Ten artists came from China for the opening ceremonies for an exhibit of their art at the Nan Hai gallery. This took place Saturday afternoon, and I went with the people from my Chinese painting class. The artists wore similar, if not identical, serious black suits and stood in a row behind local politicians as short speeches were made. They didn't speak, although a great deal of the even was in Chinese and translators were present. In fact, nobody seemed to pay the artists much mind. This bowl of grapes and a lot of other food was wiped out afterwards. Then there was an address in Chinese not by an artist, either. When I have listened to events in European languages, I could pick out words or phrases, but in Chinese, I am completely without any "hooks" and it was completely unintelligible to me. Some people fell asleep, and I found myself almost doing so. Just before I would have fallen asleep, I began to feel that I was making sense, or little narratives, from what was going on. I actually "heard" phrases in English. Then I would force myself to wake up because I didn't want to drool or fall off the chair. Things immediately stopped making sense, but I had a ghost image of the little narrative, which slowly faded away.
The paintings were ALL THE SAME SIZE, that of a big sheet of rice paper, They were mounted and then stuck to the wall, without any glass! It made them wonderful to look at, but we saw one man rest the back of his head right on one as he leaned on the pillar. P said that in a hundred years the museum will wonder where that grease spot came from. Which reminds me of the word "antimacassar."