I remember when I was young, I liked to make pictures of beautiful places, but I didn't know that would become the passion of my life. I was born in China and grew up in Taiwan. When I was seven, my family had to flee to the island because of the communist takeover of the mainland. And at 15, I began studying Chinese landscape painting. And through the studies, I came in contact with a very special place, which is often described as the “Dustless World” in Chinese culture. It is a place of this world, yet it reveals the mystery of the other. It is a place of pristine beauty and poignant serenity, without the mental pollution of self-centeredness and greed and ignorance. And eventually it's a place I call home.
Upon graduation from college, like many people of my generation in Taiwan, we left because of tight political control then and also the desire for further education abroad. And so I came to the States to study art and stayed ever after in the country. Then when I received my MFA, I had a busy and flourishing life for some time. I had a family and I became a full professor and I exhibited in fine galleries. And yet I felt something essential missing in my life.
Then I met Arthur Hall, a preeminent dancer and choreographer, and he invited me to do a project in an abandoned lot next to his headquarters in an inner city neighborhood in North Philadelphia. And to tell you the truth, at the beginning I was so afraid. And actually, I wanted to run away. What could a little Chinese woman do in this neighborhood, basically overtaken by poverty, crime and violence? Then the little voice in me spoke, and it says, "You must rise to the occasion. Otherwise the light in you will die."
And so I began small. At the beginning, only children came to help. They were attracted by the spades and brooms and shovels that we set up. And slowly, with donated materials, found materials, we began to make murals and sculptures and mosaics. And children’s laughter and joy were infectious and gradually drew in adults. And see, that's how we set the baits to lure people in.
(Laughter)
And then everybody became happy.
Over the years, we created a series of parks and gardens ...
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... tree farm, a performing arts program, festivals and rites of passage program, and many more. And eventually, the little summer art project evolved into a nonprofit arts organization called the Village of Arts and Humanities.
What was surprising to me was that what the world found broken in this community actually is a treasure land full of resources, energy, talent and creativity. And through working with people, I found what was missing in my life. I knew I had to leave my tenured professorship in order to step into my life, and the wisdom, compassion and endurance of the community guided me home to the Dustless World, that wonderful place of enchantment and profound beauty.
I stayed at the Village for 18 years, then I felt the calling to bring what I have learned at the Village to places in need in the world. I established another organization called the Barefoot Artists.
Then in 2004, I met Jean Bosco Musana from Rwanda in a conference in Barcelona. We began working together right away until now. Upon my first visit, he took me to see the genocide memorial near his city, Gisenyi. And the site looked so forsaken and forlorn, I wanted to help.
Then one thing led to the other. First was the design. And then the children. And then adults came. And then a construction team. And then a series of mosaic workshops. And then the completion of the genocide memorial.
(Applause)
And here I want to express my deep gratitude to the survivors and their families who participated in the project despite their deep grief. And also to the China Road and Bridge Construction Company and its team, whose help was essential in converting my design into reality.
Then, in early spring of 2007, we dedicated the memorial to the people and the government for its safekeeping. Then April 7, the day of national mourning, and thousands of people walk in silence for miles to the site. Then they would line up and descend into the bone chamber. And that's where they mourn their dead. A survivor told me that our loved ones can come home now in dignity. When we see beauty, we see hope.
I wanted to work with the migrant community in the countryside in China for some time, and in 2006, I was lucky enough to join Dandelion Middle School. Its purpose is to serve the most vulnerable, the children of migrant workers. As you can see, the school was converted from an abandoned factory, and it looks basic and bare and rustic. But then it's a perfect place for me and the school community to turn dilapidation into color and abundance.
(Applause)
And through the process, we had such fun, and we have learned so much.
Fifteen years later, facing demolition, the school relocated and the new place is grand and modern, but cold and harsh. And so students felt estranged and unhappy. So I stepped in and created the design that is reminiscent of the gentleness in the old school. And together again, with the students and teachers, we brought color, joy and intimacy to this new setting. During COVID, I created this design, the rainbow and the tree of life for Dandelion. Just last fall, in a period of 59 days, and with the participation of 913 teachers, students and volunteers with our unskilled hands but with utter dedication, together we made something beyond our own expectation and something magical. And then the process, when the day is finished and we become drunk with the exaltation and happiness and the process --
(Applause) and the process unified us into one. What a deep experience.
And over the years, I have come to see myself as a barefoot artist. My method is very simple. I have a bag full of art supplies, and I would go to places in need and work with whoever come and join me. Together we play and create. And over the different projects and experiences, I come to realize that broken places are my canvases and people's stories the palette and the people's imagination and talent and the tools for new inventions. Together we envision and transform. And I also come to realize a fundamental truth: people need beauty. Not the superficial beauty, but the profound and transformative beauty. It is like fire in a dark winter's night. It is the beauty that our soul yearns for.
Our world is so broken today with the violent wars ... with massive extinction of species and profound, profound human suffering. And we need this vision and energy to beauty now more than ever. May we rise to embrace the broken. When [we] act together, I know we will have the power to transform, far and wide, the brokenness into beauty.
Thank you.
(Cheers and applause)
