to correspondences. Our aim is to create lasting people connections across cultures through the medium of art.
From January 2022—
公共空间是我们和陌生人共享的空间,通过分享共同的空间人们产生了互相的关联。然而,当我置身于充满活力的都市生活时,我常常感受到,在当代生活中,当更多的人聚在一起时,人们的精神沟通却更加的疏远。我们之间有关联吗?我们是谁?我们从哪儿来?我们要做什么?我们要去哪里?面对我眼前所呈现的现象,我的好奇与渴望将我带入人群,去探索喧嚣繁闹的都市生活,同时去发现蕴藏在喧嚣背后的人群的孤寂,疏离和不确定。
Public space is a space we share with strangers. People in the city are connected by the fact that they share the environment. While I am always excited and inspired by the vibrancy of the city life around me, I have also found that in modern life, the more people come together, the more they are disconnected in spirit. Do we have any connections? Who we are? Where do we come from? What are we doing and where are we going? These questions have led me into exploring the bustling, overwhelming city environment, as well as the sense of loneliness, isolation and uncertainty behind the crowds.
— 何佩佩 / He Pei Pei
For Silent Dialogue / 沉默的对话, artist 何佩佩 / He Pei Pei presents Intersection 2020, a new series of scroll drawings, depicting people and the movement of people at the intersection of Melbourne's iconic Flinders, Swanston and Collins Streets. Alongside this is Street Melody 2020, another new series comprising two large-format oil paintings and drawings on paper. Both series continue the artist's search into the spirit of city life at the centre of Melbourne. The precision of He's depictions is such that it may surprise the viewer to find that her works are not painted or drawn in situ.
A self-taught photographer, she spends her days capturing the rhythm and movement of city life in her camera - becoming what she refers to as an 'actor' in an evolving stage-set of everyday life. However, the final work is not simply a painting or drawing of any given photograph taken. It results from days of painstaking digital manipulation of thousands of photographs to create the desired scenography.
In the end, He's drawing, or painting is rendered in black and white, harmonising the scene; as He explains, "it makes all of the actors equal and connected as a group of humans" —no one thing or person is more important than another. In the interaction between the positive and negative spaces, one feels this sense of connection, which she describes as the silence and "sense of calm". At the same time, her calligraphic brushstrokes are pulsing with energy, reminiscent of the lively movement of the body in everyday urban spaces.
Speaking of her artwork, He said:
Standing at the intersections, my sense of excitement flows with the surroundings: cars, trams, vans, buses, and trucks line the streets mixed with bikes. Slow-moving traffic interweaving, crossing or turning at the intersection from different directions. Tempting advertisements featured on the old fashion and new style trams. People are rushing down from trams and waiting for the changing of traffic lights. Various eye-catching signs and lights above my eye-sight. The tram’s tracks and bold vertical and horizontal pedestrian stripes on the ground. Street musicians are playing their instruments here or there with an opened case in front of them, gold and silver coins scattered inside. Historic and modern architecture provides a setting, like a stage for witnessing human’s activities. Sounds and energy flow in the air - people are carrying their belongings, passing each other, talking on their mobile, rushing and crossing the pedestrian walkways with quick, countless steps from south to north, north to south, east to west, west to east. To get a panoramic view, I rush into any tram and keep returning to the sections, looking and catching the moments when the moving tram crosses the busiest streets of Melbourne. What I receive there is a dense and diverse complex order, where all aspects of change and movement occur, where the spirituality of human beings seems present and where a magnificent picture of life in the urban environment takes place. Day by day, month by month and year by year, the activities repeat again and again and will never end, yet the repetitions will never be the same by the passing of time.
He has long been preoccupied with city life. Her fascination can be traced back to her early life in China during the Cultural Revolution.
I was born in Shanghai. When I turned 12 years old, the Chinese Cultural Revolution swept through China. I was one of the millions forced to leave Shanghai when I was 16 and work in a little village surrounded by mountains in Jiangxi Province, thousands of kilometres away from my family. In those years, there were no schools, no studies, no books, the living and working conditions were very poor; the only thing I was allowed to do was physical work in the field day after day. All the while, I was dreaming of being back in the city with my family. This experience is why the city means so much to me as a symbol of family, lifestyle, communication, education, opportunities and the future.
Since she arrived in Australia in 1987, He has returned to her practice and education. She has exhibited widely and been awarded and short-listed for an array of prestigious art prizes, including; the Archibald Prize (2018), the Sulman Prize (2013), the Dobell Prize (2011), the Wynne Prize (2009), the Paul Guest Prize (2018, 2016, 2014, 2012) and the Geelong Contemporary Art Prize (2021) to name a small few.
From 13-16 January 2022, He’s works will be displayed at Missing Persons art space alongside those of fellow artists Kuang Zai / 匡再 and Jenny Zhe Chang / 珍妮喆张. Press the button below to check out our Exhibition Program for details.
with 何佩佩 / He Pei Pei (HP) & correspondences’ Emma Thomson / 汤姆逊•艾玛 (ET)
Note:— Desktop, tablet or phone exploration is encouraged for the below content. It is not designed for print. © He Pei Pei and correspondences unless otherwise noted.
ET—1) Pei Pei, it is fascinating to spend time with your early paintings in your studio; these beautiful depictions of rural scenes, many of which you made during your time in Jiangxi during the Cultural Revolution. Would you tell us a little about these early paintings?
HP—1) During the years I spent in Jiangxi, I wrote thousands of words in my notebooks and painted several self-portraits recording my feelings of isolation and longing to return home. Inspired by the beauty of the countryside, I focused on nature as a means of escaping the hardship of my situation and took to drawing and painting as a distraction after a hard day in the fields. My empathy for the people compelled me to draw with a real passion. It became the very beginning point of my art practice without any training. I enjoyed sketching and painting outdoors to capture the peasant’s life, especially those who had always lived in the mountain villages and whose families had been there for generations. Their lifestyle was simple, and they were ignorant about the world outside their village, but they were honest, optimistic and contented – my idea of the epitome of beauty.
ET—2) They are extraordinary paintings of a particular moment in time. It was fascinating to observe the marked shift in your subject matter and visual language, from these early colour-filled, realist paintings of rural scenes to your present-day, monochromatic works depicting city life. Would you tell us a little about how this progression came about?
HP—2) This evolution in my visual language started during my return to formal education in Australia. At the end of the Chinese Cultural Revolution in the late 70s, which brought the reopening of schools and universities, I had an opportunity for three years of fine art training at the Gannan Teacher’s College in Jiangxi Province. Afterwards, I worked as a photographic journalist for Shenzhen Legal Weekly in Shenzhen before immigrating to Melbourne in the late 1980s. When I arrived in Melbourne, I worked as a portrait artist and then found more stable work. After my husband passed away in 2004, I decided to return formally to my art practice. So, I completed my visual arts diploma at Swinburne TAFE and then a Bachelor of Fine Art (Honours) at the Melbourne University, Victorian College of the Arts (VCA).
It was at the VCA that I was able to explore various ideas, interests and influences with the support of the teaching staff. It was here that I reconnected with my cultural heritage through the re-discovery of traditional Chinese scroll painting, which is considered one of the aesthetic highpoints during the cultural history of Chinese civilisation. I became fascinated by the form and length of the long scroll. It is very distinctive in that it can be rolled and unrolled from right to left, from left to right, carrying multiple perspectives. Equally, in typical installations, the composition can only ever be seen as one fragment at a time; one never sees the whole composition at once. This concealment conveys a sense of the unknown and complexity which I feel is very connective with my desire to depict the endlessness of city life.
ET—3) Pei Pei, when you were at VCA, you cultivated your passion for film, sound and moving image art, expressions of city life from across a variety of mediums. In particular, the black and white films of city life by German filmmaker Walter Ruttmann and Soviet filmmaker Dziga Vertov; the symphony of City Life by American composer Steve Reich; and the impression of time, space and speed in contemporary life by German artist Christiane Baumgartner and New Zealand artist, Daniel Crooks. Would you reflect a little on these influences; how it has also informed the evolution of your practice, especially the movement to your monochromatic scheme?
HP—3) Yes, these art forms recorded the patterns of movement and the rhythm of city life in their era, conveying a sense of human spirit and existence. Inspired by Ruttman and Vertov's black and white films, I have gradually become more and more immersed in black and white to express my thoughts. Shifting to a monochrome composition that was a way of minimalist perception experience, as you mentioned earlier, it balances the various elements in the composition.
Contrary to a Western interpretation, whilst I have studied pointillism[1], my paintings aren't strictly inspired by this movement, as my strokes are typically monochromatic, and I am not trying to use colour theory to convey a sense of light. But the mark-making shares the same desire to use a dense array of tiny dots or lines of charcoal or paint to create an optical effect; in this case, the sense of human presence, the movement, spirit and uncertainty. My visual language is influenced by black/white film and my Chinese cultural heritage - the short brush strokes and the monochromatic scheme is reminiscent of Chinese calligraphy.
[1] Pointillism is a painting technique in which dots of colour typically are applied to create optical effects. Pioneered by Neo-impressionist painters such as Georges Seurat and Paul Signac who used the term 'Divisionism' to describe their theories of colour separation on which the technique is based; when viewed at a distance, the human eye is meant to fuse the individual dots together into areas of solid colour.
ET—4) Pei Pei, I know from our conversations that you’re very interested in conveying the sense of movement and connection which underpins the spiritual dimension of city life. However, I think you’re also equally interested in saying something about the disconnection we are faced with in twenty-first-century life. The more connected we are through technology and modern travel, the more disconnected and isolated we seem to become. This condition is particularly evident in public spaces. Would you comment a little on this?
HP—4) Yes, that’s right, this sense of disconnection is something I observe when I am photographing onsite. When my eyes pay attention to the sidewalk, I notice that each person is on their own mission, on different terms to my existence. In the public space at that moment, I am a viewer as well as an actor, and I am a part of a multicultural presence in our public spaces. My sense of being here makes me question. Do we have any connections? Who are we? Where do we come from? What are we doing? Where are we going? My passion has anxiously led me into exploring the bustling overwhelming city environment, as well as the sense of loneliness, isolation and uncertainty behind the crowds.
ET—5) To me, in this new series of works, this dualistic narrative is something that I see unfold in the transition from the scroll drawings to the paintings. Although the calligraphic brushstrokes of the paintings possess a sense of movement, compared with the scroll drawings made in pencil and charcoal, there is a sense of each painting being frozen in time. However, when one looks at Street Melody 2020 collectively, the paintings and works on paper, there is a sense of interconnection and movement once more. Something I will return to later... (see Question 10). Perhaps this is why you have titled each of the works Street Melody #1, 2, 3 (pictured above) and 4. Would you comment a little on this?
HP— 5) For each series, I always start with my drawing sketch and then transfer it onto canvas, often attempting to describe the continual movement on multiple paintings. It results in slightly abrupt painterly images - time seems to be frozen in the frames yet balancing the frenetic scene. Transferred to the large-scale paintings, the lines of pencil marks become blurred and abstracted, thousands of stuttering strokes agitated on the canvas - like the density of a crowd, shimmer with the light cast on the graphite. This excites me; the blurred moving images seem to portray the sense of the city’s spirit and infinity. As for the title, yes, I think in the patterns of movement and being in city life, there is a strong sense of something musical, which explains my title, a sound of melody. As you say, whilst each work is unique, they are also connective; like a musical score which brings many parts together to present a harmonious narrative.
ET—6) Yes, I am very fascinated by this! I think your process of working across formats – bringing together your painting and drawing practice but also personal narratives specific to your experience of a particular place – is enormously interesting. I wonder if the marked shift in your visual language from realist depictions to the depiction of blurred images that engage more with a sense of uncertainty also owes something to this working mode. In your works, we confront an intersection, a space between what we see and what we know, which is capable of complex reworking. I understand the work’s title draws from the site of the work’s making, i.e. the intersection of Flinders, Swanston and Collins. However, I wonder if the title also alludes to this cognitive space for thinking / re-thinking about city life and our place within it? At an intersection, there is a feeling of confrontation but not necessarily a connection. In this way, the series title also embodies the sense of uncertainty or seeking of the inexpressible present in the human experience of place?
HP—6) Yes. These changes have involved a long devoted journey by searching, practising and experimenting between the formats. The changes in my visual language reflect my education but also my new understanding of life. I have come to believe that anything in real life will become less distinct, and images stored in our memories will become blurred by the passing of time. The first step of my work is to capture those moments with my camera; my vision is sensitive to what I see - based on the years of capturing the experience of being at those intersections. The title refers to the intersection of the two cultures that make up my sense of being - my Chinese heritage and adopted Australian itself. Whilst my works are informed by my own embodied experience in these places, they also strive to convey a sense of the broader multicultural, social fabric that is present. As you said, often, at an intersection, we experience brief moments of meeting or connection that can be shared as the spiritual dimension of life across cultures, and this is part of my ongoing search.
ET—7) Whilst spirituality is at the very centre of your search, your works engage with various themes that can be understood as subsets of this experience. Would you elaborate a little on your examination of spirituality and related ideas in everyday city life?
HP—7) The subject of spirituality has led me to research city life in various ways: I have investigated time, space and speed in urban living; the similarity and differences in lifestyle that have been recorded on film between the early years of the 20th century and the contemporary era; the connections of city life in the visual, rhythmic and cinematic mediums across various aesthetics domains, and the difference between Eastern and Western perspectives.
Each time I begin a new work, I approach a different angle. For instance, in 2010, I made a scroll drawing that was twelve metres long, which set out to look at the day's progression from morning to evening. In that work, I have focused on thematic rather than chronological segments - e.g. rainy days and faces. The themes provide an entry point for me to focus on when I am capturing the image in-camera.
ET—8) Pei Pei, would you say that sometimes your themes also evolve towards the end of the making process for a scroll (pictured above); when you’re deciding on the presentation – i.e. which pieces to reveal to the audience? Rather than being simply about the presentation, could we think of this as an extension of the making process that reveals particular emphases?
HP—8) Yes, although it is towards the end, this stage is very critical. I generally do it consistently in one go and then quietly look through the segments one by one. Often some ideas will eventually arise from this kind of contemplation and thinking at the end. Sometimes it’s a feeling I have for a particular panel, which also inspires themes and titles. Typically, just a segment of scroll is displayed in an exhibition. However, for Silent Dialogue, we have elected to show the entire scroll –through the adoption of several innovative hanging approaches.
ET—9) Yes, very exciting! I would like to turn now to the works on paper; the scrolls in Intersection 2020, and also the two large-format works that form part of Street Melody 2020 (pictured above). I know you love the sensuality of the rice paper/paper medium and also working in pencil and charcoal; the sense of ease and immediacy it brings to your art-making process. Would you reflect a little on this?
HP—9) I love the sense of immediacy that comes from drawing on paper with pencil or charcoal. It makes space for the unexpected. There is a mysterious sense of stories that emerge from the thousands of dots and lines, and it seems like it could turn into a movie. Also, there is a strong sense of music resounding on the tender paper, with the loose and flowing marks of my pencil implying a soundtrack - the rhythm of city life - hearing without hearing, it seems it could turn into a score for an orchestra.
The slow and repetitive process is my choice of meditative practice. My mind seems to be a filter, set in between the receiving and the exploring aspects of my slow process. The thousands of marks appear quite mechanical yet deeply personal, as I lose and find myself in this emotional, contemplative process; it becomes a crucial part of my life. It is a way that allows me to focus on stillness and keep my mind balanced between the crowds and the individual, between the chaos and tranquillity, between the material world and spiritual world, and communicate with my inner voice.
This immediacy or ease of communication that comes from drawing is important because English is not my mother tongue. Sometimes, in an English-speaking society like ours, I still feel in my day to day that there is a gap between what I would like to express and what I can express. This gap is where my art-making could step in. It might be silent, but this is where I can express the full extent of my life experience.
ET—A silent dialogue?
HP—Yes. Exactly.
ET—10) It is hard to describe, but for me, there is a sense of silence and calm that stems from contemplating the negative spaces in your works. They convey a sense of three-dimensionality, of course. However, they also seem to make space for noticing small details that convey the many-sided emotional experience of everyday city life.
For instance, in Street Melody #1, your large-format charcoal work on paper, one immediately notices the white shadows on the ground reflected in the puddles of water on a rainy day. This 'noticing', in turn, draws the eye to the people at the centre of the composition. We recognise the buildings, cars and street lights, but the flatness of the composition means that they recede into the background. It is the people that are at front and centre, like actors moving in front of a stage set - somewhere between realism and abstraction. Young and old dashing left and right, umbrellas in hand, the mood is light and full of movement and anticipation.
In contrast, in the oil painting Street Melody #2, one is immediately struck by the stillness; people, traffic lights, cars and trams frozen in time. And, yet in recognising these features, the viewer anticipates a sense of movement; as sure as day follows night, those traffic lights will change. Like Street Melody #1, there is a softness to the presence of the buildings; they seep into the background allowing us to focus on the people in the foreground once more. However, unlike Street Melody #1, where the people move, for the most part in this work, people are still waiting at the street light, which conveys a different mood.
Slightly slumped, huddled together in the rain on a cold day as they wait impatiently for the light to change. At the traffic light, a passing car plays into this sense of time passing. Each person seems to be very much in their thoughts. Turned away from one another or looking straight ahead, there is a sense of disconnection, isolation even despondence at the time lost. At the same time, in the upper half of the canvas, there is a hint of blue sky popping through, the coming of blue skies. This rare hint of colour conveys a sense of hope and once more underlines the passing of time with changes in the weather.
Street Melody #3 depicts a thronging crowd of commuters flooding in and out of the iconic Flinders Station. Like Street Melody #2, this painterly work shares the same sense of stillness; a slice of time capturing the movement of people during peak hour. Unlike the first two works, in Street Melody #3 the building seems to dwarf the people, underscoring their insignificance in the wake of the developments and demands of industrial life - the monotonous repetition of the worker's commute. Like the other works, the building is reminiscent of a background stage set. Through this association, the viewer is reminded of the centrality of the human presence. Head down, staring ahead; there is a sense of industriousness as people dart across the road to work or home in search of meaning in their day.
The final work Street Melody #4 feels like a shift from being less concerned with people – the players at the centre of city life – to being more concerned with the symbols of city life. Traffic lights, cars and trams moving in all directions and people in the background; one can almost imagine the sounds and patterns of movement. The ringing bell of the trams as a car does a hook turn (a decidedly Melbournesque image), the rhythmical beeping of the pedestrian walk sign, people chattering as they walk, perhaps bird chippering in the trees. As a scenography, in comparison to Street Melody #3, it feels more like a hopeful resonance on the patterns of city life (in image and sound), where people are present and part of a broader narrative.
In the end, we can appreciate each canvas individually. Still, it seems to me that the most rewarding meanings come from evaluating the works in tandem as a series. Would you comment a little on this Pei Pei?
HP—10) Emma, thank you so much for your interpretation of my work. Your in-depth interpretation is more detailed than I can say in words and is perfectly said. As I always say, when I have difficulty expressing in words, my visual language conveys my thoughts.
I have a strong interest in the subject of city life. It is an endless theme that can be examined and expressed in different ways. It is both historical and contemporary. Today's contemporary is tomorrow's history, just as we look back on the past. Faced with the vibrant and dynamic urban life phenomenon, I usually sort out my thoughts and emphases, such as dividing different concerns into different series.
At intersections, what attracts me the most is the dense crowd and traffic congestion, movements in different directions. For instance, people anxiously await the change of traffic lights. Or at dusk on a rainy day, people dash here or there as the water accumulates, making fascinating reflections on the road's surface. It is these fragments that form a series and merge to form a whole urban life scene.
ET—11) Pei Pei, I know early on you didn’t focus too much on buildings and architecture in public spaces as the work is more about the movement of the body through these spaces. However, more and more, you have started to see architectures as part of the conversation, e.g. how they have informed cultural development or the way that human interaction with them or around them might say something about a particular time and place. Would you comment a little on this with respect to the new body of work?
HP—11) Yes, I used to pay more attention to the characters in my scenes and largely ignored architecture. Specifically, I am most interested in expressing the form, the dynamics and the combination of crowds. The movement of characters in the city is always the richest and most eternal source for my art. However, as I immersed myself more deeply, I gradually realised that it is not only the characters that completely constitute the urban life scene, it also contains many other elements, and architecture occupies a very important position. Without the architectural environment, the urban scene is incomplete and untenable. Those buildings play a role as a stage, witnessing the history, witnessing the activities and evolution of human beings from generation to generation. Therefore, architectures appear as an indispensable element in my artworks now.
ET—12) Pei Pei, in closing I want to return to the subject of loneliness which we touched on briefly above. I know loneliness is something that underpins your work from your early days in the countryside during the Cultural Revolution. Indeed, it is something that all of us have experienced at one time or another, and yet it still feels like a rather stigmatised condition. In this day and age, when we live in an urban environment, and we are more connected than ever via technology, the assumption is that we shouldn’t feel lonely. And yet, the research shows that as an Australian society, we are lonelier than ever. It seems to me in the wake of COVID-19, this exploration of the two sides of the human experience - connection and disconnection – in your works is vitally important for us to think about. Would you comment a little on this for us? What role, if any, do you think art-making and viewing should play in helping humanity to navigate?
HP— 12) Whether you feel lonely or not is a very personal topic informed by each individual's unique personality, living environment and life experience in general. In the same situation, different people will have different emotional reactions. I do not regard "loneliness" as stigmatizing. Or, perhaps I would instead interpret it as ‘aloneness’ or ‘solitude’, which I regard as a rare kind of independence. Life needs to be complementary. Interaction and association between people are essential. But when people are too connected and dependent on each other, sometimes they can lose themselves. I am more willing than some to get away from the crowd and find myself in solitude. To look back on my journey, whether during the Chinese Cultural Revolution in my early years, among the crowds after I returned to city life, or during the recent Covid-19 lockdown, I believe that personal resilience is important. For me, making and viewing art have become important sources of strength/resilience, spiritual support and hope during periods of hardship or 'aloneness'.
with 何佩佩 / He Pei Pei (HP) and Emma Thomson (ET)
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ET—1) How do you start each day? Are there any daily rituals you like to follow?
HP—1) Generally, each of my working cycles is divided into weeks or months. I usually focus on multiple works as a series. Each day after breakfast, I browse the latest news and then enter the studio. I spend a bit of time staring at and thinking about the work in progress and then concentrate on starting today’s work. As I work closely with complex patterns of dots and lines, my eyes need to take a break every once in a while to drink coffee or tea and return to the studio to continue working. That is more or less my daily schedule from morning to evening.
ET—2) If you’re creating new work, what do you start with, how do you make your choice? If the conception for the work starts in your mind, how does the development of the work come about, and how do you know the mental work is finished and the physical creation can begin? Are you guided by an idea, or do your materials inform your decisions also? For instance, in the case of Intersection and Street Melody?
HP—2) The idea begins in my mind, and the images I collect from the city are mutually influential. Every once in a while, armed with my camera, I immerse myself in the atmosphere of urban life. My camera records the hustle and bustle, dynamics and sounds there. When I return to my studio, I browse countless photos on the computer, select and edit the photos according to my desired theme and composition, and then finalise the draft. I have several stretched canvases in different sizes in my studio to meet my needs for different compositions. Of course, sometimes, an unsatisfactory technique or composition will mean I stop short with a work in progress. In this case, I prefer to start again.
When the scroll series Intersection appeared in my mind, I spent a lot of time in the city to capture source imagery inspiration. I was particularly interested in capturing the busiest intersections in the heart of Melbourne during peak hour at dusk, recording scenes that are difficult to describe in words. Similarly, when I was inspired by the idea of Street Melody, I especially wanted to describe Melbourne’s rainy evenings. So, I paid attention to the weather forecast. And then, whenever it rained at dusk, I would rush into the city with excitement! The rainy evening enhances the visual beauty of the cityscape; the reflections in the water on the road surface, the umbrellas swaying from side to side intertwined with each other, and pedestrians darting here or there.
ET—3) How long does the whole process of creating a new work take, and when do you know that an artwork is finished? For instance, in the case of Intersection and Street Melody?
HP—3) For individual works, it is always a subjective decision. When it reaches a certain stage of satisfaction, it might be considered complete. As a series, I often feel that the work can continue infinitely. For example, the Intersection series is currently composed of three scrolls. But with more time, I can add more scrolls. Similarly, I feel more individual artworks can be added to the Street Melody series also.
ET—4) At the end of a day in the studio, what do you like to do? Does this vary depending on the season or what you have on the go? Could you elaborate?
HP—4) At the end of the working day, I take a moment to look at the results of what I have done in the day, clean up my palette, wash the used brushes, etc. It is a discipline that means I will be more comfortable using them the next day. After leaving the studio, I like to do yoga or cardio exercises to get my energy back. I often work in phases. Sometimes I'll work in the studio intensively every day for several consecutive weeks. But other times, I focus on other things, and then I will do nothing in the studio for several weeks.
ET—5) What do you like best about making work in your local community in Melbourne?
HP—5) I like Melbourne’s humanistic charm and multicultural tolerance. I like the peaceful mentality of Melbourne and the harmonious neighbourhood relationship; I like Melbourne’s spring, summer, autumn and winter all year round. But what I like the most is the characteristics of Melbourne city itself. It has become a source of inspiration and an inexhaustible theme for my artistic practice over the years.