We saw sculptural and carved/excavated books, the most interesting of which were Long-Bin Chen’s sculptures of Buddhas (one full bodied reclining, and a Kuan Yin head) assembled from materials that included Manhattan phone books!

Also very exciting were the Guy Laramee carved and sandblasted stacks of Encyclopedia Brittanicas which replicated steep gorges and physical landscapes.

After we finished with the artist books exhibition, we walked downstairs to discover the work of wood artist Michael Peterson.

Peterson lives and works on Orcas Island. He hollows out logs and burls to make the material of wood seem as malleable as the steel buildings of Frank Gehry. He makes both sculptural (geometric) and figurative forms and bowl-like landscapes which evoke extraterrestrial terrain. The longer we looked at his work, the more interesting it became.

This was our first trip to the Bellevue Arts Museum which has had its share of crises in the past five years, including embezzlement by a former staff member and a total rebranding of the organization to become crafts-focused. It is a beautiful space across from several luxury malls in the downtown Bellevue area which draws shoppers, tourists, etc., but the galleries were relatively empty today.

The long-awaited terracotta warriors. Many of the artists on the delegation are energized by this trip, and I have to admit, tourist factor aside, the experience was awe-some. Looking down into these huge archaeological excavation sites and seeing these human forms, each unique, standing at attention, guarding the first emperor’s tomb.

New figures and artifacts are unearthed regularly.

Archaeologists and researchers have identified the precise location of the emperor’s tomb. But here’s the rub. The emperor’s tomb is suspended on an island in the middle of a lake of mercury. Excavating the site could potentially destroy the fragility of the tomb’s environment as well as expose the workers to toxic poisons. So the tomb goes unexcavated.

The original individual who came across the tomb was a Chinese farmer seeking well water. As he dug, he found a head or torso of a terracotta warrior and had enough sense to send these artifacts to the local archaeological college. That was in the 1970s. The site now has been transformed into a UNESCO site which accommodates thousands of visitors everyday.

We fly to Xian, which takes about two hours and proceed on to the Wild Goose Pagoda – where Chinese monk Hsuan Tsung established Tripitaka Buddhism after walking to and from India which took him 17 years. The Emperor built the pagoda to serve as the storehouse for the sutras and various religious items that Hsuan Tsung brought back with him.

The monk that helped to root Buddhism in China.

Wall of birds

Wishes for 20 yuan. I bought a “Dream” placard and wrote down my short and long-term goals and left my wishes hanging on the general board.

We toured the town museum, went to the horseracing track (no betting on ponies), and had a traditional Kazakh meal inside a giant yurt where Kazakh singers and dancers performed. There was also an interactive component where the guests got up and danced. At the museum, I was very excited by the architectural/landscape model of the development which included simulated rivers, mountains, and plastic animals.

This is what the town was modeled after:

Lunch in the yurt was a visually rich experience. Wallpapered textures and painted window shades with distinctly non-Chinese themes/styles.

Kort trimmed his winter/spring beard down to a moustache and he is looking a bit 1970s meets My Name is Earl. This disturbs me to no end.

I still have a lot to say about China and am moving through processing many thoughts and ideas.

Working on a social media plan for the Center for Wooden Boats that is due to be presented on Monday. Thesis rewrites to be submitted by June 11. Then prepping a museum budget and a job talk for my Witliff interview. And then there is the exhibition that Nina Simon’s class is installing this week.

Return to Beijing from Xian. Stop at 798 on way back from airport en route to hotel. This is where all the foreign galleries come to scout new work – all the major Chinese artists are represented here. We only get an hour which is far too short.

This photo gallery had an interesting show up called “Between the Sexes” – one of the featured photographers in the show is a sex worker who takes photographs of herself with her various male “clients” (stand-ins for the pictures I think), making a commentary about her work.

The Chinese writers seemed less inspired by the visit, though I do run into Mr. Cao and Mr. Guo in an art bookshop poring over hardcover books of photography and 2D work. The American writers can’t stop discussing the appearance of Mao iconography in the work. I find a strange gallery called Beijing Happy Sheep Art that can only be described as sculptural taxidermy. Here is the artist behind the gallery.

The group bikes out to the desert on tandem bicycles to view Anne Wilson’s on-site installation on the dunes. Using a plaster mold modeled after lotus-designed tiles at the Mogao Caves, Anne cast dozens of packed-sand 3-d tiles which she left to disintegrate in the desert.

We return to the hotel and Eni talks about his poems and the Yi tribal people, their symbols, and his life as a poet and editor. I give a talk on my poem after, but make the mistake of trying to engage Yan in a conversation during the break. I apologize for losing my temper with her yesterday, which goes poorly. But during the introduction of my work, I begin to cry when speaking of writing poems, I use language that my mother would understand. In this moment, I realize the stress of the last two days and how the difficulty of communication in recent days has pushed a lot of my mother buttons.

Breakfast in the Taklamakan – we suited up in the hotel at 5:20 a.m. with face masks, fitted gloves, and heavy coats akin to what motorcyclists wear to protect themselves from the wind. We trekked out to the back of the hotel where we had the outdoor BBQ last night and lantern launching to find a fleet of camels waiting for us. It was still very dark outside, but I could make out the forms of the animals and hear their little camel noises. The camels were tied to one another with a long rope and we were separated into groups of three. I watched the sky gradually lighten and felt drops of rain come down. Because the sky was overcast, there was no real sunrise to observe. We arrived at the sand dune after what felt like a very long time climbing up and down sandy hills in the desert until we caught sight of a camping tent awaiting us with a glowing flame inside where several hotel chefs prepared a breakfast of eggs, sausage, and bacon. We drank tea and dined under red canopies – all very Passage to India.

Breakfast in the Taklamakan – we suited up in the hotel at 5:20 a.m. with face masks, fitted gloves, and heavy coats akin to what motorcyclists wear to protect themselves from the wind. We trekked out to the back of the hotel where we had the outdoor BBQ last night and lantern launching to find a fleet of camels waiting for us. It was still very dark outside, but I could make out the forms of the animals and hear their little camel noises. The camels were tied to one another with a long rope and we were separated into groups of three. I watched the sky gradually lighten and felt drops of rain come down. Because the sky was overcast, there was no real sunrise to observe. We arrived at the sand dune after what felt like a very long time climbing up and down sandy hills in the desert until we caught sight of a camping tent awaiting us with a glowing flame inside where several hotel chefs prepared a breakfast of eggs, sausage, and bacon. We drank tea and dined under red canopies – all very Passage to India.