https://nuttaphol.com nuttaphol.com Sat, 02 Mar 2019 20:03:45 +0000 https://nuttaphol.com en https://nuttaphol.com/Home Fri, 26 Oct 2018 04:08:14 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Home Moments^ &nbsp;01/ News&nbsp;2023: Projecting All Voices Fellowship . Arizona State University . Phoenix . Arizona 02/ 29 Sep 2023 . “Seed Syllables” . Pangea World Theater . Minneapolis . Minnesota 03/ 14Jul - 04Aug 2023 &gt; Curation “Ways of Becoming” . Institute of American Indian Arts . Santa Fe . New Mexico 04/ 02 Mar 2023 . “Meditative Shit” . Collaborative Performance as part of Community Empowerment Activists Class at University of San Francisco. 05/ 14-16 Oct 2022 . Rituals of Repair and Renewal . Imagining America National Gathering . Performance . Tulane University . New Orleans . Louisiana&nbsp; 06/ 10Sep2021 - 19Nov2021: Exhibition &gt; In Tandem With Time, Rivers Become . Kimura Gallery @ University of Alaska Anchorage . Anchorage . Alaska07/&nbsp;Fall 2019 - Fall 2025. Stitching Dreams of Leaving, Dreams of Roots. a durational performance at sites of arrivals, sites of departures and sites of longing08/&nbsp;News: 2021 Creative Capital On Our Radar 09/&nbsp;20Oct2020: Talk &gt; “Living with Amnesia: A humble act of sewing fractured memories onto a haunted land.” . Otis College of Art and Design Visiting Artist Lecture Series . Los Angeles . California 10/ 18-20 Oct 2019 . Mighty Dreams: Designing and Fostering Belonging in ‘America’ . Imagining America National Gathering . Presenting Participatory Workshop . University of New Mexico . Albuquerque . New Mexico&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; 11/ 05Jun-15Aug 2019 . Wurlitzer Residency . Taos . New Mexico 12/ 28Oct2018 . The China Onscreen Biennial - Dunhuang Projected &gt; Artists in Conversation . Fowler Museum at UCLA . Los Angeles . California 13/ 29Sep18 . Remember Our Ancestral Tree . Burnside Farm . Detroit . Michigan&nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp; 14/ Gelare Khoshgozaran. Essay &gt; "The "Fuck you!" Poetics of Nuttaphol Ma". contemptorary 25 May 2016.15/ For past moments, please visit: &nbsp;Nuttaphol @ Wordpress https://nuttaphol.com/Essays Fri, 26 Oct 2018 06:18:11 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays Selected Essays^ 01/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The “Fuck you!” Poetics of Nuttaphol Ma &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;by Gelare Khoshgozaran 02/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Making Plans at Human Resources &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;by Dan Bustillo 03/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Humble Materials&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;by Christopher Michno 04/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Ghost Can Cross Oceans &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;by Ciara Ennis 05/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; A River Runs Through It &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;by Constance Mallinson 06/&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; This Land is Your Land - Reinterprets a Classic&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; by Michelle No https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-FuckUPoetics Thu, 08 Nov 2018 14:43:36 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-FuckUPoetics The “Fuck you!” Poetics of Nuttaphol Ma&nbsp; Gelare Khoshgozaran&nbsp;25May2016 .&nbsp;Contemtorary&nbsp; I place my body in spaces where I find myself delicately balancing between the confines of the clocking in and the clocking out, the dreams of leaving and dreams of roots, the longing and not BE longing. Words overflow from these experiences. Like laughters and tears, they flow uncontrollably. I collect these tearful, at times, joyful words. I restore them into poetry. Poetry roots my artistic works ranging from performances to installations to sculptures. I selected these lines from Nuttaphol Ma’s artist statement because, unlike many, he is profound and precise when discussing his work. Take for example, in 2011 in a durational performance entitled “Born By the River” he walked for five and a half days in Death Valley, CA carrying a boat he had built after a dream where he helped a group of people carrying his body in a boat washed ashore. For the duration of the walk he carried the boat he had built from the lowest altitude in the United States, Badwater Basin to one of the highest, Whitney Portal, CA. I visit Nuttaphol in a big Walmart parking lot on Cerillos Road in Santa Fe, NM. His project, The China Outpost–originally started in Los Angeles’s Chinatown in 2010–has moved to Santa Fe for the months of April and May that he’s been a resident at the Santa Fe Art Institute where I am also a current resident. According to the schedule on the artist’s website, each day he goes to the parking lot of a box store in Santa Fe, puts up his sign and works for hours in his self-imposed “sweatshop:” the back of his pickup truck.The aim of the China Outpost is to rebuild the artist’s great grandfather’s house in the style of row houses in the U.S. but with the aesthetics of the original house located in a village in Southern China. From a Chinese immigrant family, born for three generations in Thailand, Nuttaphol migrated with his family to the United States at the age of seven. The idea of rebuilding his great grandfather’s house came to him when studying architectural conservation in Hong Kong where he had returned as an adult. His decision to “return” was informed by a racist childhood experience where his 5th grade teacher told him “to go back home!”. However, instead of using construction material to rebuild his great grandfather’s house, he accumulates plastic from recycled plastic bags collected from grocery stores in Los Angeles. In his “sweatshop,” I look at how he carefully shreds the bags into strands of five, ties the pieces together with identical knots and rolls them around a spool he has made after one that he had found at the Crate and Barrel store where he clocks in and outas a full-time employee.As he pulls each strand of shredded plastic to straighten, he tells me he is “honoring” each part of it, he is “giving it soul.” Every day he returns to his “sweatshop” to continue the labor of “honoring” small pieces of the most despised material of the western liberal society: plastic, shred by shred, piece by piece. Everybody hates it, it’s bad for the environment, it stinks, it’s ugly, even banned in the stores in the city of Santa Fe. Stretching a strand between his hands, he holds it up in front of me and tells me “I hate this, this suffocates me. That’s why I shred it into pieces. The act of shredding the plastic bags to pieces, looping them into a thread, spinning them into a spool honor the mundane actions. These humble actions are also a meditation on the labor of adapting to a new home, on the repetitive unheroic actions of those who work within the confines of the clocking in and the clocking out. I work full-time in a retail job. I also work within those confines; however, being at The China Outpost, I clock in and I clock out under my own terms, not under that roof.” He points to the Walmart building at the end of the lot. Choosing plastic as the material to rebuild his great grandfather’s house was a decision not to “romanticize” the idea, according to the artist. Plastic is a material he is most familiar with, growing up with migrant parents who worked multiple low-wage jobs to support their family.When we hear the word “sweatshop” we think of labor protests, inhumane labor conditions, lack of water, suicide. We can think of the Apple’s Foxconn employees, for example that were required to sign the ‘No Suicide’ pact. When I inquire about this word and the artist’s relationship to it he tells me “it is a way to draw awareness to a broad range of audiences and to jolt the imagery of working in an oppressed environment. Though I personally have not worked in such conditions, my entry to the use of the word draws from my experiences as an immigrant to this country. I recalled my mother’s silent cries at night the first months upon our arrival, when our family of five used to share one room. Her unspoken words rekindled our collective struggle as a family, our collective longing and not belonging. We all had multiple jobs, even me as a young child. After homework, dinner, the dishes, my sisters and I would head down to the garage where my mom sewed. She had bought a second hand industrial sewing machine and would receive weekly shipments of clothes parts from a manufacturer that outsourced the parts to her. The parts we received were sleeves and shoulders. My mom would sew those two parts together over and over again. I think we received a few cents per connection. Our job after dinner was to help my mom cut thread ends. Although these stories are far removed from the oppressed environments we imagine when hearing the word “sweatshop,” these memories are my closest connection to the word and that’s why I chose this word to describe The China Outpost, my self imposed sweatshop.” The project is dreaming, and dreaming big. However, as dreamy as both the aim and the process may sound, they are deeply rooted in reality, a reality over which the artist has ownership: the reality of his life. The China Outpost is grounded in a narrative that subverts the typical, token migrant story that western liberal democracy desires to depict. It is subverting the utopic migrant narrative of coming to the “land of opportunities” where it only takes one hard working generation to turn plastic into gold; a myth rooted in the false promise of meritocracy in the same anti-plastic, liberal democracy that is founded on slavery, genocide, colonialism and the historic, ongoing (labor) exploitation of its unwealthy migrants. The project is angry and stubborn, yet loving, poetic and delicate. It incorporates those qualities in its expressions, gestures and pace all thoughtfully controlled under the complete authority of the artist. Underlying the delicate poetics of the artist’s work lies a big “fuck you!” When the most basic liberal gesture is to hate plastic, and to be “aware” of its toxicity and harms, resistance becomes the labor of “honoring” plastic while accumulating it as building material, because for some of us it takes infinite laboring through one’s dreadful nightmares to fulfill a dream. Ma describes his labor as symbolic of “the labor of getting used to a new home.” He relives the affective labor of growing up as the child of working class migrant parents through his repetitive, physical labor of accumulating plastic, and the emotional labor of maintaining intimacy with this contested, most familiar, yet “choking” material to him. “The project is in semicolon phase” he tells me, making waves in the air with his hand. “And I KNOW that sitting here out in the parking lot I am under surveillance!” <img width="873" height="471" width_o="873" height_o="471" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/876d3b88de83af28a2cae7c25b48dcf266b4d8c328e7a749b0f493e96a512f8d/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.02.49.png" data-mid="28036026" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/873/i/876d3b88de83af28a2cae7c25b48dcf266b4d8c328e7a749b0f493e96a512f8d/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.02.49.png" /> <img width="594" height="563" width_o="594" height_o="563" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/4a9610f207b4846038b661a835d7b75a1ccb79d0f9d9d8de397174604ebd6784/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.07.56.png" data-mid="28036027" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/594/i/4a9610f207b4846038b661a835d7b75a1ccb79d0f9d9d8de397174604ebd6784/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.07.56.png" /> <img width="594" height="597" width_o="594" height_o="597" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/9c506cdb3e94633c10b7bf175bb86ab40c5f4d369d5c8664323abd06323bed05/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.09.20.png" data-mid="28036028" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/594/i/9c506cdb3e94633c10b7bf175bb86ab40c5f4d369d5c8664323abd06323bed05/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.09.20.png" /> <img width="596" height="593" width_o="596" height_o="593" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f9aa69d139211a6450705d4d47260b67a3af862023a12f00e0155b1459d0c290/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.09.58.png" data-mid="28036030" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/596/i/f9aa69d139211a6450705d4d47260b67a3af862023a12f00e0155b1459d0c290/Screen-Shot-2018-11-08-at-08.09.58.png" /> https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Making-Plans Thu, 08 Nov 2018 03:22:06 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Making-Plans Making Plans at Human Resources Dan Bustillo26 Apr 2017 .&nbsp;Temporary Art Review To refuse to engage the political imaginary at a time when it seems especially futile, capricious, or simply inadequate to contend with the violence of a post-truth reality—one that directly impacts specific communities in real ways—makes sense. But if we don’t mobilize the imaginary, how will we ever stave off the curse of Margaret Thatcher’s assertion: there is no alternative? Far from a recent task, this is certainly no less difficult post Brexit, post election, post inauguration, mid travel bans, mid deportations, post pipeline authorizations, mid discriminatory bathroom laws, mid presidential media wars. Furthermore, to merely restate (and often misquote) Adorno’s there is no poetry after Auschwitz, now, in 2017, is to submit to Thatcher’s mandate, that there is no possible alternative to capitalism, and much less (I’ll add) to corporate governance, white supremacy, heteropatriarchal, and heteronormative rule. Held at artist-run space Human Resources, in Los Angeles, from March 18 to March 26, 2017, Making Plans, organized by Kyle Bellucci Johanson and Matthew Lax, decommissions such a ruling by reminding us that to conceive of possible futures, we must first assess our present. With works by Kim Zumpfe, Astrovandalistas, Ishi Glinsky, Nuttaphol Ma, Jimena Sarno, Díaz Lewis, and Aram Han Sifuentes, Lax and Bellucci Johanson approach the following quote by Fred Moten as curatorial material: “I’m not so much despairing as asking a question about making plans.” In the same conversation this quote is lifted from, On Poetry and the Turntable by Kevin Beasley and Fred Moten, Moten expands on a Deleuzian idea of working through exhaustion and proposes that within exhaustion, we arrive at other ways of making plans, of reconfiguring realities. Moten tells of a “social insurgency that accompanies that exhaustion, that desire to exhaust the system and make something else.” Some of this planning might emerge through care or maintenance. In reference to traditions of his tribe, the Tohono O’odham Nation, Ishi Glinsky’s War Regalia is a large-scale ceremonial shirt, made of latex, horsehair, and beads, and is paired with its twin in scale, Giant Button Up, a collared work shirt lined with abalone shells as buttons. The industrial latex used to make War Regalia is so heavy it causes the shirt to deteriorate over time. As a result, the artist routinely mends it, turning the piece into a work of ongoing repair, a resistance through up keeping. <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/073a0c1835edc26d26a08044e3fb39ab188195148f5b5d12aee1b831ae0978c2/IMG_7606.JPG" data-mid="28004904" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/073a0c1835edc26d26a08044e3fb39ab188195148f5b5d12aee1b831ae0978c2/IMG_7606.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8cc35c5e61724c27a677b48882cec6ae7ce7a3cb4a9c8f92a8a49207018afe2d/IMG_7638.JPG" data-mid="28004911" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8cc35c5e61724c27a677b48882cec6ae7ce7a3cb4a9c8f92a8a49207018afe2d/IMG_7638.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/2b67c45b81e064c508112b5a9f75a1c9b138fea455896078653dd9423ba56cb7/IMG_7643.JPG" data-mid="28004910" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/2b67c45b81e064c508112b5a9f75a1c9b138fea455896078653dd9423ba56cb7/IMG_7643.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/de9fb483c485b6872ac7b3f90b5f26c62f081d392bdc278f7f8f1a2f98afe596/IMG_7644.JPG" data-mid="28004909" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/de9fb483c485b6872ac7b3f90b5f26c62f081d392bdc278f7f8f1a2f98afe596/IMG_7644.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/f7dbf3155d08f28fb828882eda685b2e970dfa034561b1572b7b263737e32a8a/IMG_7675.JPG" data-mid="28004907" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/f7dbf3155d08f28fb828882eda685b2e970dfa034561b1572b7b263737e32a8a/IMG_7675.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/da6b9ad451c5048483c98a31d5cc60257d0402dfb226e3b92ee42248fc62bb5e/IMG_7766.JPG" data-mid="28004905" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/da6b9ad451c5048483c98a31d5cc60257d0402dfb226e3b92ee42248fc62bb5e/IMG_7766.JPG" /> <img width="3264" height="2448" width_o="3264" height_o="2448" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/3ac54978399b8ca16a27ed67f8125fe35b1030b95ff7f2f32727f0a9462e7dfc/IMG_7648.JPG" data-mid="28004908" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/3ac54978399b8ca16a27ed67f8125fe35b1030b95ff7f2f32727f0a9462e7dfc/IMG_7648.JPG" /> Such planning surely takes time, and thus becomes a different kind of work, one that likely occurs after hours, and forfeits rest for “planning.” Mr. Proud, why do I have to memorize the Star Spangled Banner? is a durational piece by Nuttaphol Ma, in which he clocked in with his personal time clock for eight-hour graveyard shifts, to fill neatly delineated grids on the wall with the Chinese character zhèng, meaning ‘correct,’or ‘upright.’ Each section is outlined with thread that is delicately wrapped around burnt incense stubs protruding from the wall, completing at a distance the U.S. flag. The characters, repeated over and over, are all slightly different; sometimes they are assertive and other times they trail off, faithful to the state of the writer, who has etched his presence through attendance, with diligence and fatigue. Ma’s use of the zhèng character refers to the uprightness of the wall, which Ma is called upon to match—as in Ma has to be upright to write on the wall. Ma must then hold a position reminiscent of a disciplinary imperative, that of standing in a corner, or facing a wall. Interestingly, while Ma carries out the self-imposed punitive action of writing lines, he faces or stands up to the uprightness and correctional rigidity of institutional walls. In his book Defacement, Michael Taussig writes “The shortest way between two points, between violence and its analysis, is the long way round, tracing the edge sideways like the crab scuttling. This we also call the labor of the negative.” Instead of burning, shredding, or destroying the flag, Ma constructs one that more accurately reflects its relationship, as he sees it, to the body of a laboring nation. If the labor of inscription constitutes the body of the flag, what becomes of the body of the laborer, who after toiling through night shifts, I imagine returns, further exhausted, to some other job? Collaborative duo Díaz Lewis (Cara Megan Lewis and Alejandro Figueredo Díaz-Perera) comments on the imaginary in a state of post-truth in their piece, A Dream Deferred. A two-channel video depicts an intergenerational family soccer game in the desert. One video is crisp and occasionally focuses on a girl reading Langston Hughes’ poem Harlem from her iPhone, while the other is grainy. At first, I think this might be one family playing soccer in the same desert, spanning a few generations, and shot in different decades, but as I pay closer attention, I recognize some of the players in both videos. The two videos were shot at the same time with different cameras, one on 8mm and the other in HD video. The use of different cameras to shoot the same scene calls for the questioning of the framing device—technological, cultural, historical. In the drone age, I might imagine other lenses that would capture this very group of bodies differently: what would they look like from above? A group of brown bodies in movement, in this particular political landscape, might just as quickly be construed as a group of bodies in illegal transit. In other words, the different cameras and lenses indirectly expose the discriminatory apparatus that monitors and&nbsp;controls the mobility of brown bodies.Hanging from the ceiling is Jimena Sarno’s suspended exploded, which is a partially dismantled chicken coup that hovers above two small speakers playing an Appalachian folk song called My Little Rooster. The sculpture offers a fictitious version of a chicken coop from Leon Trotsky’s family estate in Mexico City—where he stayed after he had been kicked out of Diego Rivera’s house before his assassination. The same year he moved to the estate, The Manifesto for an Independent and Revolutionary Art, signed by Rivera and Breton and allegedly written by Trotsky and Breton, makes the following case for art: “ True art is unable not to be revolutionary, not to aspire to a complete and radical reconstruction of society. […] The communist revolution is not afraid of art. It realizes that the role of the artist in a decadent capitalist society is determined by the conflict between the individual and various social forms that are hostile to him. This fact alone, insofar as he is conscious of it, makes the artist the natural ally of revolution.” In The Undercommons, Stefano Harney and Fred Moten distinguish between planning and policy. Planners, Harney and Moten say, don’t make change, they just plan. Planning, then, must not be done towards the goal of being calcified into policy—which is seen as a form of opportunism, geared to profit from the imaginary and to re-establish hierarchical command through the deputization of these plans, herein enacting violence against the planners it pathologizes: “Policy says that those who plan have something wrong with them. This is the first thrust of policy as dispersed, deputised command. What’s wrong with them? They won’t change. They won’t embrace change. They’ve lost hope. So say the policy deputies. They need to be given hope. They need to see that change is the only option.” Planning, therefore, is a serial rejection of policy, a perpetual moving: “We plan to be communist about communism, to be reconstructed about reconstruction, to be absolute about abolition, here, in that other, undercommon place, as that other, undercommon thing, that we preserve by inhabiting. Policy can’t see it, policy can’t read it, but it’s intelligible if you got a plan.” Operating from the plain space of referential privilege, it is true that the effectiveness of art is limited. But out of these limitations comes the potential to imagine, to be unfixed, like a shuffling before a movement. That no plans are made in the show is not a shortcoming of the show’s curatorial promise. Making Plans reflects a set of experiences, conditions, and alliances, and suggests that plans might be made on the sidewalk outside the space, or on the ride home, or the next day on the way to work—somewhere beyond and between institutional thresholds. https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Humble-Materials Wed, 07 Nov 2018 06:10:34 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Humble-Materials Humble Materials: &nbsp;Nuttaphol Ma . The Artist Feels the Earth Move Christopher Michno 03Nov2015 .&nbsp;Artillery Magazine On a hot August night in the Pico-Union neighborhood near Downtown Los Angeles, Nuttaphol (pronounced nut-tah-pun) Ma welcomed me to The China Outpost, the project the 43-year-old artist calls a nomadic, self-imposed sweatshop, which bleeds into his living space at the St. Valentine building just a few blocks west of the Staples Center. From the balcony of his apartment, the buildings and neon lights of LA Live, which cast a strange aura over this old neighborhood, were visible. Lemongrass plants like those in his recent Barnsdall Park (The Los Angeles Municipal Art Gallery) solo exhibition, “Ghosts Can Cross Oceans” (May 17–September 20, 2015), curated by Pitzer College Galleries Director Ciara Ennis, lined the balcony perimeter, along with Kaffir Lime trees and a patchwork of fabric screens that provide a modicum of privacy. Ma offered me lemongrass tea. He had harvested it from a few surplus specimens intended for Barnsdall that he later planted at his parents’ house. (Ennis called Ma’s work “entropic,” noting that the materials used for his China Outpost products are harvested from Ma’s existing artworks. There is a continuous overlap between his art, life and The China Outpost.) He announced his plans to bring some of the dried tea to the gallery attendants. “They really cared for the plants—it has grown so beautifully in that space,” he said. In tending to everyday experiences in the context of his work, Ma downplays the delineations between elevated art objects and humble materials or unadorned experiences. Ritual becomes a reference in his performances, taking shape as ordinary, unburdened with the weight of symbolism.Soil, plants and ritual—recurring themes in Ma’s art—infuse “Ghosts Can Cross Oceans,” as do allusions to the migration of people. Other projects also address migration and its implications. Ennis refers to his work as episodic, likening it to a root structure that runs beneath the soil and sprouts new growth. “Born by the River,” Ma’s 2011 video installation at Barnsdall Park, recorded his six-day performance in which he walked 138 miles from Badwater Basin, Death Valley, the lowest point in the continental U.S., to the trailhead of Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the Continental U.S., carrying a lightweight canoe over his head. So named after a line in Sam Cooke’s song, “A Change is Gonna Come,” Ma’s performance was based on a dream. The resulting work was a mixture of personal and cultural-historical referents. “For me, it was a reenactment of my dream, but in comparison to the distances that other people have walked, this was nothing. I thought about Gandhi walking to the sea to make salt [in protest of the British salt tax]. He walked many more days than I walked. I thought about the lost boys of Sudan, walking through the desert—they had to do it,” Ma said. <img width="750" height="414" width_o="750" height_o="414" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e790971a8e56002ec0b04281d1ef95b4c82261e40e831be696ec69bbb960570b/nuttaphol_bornbytheriver_feature.jpg" data-mid="27925799" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/750/i/e790971a8e56002ec0b04281d1ef95b4c82261e40e831be696ec69bbb960570b/nuttaphol_bornbytheriver_feature.jpg" /> <img width="470" height="376" width_o="470" height_o="376" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/17f63e3c6fd18a001e9c4c9661cb6eb6bef90f81ff06b73efd06d71b98907649/nuttaphol_bornbytheriver003.jpg" data-mid="27925957" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/470/i/17f63e3c6fd18a001e9c4c9661cb6eb6bef90f81ff06b73efd06d71b98907649/nuttaphol_bornbytheriver003.jpg" /> https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-This-Land-Is-Your-Land Sat, 02 Mar 2019 20:03:45 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-This-Land-Is-Your-Land This Land Is Your Land - Reinterprets A Classic &nbsp;Michelle No 09Oct2009 . The Student Life&nbsp; Many people know Woody Guthrie’s song, “This Land Is Your Land.” Most of us sang it in grade school, with our eyes raised to the American flag and our hearts bursting with juvenile pride for our country. The majority of us, however, remain naïve to the fact that before entering mainstream culture, the song did not have the patriotic connotations that it does today. In Guthrie’s original version of the song the best known line was, “God blessed America for me,” a lyric that conveys the songwriter’s disdain for the unrealistic words of Irving Berlin’s “God Bless America.” Today, “This Land Is Your Land,” an exhibit by Los Angeles based artist Nuttaphol Ma, hopes to convey a similar thought to Guthrie’s notion that “God Blessed America for me.” Using Guthrie’s missing lyrics from “This Land Is Your Land” and an abandoned Japanese relocation camp Manzanar, Ma introduces the issue of displacement and migration. His subject is especially poignant at this time, when immigration reform is high on the political agenda. Having recently graduated with an MFA from Claremont Graduate University, Ma is the current artist- in-residence of Pitzer’s Emerging Artist Series, now in its third year. However, he is no beginner with contemporary mediums. His dense resume is a telling catalogue of site-specfic performances, solo exhibitions, and art installations that pack his relatively short art career. “This Land Is Your Land” opened on September 24th in Pitzer’s Lenzer Family Art Gallery. Ma’s solo exhibition uses mirrors, dirt, wood, and concrete—all mediums that reference landscape, property, and self—to pose the question that the original version of Guthrie’s song also posed: is this land made for you and me? In the first room is a projected image of the early American flag featuring a coiled snake with a caption below that reads, “DON’T TREAD ON ME.” Using stop-motion animation, the image of the snake is ripped, taped, and strung together. In one shot a baseball appears, to remind us of its unifying significance in our society. Today, the snake flag is used to represent American patriotism; this piece expresses the fragility of that patriotism. <img width="381" height="344" width_o="381" height_o="344" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b289d11b02c9037edfc389229f4496a1a6fe84fd109d01d5ec4b4b1dbba4c7b8/001a_ThisLandIsYourLandEssayMichelleNo.png" data-mid="36667278" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/381/i/b289d11b02c9037edfc389229f4496a1a6fe84fd109d01d5ec4b4b1dbba4c7b8/001a_ThisLandIsYourLandEssayMichelleNo.png" /> The same idea is carried through in an installation that lines one side of the main room. A diagonally stretched shot of Manzanar covers the wall, in front of which a row of eccentrically-assembled wooden stakes placed in dirt-filled concrete squares portrays a ghastly rendition of home. Phrases such as “If I had a hammer,” “our house,” and “tic tac toe wiggle my toes” are scribbled on the wooden stakes. These stakes suggest white picket fences, placing the image in an entirely new context. Despite the United States’ self-portrayal as an accommodating country, Japanese-American residents during World War II were relocated to internment camps like Manzanar without ever being convicted of anything. By juxtaposing the historical event with the cultural perception, Ma’s installation asks whether foreigners can ever permanently claim a piece of American land for themselves. On the opposite side of the room, aligned cut mirror and aluminum rectangles present a different kind of brick wall. Although a missing section of the wall may leave casual observers confused, an inscription next to the display reveals the brick wall to be a visual rendition of Guthrie’s missing lyrics. In childlike penmanship, the lyrics read: “There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me; Sign was painted, it said private property; But on the back side it didn’t say nothing; That side was made for you and me.” <img width="1028" height="653" width_o="1028" height_o="653" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/14a363b0a1fb4f26cc71f7ac08e5eb0b1193422f49e661925c504ad3107819c7/002ThisLandIsYourLand.png" data-mid="36666813" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/14a363b0a1fb4f26cc71f7ac08e5eb0b1193422f49e661925c504ad3107819c7/002ThisLandIsYourLand.png" /> <img width="1031" height="661" width_o="1031" height_o="661" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e087118ad3545bb2b4d0aafde749ec9a8a1601e3d260c9835fa5b4758dbbc713/003ThisLandIsYourLand.png" data-mid="36667698" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e087118ad3545bb2b4d0aafde749ec9a8a1601e3d260c9835fa5b4758dbbc713/003ThisLandIsYourLand.png" /> The omission after “that side”in the stanza aligns itself with the omission on the walls. They ask their observers to fill in the blanks and interpret the line that has, by revision of its context, become one of the most famous patriotic lyrics in the country. Finally, by orchestrating an installation of reflected light, distorted stakes, and plastic yarn, Ma alludes to the immigrant’s journey of the promise, the effort, the reality, and, finally, the hope. https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Ghosts-Can-Cross-Oceans Fri, 26 Oct 2018 06:20:00 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-Ghosts-Can-Cross-Oceans Ghosts Can Cross Oceans^ Ciara Ennis April 2015 Foregrounding the entropic as a space for renewal, Ghosts Can Cross Oceans celebrates disarticulation and recombination as a necessary act in the process of becoming, where movement and reinvention are ongoing. Bringing some order to this disruptive schema is the critical role of ritual, which in relation to this project gives substance to the felling of a jade orchid tree that once grew in Nuttaphol Ma's parents’ garden. Functionig as a mnemonic trigger, Ghosts Can Cross Oceans references his father’s daily ritual of collecting the tree's blossoming dawg jam bee flowers to make offerings to the family altar. Loosely translated from Thai as 'flower remember year,' both the memory of the blossom and its evocative odor have been symbolically grafted onto a thriving colony of lemongrass plants. Comprising the central focus of the work, these lemongrass flora have taken root in multiple planters that have been repurposed from a previous work dedicated to Ma’s grandfather’s ancestral home. Arranged in rectangular formation, the enclosed space, activated by the olfactory notes, invites intense reverie and contemplation while simultaneously reviving and precipitating generations of familial bonds both past and present. Although functioning as an intimate site where inter-subjective exchanges and experiences can take place, Ghosts Can Cross Oceans also exists as a politicized site where themes of forced migration, cultural dislocation, and hybrid identities come to the fore. Ma’s practice complicates easy definitions of belonging by elaborating an extended notion of home where one’s psycho-geographic markers manifest as an eternal “line of flight.”&nbsp; This fluid and open-ended structure is at the core of all Ma’s work, which celebrates nomadic and shape-shifting identitites as future-oriented guides necessary for navigating the unfamiliar and interstitial.&nbsp; Although precarious in nature, such positions of uncertainty provide possible sites for radical re-articulations and revised definitions of who and what wer are, and what it is to belong.&nbsp; It is in this direction that Ghosts Can Cross Oceans gestures towards. <img width="1050" height="1050" width_o="1050" height_o="1050" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/809c6c0084037f61ceb8f7d6acf2ee32268c1103ee6c6f9ddd792623913625ee/004gcco.JPG" data-mid="27112251" border="0" data-scale="70" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/809c6c0084037f61ceb8f7d6acf2ee32268c1103ee6c6f9ddd792623913625ee/004gcco.JPG" /> https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-River-Runs-Through-It Wed, 07 Nov 2018 14:45:27 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Essays-River-Runs-Through-It A River Runs Through It Constance Mallinson 09 Jul 2011 .&nbsp;Times Quotidian Badwater Basin in Death Valley, the lowest point in the continental US, is flat, empty, surrounded by desolate, desiccated mountains, and yet the near blinding whiteness of the valley floor symbolizes and enlarges upon the traditional ground zero for the artist—the vacant white studio wall. Or as Jean Baudrillard described the desert, it is the place of “superficial neutrality”, a “challenge to meaning and profundity.” Here on May Day this year Thai American multi-disciplinary artist Nuttaphol Ma began a 6 day, 138.3 mile documented performance/journey to the trailhead of Mt. Whitney—the highest point in the U.S.– carrying a body-sized lightweight handmade “boat” over his head. As recipient of the 2011 Feitelson Arts Fellowship, he has created a site-specific installation based on a prophetic dream and a lyric from the Sam Cooke song, A Change is Gonna Come at Barnsdall’s Los Angeles Municipal Gallery. Centered primarily on a two channel video of the walk shot by artist Victoria Tao, one video captures Ma walking on the highway away from the camera, the other depicts him walking towards it. The shoulder transported boat suggests a long and arduous sea voyage or the nomadic tent carrying life of Mongol tribespeople. Cars speed by intermittently and perilously close as the background scenery morphs from desert to foothills, to alpine forest. Perhaps the most arresting moment of the journey, however, is the sudden swift appearance of two fighter jets on maneuvers from China Lake Naval Base. They aggressively swoop low and loud&nbsp;from the sky, contrasting to the simple, rythmic naturalness of Ma’s footsteps, imposing their arrogant technology on the sublime ancient landscape. Because we never see Ma’s face or expression for it is concealed by the boat, because he continues walking in the presence of such naked power, the walk appears less like Ma’s ego driven personal struggle, but rather a gesture in communion with historic marches and heroic treks. By the time we see him reaching the portal to Mt. Whitney and the land boat is finally put down, there is a recollection of Gandhi’s march from Ahmedabad to coastal village of Dandi where he produced salt in protest against the British imposed salt tax, Martin Luther King’s Civil Rights marches, the universal immigrant seeking a better life against the restrictions of borders, threats of war and natural disasters. <img width="2051" height="1231" width_o="2051" height_o="1231" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/020ca49180e43077db8845fc805d0b5d1b37b2d15fb39b4e6d066a7becb0e168/001bbtr.jpg" data-mid="27959322" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/020ca49180e43077db8845fc805d0b5d1b37b2d15fb39b4e6d066a7becb0e168/001bbtr.jpg" /> <img width="3794" height="1893" width_o="3794" height_o="1893" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8f8e14f8405f04e94cf9fc2f7144f9b1d49140d1517774cdb9d0ee111fe2dc75/002bbtr.jpg" data-mid="27959077" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8f8e14f8405f04e94cf9fc2f7144f9b1d49140d1517774cdb9d0ee111fe2dc75/002bbtr.jpg" /> <img width="4032" height="2418" width_o="4032" height_o="2418" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/6bbfbb43f030a9e18517b684b78f57dd1bcf1042cc1a86751bea53dca0fa3cb9/003bbtr.jpg" data-mid="27959324" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/6bbfbb43f030a9e18517b684b78f57dd1bcf1042cc1a86751bea53dca0fa3cb9/003bbtr.jpg" /> <img width="3000" height="1800" width_o="3000" height_o="1800" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/930aea8f5891cd230440860e0813ade361bad94a27bdada44b59f2f7e3767635/004bbtr.jpg" data-mid="27959325" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/930aea8f5891cd230440860e0813ade361bad94a27bdada44b59f2f7e3767635/004bbtr.jpg" /> <img width="3000" height="1800" width_o="3000" height_o="1800" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/702d25a775b4fa0e94f470f61124e95909bf52ddc837445d1df4f5116e0cfea4/005bbtr.jpg" data-mid="27959327" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/702d25a775b4fa0e94f470f61124e95909bf52ddc837445d1df4f5116e0cfea4/005bbtr.jpg" /> As with his previous pieces like The Ruins of Daedalus’ Labyrinth seen at Pasadena’s Armory space in January 2011, Ma’s pieces are not easily categorized but are a kind of ecological mix encompassing sculpture, performance, video, and installation all inextricably bound with his current and past life, his dreams, spirituality, &nbsp;objects from mass culture/everyday life, and diverse sociopolitical, anthropological concerns. At Barnsdall, the two Born by the River videos are projected onto suspended diaphanous fabric walls, the “building blocks” of which are based on measurements taken from intervals in the gallery’s columns, and sewn from discarded fabric packaging collected from Crate and Barrel where he is a fulltime employee. The sewing takes place in Ma’s Chinatown “sweatshop” studio he describes as “a laboratory to translate critical thoughts” – a site for examining cultural phenomena, patterns, attitudes. Here in solidarity with the rich history of immigrant labor, he carefully joined the bags, stamping the rows of muslin rectangles with the dates of completion; the visible stitches seem to reiterate every step of the journey. The meticulously shaped and seamed sacks now create an unforetold relationship with their new space where they assume new life and connectedness with the city. In fact, Ma stated, “Everything is a semi-colon” with every object repurposed and continuously recycled in subsequent work and challenges the western notion of the discreet finished, museum-ready artwork. Adjacent to one wall atop a small tower of found plywood disks discarded from an art student’s project is a galvanized bucket with an attached poem by Ma. It holds measured hardware store paint sticks wound with skeins of “yarn” fabricated from the plastic shopping bags sewn and stretched over the bamboo frame and removed from the vessel he carried in the current video before it was burned at journey’s end. Before the bags formed the boat sides, they had been crocheted into a large hanging “fabric”. The bags also await their reincarnation into a future installation. Part of the haunting, evocative soundtrack for the video is taken from a skipping, repeating section on an old record of Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony interspersed with Tao’s violin compositions. The last symphony Tchaikovsky wrote before his suicide, the Pathetique is not an end for Tchaikovsky or this outmoded LP but is joined in a never ending chorus of consummate, melancholic beauty. The fabric bags made by anonymous Indian workers and almost discarded by the corporate store have become a commemorative wall underscoring the practices of our consumer culture willfully oblivious of the backbreaking work of factory&nbsp;slaves. Symbolically connecting the present with the past, a bell that is heard in the video soundtrack that has been used in earlier installations such as In the Red, a 2009 exhibition at Claremont Graduate Gallery in which Ma constructed his family’s original dwelling from &nbsp;floors of handmade pallets and &nbsp;suspended “walls” &nbsp;constructed from Chinese restaurant place mats recalling the ones used in the family restaurant when they were new arrivals to Los Angeles.&nbsp; In the center of the “house” sat a bowl over a power socket containing the bell ready to fill the space with its reverberations. This same bell is struck at the outset of Ma’s walk so that its vibrations would break and renew the space near the site where Chinese migrants toiled in the late 1800’s to clear way for the road used for the 20 mule team to transport borax across a rugged region called the Devil’s Golf Course.Aside from the Buddhist reflection underlying Ma’s practice—universal love and compassion, divesting oneself of the ego-centered life and attachments to permanence or outcome (often embodied in contemporary western art), the exchange of love for pain and suffering in working out negative karma, concepts of rebirth, listening to dreams, “right” behavior and awareness to promote liberation and freedom to name just a few tenets—his work shares characteristics with a number of contemporary artists and trends in critical ideas. This work has its roots in the Fluxus Movement of the 1960’s when arch proponent Guy Debord espoused experimental participatory art events in order to disrupt and break the hold of capitalism. French curator and theoretician Nicholas Bourriaud has more recently specified a tendency he calls “Relational Aesthetics” in which artists work ”within the gaps of capitalism” in order to transgress traditional notions of property and ownership and to promote “a culture of activity to counteract market induced passivity.” Further for Bourriaud, “artistic activity is a game whose forms, patterns, and functions develop and evolve according to periods and social contexts; it is not an immutable essence.” Art then operates in the realm of human interactions, not as an “assertion of private symbolic space” but as a challenge to the hierarchies entrenched in corporatism or the state and the underlying violence of globalism. Whether Rirkrit Tiravanija who hands out free soup and curry to audiences, Gabriel Orozco who slung a hammock at MOMA, or Jens Hanning who broadcast humorous stories in Turkish to disenfranchised immigrants in Copenhagen, a number of contemporary artists are fomenting tiny revolutions that take place in the face of giant superstructures, creating micro-communities and models of sociability. Their practices undermine art as commerce, opting instead&nbsp;to&nbsp;put forth ideas about art that Bourriaud describes as “a state of encounter” and a denial of “the existence of any specific ‘place of art’ in favor of a forever unfinished discursiveness …the production of gestures wins out over the production of material things.” Similarly for Ma, “the doing part of the art is like making a meal, just a process.” This kind of approach, then, necessitates downplaying artisanal craft and the usual process of exchange. For “relational” artists, if there could even be a “goal” it is to unbind the artwork, expanding its territories exponentially from pure visual pleasure, virtuosity, and limited historical readings such as “Modernism” and “Postmodernism” to integrate and interact freely with social, political, and cultural environments. Why would fine artists want to seek this position? Notwithstanding the contradictions and ironies of celebrity that accrue to artists like Tiravanija, few within the contemporary art/culture industries would deny that art has lost much of its transgressive shock value and that artists who continue to be motivated by models of alienation with hollow , spectacle driven work do so primarily as marketing strategies for financial gain. Critics like Suzi Gablik have argued that this constitutes a kind of endgame in which the avant garde epater la bourgeoisie is decadently rehashed in the hopes that that paradigm can continue to lead to fame and riches. She believes the world is in such a state of crisis that artists can use their talents and venues to promote and emphasize healing, reconciliation, and understanding by any means at their disposal without losing art’s sense of inventiveness, playful engagement, complexity, or suggestiveness. Or as Ted Purves explained in his book “What We Want is Free”, artists can examine what benefits they might bring to society through acts of generosity, exchange, and democracy. The audience becomes much more of a crucial player, a collaborator, again subverting the traditional nature and status of aesthetic endeavors. When I first became acquainted with Ma in 2007 he told me of a performance where he carried dirt filled pillowcases labeled “Made in Pakistan”, purchased at Walmart, up and down a mountain near Los Angeles. Bringing into focus labor practices that support First World consumerism, the piece is unlikely to stop Americans from supporting exploitive labor in their buying habits, but addressed levels of awareness that can be transmitted by small individual acts. On a more ambitious scale, Ma’s next piece will involve a reconstruction of his grandfather’s home in China, packing the components in shipping containers, and if possible, residing in the containers as they leave the San Pedro docks to be eventually installed on site in China. As in Born by the Riverwhich both refers to the dream sequence that “birthed” the artwork and the never ending currents of water on the globe that carry people, give life and also take it away, the river will now figuratively flow into the Pacific to not only allow Ma to reenact ancient trips, but also begin anew. Ma’s studio will morph from a small Chinatown sweatshop to a crammed crate, suggesting that the studio is no longer a specialized isolated place to produce art, but involves a continuum of spaces, locations, and configurations. Quoting the 16th century Japanese poet Basho who wrote, “And the journey itself is home” Ma could have also remarked, “And my studio is never the same but also a journey.” https://nuttaphol.com/Movements Thu, 08 Nov 2018 04:22:43 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/Movements Movements^ noun (pl.) 01: &nbsp;the progresses of events, as in a narrative, in life, in living 02: &nbsp;interconnected threads of self-contained compositions of living, of becoming; each with its own rhythm 2024 + In Silence 2022 + Meditative Shit (2022-present) 2021 + In Tandem With Time, Rivers Become 2019+ Stitching Dreams of Leaving, Dreams of Roots (2019-present) 2018+ With Liberty and Justice for All+ Wandering Movements + Think Towards Arrival, But Not Of&nbsp;Lost Heart + Remember Our Ancestral Tree + Walk with Me 2017+ Bells from an Empty Flagpole+ Juárez Tumbleweed + Mr. Proud, Why do I have to Memorize the Star Spangled Banner? 2016+ The China Outpost @ Santa Fe 2015+ Ghosts Can Cross Oceans + Across the Sky + Passages of our Inner Longing 2014+ Flower Remember Year + The China Outpost Overlooks HDTS 2013+ A Grain of Rice Under a Microscope + Shitpipe Explosion at The China Outpost 2012+ Movements to 4’33” + Heroic Mundane + An American Storage Company 2011+ Born by the River + Ruins of Daedalus’ Labyrinth 2010+ Piano Loom Tchaikovsky’s Cocoon 2009+ This Land is Your Land + In the Red + Longing and Not Be Longing 2008+ Same Same But Different + Don’t Tread On Me https://nuttaphol.com/RememberOurAncestralTree Thu, 08 Nov 2018 04:09:15 +0000 nuttaphol.com https://nuttaphol.com/RememberOurAncestralTree Remember Our Ancestral Tree^ Ayutthaya . Thailand . 06Jul18 Burnside Farm . Detroit . 29Sep2018 As Thais, we believe that spirits live in old trees. &nbsp;Oftentimes, we wrap cloths around them to signify that spirits inhabit these trees. &nbsp;At other sites in Thailand facing deforestation, monks respond by ordaining trees residing within the endangered forest. &nbsp;They wrap orange robe around the trunk of the largest or oldest trees to ward off further cuttings. &nbsp; On 29 Sep, I made a pilgrimage to pay my respect to “Grandfather Maple”, a patriarchal tree that anchors the grounds of Burnside Farm in Detroit Michigan, with a performance entitled Remember our Ancestral Tree. &nbsp;I was inspired by a photo of Grandpa Maple that was shared with me by my dear friend Kate who runs Burnside. &nbsp;The photo depicted Grandpa Maple’s presence and how he cared for the land in the midst of the fallen house in the foreground. The performance engaged with the Burnside community on a meditative journey of remembering our ancestors. The evening began with storytelling intwined with a film screening entitled “Flower Remember Year” to contextualize my performance of simple gestures in offering food to Grandpa Maple and wrapping a hand-dyed discarded fabric around the sacred tree. In the spirit of healing, the performance concluded with a communal meal that I’d prepared to honor the tree, the ancestors of this land and our personal ancestors. My performance at Burnside took a huge step.&nbsp; It transitioned my personal rituals, like the one undertook in the film, to a communal one which cultivated a shared experience with others.&nbsp; The situation I created made way for us to come together to remember our ancestors, to touch the land that we stand on, to honor it. The tree becomes metaphors for these generational threads.With food gathered from Burnside Farm and purchased at Eastern Market (a huge farmer’s market in Detroit), I began to make food for our communal meal and to make an offering to Grandfather Maple. &nbsp; I cook intuitively with heart and passion. <img width="781" height="500" width_o="781" height_o="500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/01835dea0248be8ed69dd32f1cf63e9453b4c84a91383892b9d7dd169e0aa569/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.02.png" data-mid="28005683" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/781/i/01835dea0248be8ed69dd32f1cf63e9453b4c84a91383892b9d7dd169e0aa569/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.02.png" /> <img width="954" height="503" width_o="954" height_o="503" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/851ef461b4dac0be863ee3bb472ace1e47278b57d18475b741e2b80b677f82b5/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.15.png" data-mid="28005691" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/954/i/851ef461b4dac0be863ee3bb472ace1e47278b57d18475b741e2b80b677f82b5/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.15.png" /> <img width="1168" height="758" width_o="1168" height_o="758" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/8e472b3a2bcfaf870e99152bb0a550ee8e2b8fc34a101cedbe71d5f7a343b4bc/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.31.png" data-mid="28005690" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/8e472b3a2bcfaf870e99152bb0a550ee8e2b8fc34a101cedbe71d5f7a343b4bc/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.31.png" /> <img width="1216" height="521" width_o="1216" height_o="521" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/cb2ca4d13e4976c6e37fd2f84b9a3ae11a46fa3a76aebcba954d56dae6de62ec/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.48.png" data-mid="28005689" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/cb2ca4d13e4976c6e37fd2f84b9a3ae11a46fa3a76aebcba954d56dae6de62ec/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.15.48.png" /> <img width="1211" height="432" width_o="1211" height_o="432" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/526c8f7062d26684b8ff22cf153b999345330a92e2b4f5bb3108f1c954ce35ee/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.03.png" data-mid="28005688" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/526c8f7062d26684b8ff22cf153b999345330a92e2b4f5bb3108f1c954ce35ee/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.03.png" /> <img width="1215" height="647" width_o="1215" height_o="647" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/0e747630baa1f6ca977e7354b8ff083afa10c712b8b20b5d01cec06575d9629b/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.15.png" data-mid="28005687" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/0e747630baa1f6ca977e7354b8ff083afa10c712b8b20b5d01cec06575d9629b/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.15.png" /> <img width="1212" height="827" width_o="1212" height_o="827" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/e123f58a6a3b400711dd5bf5b0c51456eda1b64019d3714419858ee74b6e3423/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.26.png" data-mid="28005686" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/e123f58a6a3b400711dd5bf5b0c51456eda1b64019d3714419858ee74b6e3423/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.26.png" /> <img width="753" height="754" width_o="753" height_o="754" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/10f77cda9d7b5eede6e32fcd09ff8cbe5445203ddd72c1a298d4bf73a5cf868b/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.45.png" data-mid="28005685" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/753/i/10f77cda9d7b5eede6e32fcd09ff8cbe5445203ddd72c1a298d4bf73a5cf868b/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.16.45.png" /> <img width="771" height="770" width_o="771" height_o="770" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/741358c04e38774e179ff54559a1cb3461d3eb0710414a42aa1ff3d13f3025e4/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.17.01.png" data-mid="28005684" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/771/i/741358c04e38774e179ff54559a1cb3461d3eb0710414a42aa1ff3d13f3025e4/Screen-Shot-2018-11-07-at-21.17.01.png" />