Suyin, I feel incredibly honoured to be able to read your writing, raw from the heart. There are so many threads here that tug and pull and resonate, so many stories held within us wanting to be given wings to fly. I feel that simultaneous wonder and ache that comes with trying to carve out space for ourselves in the new, as we progress through these spaces to find that our self has expanded beyond what this place can offer us.
Similar to what I wrote about implosions/explosions, here I am, reading your words and finding the mirror in this phrase:
"as I set off the silent fireworks of my existential implosions and studied my reflection in the dark window glass of the eastbound Jubilee line tube, struck by the observation that neither my tears nor my inner earthquakes had the same ability to be reflected by the glass, in the way that my faceless silhouette had".
I stand in awe of your courage to continue moving, searching, sharing, loving, expressing, and learning about your self, your heart, and the joys of life danced under the moon.
Zhen, I so treasure the music that floats in, and in between, all your words here. The stories within that are looking for wings to fly, and the wonder and the ache that become familiar friends on the road in the bittersweet journey of transition. The words you found a mirror in here, were the same words I thought about as I read your words on implosions. I'm so grateful that our paths crossed in our navigating of the liminal space, and to have you as a friend on the road. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words and for being here!
“I learned that tears can hold a truth that words have forgotten”.
Suyin, it was an honor to read your work, thank you for trusting us with it. There were so many things, I don’t even know where to start. For starters, your visit to the London museum, your tears at saying goodbye to London, and the significance of seeing that very artist again. Your intuition doesn’t miss a beat or a sign, you catalog those moments so well (their significance), and you really live them when you are in them, at least that is my observation. I also clicked on the links you left regarding the two artists who met in the middle of the Great Wall, the ending floored me. Your story, The Lovers, read like a well-known myth, that's how good it was.
I smiled when you mentioned MOMA. Although I am not as well versed in art as you are, it is my favorite museum. I used to love going alone and just wandering, I kind of knew my favorites (Picasso mostly) but I wasn’t picky, I just liked being around the art.
Last year, I made my way back to Manhattan, except this time to the Met to see Van Gogh’s cypresses. I’ve learned that when these sort of exhibits happen, I must go. Many years ago I missed an exhibition of my favorite artist, Frida, (not in NYC but somewhere else in the country), regardless I would have flown. I am sure you know, a lot of these pieces are in private collections, so who knows when their owners will lend them out again.. Anyways, once inside the room with the cypresses, I wanted to cry and I wish I had. I am not one to cry in public, but at least I have graduated to crying in front of those I love, as opposed to hiding in the bathroom as a teen and young adult. I admire you for not holding back when something truly moves you.
Although breaking up with an entire city may feel like an ambiguous feeling, I think you captured it very beautifully and I appreciate your honesty in all the ways you have been human. May you continue to keep writing, I certainly look forward to reading more.
Helen, thank you so much for your heartfelt and beautiful share of your experiences in so many dimensions - the response to the words I had left here, and the threads that connected you to your personal memories of encounters with art and relationships to artists and their paintings. I was so moved to read about your reaction to Van Gogh's Cypresses - it sounds like something I would have absolutely loved to see too, and thanks to your words, I was able to get a sense of how it might have felt to see them. I looked up the exhibition and came across this NYT article called Van Gogh and the Consolation of Trees, a title that made me feel I had to read it - https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/11/arts/design/van-gogh-cypresses-met-museum.html
I love Frida too, and there's a book called What Would Frida Do, that you might enjoy as well :)
You can't imagine how much I appreciate your insights to my process of being changed by the art I encountered and my process of writing to distill that process. Through your eyes, I see and experience it all again in new ways. Your description about the ambiguity of breaking up with an entire city made me feel it on a new level - even though that's what I knowingly wrote about, feeling it again through those words is extra poignant. And yes, being floored is also exactly how I felt reading the story about the two artists and the Great Wall, and I tried to tell it in a way that reflected how existentially monumental the whole story and the performance art concept felt to me. Thank you for reflecting all this from a new perspective that deepens my connection to all of it.
Like you, I also really love going alone to art museums and galleries. Something I've thought about is that every visitor to the exhibition is carrying around their own worlds and histories while viewing the art, and the act of viewing the art at that same time and place connects all these people, worlds and histories to each other. Wishing you more of such beautiful and moving encounters with art!
And thank you so much for your incredibly kind words and your support! I'm so grateful that we crossed paths through our love for culture, art and films, and to you for being here, and for sharing such an important part of who you are here! Looking forward to reading more from you too and continuing the conversation!
I am happy to praise your work and I was careful to read it with undivided attention because I could tell how much of yourself you poured into it. You also got me thinking I should pay more attention to performance art, I never paid mind to it but I now see that the fleeting aspect of it IS what makes it so unique and delicate, especially in today's world where we can just relive things by pulling them up on the internet. In the 2010 exhibition, were you able to see the artist, Marina, sitting in front of strangers? If so, that must have been something powerful, just by looking at the photos of her face. Thank you, by the way, for the article on Van Gogh's Cypresses, I did read it and thought it was pretty cool that they found pebbles in his paintings and all the stories that came out of that finding =) I will also look up the Frida book! I did leave something out of my comment about my experience seeing the Cypresses, some context that might explain my emotions. Many years ago I was walking near Central Park and there was a seller with a table of used books and I saw Van Gogh's face on a book, it was titled "Letters to Theo". Anyways, before opening that book, I knew some hard facts of his life (the things everyone knows). After reading half of the letters (full disclosure, I didn't finish it, it's one of those books one must slow read or take in small doses) I felt this deep empathy for this man. He worked so incredibly hard, and he truly, truly, wanted to capture the beauty of nature. He truly lived art and his biggest supporters were his brother and his brother's wife, they supported him financially and believed in his work. When I saw his beautiful paintings at the Met and his words about the cypresses,"it astonishes me that no one has done them yet, as I see them", I wanted to cry because I felt I had deeper insight into psyche after reading those letters, and an understanding of that longing to grasp something as one sees it and to translate that something into art.
That is truly one of the absolute greatest gifts that a writer can ask for - the undivided attention of a reader - thank you so much, Helen! I'm really touched to hear this, and it means a lot to be so seen and felt in this way. I love your observation about the fleeting aspect of performance art - and also because I believe the artist is changed by each performance, the performance can never truly be repeated. (By the way, have you seen installation art? Ai Weiwei is one of my favourite installation artists).
I actually didn't get to see Marina's exhibition in 2010, sadly, as it coincided with the period of time I was preparing to leave NYC and I don't remember if I'd known about the exhibition before I left. It was in reading up on Marina Abramovic for the 2023 exhibition in London that a memory stirred in me about her being in NYC as I was leaving, and that I could've had a chance to be part of her performance of The Artist is Present. The video archive shown at the recent retrospective in London was definitely powerful enough to bring me to tears, and it made me a little wistful to have missed the chance to experience it in person.
Yes I also loved the Van Gogh story about the pebbles and the interview with the curator of bioinformatics (what a title! :) ) that revealed the relationship between mother and child cypress trees. Wow, thank you for sharing the context for the emotions you experienced in seeing Cypresses! I love your story. It sounds like there must have been something calling you towards the used books table and the book itself, and then many years later, for you to witness up close the paintings that showed you the world through his eyes - it feels to me like the same poignant and synchronistic beauty of the full circle moment I felt in many of the encounters with art I wrote about in this piece. The way you've described Van Gogh's longing as an artist makes me want to cry too, and I treasure the ability to have what you said to keep to heart in how I choose to create art going forward - "that longing to grasp something as one sees it and to translate that something into art."
Yes, Suyin, you found the perfect words for my Van Gogh experience, it was the synchronicity of that moment, it was like an "aha" movement. A connection between me and the artist, having read his personal letters to his dear brother (I just digged up the book again, btw! I went into my shed) In regards to you missing the sight of Marina Abramovic in person, I feel like that is so common in NYC, there is always so much to see and to experience, that it is hard to catch a sliver of it all (and sometimes we catch cool stuff accidentally). I think it's lovely you connected the dots later, and even though you weren't on that stage with her, you were both going through impactful life moments. And in regards to the longing of all of us who create, that should be a whole essay. Maybe we should have a joint conversation one day and transcribe it =)
I find these connections between artist and audience across time and space so magical, and it really strengthens that sense of not being alone, which I always feel when encountering artists I love. So great to hear you've looked up the book Letters to Theo again and that it's re-surfacing from your shed (somehow that feels very metaphorical too!) :) And I really love what you said about the connecting of the dots with Marina Abramovic happening years later in a kind of full circle moment for me. Coincidentally (or not), I've now just finished a book where the main character also reflected on the same parts of a Marina Abramovic exhibition! (the book is called But The Girl by Jessica Zhan Mei Yu, in case you're interested - https://www.jessicazmyu.com/but-the-girl). And I feel that book also ties in so much with what you've expressed as the longing of all of us who create. I feel so drawn to your beautiful idea of a joint essay on this! I'll be in touch by email to discuss! :)
Oh wow, what are the odds the artist's name came up again in your world? It's funny because I also saw an article about Mariana Abramovic last week and it came across it randomly (I had not heard of her till I read your post). It is related to a skin care brand she created. I will note down Jessica Shan Mei Yu's book as I could use another fictional book on my reading list.
How beautiful to read about the times when London did feel like home, your reflections during the retreat, and the art you engage with. What an honor to learn more about how these have influenced your feelings around identity and this transition. I appreciate the vulnerability in your words and admire the way you weave in so many different elements to make your writing more dynamic.
This line especially resonated with me and will be finding a second home in my journal:
"And I feel the fleetingness of this October, much like sand slipping through fingers that are trying hard to capture the postcard essence of a day by the sea — in the building of a sandcastle."
Thank you so much for being here, sharing your beautiful thoughts, and also for sharing and being together on the journey with me... I can't tell you how much that means to me! The moonlight in the mountains has definitely been working its magic on us, I feel. And I'm so grateful and honoured to have my words finding a home in your journal too xxx
This essay totally resonates with my feelings living abroad! I’m so glad I’ve read your words which seem to make me go through the experience in London again.
Thanks so much for being here and sharing this, Sylvia! I'm so glad to hear it resonates for you and that it connected you with your own memories and experiences - it reminds me of how we can have our experiences that are individual to us, and at the same time, also so universal and interconnected with the experiences of others, which brings so much comfort xxx
Wow! This made me feel so deeply. What an incredibly powerful and vulnerable piece! I feel like you’re going to have a book one day and I simply can’t wait to read it! ✨Your voice, your dreams and your tears are so incredibly important and I feel so privileged to read your story.
Jennae, thank you so, so much for your kind and beautiful words 🥲🥲 It means so much to hear that it made a deep connection with you, and I’m so honoured to have you reading about my memories, thoughts and feelings and giving all of them a home. I can’t tell you how much I treasure your gift of a gentle landing space for my delicate dream of being a writer too. My heart is so full and I’m truly grateful that you’re here 🥹🥹🩵🤍✨✨
This piece made me cry 😭 the part when you were at the Atlas Mountains and remembered your voice and your story and dreams again struck me so deeply ~ as a place where I am really reckoning with now, it is so moving to witness you writing yourself back into your stories and your dreams. I loved the retelling of the The Lovers - I only recently came across their story and was so moved by it. I so love the way you weave the threads of your experiences in such graceful, poetic language. Your writing is such a gift, and I am so happy you are remembering your long-cherished dreams 💌
Thank you so much for sharing your heart here too, Rachel! I also cried many times writing this - it was part of my grieving process for the old identities and places I chose to walk away from, even if they were no longer right for me.
Your kind and thoughtful words on my writing mean the world to me, and I'm so happy to hear that it's helped to offer you some encouragement during your own time of transition. As I continue to be in transition as well, deep in a process of self-discovering and self-becoming, I'm so grateful for the connections and sense of belonging and community I've found by learning to show up as myself.
I'm so glad that we've been able to cross paths and look forward to getting to know you through your words too! 💙✨
Suyin, I feel incredibly honoured to be able to read your writing, raw from the heart. There are so many threads here that tug and pull and resonate, so many stories held within us wanting to be given wings to fly. I feel that simultaneous wonder and ache that comes with trying to carve out space for ourselves in the new, as we progress through these spaces to find that our self has expanded beyond what this place can offer us.
Similar to what I wrote about implosions/explosions, here I am, reading your words and finding the mirror in this phrase:
"as I set off the silent fireworks of my existential implosions and studied my reflection in the dark window glass of the eastbound Jubilee line tube, struck by the observation that neither my tears nor my inner earthquakes had the same ability to be reflected by the glass, in the way that my faceless silhouette had".
I stand in awe of your courage to continue moving, searching, sharing, loving, expressing, and learning about your self, your heart, and the joys of life danced under the moon.
Zhen, I so treasure the music that floats in, and in between, all your words here. The stories within that are looking for wings to fly, and the wonder and the ache that become familiar friends on the road in the bittersweet journey of transition. The words you found a mirror in here, were the same words I thought about as I read your words on implosions. I'm so grateful that our paths crossed in our navigating of the liminal space, and to have you as a friend on the road. Thank you for sharing your beautiful words and for being here!
“I learned that tears can hold a truth that words have forgotten”.
Suyin, it was an honor to read your work, thank you for trusting us with it. There were so many things, I don’t even know where to start. For starters, your visit to the London museum, your tears at saying goodbye to London, and the significance of seeing that very artist again. Your intuition doesn’t miss a beat or a sign, you catalog those moments so well (their significance), and you really live them when you are in them, at least that is my observation. I also clicked on the links you left regarding the two artists who met in the middle of the Great Wall, the ending floored me. Your story, The Lovers, read like a well-known myth, that's how good it was.
I smiled when you mentioned MOMA. Although I am not as well versed in art as you are, it is my favorite museum. I used to love going alone and just wandering, I kind of knew my favorites (Picasso mostly) but I wasn’t picky, I just liked being around the art.
Last year, I made my way back to Manhattan, except this time to the Met to see Van Gogh’s cypresses. I’ve learned that when these sort of exhibits happen, I must go. Many years ago I missed an exhibition of my favorite artist, Frida, (not in NYC but somewhere else in the country), regardless I would have flown. I am sure you know, a lot of these pieces are in private collections, so who knows when their owners will lend them out again.. Anyways, once inside the room with the cypresses, I wanted to cry and I wish I had. I am not one to cry in public, but at least I have graduated to crying in front of those I love, as opposed to hiding in the bathroom as a teen and young adult. I admire you for not holding back when something truly moves you.
Although breaking up with an entire city may feel like an ambiguous feeling, I think you captured it very beautifully and I appreciate your honesty in all the ways you have been human. May you continue to keep writing, I certainly look forward to reading more.
Helen, thank you so much for your heartfelt and beautiful share of your experiences in so many dimensions - the response to the words I had left here, and the threads that connected you to your personal memories of encounters with art and relationships to artists and their paintings. I was so moved to read about your reaction to Van Gogh's Cypresses - it sounds like something I would have absolutely loved to see too, and thanks to your words, I was able to get a sense of how it might have felt to see them. I looked up the exhibition and came across this NYT article called Van Gogh and the Consolation of Trees, a title that made me feel I had to read it - https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/11/arts/design/van-gogh-cypresses-met-museum.html
I love Frida too, and there's a book called What Would Frida Do, that you might enjoy as well :)
You can't imagine how much I appreciate your insights to my process of being changed by the art I encountered and my process of writing to distill that process. Through your eyes, I see and experience it all again in new ways. Your description about the ambiguity of breaking up with an entire city made me feel it on a new level - even though that's what I knowingly wrote about, feeling it again through those words is extra poignant. And yes, being floored is also exactly how I felt reading the story about the two artists and the Great Wall, and I tried to tell it in a way that reflected how existentially monumental the whole story and the performance art concept felt to me. Thank you for reflecting all this from a new perspective that deepens my connection to all of it.
Like you, I also really love going alone to art museums and galleries. Something I've thought about is that every visitor to the exhibition is carrying around their own worlds and histories while viewing the art, and the act of viewing the art at that same time and place connects all these people, worlds and histories to each other. Wishing you more of such beautiful and moving encounters with art!
And thank you so much for your incredibly kind words and your support! I'm so grateful that we crossed paths through our love for culture, art and films, and to you for being here, and for sharing such an important part of who you are here! Looking forward to reading more from you too and continuing the conversation!
I am happy to praise your work and I was careful to read it with undivided attention because I could tell how much of yourself you poured into it. You also got me thinking I should pay more attention to performance art, I never paid mind to it but I now see that the fleeting aspect of it IS what makes it so unique and delicate, especially in today's world where we can just relive things by pulling them up on the internet. In the 2010 exhibition, were you able to see the artist, Marina, sitting in front of strangers? If so, that must have been something powerful, just by looking at the photos of her face. Thank you, by the way, for the article on Van Gogh's Cypresses, I did read it and thought it was pretty cool that they found pebbles in his paintings and all the stories that came out of that finding =) I will also look up the Frida book! I did leave something out of my comment about my experience seeing the Cypresses, some context that might explain my emotions. Many years ago I was walking near Central Park and there was a seller with a table of used books and I saw Van Gogh's face on a book, it was titled "Letters to Theo". Anyways, before opening that book, I knew some hard facts of his life (the things everyone knows). After reading half of the letters (full disclosure, I didn't finish it, it's one of those books one must slow read or take in small doses) I felt this deep empathy for this man. He worked so incredibly hard, and he truly, truly, wanted to capture the beauty of nature. He truly lived art and his biggest supporters were his brother and his brother's wife, they supported him financially and believed in his work. When I saw his beautiful paintings at the Met and his words about the cypresses,"it astonishes me that no one has done them yet, as I see them", I wanted to cry because I felt I had deeper insight into psyche after reading those letters, and an understanding of that longing to grasp something as one sees it and to translate that something into art.
That is truly one of the absolute greatest gifts that a writer can ask for - the undivided attention of a reader - thank you so much, Helen! I'm really touched to hear this, and it means a lot to be so seen and felt in this way. I love your observation about the fleeting aspect of performance art - and also because I believe the artist is changed by each performance, the performance can never truly be repeated. (By the way, have you seen installation art? Ai Weiwei is one of my favourite installation artists).
I actually didn't get to see Marina's exhibition in 2010, sadly, as it coincided with the period of time I was preparing to leave NYC and I don't remember if I'd known about the exhibition before I left. It was in reading up on Marina Abramovic for the 2023 exhibition in London that a memory stirred in me about her being in NYC as I was leaving, and that I could've had a chance to be part of her performance of The Artist is Present. The video archive shown at the recent retrospective in London was definitely powerful enough to bring me to tears, and it made me a little wistful to have missed the chance to experience it in person.
Yes I also loved the Van Gogh story about the pebbles and the interview with the curator of bioinformatics (what a title! :) ) that revealed the relationship between mother and child cypress trees. Wow, thank you for sharing the context for the emotions you experienced in seeing Cypresses! I love your story. It sounds like there must have been something calling you towards the used books table and the book itself, and then many years later, for you to witness up close the paintings that showed you the world through his eyes - it feels to me like the same poignant and synchronistic beauty of the full circle moment I felt in many of the encounters with art I wrote about in this piece. The way you've described Van Gogh's longing as an artist makes me want to cry too, and I treasure the ability to have what you said to keep to heart in how I choose to create art going forward - "that longing to grasp something as one sees it and to translate that something into art."
Yes, Suyin, you found the perfect words for my Van Gogh experience, it was the synchronicity of that moment, it was like an "aha" movement. A connection between me and the artist, having read his personal letters to his dear brother (I just digged up the book again, btw! I went into my shed) In regards to you missing the sight of Marina Abramovic in person, I feel like that is so common in NYC, there is always so much to see and to experience, that it is hard to catch a sliver of it all (and sometimes we catch cool stuff accidentally). I think it's lovely you connected the dots later, and even though you weren't on that stage with her, you were both going through impactful life moments. And in regards to the longing of all of us who create, that should be a whole essay. Maybe we should have a joint conversation one day and transcribe it =)
I find these connections between artist and audience across time and space so magical, and it really strengthens that sense of not being alone, which I always feel when encountering artists I love. So great to hear you've looked up the book Letters to Theo again and that it's re-surfacing from your shed (somehow that feels very metaphorical too!) :) And I really love what you said about the connecting of the dots with Marina Abramovic happening years later in a kind of full circle moment for me. Coincidentally (or not), I've now just finished a book where the main character also reflected on the same parts of a Marina Abramovic exhibition! (the book is called But The Girl by Jessica Zhan Mei Yu, in case you're interested - https://www.jessicazmyu.com/but-the-girl). And I feel that book also ties in so much with what you've expressed as the longing of all of us who create. I feel so drawn to your beautiful idea of a joint essay on this! I'll be in touch by email to discuss! :)
Oh wow, what are the odds the artist's name came up again in your world? It's funny because I also saw an article about Mariana Abramovic last week and it came across it randomly (I had not heard of her till I read your post). It is related to a skin care brand she created. I will note down Jessica Shan Mei Yu's book as I could use another fictional book on my reading list.
How beautiful to read about the times when London did feel like home, your reflections during the retreat, and the art you engage with. What an honor to learn more about how these have influenced your feelings around identity and this transition. I appreciate the vulnerability in your words and admire the way you weave in so many different elements to make your writing more dynamic.
This line especially resonated with me and will be finding a second home in my journal:
"And I feel the fleetingness of this October, much like sand slipping through fingers that are trying hard to capture the postcard essence of a day by the sea — in the building of a sandcastle."
Thank you so much for being here, sharing your beautiful thoughts, and also for sharing and being together on the journey with me... I can't tell you how much that means to me! The moonlight in the mountains has definitely been working its magic on us, I feel. And I'm so grateful and honoured to have my words finding a home in your journal too xxx
This essay totally resonates with my feelings living abroad! I’m so glad I’ve read your words which seem to make me go through the experience in London again.
Thanks so much for being here and sharing this, Sylvia! I'm so glad to hear it resonates for you and that it connected you with your own memories and experiences - it reminds me of how we can have our experiences that are individual to us, and at the same time, also so universal and interconnected with the experiences of others, which brings so much comfort xxx
This is beautiful. I love how I got to know you better through this piece. Thank you🙏
Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Anna! I’m so grateful to have you here 🩵🩵✨🌙
A full circle! Cheers to a new beginning Suyin 💫
Thank you so much Nathalie!! 💕✨✨
So beautiful! Please continue writing.
Thank you for sharing this and for all the encouragement, Rosa!! It means so much to me 🥹❤️❤️✨✨
Wow! This made me feel so deeply. What an incredibly powerful and vulnerable piece! I feel like you’re going to have a book one day and I simply can’t wait to read it! ✨Your voice, your dreams and your tears are so incredibly important and I feel so privileged to read your story.
Jennae, thank you so, so much for your kind and beautiful words 🥲🥲 It means so much to hear that it made a deep connection with you, and I’m so honoured to have you reading about my memories, thoughts and feelings and giving all of them a home. I can’t tell you how much I treasure your gift of a gentle landing space for my delicate dream of being a writer too. My heart is so full and I’m truly grateful that you’re here 🥹🥹🩵🤍✨✨
This piece made me cry 😭 the part when you were at the Atlas Mountains and remembered your voice and your story and dreams again struck me so deeply ~ as a place where I am really reckoning with now, it is so moving to witness you writing yourself back into your stories and your dreams. I loved the retelling of the The Lovers - I only recently came across their story and was so moved by it. I so love the way you weave the threads of your experiences in such graceful, poetic language. Your writing is such a gift, and I am so happy you are remembering your long-cherished dreams 💌
Thank you so much for sharing your heart here too, Rachel! I also cried many times writing this - it was part of my grieving process for the old identities and places I chose to walk away from, even if they were no longer right for me.
Your kind and thoughtful words on my writing mean the world to me, and I'm so happy to hear that it's helped to offer you some encouragement during your own time of transition. As I continue to be in transition as well, deep in a process of self-discovering and self-becoming, I'm so grateful for the connections and sense of belonging and community I've found by learning to show up as myself.
I'm so glad that we've been able to cross paths and look forward to getting to know you through your words too! 💙✨