Written By: Saiya Floyd
Earlier this summer, we spoke to three New York based artists on how they were handling the current pandemic. We spoke to Wynton Wong (interview on 5/13/20), Vera Chow (interview on 5/14/20), and Chithra Jeyaram (interview on 6/12/20).
Wong is a filmmaker, Chow, a costume designer and Chithra Jeyaram, a documentary filmmaker. All three have been staying in place in New York City throughout the peak of the pandemic (Wong in Brooklyn, Chow in Queens, and Jeyaram in Harlem).
Though they have each had different ways to cope with the current pandemic, they all retained a sense of optimism through art and community.
Vera Chow
Vera Chow is taking COVID-19 in stride. She says she’s doing, “Good, I’m staying as productive as possible while trying not to be too hard on myself when I’m not, you know … Professionally, I was supposed to have one of my biggest career breaks in my life, and then it kind of depends … I’m trying to not freak out about it. As you know, I’m a designer for movies and TV so I’m still trying to stay productive, doing a lot of artwork that is very AAPI heavy.” At the time of our interview, she wasn’t able to talk more about her current project, but will be the show’s first AAPI department head. While Chow was aware that writers’ rooms were working on scripts and producers were pitching shows, at the time of our interview, productions were still shut down. Chow, like many other production team members could only wait for the go-ahead for them to resume work too.
Waiting did not mean Chow stayed idle. “I’ve been very active in our unions, because I am part of the costume designer and the worker-supervisor union,” Chow said although presently she is no longer with the worker-supervisor union. She followed industry news, but no one seemed to really have a clear idea of what was going on or what would happen next. Chow was concerned about the safety of sets. “There’s a game of what studio vs. network vs. union vs. individual freelancers on what we consider safety, insurance liability, because you know, studio rules are very different from what we want the rules to be. These bureaucratic things normally scare me, but I have been forcing myself to be very active in it or else they’re just going to step all over us just to make that movie.” The efforts of Chow and fellow union members seems to so far be paying off. “The more I have been involved, I feel the comfort that our voices are being heard.” Different unions have pushed back against suggestions, bringing up their experience to build out guidelines that are realistic on an actual set.
Chow was able to bring her own on-set experience to these discussions. She has worked in American and Asian-American co-productions. Chow herself is originally from Hong Kong, where her family and many of her high school friends still live. “So I have a lot of people over there, so I kind of saw this coming. I think all Asians, Asian Americans, or Asian communities saw this coming months before America knew it was happening. I feel like we all had friends and family that were like ‘buy some masks now’ way ahead of everyone else. I think a lot of us were shocked it took the government that long to just talk about surface contamination, to talk about the surgical masks … all that.” She goes on to add, “The ultimate dream for most Asians in Asia is to eventually come to America or England or Canada or whatever, right?” She laughs. “How the tables have turned now!”
It was in Hong Kong that Chow began her artistic journey, and also her political art journey. “When I was in high school, college, I used to draw a lot. They were usually personal. Sometimes they were actually political.” In 1997, during the Hong Kong/China handover, she drew art that did not portray China in the most positive light. “I remember my teacher pulling me aside saying, ‘this is one of the best work I’ve seen but we really can’t post that.’” As Chow became a costume designer, her art revolved around her work. “I would randomly sketch … but you know, no one really gives you the time to sketch or draw that much anymore, or you’re not going to be particularly political about it.” But with productions halted and sets closed, Chow found herself with the time. “I just picked it back up, basically. The first couple ones … you know those Instagram drawing challenges? They were like ‘draw an orange,’ ‘draw a pineapple.’ And then I was like, ‘I’m going to one-up all you. I’m going to one-up all you phone sketchers,’” Chow joked. She went on to add, “And then it just kind of took off from there. I just picked up something I hadn’t really done in 10 years.” Art has become a useful outlet for her. “I’ve been addressing my … you know I guess our fears of racism and our concerns about the government, and a lot of that stuff I’ve been just channeling into my artwork which is nice to do it not for a paycheck for a change. ”
Using art to explore broader racism is a new venture for Chow. Before the pandemic, she was active in AAPI movements, but her focus was on Hollywood. That’s changed since the pandemic. “I expected the pandemic to start some sort of racism, but what ended up happening kind of surpasses my wildest nightmares, you know? I think we all suspected some sort of side eye, and a comment or two, but not really to the extent of like stabbings and acid pouring, you know? That kind of went beyond what I thought. I knew it was coming, but not to this level. And so, that’s when my, I guess activism, kind of went a little bit … ‘we just have bigger problems now than that in Hollywood.’” She hopes to connect to some Asian visual artists doing artwork related to issues facing the community, such as representation or facing racism in a charity gala. (Chow has an idea to join forces with other Asian visual artists to do a show to raise money towards Asian small businesses). Intercommunity support is important to Chow, as she notices different groups within the Asian community sometimes at odds with each other. “We’re just not one yet.”
In a post-quarantine world, when Chow is back to work, she might have less time for other art, but she hopes to keep her activism in all areas of Asian issues going, including breaking the model minority myth. “[I don’t want to] lose interest the second I get back into ‘oooh, I’m a designer for movies and none of these other things matter.’ I don’t want to be that way. Asians just don’t speak up, we just don’t say anything somehow … So I hope after this, I don’t just coast after other people’s hard work.”
Follow Vera on Instagram and check out her website to follow her latest projects.
Chithra Jeyaram
COVID-19 has touched Chithra’s Jeyaram’s life both personally and professionally. She was working on a documentary called “Our Daughters” (about adoption from an immigrant’s experience). As the virus spread, Jeyaram received constant updates from her assistant editor, who is based near Hubei province. A few weeks before New York went into lockdown in March, Jeyaram and her team stopped their work, imposing their own social distancing measures. “We stopped working I think maybe two weeks before New York closed. We were like, okay we are going on some self imposed restriction of movement and then I think from the last two or three weeks, I’m definitely feeling the impact of it in India, and you know on the global — countries in Africa and Asia.”
In the early months of lockdown, she only left to get food. She was so nervous about leaving the apartment, she gave herself an assignment: document what she saw. “When I took my phone out and started to film something, I was distracted from my fear. It was my crutch to go out. I would take it to walk over to Central Park and then when I started seeing people … because you’re filming, you’re seeing all these things and it really calmed me.” Seeing people working out or families playing at safe distances made Jeyaram less afraid when she ventured out.
She also kept busy by attending the IFP Documentary Lab and Sheffield Doc Fest. Normally the IFP Lab happens in Brooklyn and the Sheffield festival is hosted in the U.K., but both events were done virtually this year. The IFP Lab is a five-day event, and was a totally different experience. Jeyaram found herself missing the natural camaraderie that came from grabbing a coffee with her cohort or eating meals together. Even presenting projects had its drawback. “Everyone else is on mute, you don’t respond to something, you don’t hear, you don’t feel emotional acknowledgement, or you don’t see the other person nodding at you and saying ‘I see you, I get what you’re saying.’” Despite the Zoom fatigue that set in, Jeyaram felt she got valuable feedback from her peers. And she found industry meet and greets for these events to be surprisingly beneficial. Instead of jostling in a crowded room hoping to flag someone down for a quick conversation, the one-on-ones actually felt like one on ones. “It felt more relaxed and it felt more of a level playing field because you sort of were in that person’s personal space … You got a window into their life which you don’t when they come in as ‘I’m the industry expert from this organization and I’m meeting you’ and there’s a bit of a hierarchy and a separation. And it was sort of really disarming when they’re like ‘I’m sorry my 10 -month-old might come into the frame’ or ‘I’m struggling teaching and doing this at the same time.’”
Personal space for Jeyaram was very important in how she coped with the outbreak: she turned to cooking and gardening. “You need to feel positive to find something to hold onto. For me, finite things like cooking, you know, where you have control over what goes into the dish and then you have immediate gratification. And gardening, where you put a seed in and you see leaves come out, and flowers come … seeing my niece on FaceTime or you know, like, moments to celebrate little things. Those are where you tend to hold space for.” She liked being able to control what went into her dishes, and the creativity it allowed, especially with limited trips to the grocery stores. “You learn to make due with what you have and get creative with it. This is what we have, what can we make with it?”
Gardening was something she had done during summers with her grandparents, who are farmers. On her patio in Harlem, Jerayam has grown flowers and vegetables she’s been able to eat. “It’s me revisiting this really happy moment and also appreciating that OK, if we are stuck at home, what can I do that I had fun doing and maybe something I won’t be doing if I get back to filmmaking and things get back to normal, then you’re not going to be home for three, four months. ” Like cooking, gardening gave her a sense of control. “The ability to nurture something sort of gives you [the sense] that you can make something better, and that’s something we are not having in this moment because everything else outside is out of our control right now and that is so terrifying to deal with, so this has been really good”.
Jerayam has found some sporadic work editing fundraising trailers, but it’s not consistent. “I know that there are colleagues that I’m working with that are also facing the same issue that I’m facing: fundraising issues and making decisions: do I spend money now, should I save money because I don’t know how long this is going to be.” At the time of her interview, Jerayam was cautiously optimistic about New York entering its Phase 1 opening. She worried that if the economic uncertainty continued, she’d be faced with difficult decisions, like selling her camera or some of her computers. Still, she found reason to hope. “I saw that Canada is opening theaters back up. So that gave me a high, even if they are opening up a 200 seat at 50 seat capacity, it still sounds positive. So I kind of look for these kinds of things. Like, okay, Europe is getting there, Canada is getting there, you know. Then if they’re all getting there, there is hope for us to get there. So I’m telling myself that by fall we’ll have some semblance of activities, that this economic burden will not be as bad as it is now. And that’s the only thing I’m trying to think about,” she laughs, “because everything else sounds too bleak.”
Chithra’s latest work can be found on the Reel Talkies website. Since speaking with us in June, Chithra has been working on a CBSN Originals series called “Speaking Frankly.” Her episode — about monuments, brands, statues and racial justice — premiered on September 24th.
Wynton Wong
“I am doing alright. Every day is a little bit different,” Wong says. “I think after the first month, there was a bit of a change because during the first month, there was just more motivation to try and figure things out for yourself. And then after that first month, it really hit me that we would be living this way for a while.” We spoke to Wong in May, when she, like much of New York, started to settle into a routine. “Now there’s just a lot more resources out there on top of personal experience to start rebuilding a routine that will work.” Wong has built herself a routine, which at first felt counterintuitive to her as a creative person, but helped her find concentration. “I think routine can sometimes seem like a really strict word. But having things — specific kind of checkpoints in the day — have been helpful for me.”
Part of that routine is connecting with her parents in North Carolina. “For the first month, my mom and I talked every night. We would call each other at least a couple times a week if not once a week minimum pre-pandemic. But yeah, that first month of knowing, that like after I got out of work, after I made some dinner, that like we were going to have a conversation was really, really helpful.” Another, less helpful part of her day-to-day life is reading the news. “I work in news, so every day I kind of have to read the news. I envy people that don’t have to.”
Despite this overexposure to the news, one of the projects Wong is working on in her free time is what she describes as an audit to the news — specifically of Asian diaspora media online. “One of the things that has probably been irking me for a really long time but I think that this pandemic has really kind of illuminated even more is kind of the lack of reputable Asian diaspora media outlets.” Even sources that have produced work Wong admires — such as Huffington Post and NBC’s Asian verticals — are understaffed. She finds it disheartening that a lot of Asian Americans go to meme accounts for news. She has found a lot of talented Asian American and journalists scattered, and likens this to a chicken and egg problem: consumers won’t value good journalism and media unless they get good media targeted at them, but without the viewers, outlets are unwilling to invest in the market. She hopes an audit can help.
A more relaxing endeavor is the Thursday night art accountability group she joined. “Every week, we have a theme that we create against.” The group, which consists of a singer/songwriter, photographer, and artists who work in multiple mediums has had themes like “dark blue” and “empires.” “It’s been really nice to have that. To be able to create not for anybody but ourselves in this group, to have a theme to start off with that isn’t too restricting, and for a lot of us, I think it’s an excuse to maybe play with new tools or refine a skill that we haven’t used in a while.” Wong has created digital paintings from Photoshop and videos. Creating videos when she isn’t able to capture a lot of new footage has proven a creative challenge that she relishes. “I think that it’s funny like that we’re kind of forced to find these things, but I do hope that we continue, or at least, I continue to have this kind of accountability group, post all of this stuff. And I think the big thing for me is that it’s been really exciting to just feed that curiosity again, and just execute instead of getting really worried about ‘is it a waste of my time’ or ‘can I be doing something better’ or ‘can I make it better’ or whatever. And so that’s been surprisingly freeing, and something that I would not have expected, being stuck inside.”
Another activity that has forced Wong to flex her creative solving problems is AAIFF. Wong is the Program Manager of the Asian American International Film Festival, which decided to go online for 2020 due to the pandemic. “I think it’s something that no organizer was fully prepared for. I think that … there were some festivals, especially some of the larger festivals that had online components. But you know, none of us were really ready for this. And none of us, being not only festival organizers, but like filmmakers, distributors, sale agents, a theater, exhibitors, like … nobody in this system was ready.”
Agents and distributors are a big part of festivals that people might overlook, as film festivals are an important place where deals happen. “A lot of conversation that is happening in the bigger film industry often doesn’t include marginalized communities. So the biggest thing is that our film festival is an industry festival in the sense that there are deals that get made from people that go to AAIFF.” This meant a tricky balancing act of making sure filmmakers were taken care of and given opportunities they would get at in-person festivals. At the same time, Wong and the festival leaders wanted to make sure they were servicing their audience. “Are we making sure that the Asian American audience that is often not allowed to explore independent film, or explore narratives that aren’t kind of mainstream, do they feel like they’re getting something out of it as well? And for AAIFF in particular, we’re a festival that prides itself on trying to find kind of the next boundary pushing thing, so we want weird things, and we want to challenge our audiences to maybe look at something that they wouldn’t have ever thought of.” Wong takes pride in the fact that this year’s AAIFF lineup includes more queer, political, and experimental content and continues to push the envelope.
At the time of the interview, before the final decision to move the festival online had been made, Wong noted that most of their contacts at the independent and art house theaters that AAIFF normally works with had been furloughed or even laid off. Contacts the team had spent years building relationships with — some who by this point Wong considered friends — had vanished, and left behind a void of information.
“It’s a really complicated problem and it’s a function of the fact that film is the intersection of art and business, but we will continue to try to figure out some type of solution that hopefully is a fun time to as many as possible and to make those things as accessible as possible.” Producing the festival online could be just as expensive as a physical festival, but the question was how much can you fairly charge the audience for an online experience? ACV is a nonprofit, who puts most of their profit from AAIFF straight into the next year’s festival. “Having to price tickets at $5 or $10 instead of the normal $16 that we charge at the normal festival is going to make a difference. And so we’re still trying to figure that out.”
Wong noted that if people don’t feel comfortable in their financial and physical security, they are less likely to value art. “We have to break that cycle … What is it that you’re doing when you’re stuck at home? You’re consuming art. You’re watching TV, you’re watching movies. And those stories are affecting you in some way, and so there is a value to it, and it’s been interesting to see people saying that they want more representation. And part of it is, you have to kind of put your money where your mouth is, unfortunately.”
It’s impossible to ignore the business aspect of artistic endeavors. “That’s just how the U.S. works — that’s how the film industry works — is that you have to pay, right? You have to value the artists as not just producers of these things, but as people.So buying a ticket is really helpful; sharing a post is really helpful.” Wong notes that the pandemic is deepening existing class divides, with people who have the means to support art within the community aren’t, while those without the means are suffering even more. “Asian Americans have been trying to make good art and to an extent have succeeded in a lot of areas, but have been trying to make good art that breaks the mainstream consciousness for decades. And part of it is on the system, but part of it is also on us as a community.”
In the end, the founding values of AAIFF were the programming team’s guiding light. “I think what is the one good thing of being a smaller festival and being a festival that’s focused on marginalized communities is that our values are really clear. And so any decisions that we come up against, ultimately, if they can at least match those values, then we have a direction to go towards.” Part of that is finding good content to share. Still, Wong acknowledges that not all community members —- such as the elderly, or those in rural areas — may be able to participate this year, due to lack of accessibility to reliable internet.
At the end of the day, “Our priorities are still the filmmakers and the community members. Everything else we will figure out.”
Follow Wynton’s Instagram and Twitter for her latest projects, including programming the 43rd Asian American International Film Festival which runs virtually October 1 through October 11. Tickets and events information can be found at aaiff.org.