We are all scattered individuals on the journey

Author: Chan Sai Lok

When discussing diaspora, the Jewish experience and the history of African slavery are often the first to come to mind. They were forced to leave their homes or places of origin for various reasons, giving rise to the concepts of ‘here’ and ‘elsewhere’, as well as the cultural and customary differences between the two. Collective notions of ‘hatred’, longing for homecoming, and the desire to return persist in diasporic experiences, with actual national borders becoming clear divisions.

Distilling the complex nature of diasporic identities into descriptors, such as ‘a Chinese-Canadian residing in the United States’ or ‘a Vietnamese-Danish artist’, while commonplace, often fails to capture all the nuances. The personal experiences both of Tseng Kwong Chi and Danh Võ are related to evading political regimes or wars. In 1949, Tseng Kwong Chi’s parents fled  to Hong Kong from Shanghai to escape the Chinese Communist Party. Tseng was born the following year in Hong Kong, and the family moved to Vancouver in 1966. He studied in Vancouver ,and later received a scholarship to pursue his studies in Paris. After graduating in 1975, he intended to stay in France, but unable to obtain a visa, he moved to New York in 1978.  

Danh Võ, on the other hand, was born in the southeastern region of Vietnam in 1975 during the Vietnam War, when the socialist regime was planning ‘re-education camps’ and other political measures. Danh Võ and his family became one of the many risky ‘boat people’, Vietnamese refugees that drifted across the sea without a specific destination, hoping to encounter international ships and reach Hong Kong, the first port of asylum, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, or the Philippines. They were rescued by a Danish shipping conglomerate and temporarily stayed in a refugee camp in Sembawang, Singapore, while awaiting asylum approval from the Danish government. Once they were granted refugee status, they settled in Denmark, where Võ grew up. He graduated from the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts in Copenhagen and later studied at the Städelschule in Frankfurt. Both of their upbringings involved multiple migrations, differing from their parents’ generation. While ‘roots’ may have been the concept for their parents’ generation, ‘route’ seems to be the memory for Tseng Kwong Chi and Danh Võ’s generation—their experiences and how they formed their identities have become the foundation of their artistic practices.  

Throughout his life, Tseng Kwong Chi resided in different cities such as Hong Kong, Vancouver, Paris, and New York, and his physical appearance was subject to the gaze of a predominantly white-centric world, making it difficult to shed the stereotypical constructions of ‘Chineseness’. Perhaps this is why he chose to wear a Mao-style Zhongshan suit, reflective sunglasses, and a name tag that read ‘Tseng Kwong Chi: Visitor/Visiteur’ or ‘SlutForArt’ while capturing his photography series ‘East Meets West’. His identity therefore was not given by the outside world but rather by himself.  

In these photographs, Tseng skilfully employed various grand national symbols to construct photographs that imitated the idea of a tourist’s ‘been there, done that’ attitude. Wearing a Mao suit, and photographed from an upward camera angle, his body seemed to transform into a statue, towering in front of various national landmarks, seemingly imbued with a sense of humour. He visited and took photos in various countries, including the United Kingdom, France, the Netherlands, Italy, Brazil, Japan, and elsewhere. Composed similarly to postcards, these images exuded a kind of kitsch, highlighting that the concept of our national identity is an illusion. 

While Danh Võ’s parents believed that the United States was a land of freedom and democracy, as well as economic prosperity, Võ questioned this belief and the illusion of ‘freedom’, using the Statue of Liberty as a starting point in his work We the People (2011–2016). The statue, based on the ancient Roman goddess Libertas and was gifted by the French Government in 1876, stands on Liberty Island next to Ellis Island, once one of the busiest immigrant inspection and processing sites from the late nineteenth to mid-twentieth century in the United States. On the island, incoming immigrants faced disparate treatment according to their nationality and socio-economic status, among others, instilling an inherent hierarchy.  ‘Freedom’, in this sense, is regulated and restricted. From Võ’s perspective, the Statue of Liberty is hollow and fragile, and all its meaning is collectively bestowed upon it by people. As a result, Võ spent five years commissioning a Chinese factory to create We the People, a one-to-one replica of the Statue of Liberty. The work consists of approximately 260 pieces that are scattered worldwide. Unlike the Japanese manga Dragon Ball, where gathering all the parts together leads to a miracle, the work will never be assembled, positioning itself as anti-monument. The work highlights the emptiness of the concept of freedom, drawing our attention to the fragmented and shattered nature of the world. Narratives constructed by national systems are always the result of cause and effect alongside various considerations and influences.  

Moving beyond the concept of borders and reflecting on homogeneous national and state identities, assimilation, and the intercultural contexts of diasporic communities, one thing becomes clear. By respecting and acknowledging the differences that exist in this world, we can transcend barriers and foster greater understanding.

This text is extracted from a longer essay by Chan Sai Lok.