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Mimi Ting: Willing to Fly


OPENING RECEPTION: FRIDAY, SEPT 8, 7:00 - 9:00

I was born into a household with three women who had bound feet: Great Grandmother, Grandmother and Sixth Great Aunt. We lived together in an old house in Shanghai with a garret where all the children slept. One of my earliest memories was reaching into the secret jar from which all sweetness flowed, to pick out my own bar of brown sugar. Another was my stepping onto the sill of an open window, a cool wind on my face; I reached toward the patch of blue-grey sky, willing to fly.  Voices behind me screamed, “No! Stop! Do not move!” Those words became the mantra for most of my upbringing.  They were to prevent me from being struck by whatever misfortune might be waiting in ambush.  In order to not get into trouble, I became adept at being still, and learned to thrive in stealth and silence.  Imagination was my window for escape…