Know how, can do

By LINDA HERRICK

A few years ago, Josephine Do faced a tough choice between two paths in life: commerce or art.

As a Chinese New Zealander, filial respect for her parents' wishes was as natural as breathing, and her parents' wishes were clear. Commerce.

On the other hand, Do - who was studying art and commerce simultaneously at two Auckland universities - had become sure where her heart lay.

"There was a whole debate at home," understates the 26-year-old, who was born in Hong Kong and has lived in New Zealand since she was 7. "I'm close to my family and I always respect them but it was so hard in the first two years doing the two degrees.

"Your brain doesn't switch fast enough between the two, jumping from an arts studio to a lecture theatre with 220 people doing economics. And I've always put pressure on myself, always want to achieve the best, but the commerce degree wasn't going well. I was doing quite badly, the interest dropped, and it really disrupted my studio work. It was very worrying."

No prizes then for guessing which way she jumped. The clincher came when Do's Elam supervisor told her true artists do not dabble. "He told me you have to be really focused. You can't hang around and just come in when you want to. And he said art dealers do not want an artist who's going to be in the economics world at the same time as the art world."

That was it. "I told Mum that if you're in a career and you hate it, you're not doing anything except earning money. And it's not just the arts that are risky. There are plenty of accountants who are unemployed."

Mrs Do should be proud. Now her daughter is heading towards the final stages of her arts doctorate at Elam, where she is also a senior tutor in printmaking. Her exhibitions are winning ever-increasing levels of praise, and earlier this year she had her first solo show, China Today: Cameo Project, at Te Tuhi in Pakuranga. She has won a number of grants and scholarships, including a New Zealand Federation of Graduate Women Fellowship which allowed her to travel to China earlier this year.

And just two days ago she again flew to China to resume a project started last year as part of the ongoing China Today doctorate work. Although Do has been awarded a residency at Beijing's Red Gate Gallery in March, she's returning first to a rural aluminium factory commune in Jiang Men, a three-hour ferry ride from Hong Kong, and a remote, tough environment.

"My doctorate has been separated into three years," she explains. "The first two years was so much to do with me catching up with the history of China and a lot of the images from those years are about the history. Now, much more of the work is contemporary. What I'm interested in is China after 2000, the great changes. But the other thing I am trying to suss out is the difference between the rural places and the cities like Beijing and Shanghai, the differences in the living standards."

She shows me the letter approving her first visit to the Hoi Po Industrial Co Ltd (the factory). The letter is addressed to Pui Yee Do, her Cantonese name, and the research subject is "Human Subjects".

That pretty much sums it up, says Do. "I wanted to contrast life in the cities with a small village and I thought I might as well form some sort of relationship with the factory so I can see the living standard of the lower class, the working class.

"I was very surprised, the living standard is so low. But for them it's not appalling ... they don't regard it as a bad life, it's just life. They all live and work in a very small place and work very hard for long hours."

Do says although her stay at the factory was uncomfortable and lonely - "I'd be thinking, Why? Why? What am I doing?" - she had to do it, to stop being perceived as a tourist. "When I started talking to them they weren't so comfortable. They knew I was a stranger and from somewhere that wants to do a report on them. They are proud of China and they don't want me to be saying bad things.

"There was still a bit of hiding the real lifestyle but because I was there for quite a few weeks I got to know them better and I worked in the factory as well. Sightseeing is not enough - you have to be in their routine, work with them, live with them, have the same meal, not be the special one."

The experience gave Do an insight into the next generation of young Chinese people - many of whom come here to study - benefiting from their parents' sacrifices.

"The parents know the next generation will have a better life, that's why they do all the hard work now. That's a strong thing for all the Chinese. But the children often don't know what sort of place their father or mother is working in, so they don't appreciate the hard work. They just spend all the money.

"After you've been to China and come back you have a different angle to the Chinese people here. I'm not racist but I don't have many Chinese friends - we are quite different. I do know quite a few young Chinese people here who are spoiled and you know why: whatever the young one wants, their parents will give them. But the parents don't know whether their children are working hard here or just mucking around."

That growing disparity between the generations is informing Do's highly detailed work, which is made with a process of photography, computer cutting and pasting, collage, inkjet printing and hand work.

"A lot of my art work will have two layers, like the dad working hard in the background making noodles and the little child playing with a digital camera. There is some sort of message that pops in."

Although she is a distinctively "Chinese" artist, a growing proportion of New Zealand references are creeping in, odd items like a kiwifruit, a Link bus. The Chinese/New Zealand ratio will eventually change, she reckons, "from 90/10 per cent to 50/50".

Do returns from China in April, bringing back work and ideas for a major solo show at the Lane Gallery in June which will be assessed for her doctorate.

Discovering China has been good for Do and, by osmosis, good for her art.

"The first time I went to China it was bizarre. I couldn't speak Mandarin and I felt like a tourist. But the visit was starting to relate to my work. It was a real crossing of identity. In my bachelor's degree, there was nothing to do with identity, it was just abstract, just a bit of prettiness.

"But the first year of my masters I decided I wanted to do something that is interesting personally, and I've been lucky. I've come into art at the right time when cultural issues and race are being talked about in either negative or positive ways.

"Being in China and seeing what it's really like makes me much braver and stronger in my art work. I can throw in any colours I want, and I can be much more ambitious than making pretty pictures."