> 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

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.

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.

My reflection in an LV shopwindow in Xiamen/November 2009

Just as some Chinese use English names, many foreigners in China are given Chinese names. This must have to do with unpronouncable consonants, and alien syllables. In my case, I was given the name li ye (part of ga-bi-li-ye) by my first Chinese language teacher back in 2005. Various characters could have been chosen to represent these two sounds, happily my teacher chose characters that have a meaning that suit me and my trade well:

丽;  [lì]  -> beautiful
叶;  [yè]  -> leaf or page
Not bad for a graphic designer.

Initially this name meant little else to me other then that it made introducing myself to Chinese speakers easier. Now, after almost 4 months of living and teaching in Guangzhou, I have grown affectionate towards it. When my name is called, which happens during teaching alot, my ears are attuned to the sound: leee-yeah.

li ye is the name I’ve been responding to the most these past months, and it feels liberating, as if it reveals to a part of my personality that I’ve been repressing. Is li ye the same person as Gabrielle?

While Nan(in yellow shirt) translates for me, Hao Ning
looks anxiously whether I’m getting it…