Chin Woman"You wonder what I see, and wonder why I smile. How wonderful!"
Bijan C. Bayne.
(All Word and Images on this Blog, Copyright Kyi May Kaung, unless specifically attributed to others.)
March 16, 2007
This is my third one-woman show since 2001 in the United States.
The first two were “Flux,” March 2001 at The Foundry Gallery and “Blotches from Burma,” October 2005, also at Space 7-10, Kefa Café, 963 Bonifant St., Silver Spring, MD
These two shows were of my abstracts, which were compared in my first show by City Paper arts correspondent Louis Jacobson, to the work of Franz Kline and Jackson Pollock. At the time, I had heard of Pollock, and seen the film based on his life, but I did not know who Franz Kline was. I hurriedly looked him up, and then understood what the art critic was saying.
After my “Blotches” show, I suddenly became fascinated by people’s faces. As what might be called a born writer (I knew I was one since about 5th grade, called the fifth standard in Burma), I observe people carefully in public places, short of staring at them rudely. In the years before 2005, I was rather tired of people, especially political people; the euphemisms they use when they speak, the way they are not sincere most of the time, and use dialog to zap you, put you down, or build themselves up.
Now because I am looking at people both as a writer and an artist, I notice much more. The woman who is so excited as she comes onto the metro – she must be in love, she starts each sentence with “he” as she talks animatedly to her woman friend. The Red Hat Society that I saw once, all the women, all shapes and sizes, valiantly wearing far-out red hats. And I didn’t even have the guts to go up to them and ask, “Where did you buy that hat?”
The young woman I saw on the elevator the other day, hair pulled back in a bun, her clothes in black and white stripes, white high heels, and a big dark red jelly in a heart shaped mold decorated with real raspberries. A picture already!
So I started painting portraits in 2005, and now have enough for one and a half exhibitions.
With me and my events, the weather rarely co-operates, and that Friday it was on strike. I packed the Burmese “golden rice” dessert I had made in Tupperware; other things I was taking with me such as spare paper napkins, in plastic bags. I also took a spare cloth bag just in case.
As I got off the train and started walking uphill to Kefa Café, I noticed the icy rain was starting to leave slush on the sidewalk. I walked along carefully in my rain boots, afraid of falling.
Because of the awful weather, only some of my best friends were there. There were about six of us. We had a lot of food, as my Burmese friend brought deep fried spring rolls which were delicious. She brought the fish sauce and lime juice based dip in a jam jar. Lene and Ababe, the owners of Kefa, put out a big pot of coffee and almond flavored bread.
The reception was supposed to be from 6.30 to 8.30 PM. At about 8, I realized my friends were sitting and talking to me so I would not be alone.
At this point I thought, “Wow! This is a bit like a wake.”
But I really did not notice the bad weather outside, because of my friends.
Later at home I thought -- But who gets to attend their own funeral wake, sit and laugh with friends and be surrounded by portraits of fictional characters she/he has painted herself/himself?
I forget which writer it was, perhaps Pearl Buck, who asked for all her published books to be brought onto her deathbed with her.
Not a bad way to die. Or live.
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