nice names and take pictures of me.

I haven’t seen much in my 20 hours here, but I like this city and I’d recommend it for a fast weekend food break, just when you know, Thailand is irresistible (like that ever happens).

Yinka Shonibare: Dreaming Rich

Yinka Shonibare's first foray into the identity of Hong Kong.

Following the trend of so many famous artists doing their 'first solo in Asia', Yinka Shonibare opens Dreaming Rich tomorrow at Pearl Lam. The exhibition by the London-born Nigeria-raised artist includes works created specifically for – and about – Hong Kong.

Entering Pearl Lam, the exhibition is somewhat divided, into three parts. On the right, a slightly enclosed glass cube and on the left, the long room, divided in half by a long wall. Why divide the space like this? I wonder. 

Curator, David Chan, was trying to create an HK-like space and I suppose that an awkward division in a room, combined with the strange, long space is very Hong Kong. It also allowed for the hanging of a very long painting. 

Shonibare views his own works

An icon of Shonibare's work is the use of African textiles, those batik fabrics which seem to echo tribal art. As it turns out, this Indonesian process of dying was mimicked by the Dutch, with the aim of selling them back to Indonesia. But they weren't popular and so they sold them to West Africa. Now, they're so common that we call them African textiles.

In this, there's a notion of imposing culture onto a people – especially one that is likely poorer than you. But there's another link: Trade routes, something that Shonibare is interested in, along with history. We already know he relies on history for story-telling. Look at the amazing Victorian Dandy series.

The fabrics have become a motif in his work now, so in terms of semiology it means 'Shonibare' too. His work is so popular (he's an MBE after all; something he finds ironic) that he inspires contemporary fashion designers.

He questions what is truly African – this story of the fabrics and their origins proves that the diaspora as well as the modern world make it hard to find things that are singly and truly African. "We eat sushi then we go to school and speak English," he says. 

Champagne Kid (Swinging)

And he realises something about the modern mind. We're all influenced by where we've lived, not just where we're 'from' – 'from' being a notion that in itself is hard to perceive in Hong Kong sometimes. "At school, I was asked why I wasn't producing purely African art, but why would I?" He questions. 

In Dreaming Rich, it's the figures that are seen sporting these fabrics the most, although they are used in some paintings too. 

Cake Man is the biggest and most impressive of the globe heads, with the weight of the world cake on his shoulders. "All humans are greedy and we all like cake," Shonibare says. "'08 was a pure expression of greed and the rise of other economies in the world makes high-end brands more desirable." He has a point, China want it and little chavs in the UK want it too, as we saw during the UK riots.

"The gap between rich and poor is getting bigger and the rich want more. Cake Man symbolises this," Shonibare explains. The globe head shows the rise and fall of the stock market, on a graph. "He looks delicious and absolutely disgusting at the same time, he's burdened by too much cake." Shonibare reflects that anything you do too much, creates a burden. "It becomes a form of labour. See the contradictions?"

Penny for your thoughts 
In another series of works (Dreaming Rich drawings), Shonibare reflects on the truth about Hong Kong. Not only does he call out IFC as an erection (he's not the first person to complain about the phallic skyline) but he paid homeless people to tell him what they would do if they had loads of money. "They're real thoughts. I traded with them, I paid them for their thoughts, as homeless people here," he explains.

Something to play with
Hong Kong Toy Painting is another, created just for the show. They're playful but Shonibare says they are serious, too. 

Not only are toys and their industry iconic for Hong Kong, but Shonibare used only those made in Hong Kong that would be more reminiscent for local audiences. 

"We have enough not to want for homes and toys but not everyone is like that," he says, adding that he knows about the cage dwellings here. Will there be an uprising again? He asks. 

Shonibare's first solo in Hong Kong is showing at Pearl Lam (Pedder Building) until January 9th, 2014.

Art Critter: Marc Quinn does HK – Held By Desire

A Chantown Art Critique Critter: I'll never forget Marc Quinn's Self (blood head). I was about 19 and doing my art foundation course, when the Sensation exhibition was in London, igniting the Shock Art term which changed the art world and starting a debate first instigated by Marcel Duchamp.

There were parts of that show I liked more than others – I was never a fan of Damien Hirst. But one piece that really made an impact on me was Marc Quinn's Self. He created a bust of himself, in his own blood. What a great concept – it's you, but it's not. And it melts and dissolves. As a youngster I had always been interested in 'signs' that people had been there/ somewhere, like a mustard stain on the carpet reminding me of watching Young and Dangerous (古惑仔) with Greg. 

Anyway, it never ceases to amaze me which artists I can meet, as an artist a member of the media. I'm really lucky that I live in Hong Kong, which presumably thanks to it's financial market and the current interest in Asian art, can pull some of the most interesting artists from the far corners of the world, like London and New York. So, I got to meet Marc Quinn in person last week, as his show Held By Desire just opened at White Cube Hong Kong (8 November 2013 - 4 January 2014).

I had hoped to do something more with this post but in the midst of work stuff and renovations, there's no chance. So here's a gift of a little critter, from me to you, totalling snippets, thoughts and images.

The exhibition is centred around Quinn's exploration into how desire shapes our universe and affects man's relationship with nature. That means looking at the boundaries between art, nature and the 'man-made', so Quinn asks us to look at the raw and seemingly mystical elements of our surrounds, in his first exhibition created for Asia and its audiences.

Hunger is one of the first things that Quinn mentions, this simple and vital animal urge which makes us wish to control nature, whether for food or a more sexual satiation. His work, Held by Desire (Chinese Juniper 114), is a lacquered bronze copy of a Bonsai tree, the perfect example of something that humans try to control. Keep it in a small pot, it's a Bonsai. Let it grow in the earth, it's a tree. This sculpture is what Quinn calls a contingent of reality – the real one lives and grows in his garden. Note here, that Quinn used a 3D scanner to create this, not destroying the original in the process.

Another piece that gives a more weird take on reality, is a leg of Serano ham, carved in onyx. A trip to the British Museum inspired this one. Quinn, having seen a carving in bone of a lion, thought about the strange combination of material and subject. The Invention of Carving has a slightly uncomfortable feeling to it, made in a fleshy pink/ white stone that some say looks like flesh, but I say looks like pink Himalayan salt. Either way, there's a discomfort in there, which is added to by the sexy but torturous pose that such ham is viced into, for cutting.

Being an art critter, I won't go into every piece but I can't ignore the huge flesh paintings (they look like photo's but they're not). They are of a size that you feel uncomfortably close to the meat, because at that size, you're either really close or that's whale meat. The fat, tissues and sinews are large and bright as day, thrown together in a pile, which is just raw (of course, but I mean in feeling too) and awkward. Not gross: Awkward. Quinn considers them to be "internal landscapes" tunneling into the body. Which is, I suppose, awkward. 

The odalisque of that series is Past, Present, Future, which depicts famous model, Lara Stone (she's married to British comedian, David Walliams) lying on a bed of meat. And she's about seven months pregnant, which explains the title: We are of flesh, we're born of flesh (also moving through it when we're born) and when we die we are bits of flesh, which rot. 

When the floor opened up to questions, I'm happy to go first, seated on the front row directly in front of Quinn. "So, did you ask her to come waxed for that photo?" Apparently, "she came that way" but my question was valid – was Quinn looking to make for another shocking image, when usually such poses show no lady parts or are covered with a large fig leave? 

Jenny Holzer in Hong Kong, with work created just for Hong Kong? Amazing.

I've been a fan of Jenny Holzer since I was about 18 

when I was introduced to her work during my art foundation course before my degree. Since then, I've continued to work with text using it as a catalyst within each piece. Between Jenny Holzer and Barbara Kruger, I've had a lot of inspiration from two women who have an interesting design background. Holzer, for instance, was a typesetter and created political posters as part of a collective in the '70s.

Holzer is known for changing things in the art world. She was the first woman ever to show at the Venice Bienniale (in 1990) and that marked that words could be art. In fact, Holzer's works are about the viewer's experience and not at all about Holzer – she writes the texts but the work becomes personal by the way in which each person reads and reacts to it. 

Today, Holzer's show, Light Streams, opens at Pearl Lam Galleries. It's her first solo show in Hong Kong, offering 25 custom-made works. Having not been to Hong Kong for 25 years, Holzer had to rely on her memories to create something for the city. She chose to focus the frenetic energy that the busy city has, which Holzer compares to the frenetic energy of a packed gallery.

But one of the most important things about this show is that Holzer has translated much of her work into traditional Chinese. It enfranchises most of the audience here. The translations were worked on by five different translators and Holzer worked hard to make the translation suit Hong Kong particularly, digging into the nuances of the fast-moving language. "I was intrigued to see the flow of syntax: Where verbs would fall. I wanted to see how well it would translate too, to see how the audience will react. I wanted to see if I could do it," she explains.  At times, she admits it's frustrating not knowing which statement she's looking at, but at others it's a relief. "I can take more care over the aesthetic side that way," she says.

Entering the exhibition, there's a lot more happening than I expected, perhaps because I'm more au fait with her Truisms and most of her works that I've seen are in collections and not new. The room has a colourful glow from the works spread throughout: Some leaning alone, some leaning together like a game of Kerplunk, some strewn and others mounted.

All Fall

Light Stream includes strewn hoop shapes, reminiscent of public hand rails or bike railings, alongside a plaque of frantically animated statements, based on her Truisms. In fact, the housing of the LEDs is a huge consideration for Holzer. With her design background, it's no surprise that every detail counts. "This shape is a reference to a type of gravestone that was popular in New England. It's called a life to death tombstone," she explains. 

Meanwhile, the wires around Light Stream are left visible, adding to the general clutter, the backdrop to these lively lights. "This really challenges me, I'm very tidy," says Holzer. But it creates the feeling she wanted.

Light Stream

That technology has changed her work is undeniable. "The infinite colours are carefully programmed for my work. Some loops are over five hours in this exhibition," she says. In other exhibitions, she has works that don't loop for over a month. Within each loop is a number of sequences (the way in which the words are delivered) which are often random: Fast, slow, sliding, bouncing, stretched, normal and so on. "Sometimes it seems to relate to the content but the animation isn't always so planned," Holzer explains. "Sometimes it's a choice and sometimes it just needs a lift, like when the letters blast out. I like to change between easy to read and really hard – unamenable – which is what life is like."

Inclined is a four-sided post of LED messages and really new. "This is deluxe programming," explains Jenny, who says they were working on it until the minute it was packed for shipping. There are animations of words flowing or passing each other from different directions, allowing two layers of text. Sometimes the words fall away in an animation that would remind you of the ICC's lights. "We took videos of weather and referenced it for this," she says.

Inclined

Reflections are another unexpected part of the show. With glass screens in the gallery, reflections across the room add depth to the work but also the viewer's experience, enabling views from a greater distance too.

And let's not forget the marble benches. I almost dumped my bag on one before realising it was another piece of work. But the benches, which create a place from which to watch these works as well as giving a kind of park or memorial feeling to the room, are subtle and powerful. Thoughout history, there's been a relation between words and material. Marble has authority and status, having been used for plaques and statues. But a bench is comfortable, too. Holzer comments that she gets tired walking around galleries and thinks there should be more places to sit, so that you can really appreciate the art. "I don't mind if you sit on them or leave your bag there. I'm happy for them to be placed outside and I want them to take on the life around them. If they grow moss, that's great," she says.

Brussel me up: Sprouts with everthing

A recent trip to the US made me recall my deep love for the brussel sprouts. 

That tasty, mini brassica, which fell prey to badly cooked school dinners in the '80s, wreaking hate across a nation.

Despite the bad rap they have among Brits/ school kids, they are a classic British vegetable (if you're British. If you're American and thinking "hey, that's my brassica!" then fine, I deny you not). They have a somewhat Christmassy connotation in the UK but in Hong Kong, they're popular and you can get them year round.

I love them. I somehow escaped primary school unscathed by bad brussel sprouts and don't recall eating them in secondary school. I am, however, mostly vegetarian, in part, due to the horrors of eating meat at school. 

But in the US, it's like they love sprouts with their cooking, not their mouths. You can find sprouts in all kinds of restaurants, in interesting combinations and typically, damn well made. The trip most definitely ignited in me, a little obsession, trying to recreate the lovingly cooked dishes, so I could love them with my mouth at home.

// Dammit, I don't have any in at the moment, so I can't, now, go and eat some, having ranted on about how great they are. //

The Smith, NYC

In this popular chain of bars, brussel sprouts are carefully loved in a hot pan, with oil and salt. They come out a bright green, so have not been overcooked, despite that the outsides are wonderfully burnt brown and black, creating spots of crispiness and caramel. They are a tad oily, but the salt and sprout flavours just eat you up in a bundle of brassica joy.

Just USD 8

Motorino, NYC

Motorino is known to be (one of) the best pizza place(s) in New York. And with a menu that includes brussel sprouts, who's surprised? (School kids, that's who). This bianco pizza is compiled of the standard Motorino dough – that's thin in the middle and chewy on the crust – topped with Perorino and brussel sprouts. And if you eat meat, smoked pancetta too. I have to admit that I've only eaten it without the meat (but would happily eat one or two small chunks of pancetta but perhaps not much more). One friend told me she was disgusted by this pizza, but I love it. 

Oh yes, NYC. It's just doesn't quite taste the same in Hong Kong.

USD 16

Mercaditos, NYC

There are many cool things about this Mexican eatery, tucked away on Avenue B, not to mention the three guacamoles they have on the menu. Yes. Three. But it's the brussel sprouts that really surprised me. Brussel sprouts? I hear you ask. In a Mexican joint? I hear you ask. Yes my sweets, brussel sprouts in a Mexican joint! These little puppies are served with pork belly in a yummy tomato sauce that is basically a cooked, thickened salsa. Apparently it comes with tortilla, but all I recall is the creamy sprouts.

Just USD 5.50

*Too dark for a decent pic

Nick's Cove, Sonoma

Tucked away in Marshall County, Sonoma, Nick's Cove is a warm and woody affair. It's quaint and homely, with a water's edge deck and view of sunset. 

The menu changes every day but always consists of fantastically fresh food, with a sophisticated-twist-on-an-old-favourite kind of charm. I mean, like the crab mac'n'cheese that I had, the taste of which still lingers on my tongue. The sprouts come with pancetta, of course. And what tasty morsels they were. 

If I haven't yet got you, then go, now my dear, go and eat brussel sprouts. For they are good and green and strong.