“Chickenshit. I might stop with all the chickenshit.
Day by day, withering by the side of my own feebleness.”
Think About The Future
Chickenshit. I might stop with all the chickenshit. Day by day, withering by the side of my own feebleness. I’m seated where I’m told. I’m complacent, no, covertly indignant of the injustice before my eyes. What can you do about it then? Whine about it? Nah, too scared. Rather than faking nonchalance like I’m some big guy whose worldliness has gotten too vain and too big, he considers it a matter of pettiness (You know what they say—hate is not the opposite of love, but indifference.) Harried as a child, pampered as an adult, and don’t forget the entitlement mentality as well as many other God-knows-what mentalities I might not yet discover!) Naiveté ill-suited to my years. Intelligence is less than that of his peers. No street-cred detected. A cousin whose wits and patrimony roll you into a foil to his brilliance.
Those ingredients bake into a dish of fecklessness nobody would like a taste. Weak man! Oh Lord, the sign of a weak and powerless man is that he couldn’t look people in the eyes anymore. A weak man’s afraid of even disclosing what he prefers, disinclined to be assertive with the world to protect what he holds dear, or does he have anything to protect at all, besides his vanity. How long the time you are given? Countless opportunities you have to redeem, yet you are here prostrating.
Every now and then, I turn to miss my grandmother and think of her words telling me that I have to be braver, and because she is one for whom I reserve my deepest deference, I would feel persistently disturbed for my failure to act likewise. Not only her now, but everybody. Several times have I gone along with it and given it a try. It went great, albeit churning out mostly misery on my part, although deep down in we was a liberating sense of freedom, of what it is like to finally gain some agency. Then conscience irked me too, with questions concerning others’ welfare and righteousness. I never really learned my lesson, but rather gave my habitual nods of “I understand it now, Sir/Miss! It won’t happen again, I promise,” then quickly moved on to another day, making another blunder because I never really learned my lessons.
I think about what lies ahead. There’re some lines and diagrams that have predetermined all that I want to be, somewhere in the chaotic jumble of my diaries. For all that ambition, much time has passed since I pledged myself to a path of self-optimization through isolation, a path that, in time, withered into delusions of grandeur. It is the curse of a deep-seated individualism, hailing in the blood, one is eternally broken and in need of fixing. I discovered that building walls around yourself, though is a quick way to wither and ignored it as usual, until the problem grew enormous—consorting with me now is a revolting option, unchoicest of all. I found myself now depending on that kindness of few ones left who could still give.
I see the future in the eyes without the repellent qualities—unfit for connections. I see it in the reckoning that men could not escape the ties to other men, and he is tied because of his own fallibility and limits. What I’m willing to put on the table? The responsibility to not be a menace to the collective you’re part of and rather, and to sacrifice more. I see it in the laughter, the love, the light brought about by the boon of cooperation. Gone were the days I avowed my disinterest in the recognition of others, discounting it as a sign of weakness. Well, I need it.
I see the future in the quote from the 2008 film, 10,000 B.C to which a random substitute teacher introduced me: A good man draws a circle around himself and cares for those within – his woman, his children. Other men draw a larger circle and bring within their brothers and sisters. But some men have a great destiny. They must draw around themselves a circle that includes many, many more. I see my future, in part, in Odysseus, the man of twists and turns in the titular Homer’s epic—with his fierceness. I see my future in the virtuous honesty my father’s got, and what he has persistently instilled in me. I see my future in the unwavering courage my sister wields. I declare my belligerence like a knight in the battlefield, and he has got something to protect—the things he holds dear to his heart.
I’m prostrating here with my confessions and a hope for what to come. Is the future ordained? In a younger period, I sought the future within the books I amassed—treating them as a fixed itinerary that defined and confined my existence. I now perceive myself as a vine ascending a pole, casting tendrils here and there, provided I do not switch supports too frequently. I am growing my leaves into a shape of my own making. It is neither the pole nor the books that dictate the outcome, but rather my own agency in choosing what to do with them— much like the Blackbird, arising into the light of a dark black night, just as McCartney (The Beatles) sang it. The Mayan calendar, as some reckoned, augured December 21, 2012 to be the last day of our existence. Upon catching wind of the augury and seeing it myself in Roland Emmerich’s Apocalyptia 2012—I, a thirteen-year-old, was petrified. The night before, we sat with our grandmother, breaking the news to her that the world would end, but got a benevolent-per-usual smile in return, plus an air of nonchalance from one who could be so savage as to dismiss any threat concerning the existence of herself and her progeny. In the event of the apocalypse day, we kids would make our little protests to spend a little more time with our families before a big tsunami would loom all over, taking lives away, but all to no avail. We were coerced into school like nothing happened, and nothing happened.
(Thoughts by Pham Viet Thang – ChiLab)
Description
This project is an experimental installation combining various media: sound, visual art, and performance, aiming to create a dialogue between the present, the past, and reflections on the future in each individual’s perspective.
The setting we created draws inspiration from images of old apartment buildings and life on the sidewalks of Vietnam. A conflict between instability and order inadvertently creates unique experiences. We cannot conclude on the merits or demerits of this transition from old lifestyles to integration during this urbanization. Therefore, we condense it into an experience that is both nostalgic and technologically advanced.
Combining props from our previous shows with biodegradable props evokes the fun, easily visible creativity seen on the streets of Vietnam.
Produced by ChiLab Vietnam
In collaboration with Dremachi Space
Participating Artists:
DJ: Dahui
Lighting: Cao Dinh Chuong– ChiLab
Perform Artist: De Ara Hirosin
Thoughts by Pham Viet Thang
Visual Artists:
Pham Viet Thang– Thien Tai– Van Van
ChiLab
Dremachi Team: Thien Tai- Thanh Hiền- Toni
Context
(The images that lingered in our minds were diverse, interesting, and multifaceted.)
“The Mayan calendar, as some reckoned, augured December 21, 2012 to be the last day of our existence. Upon catching wind of the augury and seeing it myself in Roland Emmerich’s Apocalyptia 2012—I, a thirteen-year-old, was petrified. The night before, we sat with our grandmother, breaking the news to her that the world would end, but got a benevolent-per-usual smile in return, plus an air of nonchalance from one who could be so savage as to dismiss any threat concerning the existence of herself and her progeny. In the event of the apocalypse day, we kids would make our little protests to spend a little more time with our families before a big tsunami would loom all over, taking lives away, but all to no avail. We were coerced into school like nothing happened, and nothing happened.”
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“I’m prostrating here with my confessions and a hope for what to come. Is the future ordained? In a younger period, I sought the future within the books I amassed—treating them as a fixed itinerary that defined and confined my existence. I now perceive myself as a vine ascending a pole, casting tendrils here and there, provided I do not switch supports too frequently. I am growing my leaves into a shape of my own making. It is neither the pole nor the books that dictate the outcome, but rather my own agency in choosing what to do with them— much like the Blackbird, arising into the light of a dark black night, just as McCartney (The Beatles) sang it.”
 |
 |
 |
 |
“I see the future in the quote from the 2008 film, 10,000 B.C to which a random substitute teacher introduced me: A good man draws a circle around himself and cares for those within – his woman, his children. Other men draw a larger circle and bring within their brothers and sisters. But some men have a great destiny. They must draw around themselves a circle that includes many, many more.”
“I see my future, in part, in Odysseus, the man of twists and turns in the titular Homer’s epic—with his fierceness. I see my future in the virtuous honesty my father’s got, and what he has persistently instilled in me. I see my future in the unwavering courage my sister wields. I declare my belligerence like a knight in the battlefield, and he has got something to protect—the things he holds dear to his heart.”
 |
 |
 |
 |
“I see the future in the eyes without the repellent qualities—unfit for connections. I see it in the reckoning that men could not escape the ties to other men, and he is tied because of his own fallibility and limits. What I’m willing to put on the table? The responsibility to not be a menace to the collective you’re part of and rather, and to sacrifice more.”
“I see it in the laughter, the love, the light brought about by the boon of cooperation. Gone were the days I avowed my disinterest in the recognition of others, discounting it as a sign of weakness. Well, I need it.”
“Every now and then I turn to miss my grandmother and think of her words telling me that I have to be braver, and because she is one for whom I reserve my deepest deference, I would feel persistently disturbed for my failure to act likewise. Not only her now, but everybody. Several times have I gone along with it and given it a try.”
 |
 |
“Those ingredients bake into a dish of fecklessness nobody would like a taste. Weak man! Oh Lord, the sign of a weak and powerless man is that he couldn’t look people in the eyes anymore. A weak man’s afraid of even disclosing what he prefers, disinclined to be assertive with the world to protect what he holds dear, or does he have anything to protect at all, beside his vanity. How long the time you are given, countless opportunities you have to redeem, yet you are here prostrating.”
Produced by ChiLab Vietnam
In collaboration with Dremachi Space
Participating Artists:
DJ: Dahui
Lighting: Cao Dinh Chuong– ChiLab
Perform Artist: De Ara Hirosin
Visual Artists:
Pham Viet Thang– Thien Tai– Van Van
ChiLab
Dremachi Team: Thien Tai- Thanh Hiền- Toni
