Threaded Together: From Dublin to Swatow
Written by Jinny Ly (April 2021)
From the clothes we wear to the chair seats that we sit on, we interact with textiles on a daily basis without the need for instructions. Due to the prolific existence and extensive function of textiles in our everyday lives, “they are written into the structure of society like a language, [...] that is essentially non-discursive” (Bristow, 2007). As a result, textiles were not only “fundamental to the very formations of societies'' they were also fundamental for “the artistic expressions vital to cultural cohesion, namely individual adornment and outward affirmations of group beliefs and identity” (Shoeser, 2012). Some cultures have ethnic outfits like the qi pao is to Chinese culture as the áo dài is to Vietnamese culture. These outfits provide a visual link between the physical cloth and national identity, representing a group of people through the treatment of textiles (Evenson, 2010). Cloth, broken down to its simplest form, is a series of interwoven threads; where these threads are like individuals who in turn make up a community.
The community I’m familiar with as a second generation Teochew-American, was that of the Vietnamese Boat refugees who settled into Chinatown in Oakland, California. There, Dad and Grandpa worked at the family noodle restaurant while Mom worked, and Grandma and Great Grandma minded the house and family. Just downstairs, across the street, were cafes,bakeries, jewellers, markets, and restaurants, an entire community, created by fellow Teochew people who shared our story, journey, and reality. As part of the social and psychological features of Teochew people, the further they are from the homeland, the stronger the solidarity (Cheng,1997). Our clannishness has a word, gaginang, meaning “our own people” in the Teochew language.
The meaning of gaginang goes beyond the lexicon and into an unspoken set of traditions and responsibilities that are embedded into Teochew culture. For example, respect for our elders and the familial hierarchy are reinforced everyday through specific mannerisms and the use of titles. Older siblings are referred to as hia (兄), meaning older brother, or jeh (姐), meaning older sister. If there are multiple older siblings, then differentiators are given such as dwa (大) for the eldest, yee (二) for the second eldest, or soi (小) for the youngest of the siblings. These titles are then extended to the individual’s friends or associates. For example, if the oldest brother, dwa hia (大兄) brings home a friend, the friend would be referred to as hia (for a male) or jeh (if the friend is female) due to their association to the dwa hia. To call the older brother’s friend by their name
is considered rude, as it elevates the younger sibling’s position in the family to that of the oldest brother’s position. Even though these traditions seem archaic and confusing, they provide a framework for conduct and establish inherent respect in Teochew culture.
After growing up in a tightly knit family and community, moving to Europe put me in a new situation where I sought out familiarity, and it was during an outing to Paris where I found it -- gaginang. After the United States and Australia, France resettled the third largest group of Vietnamese boat refugees (Boutroue et al, 2000) -- a percentage of which are of Chinese origins, Teochew. As of 1997, there were about ten million Teochew living in Teochew, China with an equal amount living overseas, with approximately 100,000 Teochews in France (Cheng, 1997), specifically the 13th arrondissement of Paris, also known as Chinatown. After the Uncle learned I was on my own, he introduced me to his daughter, extended his resources to me and told me if I ever needed anything, to give him a call.
The experience in Paris Chinatown was not isolated as I’ve experienced the same community support in Ireland, albeit on a much smaller scale. The phenomenon of coming together collectively wasn’t limited to a singular location. So what is it about the Teochew diaspora that makes the bonds of community so strong? Why do they congregate and seek each other out and is this unique to just Teochew culture? Having grown up in the Teochew diaspora and lived amongst Vietnam Boat Refugees, my interest lies in exploring the value of collective identity for the individual. In order to explore these themes of identity, we need a starting point for the understanding of the individual and collective identity.
One study by Alberto Melucci, Italian sociologist who has been studying collective identity for the past twenty years, describes identity as a process of continual construction, selection, and adaptation. As such, individuals find themselves shifting the boundaries of their identity as they see fit, accommodating any changes they might perceive to better describe themselves. Melucci goes on to define collective identity as the way individuals act together and come together to form a common ‘we’. In another study, collective identity is also described as a social construct with distinct rules and boundaries determined by a group of individuals (Eisenstadt & Giesen, 1995). Just as the individuals determine the boundaries and definitions of the collective identity, the way threads come together determine the cloth to be made.
Considering the use of textiles, there are two contemporary artists who use thread and embroidery in their exploration of identity that interest me. Lin Tianmiao is an artist based in Beijing, China, who uses sculptural textile installations while incorporating photos and digital media to explore self-identity, cultural understanding, and politics (Chiu 2012). The interest I have in Lin’s work is the non-representational use of thread in installation and combination of textiles with photography, sound, and video; which moves textiles beyond function and into the sculptural/dimensional. Thread is front and center throughout her work but it’s not the only feature. In this image The Proliferation of Thread Winding (1995) (see image below), if the thread were removed, the installation would be underwhelming and missing the intensity of the scattered balls. The tension created in the simplicity of wound thread, coupled with the natural draping in the drawn thread, literally and figuratively gives gravity to the piece. In All the Same (2011) and More or Less The Same (2011), a series of silk-wrapped bones addressing all of society (Merlin, 2018), she moves beyond the white color palette and into multicolored silks. She
is precise and intentional with her use of color and emphasises that color is “an element you cannot use without careful consideration, otherwise it will interrupt the purity and order of the artwork” (Chiu, 2012). Lin’s work perfectly balances the simplicity of thread and its composition with the weight of her themes.
While Lin shifts from individual to collective identity through textile installation and personal themes, multimedia artist Tiffany Chung also progressively shifts her narrative from the individual to the collective within the themes of war, displacement, and politics. My interest in Chung’s work lies in her display of research and abstraction of data to narrate individual and collective stories of refugees, specifically relating to the Vietnam War. In her show Vietnam, Past is Prologue (2019) at the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington D.C., Chung brings together video, photography, illustration, and painting to highlight stories of Vietnam War refugees, from departure to resettlement (Ardia, 2019). By highlighting the individual stories through data, visual media, both digitally and physically, she ends up defining the collective identity of Vietnamese refugees.
Inspired by treatment of thread from Lin, and the strategic use of the archive and data from Chung, I’m conveying my research through textile installation, photography, and potentially digital media such as sound and video. In order to explore the value of collective identity for the individual, we’ll have to explore and understand the relationship between individual and collective identity. Melucci describes individual identity as “enmeshed by multiple bonds of belonging created by the proliferation of social positions, associative networks, and reference groups” (Melucci, 1995). Words such as “enmeshed”, “multiple bonds”, and “networks” are reminiscent of webs, drawn lines, and nets. With these word associations in mind, I’ve decided to use knotting, crochet, and other simple forms of thread manipulation to convey the relationship between individual and collective identity.
Alongside textiles, photos from the family archive will be used to refer to a moment in time and to lend a face to the Teochew diaspora. Although journalistic archival photos of refugees fleeing Vietnam exist, I’m interested in showing what photos remain after three generations of displacement and forced emigration due to war and famine. For example, one family portrait (see next image) shows my mother at age three, alongside Great Grandmother, Grandpa, and Grandma. The original photo was taken in 1967, survived a war, and made it to California where it now sits at the family home. In this case, the journey of the photos parallels the journey of those captured in it. Using photos, like the one shown below, in the textile installation brings forth the tension and contrasts between the weight and intensity of the photo’s journey versus the natural state and composition of the materials.
