Up a ladder, buzzed, with a stanley knife
Think of something you could do or make or sell in Asia, now. Hong Kong is hardly Asia proper, and I'm certainly no analyst, but I know enough to know that this is the future, and if you're prone to surprise––say you were shocked by anything leaked à la Assange and Snowden––or you've an underdeveloped sense for conspiracy, then perhaps you should see it for yourself. We may *just* get away with ignoring it for now, but for those busy populating our own little corner of the world, it may be prescient to get thou sprog to Mandarin lessons asap... because trust me, they're not gonna be happy making our crap, and rubbing our feet forever.
The 'rise of Asia' could go right and it could go wrong. It will go wrong. History tells us that much. But in the meantime, hot damn it's gonna be exciting. Why? Currency. Definition #1. The hyper-now. We've caught up with the future, society is schizophrenic and it's gonna explode. We're living so now and so fast, and we're splitting time into fragments so small and packing them so full that our small brains can't keep up. But we're human, so we adapt, it's what we do and who knows, somewhere in amongst it all we may just revolt. Definition #2. Money. Buckets of the stuff. I don't know where it's coming from, but there's so much it must be spent. And spend they will. On art, on fashion. Proenza Schouler, Prada, Balenciaga, Saint Laurent, Valentino, people are wearing this stuff. Perhaps they'll be the last people alive to afford it and fit into it, because the fat Asian is also on the rise, obesity will no longer be the reserve of the west.
Of course if it were all to go right, then we'd see Asia leading the charge, much to our embarrassment, in the sciences, health, renewables, environmental symbiosis, and measured, mindful living. But after a week in Hong Kong with the gigantic LED screen on the Kowloon harbour front shouting "FOG" from any angle, I dare say an opportunity has been lost. I'm no expert on where fog technically begins and ends, but I think a better descriptor would be "SMOG" if only to serve as a daily reminder to do something about it.
Waaa, what a tough week and what a great experience. There's nothing glamourous about travelling for work or working at one of the 'world's biggest art fairs'. I'm the pack animal, lugging three bags everywhere, packed with power drill, spirit level and other essential install tools, computer, art mags and camera equipment. I'm sure I've put my back out and seen the signs of a new varicose vein. I've talked about and been talked-to about art and 'the market' in both encouraging and depressing terms. At the post-fair champagne nobbery which was pretty darn fabulous but, I thought, strangely scheduled prior to the de-install, Luigi invited Luce and I to kick on, to which we exclaimed we had better stop boozing and go and pack up our stand. ‘But don't you have slaves?’ Luigi asked.
And so it was that we were made well aware of our position in proceedings with a kind of Australian shrug of the shoulders, because frankly I'm in my element up a ladder. Luce and I changed into our sports gear (a change of clothes another thing we carried everywhere), plugged in, and tuned out. There's something satisfying about labour, and though 'tuning out' has previously had negative connotations, I think it's going to be the next vital state.
Flying back to Melbourne today then it's two months 'til I finally pack-up for real. Heading first for Sri Lanka, then to London for an indeterminate amount of time. I'm semi-freaking, semi-figure this is the thing I've been waiting for.
'We are the slaves...'