> On Haizhu Bridge, over the Pearl River, 29th jan 2010
> On the overpass at Xiaobei, a neighborhood characterized by a mix of Cantonese and African traders
> On Haizhu Bridge, over the Pearl River, 29th jan 2010
> On the overpass at Xiaobei, a neighborhood characterized by a mix of Cantonese and African traders




Nearly all the students have already headed home for the upcoming Spring Festival. Luckily (from top to bottom) Wang Nan, Li Qian, Zhan Dan Ping and Xiao Yan were still around, and so we were able to have a last dinner together to say good-bye. I feel very happy to have gotten to know them, and hope the very best for them in the future. They have been a wonderful resource of information about modern day Chinese society and I have learnt much from them. I hope they can say the same about me.

Last monday I shared a farewell lunch with Professor Tong Huiming, the head of the College of Design of the GAFA, and Jiang Jun, who introduced me to the GAFA in the first place. It felt good to be able to say my good-byes in person, and to talk a little about the views that I experienced within the department that I was teaching at this past semester.
During my stay here I have heard a lot of criticism from people within the education system itself about the disconnect between many teachers and their students. There are quite a few teachers who do not seem committed to sharing knowledge, but are more interested in upholding their status as “professor”, and using students as cheap (or even free) labor to aid them in their business practices. The attention of these teachers focuses mainly on aquiring cool highly regarded and well-paid assignments rather than investing energy in their students. In itself this is not unique. The income for teaching is often not great (not only in China) and combining your professional practice with your teaching practice can be challenging. However, in my view, in order to have any chance at effective education, there should be mutual respect, at least to begin with. A topdown approach, whereby a teacher enforces their view on the students, rather than opening up their mind and ear to the possibility of another point-of-view, is not the way forward. Within my class, there were already quite a few individuals who have thoughts, opinions of their own, and it is upsetting to see how their sometimes really good, out-of-the-box ideas are stifled by the narrow-minded focus of the leadership. And it is really frustrating to see how the work of students who, without much imagination, make works that comply to the very narrow rules that are enforced, is received with great enthusiasm because it ticks all the boxes. Sigh.
I’m hopeful that with someone with the vision of Professor Tong, who is well versed both in the culture of the Chinese education system and the politics involved, and at the same time knowledgeable about other methods of teaching, that this disconnect will change. He plans to internationalize the GAFA by taking on Chinese teachers who have had experience outside of China, either through study or work. My dear friend and colleague Hong Rongman, who studied in Holland for 2 years, is an example of such a teacher. His approach, which is open minded, smart, critical and heartfelt, connects with the students. His lessons are not a monotonous uninspired monologue but rather an enthusiastic attempt at stimulating students to look at the world in different ways. A new generation of teachers that combine a knowledge and experience of an other way of looking with their own Chinese culture is, I think, the way forward.
> click on the images for a larger version
The Sun Yat Sen fabric market is not exactly a place where you leisurely browse to find nice fabrics for your home sewing. Rather it’s a sprawl of gigantic buildings filled with booths each selling its specific product. Booths dedicated to eyelets, to zippers, to lace, to ribbons. To appliqués, to trimmings for sleeves and collars, to sequins, to laces, to needles, to clasps, to buckles, to glass buttons, to plastic buttons, to wooden buttons, to metal buttons, to elastic, not to mention to a huge variety of fabrics. The sheer volume of stuff is almost upsetting. It’s too much for my senses to handle. My brain shuts down in a panic. Not only is the amount of goods hard to deal with, also the flow of traffic inbetween takes place at a manic pace. Cyclists and tri-cyclists, laden with rolls of fabric, weave through the pedestrian traffic, their load sticking out, miraculously not knocking anybody off their feet. At a zebra crossing, traffic wardens blow their whistles incessantly, trying to stop cars, pedestrians, cyclists, carts from ignoring the red light. The sound of their whistles is just one soundtrack. On top of that is the constant honking of horns, yells of cyclists letting everyone know they’re coming through (no matter what), bicycle bells ringing, and let’s not forget the guys carting around large speakers blasting some popular Chinese music in order to sell CDs. This soundscape, combined with the complete anarchy within the traffic flow make for a pretty intense experience.



The well-known Louis Vuitton print, or references to it, can be seen just about everywhere: of course on fake LV handbags. But also on socks, scarves, stickers to decorate your mobile phone with, underwear, fabric, plastic carrier bags, hairpins and so on and so on.

A couple of days ago in the Guangzhou metro, I saw this woman wearing her LV inspired sleeves. These loose sleeves are worn mostly by women, and small children, over their coat sleeves. I guess they’re meant to keep the coat clean and whole. People wearing them are often engaged in activities involving dirt and grease (like streetvendors), and small children are of course crawling and climbing all over the place, including rather filthy floors.
So anyway, this woman is wearing loose sleeves that I associate with low income labour, yet sporting a motif that refers to one of the most ridiculously chic brands in the world. (Even though it’s not an exact copy: it says LS, not LV and the shapes that make up the pattern are not very precise replicas of the original LV shapes.)
Encounters as these fuel my curiousity about the cultural meaning of the act to copy from the Chinese perspective. I hope to address this later on in this blog.


A hairdressing salon hangs its towels out to dry. With their various blue hues, and the way the they’re interlocked with the coat hangers, the towels form a cascading waterfall of colour between the grey murky tones of the surrounding walls.

click on the images for a larger version
The art of piling and balancing boxes is taken to great heights here on Jiefang Lu in the vicinity of Metropolis Shoe City. And not only here, but around many commercial areas in Guangzhou, I’ve witnessed amazing towers of boxes piled meters high, either on the back of bicycles, or on small trolleys. The main, flabbergasting, mindboggling, incredible feature is that very often, the boxes aren’t tied together in any way. Nor are they attached to the vehicles of transportation. They’re simply arranged, loosely, one on top of the other. Presumbly their weight is enough to keep them aligned and in balance. On occasion, I’ve seen towers of boxes almost 3 meters high being negotiated through busy traffic on the back of a bike. Inevitably, every now and then a tower collapses…but mostly the young men, mostly boys, manage to weave effortlessly through the pedestrian crowds to deliver their packages safely. I watch and marvel.

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