Julie O’Yang and Jeremy Fernando converse about writing, reading, art—not just as separate crafts, but as gestures that open registers in each other. A writer is always already her first reader; a painter has to bring both reading and writing together in her imagination whilst—and at their highest level both are forms of art. But, even as they come together, they remain irreducibly different—only perhaps in ways that remain veiled from us. As an acknowledgment that they may never be able to unveil anything about writing, art, or reading—that their conversation is a gamble that may open nothing other than the fact that O’Yang and Fernando are speaking—their dialogue bears echoes of Tumbling Dice.

julie 超辣

Determined dreamer. Published author in English, Dutch, and Chinese. Former People’s Liberation Army (PLA) captain turned artist entrepreneur and screenwriter. She survived the Cultural Revolution as a baby. In the 1990’s she left for London and has lived and worked in free exile ever since. Her work covers a wide spectrum. As journalist, she creates content covering a range of topics on contemporary China from an insider perspective. In 2008, during the Beijing Olympics, she hosted a 5-episode talk show TV China for Netherlands’ national broadcaster and discussed China’s media landscape with media stars and experts from both China and the Netherlands. From 2013-2016 she was the Editor-in-Chief of the English/Chinese bilingual magazine XiN 新, focusing on today’s China shaped by consumerism. O’yang contributes a weekly column to Hoje Macau on contemporary Chinese art and culture. Her English language book titles include: Butterfly, a historical crime love story set in the Second World War. Since May 2016 O'yang has been collaborating with Flemish photographer Filip Naudts on an art project, which has resulted in the photo novel The Picture of Dorya Glenn. Julie works from the Netherlands and Denmark.

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1 Comment

  1. Jeremy Fernando says “Clearly, to you, writing is creation, invention. However, we are also never using our own language: it is borrowed, stolen, an act of memory—in other words, an act of reading.” And it’s true, one can maintain nothing is original. Yet to qualify our – my? – language as stolen is an act of invention. It transforms an inner universe.

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