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.
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.
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)"
My two aims for the weekend were to finish the race and to have fun doing it. I can report that I finished the race.
The course crossed cloud-covered mountaintops, passed spectacular waterfalls and skirted mangroves along the coast before ending up along secluded forest paths. Springtime seemed to arrive over the course of the morning, the weather turning from misty and cool to hot and humid.
The day was only slightly marred by the work of saboteurs.
As is standard practice, the race director sent forerunners out in the morning to check the route. They found that over a whole section of the course the trail marking signs had been torn down. Between the forerunners fixing the signs and the runners arriving in the area, the saboteurs returned and moved the signs again to send runners the wrong way. People were sent all over the place, I did 1.5-2km extra, lost nearly 10 minutes and around 30 places in the race (after having worked hard to get a good start).
The most frustrating thing is that last year, in the same race, in the same part of the course, exactly the same thing happened. It seems some local villagers object to races passing near their village. It’s not an environmental concern, they’re happy to leave the torn-up race markers scattered in the bushes. They’re just spoilsports.
So, not a great result. But no big deal. My two aims were to finish and to have fun doing it. And I think I managed to have a little fun along the way.
I was keen to continue my run of good results in the third race of King of the Hills. If I could do as well as I did in the Lantau race I’d be well on track to get into the overall series top ten. But after my vomit-stricken struggle over the finish line at 9 Dragons the previous weekend I was feeling very much sub-prime come race day.
Nevertheless, I started well at a sensible pace. It was a beautiful morning to be out, there were some really tough remote trails. By halfway I was not the only runner bloodied from falls and scratched up from pushing through thick undergrowth.
The big climbs were in the second half of the race. This is where the tiredness from the previous weekend caught up with me. I hadn’t been eating properly either; after making myself sick the week before, my stomach still wasn’t feeling quite right. It all began to fall apart, I had no energy and runners started to effortlessly overtake. Then, with about 10km left to run I missed a turning. By the time I realised my mistake I was way off-course. I wasn’t totally lost. I knew there was a road nearby that would lead me directly to the finish..
I walked back along the road to the finish line and got there before the first finishers arrived. The timing chip I was wearing set off the sensor at the finish, and for a moment my name appeared at the top of the results. When I got my bag back and turned my phone on I had a congratulatory message from a friend who was watching the results online and thought I had won (he had made the wise choice not to race and to recover properly from 9 Dragons instead). I had to disappoint him with the truth that, far from winning, I had earned another DNF.
But the following week I was due some R&R, heading to a friend’s wedding in Thailand. The words ‘stag night on a Thai island‘ filled me with anticipation… Unfortunately, I had made myself pretty sick with the previous two weeks of exertion.
I was ill from the moment I got on the plane. To make matters worse, our direct flight to the south of Thailand was cancelled, meaning we had to leave Hong Kong just before 1am, arrive in Bangkok at 3am, wait in the airport for a connecting flight at 7am, get to our destination and then rush to catch a 10am ferry connection for a 2 hour boat ride. With my digestive system going ballistic, it was a very long journey.
Still, it was nice to arrive here:
Needless to say, I was a bit lacklustre on the Thai stag night. The rest of the week was a little more relaxed, although a diet of curry, fried seafood and alcohol didn’t really help speed up my recovery.
But by the end of the trip I was getting back to normal.
And now, after three weeks rest, the final King of the Hills race is coming this weekend. I feel like I need a confidence boost after the previous race, just finishing will be enough.
I’ve not posted in a little while – it’s been a busy few weeks…
I had a blinder at the 9 Dragons race. 5th in the 50km, 3rd in my age category. I set out running with the leaders for 20km, aiming to do a slower middle section of the race and have a bit of energy left for the finish. Didn’t quite to to plan as, after a slightly unwise mid-race nutrition choice (that’s a nice euphemism isn’t it, I had some Pepsi which was way too fizzy) I started being sick at about halfway (the race was a little longer than billed, so halfway was about 27km). I could’t drink anything for the second half of the race so started getting overtaken on the last couple of kilometres and dragged myself over the finish line feeling totally broken.
Great job by the race organisers, local craft beer and BBQ at the finish, beanbags and massages. Here I am collapsed with a finish-line beer. Not the most flattering look.
Anyway, the following weekend was the third in the King of the Hills series. Which deserves a post of its own I suppose…