George Major, UK / Hong Kong

Residency Period: 18 September 2016 - 31 May 2017


Bio

Native of London, UK and currently residing in Hong Kong, George Major holds BA (Hons) in Fine Art and Philosophy from University of Reading, (2006) and a MFA in Art Writing from Goldsmiths College. (2012) His work approaches epistemology and historiography, and has been presented and performed at Chisenhale Gallery (2011), Whitechapel Gallery (2012), the ICA (2012), and the Barbican Centre (2013). In 2014, his collaboration with artist Maru Rojas, Urban Myths of the Near Future, was shortlisted for the Camaradas award, presented by the Mexican Embassy in London; as well, their Moby Dick Murder Mystery (bilingual) Floating Participatory Theatre featured at the Dieppe/Newhaven Art Festival. From 2008 until 2012, he was director of the itinerant gallery Squid & Tabernacle. S&T staged exhibitions, live events and film screenings in a variety of spaces including a disused tailor’s shop, a shipping container, art festivals and studio complexes. Between 2011 and 2015, he was a prominent member of the free alternative arts education initiative AltMFA, who as a group, exhibited widely, appearing at London’s Art Licks Weekend and Kurt Schwitters’ Merz Barn.

URL: www.georgemajor.com


On-hiatus Proposal Summary

George used to run with an athletics club when he was at school. He has always liked the idea of doing an ultra long distance running race although while living in London, he had barely broke into a jog in 15 years. Instead, he would walk everywhere, imaging the streets as a kind of palimpsest document of stories, myths and history, appended with literary references and creative possibilities. He developed an intimate relationship to his own city through walking, a source for many ideas for his art practice.

It was two years ago when he moved to Hong Kong that running suddenly came back to him; he entered a 50 km mountain race and since then, he has ran four 50km races, a couple of mountain marathons and so many shorter races that he has begun to lose track of them. He has explored more of the territory’s countryside, passed through more backwater fishing villages and isolated hilltops than many Hong Kong born people – to a point that he toyed with the idea of declaring that his artistic practice is now chiefly concerned with running.

George’s on-hiatus residency at RFAOH might be directly related to his obsession with running (an obsession his girlfriend finds “unhealthy”.) He will train for and run a 100km race as well as aim to beat his previous times in each of the other races he has done. Whether he will finally come to declare that “running”=”his art” or not, he hopes that his on-hiatus activity and its documentation as a creative exercise will be a chance to reflect on the impact of what he’s choosing to do, and reawaken his practice. He also wants to get to know his new city, a bit faster this time, than the 30 years he took for his hometown, London.


Final Report

I haven't thought much about art-making over the past year. At the start of the residency I was thinking about parallels between my hiatus activity and being an artist. Both, I think, require a similar mindset; bloody mindedness, ability to derive satisfaction from something that is not always fun and that can be hard to explain to others. Distance running is very much a lonely, solo pursuit where your main opponent is your own self-doubt. Yet it is also something that is done in big groups much of the time. This dichotomy may have some equivalence to being an artist. There is an unspoken rule at races that people congratulate each-other on their performances no-matter how badly they've done, there's a general camaraderie. I've never quite been able to work out how this compares to being an artist in a social setting around other artists.

Speaking of social activity. The past season of running I have become far more involved in the social side of the activity, but I've had increasingly little interest in writing about it, posting pictures on social media and so on. As far as running in races has gone - I had moderate success to start with. But, as I've written before, I overdid it and it stopped being fun for a while. I'm now really looking forward to when the racing season starts again, but as for art-making... I quit teaching at Christmas to concentrate on writing (I'm now editing magazines for a living), and that has opened new avenues for me. Over the past month I have got to know the city's art galleries a lot better than I did before. I think the gallery scene in Hong Kong is far less accessible than in my native London, had it not been for my writing work, I don't think I would have been able to make any gallery contacts. Not that I'm looking at getting a gallery show or anything. A vague idea has been knocking around in the back of my head though.

I've loads of bits of writing I've been sitting on for ages. I need to finish one or two of those. I'm doing some work for Hong Kong Art Gallery Association, so I'm really glad to be getting involved with art in HK at last. And I'm still running, I'm signed up to a 168km race in December and a few between now and then.

For a city of its size, Hong Kong is very lacking in art museums. I've a vague notion of doing a sort of HK reworking of Broodthaers' Musee d'Art Moderne Departement des Aigles - although I'm hesitant. I don't want to create a snarky/internet meme/bantz piece of work. I've not had much contact with London-based artist friends and former collaborators so far this year - although I did write a text for a publication by a group I used to collaborate with, in which I tried to sum up why I wasn't making art at the moment. I've reproduced the text below:

 

THERE’S NO HOME WITHOUT A HAUNTING

I am a sub-urbanist, I have gone out looking for the city’s grand narratives along my own nondescript residential street. For years I never looked further than I could walk in a day.

I was in London most of my life; a city of one thousand and one villages that have merged over time to create a single conurbation. On my tours of mundane suburbia I became interested in the origins of place names. Many places, according to various local myths, got their names during the black death. But in almost every case, the folk etymology was demonstrably wrong. Still, that the same untrue grand narrative was repeated so frequently suggested that the trauma of the second bubonic plague pandemic is still echoing around the collective subconscious even after centuries have passed. I moved to Hong Kong. For two years I enjoyed life in a ballardian high-rise apartment. The city seemed strangely familiar, but when I wandered my new local streets looking for stories, I found none.

Later on I moved to an older part of the city. My new apartment was a little run-down but surprisingly cheap, given its central location and large size. I joked that maybe something terrible had once happened there. Hongkongers are generally very wary of potentially haunted houses. You can bag a real bargain by checking the database of addresses where murders and suicides have occurred. I decided it was best not to look up my new address on the database. Just this week I learnt that when the third bubonic plague pandemic reached Hong Kong in 1894 the outbreak was centred on the village of Tai Ping Shan, which stood metres from where my apartment was later built. I learnt that my neighbourhood played an important role in Franco-Swiss scientist Alexandre Yersin’s discovery of the plague-causing bacillus.

According to the story I heard, unclaimed corpses were left in the local temples during the outbreak. I had already noticed that during the Hungry Ghost Festival in August, when offerings are burnt in the street to appease restless spirits, my new neighbourhood became very active and the air filled with smoke.

Tai Ping Shan Street is now home to a mixture of hip coffee shops and traditional coffin workshops. The area is popular with young French-speakers. But back in colonial times it was an overcrowded, unsanitary slum. When the plague arrived the British burned the village to the ground. (Hong Kong, 3 November 2016)"


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recent comments


Three dreaded letters: DNF

Proper planning prevents piss poor performance, that’s what I always say. Of course, that only works if you stick to the plan. There were two races on Sunday, starting together and running concurrently, one over a distance of 24km and mine, over a distance of 52km. I had two alarms set to wake me up on Sunday morning, all my gear was ready, I knew the course well and had worked out optimum split times for each section, I arrived at the start line with time to spare.

Here’s the view from the start; Hong Kong just before dawn:

img_20161023_055238

 

Last week Hong Kong was affected by two typhoons, torrential monsoon rains and flooding. I was expecting a wet, muddy run.

7am , the starting gun fired and off we went. The first 10km was a mix of trail and tarmac with a lot of downhill. I got to 10km inside the top five runners and 8 minutes ahead of my plan. This is when I should have slowed down to save energy and get back on plan. Instead I settled into a pack of runners keeping pace with this guy. Great bloke, but unfortunately he was pacing himself for the 24km race, so by halfway I was fifteen minutes faster than planned and already starting to overheat.

The runner who went on to win the race overtook me at about 30km. We chatted and agreed that the morning was way hotter than anticipated, but the temperature would be ok as long as the sun didn’t come out.

I eased off the pace. Every time the trail crossed a stream or waterfall I dunked my head under to cool off, by 35km I was feeling good and overtaking again. I was still inside the top ten runners.

Then at 40km I started to be sick. I’d been carefully managing my intake of water, energy and electrolytes, but was starting to get heatstroke. There was an aid station at 42km, I guzzled a litre of water and filled two flasks to last me the final 10km. 

The last section of the course includes three big hill climbs and descents, I’d run this route before, all I had to do was stick it out until the finish line.

The sun came out.

By the time I was coming down the penultimate hill I was stumbling, struggling not to vomit and was low on water. At 45km I found a race marshal, lay down on the ground and puked.

Looking back, it’s easy to think ‘I could have made it up that last hill, I was so close to the finish.’ But in reality, I know that if I tried to continue I’d have been in big trouble. I used to pride myself on never having dropped out of a race. One time when I was a junior track and field athlete I finished a steeplechase with what turned out to be a damaged knee ligament and ended up unable to walk unaided for a couple of weeks. That was a dumb thing to do. Dropping out on Sunday was probably the right call. It means I have a chance to get fit in time to race again next weekend. But I’m still gutted. For the first time ever my race result says ‘Did Not Finish’. DNF.

Leave a Comment (2)

Wayne Lim wrote on Oct 31:

On the bright side, you probably discovered where your limit is?

co-director (m) wrote on Oct 26:

Its a shame about the DNF but its better than your vitals shutting down I guess. Better luck next weekend!

 


Joining a team

Over the summer I had a lot of fun joining a few running groups, meeting other runners and generally being a bit more sociable than usual. One week I set out to join seven Hash House running clubs in one week. Hash Houses, in case you’ve not heard of them before, are groups who meet weekly to run following a trail set in advance by a member known as the ‘hare’, then all go for dinner afterwards. They drink a lot of beer too, earning them a reputation as “drinking clubs with a running problem”. I only managed to join six groups over the week, and I ended up writing an article about it for Time Out Magazine.

Here are members of the Hong Kong Ladies’ Hash following the trail down a storm drain:

DCIM100GOPROG0093205.
I suppose Hashes are a combination of running, urbex and Binge-drinking. Anyway, tomorrow is my first ultramarathon of the season, so for the past few weeks I’ve been putting in a lot of preparation and doing a lot of milage on my own.

screenshot_20161022-195623

In a previous post I briefly mentioned how photographers along the course spurred me on during my last race; with me wanting to look fast on Facebook. Well, on the subject of social media, I should mention Strava. Strava (which you can see in the screenshot above) is a social network for runners and cyclists. On the one hand it is a really useful tool for tracking your progress and keeping motivated, the downside is that it turns every weekday evening training run into a race. People can see your speed, cumulative weekly and monthly kilometres, every time you run your performance gets ranked alongside hundreds of other people. It has the potential to bring all the anxiety of social media into your daily run.

Still, it is a good way to stay social while doing long solo training runs.

And finally, on the subject of being sociable, I have been recruited onto a team for the Hong Hong Trail Racing League. Every time I race this season, I will be earning points (hopefully) for my new team. I’m really excited about taking part, the league has a really nice ethos, but the added competition does add a little more pressure for tomorrow.

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