南疆 [Southern Xinjiang]
This project uses audio, visual, and text to encapsulate the myriad of sounds, scenes and stories that I witnessed during my time in Southern Xinjiang. From the beautiful sights of Tashkurgan to the buzzing and chaos of the bazaar, my time in Xinjiang was short but full of stories I will never forget - and can’t be described by just words, video or photos.
The project consists of five series of digital and analog photos, sounds and videos:
Nature Photography in Tashkurgan
Kashgar Old City
Bager Aygiz Village
Bazaars
Yengisar County
Tashkurgan
Kashgar Old City
A conversation I had with one of the kids in the Old City playing soccer at night:
“My sister is 27. She’s a doctor.”
“Do you want to be a doctor?”
“No, I have a lot of dreams.”
“What dreams?”
“An astronaut, a soldier, a soccer player.”
“我姐姐27岁，是一个医生”
”你以后想当医生吗？“
“不，我有很多梦想”
“什么梦想？”
“宇航员，军人，足球运动员“
Bager Aygiz Village
In a village near Tashkurgan, people greeted me with kindness, inviting me inside their houses and bringing me food. What I observed was the connection between their family. A wife and husband. A mother and a son. A grandmother and a grandson. A brother and a brother.
Bazzars
Deals happen everywhere in the bazaar, for food, for clothes, for sheep and cows, and it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that the bazaar is filled with chaos. The merchant and the buyer go through rounds and rounds of haggling and bartering, arguing over how much the food, the clothes, or the sheep are worth. A handshake shows how the chaos comes to an end.
Yengisar County
The first person I met was a five-year-old girl with a pixie cut. She welcomed me into her world and showed me her little sister, her mother and her grandmother. She talked to me about her family, how she had two older sisters and how one of them had passed away before she was born. Her mother had named her using her sister’s name: 麦合图木古丽. She was bubbly and energetic, jumping around the place, never staying in one place. Unless her little sister started crying, at which point she would drop everything she was doing to comfort her. I saw her kiss her sister multiple times as if saying that she was safe and that she would protect her.
I also met a master of his art. We saw as he meticulously carved intricate patterns into the handle of a knife. His name is 阿巴麦克日·麦麦提明. He started carving knives when he was 14, now he is 51 and still dedicated to carving. He said his father had taught him and that he was the fourth generation of knife carvers in his family. However, his children did not want to learn and carry the family legacy so he found other ways to do that. He taught many of the people in the village, who are now carving knives themselves.
