Dear __________ ,

 

I followed the crowd to the grey building where someone cool always stood outside talking with the smoke pouring out from their mouths. I went through the smoke, pulled the gate and looked for my name, then took a snap photoshoot on my phone of a space with a desk, a chair, and a piece of paper with a curved cut shape written my name after the others left the photography studio and sent it to my family group chap as proof that I did not waste my past five years to prepare going back my academic career.

Time is running out, but never running out. Except for my life, my life is running out, and my student life will run out as I get through the grey building where someone cool always stood outside talking with the smoke pouring out from their mouths again. I am going to go through the smoke again, push the gate out, and look for my name, maybe take a snap photoshoot on my phone if I find my space with a desk, a chair, and a piece of paper written my name, but this time, the name someone will put it on somewhere in the world.

                                                                                                                      LIN ZI WEI, 2024

                                                                                 Time is running out…

Assuming that humans can live around 80 years (Which might be longer with the incredible medical technology nowadays), what does one year mean based on the 80 years? I can not even remember the most important year, which is the year I was born on earth. Or the year that I got my first camera, the year I had a serious relationship with someone I love for the first time.

I think the year I stay in Glasgow might gradually disappear in my mind as well.

And what image will always be in my mind once I recall the days in Glasgow?

The space, the space where I stay most of the time, the space where I accept myself as a foreigner to create a connection here. The sunshine goes through the window beside my desk; I sit in front of the desk and do my work. There is no doubt that my dog Kirin aka KiKi, is always accompanying me as well. Like the painting of The Love Letter, I am writing my letter to Glasgow, too.

                                                                                 In my language,

                                                                                                    my way,

                                                                                                          and my gratitude for writing a letter.

In 1880, a Scottish missionary, James Laidlaw Maxwell (1836–1921), promoted Peh-ōe-jī (POJ), an orthography used to write variants of writing systems in Taiwan. The establishment of the first writing system of the Taiwanese language has influenced the literature and reading of Taiwanese people. Nowadays, Taiwanese people are speaking the colonial language (Mandarin). It has made a significant contribution to the Taiwanese rediscovering their native language. He donated a small printing press to the church, which was the first movable type printer in Taiwan existing as well.

In 1885, Thomas Barclay (1849–1935), a Glaswegian missionary, established a printing institute, Juzhen Tang, and its publication, the Taiwan Prefectural City Church News (TÂI-OÂN HÚ SIÂn KÀU HŌE PÒ) levels through Romanization (POJ) became the first printed newspaper in Taiwan while marked the education, literary and information in Taiwan. He made a great contribution to Taiwan and stayed there for around 60 years. Each year, he would write a dedication on his birthday.

Time back to now in 2024. I, a Taiwanese, came to their homeland, Scotland, and stayed there for one year. I wrote a letter to those who might come and spend their next year here, wrote to the space where I am accompanied by my working hard, and wrote to Glasgow, which nourished me to push the door out confidently to the world of being an Artist.

As the honorary president of the Glasgow School of Art, Mary Armour, said,

“It won’t be easy, and you may get caught in the doors, but you can do it.”

                                                                                                                                             Yes, I can do it!

 

 

Tshin-ài–ê __________ ,

 

Tuè tī-leh tsi̍t tīn lâng ê āu-piah hiòng âng-mn̂g-thôo sik-tsuí ê tuā-lâu kiânn khì, he tòng tsóng-sī ū khuànn-khí-lâi ū ti̍k-pia̍t khì-tsit ê lâng tī mn̂g-kha-kháu tsia̍h-hun ê tuā-lâu, hit-tsióng kóng-uē ê sî-tsūn ē uì in ê tshuì tong-tiong thòo-tshut tīn tīn ian-bū ê lâng.
Guá kiânn–kuè tīn tīn ian-bū, tháu–khui he sìnn mn̂g, tshuē–tio̍h siá tio̍h guá miâ-jī ê sóo-tsāi: tsi̍t tiunn toh-á、 tsi̍t liâu í-á, koh ū tsi̍t tiunn ka kahkhih-kak ê tsuá siá tio̍h guá êmiâ-jī. Thànta̍k-ke lī-khui ê sî, iōng tshiú-ki-á hip liáu tsi̍t tiunn siòng-phìnn, thuân hōo lîm ka tsi̍t ke hue–ah, tsìng-bîng guá bô lōng-huì gōo nî lâi ê sî-kan, koh tsài tò-tńg–lâi hó-hó-á tha̍k-tsheh.

Sî-kan it-ti̍t kiânn、it-ti̍t kiânn, íng-uán to bēthîng-tsí. tān-sī guá ê sènn-miā bô-kâng, tsóng-sī ū tsi̍t-kang ē tńg–khì. guá ê ha̍k-sing sing-ua̍h tī guá koh-tsài kiânn kuè he tòng tsóng-sī ū khuànn-khí-lâi ū ti̍k-pia̍t khì-tsit ê lâng tī mn̂g-kha-kháu tsia̍h-hun ê âng-mn̂g-thôo sik-tsuí ê tuā-lâu sî, koh tsi̍t pái khui–khui he sìnn mn̂g ê sî kiat-sok.

Guá tsún-pī koh-koh kiânn–kuè he tīn ian-bū, tháu–khui mn̂g, tshuē–tio̍h guá ê miâ-jī, nā-sī koh tshuē–tio̍h tsi̍t tiunn toh-á、 tsi̍t liâu í-á, koh ū tsi̍t tiunn siá tio̍h guá ê miâ-jī ê tsuá. khó-lîng koh ē iōng tshiú-ki-á hip liáu tsi̍t tiunn siòng. Tān-sī tsit-pái, ū lâng ē kā tsit-ê miâ-jī hòng tsāi sè-kan siōng bóo tsi̍t ê sóo-tsāi.

                                                                                                                         Lîm Tsu-uî, 2024

                 A letter to…

                                     your imagination, my memory and our existence.

^{A letter to …}

^{LIN ZI-WEI
Digital Photographic textile print on chiffon, Desk, Chair, Paper, Steel, Wood, Mesh, Moving Image, Pigment Powder
300 x 333 x 244 cm}

^{The paper of the letter is made of her first artwork, “Autobiography”, in Glasgow, which explores her physical existence here. It is written in Taiwanese Peh-ōe-jī (POJ).}