Reflections by Dustin Durham

Process vs. Product

I would say that one of the most striking experiences I had with my new friends from Beijing occurred during the final stages of the wayfinding project. My group had assembled the PowerPoint the previous night and was finishing it up with me as the editor and effective publisher. I began to look through their slides. My jaw dropped. They had over seventy.

I tried explaining to them that this was far, far too many and that much of the slides could be combined together of simply eradicated totally. This simple (at least to me) process took almost thirty minutes to completely explain and persuade them to agree with. What I simply did not understand was the way the Chinese look at projects such as this. Whereas we look at the final, polished product as supreme, they view the creative process in this position. This is by far a huge cultural leap for me to try and grasp.

Other groups ran into the same issue, I found out later, when we tried explaining to them that all the jurors would care about was the final product. Process should be shown, but simply put, every single step along the way need not appear in the presentation. My group was adamant about showing every step, however, and said that it is what their professors expected of them. In the end, we compromised on some slides (of which they presented, as I had no clue how to even begin explaining them) and ended up with around 24: what I feel was a brief but thorough presentation. The process vs. product mentality was a cultural difference I never would have imagined. Now, however, I look at my creative processes in a far different light.

Western vs. Eastern Genetics

This was one of the more thought-provoking experiences of the week. It wasn’t one specific instance, as it occurred multiple times with multiple BIGC kids, but there are a few that stand out in my mind. One was at the Museum of Appalachia, one was in the classroom, and one was on the way to Remedy.  They were all equally funny and eye-opening.

While at the Museum of Appalachia, I was explaining to my group how my family has been in this area of the country (and specifically a 100 or so mile radius in southern West Virginia/western Virginia/eastern Kentucky) for over 300 years. This astounded them, though I’m fully aware their families have more than likely been in the same region(s) for thousands of years, but it was still neat to see the amazement on their faces. I think perhaps too many people think that Americans move so often and are so modern that no one here has a sense of their roots, that no one has a true sense of place. That would be my assumption. Either way, I took it on as a badge of honor to explain to the BIGC kids the history and culture of a region deeply entrenched in my personal history, which I love very much, which is far too often ridiculed and misunderstood. It also made me more interested to be on the other end, hearing of the cultures of the various parts of China.

The second and third things are directly connected to the first. The second one was one day in studio. I had brought in some old family photos (circa 1920 and before) of my great grandparents and other, older family members to show to my group. They were amazed at (a) how big my family was and that (b) I had documentation from so long ago. I will admit that seeing others in fascination over my family history only strengthened my pride towards the gift I’ve been given in such a well-documented family past, along with my resolve to document my life as best as I can for my descendents to see 50, 100, or 300+ years in the future.

The third experience was one of the funniest moments I experienced with my group. We were walking to the Old City, to Remedy Coffee, and Zhao Meng, the guy in my group who essentially became my closest friend during the experience, randomly asked me at one point, “Your father…he have beard like you?” I told him my Dad did, along with his dad, and along with most men in our family. I even tried explaining to him that at one point my grandpa had an Amish beard, which didn’t rightly get the idea across, so I ended up just pointing on my chest how long his beard was. After a few seconds of silence, one of the girls in our group who was particularly giggly looked at me and then looked at Zhao Meng and said, “He man. You woman…have nothing on face!” She then proceeded to giggle. I laughed so hard. It’s reassuring to me to be part of experiences like that, when friends make fun of other friends, because it humanizes people in a new light. Instead of being mysterious foreigners from a strange land, they become just like my friends and I. It was funny, but it was also a connection for me.

At the same time, my mind went off into a crazy rabbit hole of thought based upon one simple idea: genetics. When I realized that most of the Chinese guys had no facial hair, and when comparing that with a family like mine, which is as Appalachian and “mountain folk” in our looks as we can be, I was overcome with a grand thought: how amazing the human race is to have to ability to pass down the core of who we are physically from the inside out. To know that something as simple as facial hair (or a lack thereof) can inform you and others of where you’re from, and where your family line traces back to. It also reminded me that somewhere in the future, long after I am dead and gone, there just may be a boy or girl with my eyes, or my nose, or a little bit of both. This is true of everyone, whether in downtown Beijing or the hills of WV.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Mall

This was hands-down my favorite experience with the BIGC folk, because it was the biggest difference in cultural views I experienced, and it was a blast. It was the night before our presentation and my group desperately wanted to go to West Town Mall. I was regretfully willing to take them, as I am not the biggest fan of any suburban shopping mall, having worked there (at West Town) last fall and seeing the terrors of American Consumerism gone awry, but I obliged nonetheless because it is, indeed, a large aspect of American culture (love it or hate it) and I felt they should get to experience it. Also, they were nagging me like a bunch of children nag a Dad on a roadtrip to know, “Are we there yet?!”

As we were leaving Market Square, my group decided to inform several others that they were getting a special trip to the mall. Somehow the others in the various groups understood this as a direct invitation to ride in my car to the mall. By the time we got to the top of the Market Street garage where I had parked, I had gone from having four people attempting to get into my Saturn Vue to seven, including two of their professors! I very carefully (and somewhat illegally) crammed seven Chinese students and faculty into my car. I explained to them that, should they move too much and, should a cop see us, they may get to spend a night in an American prison.

Naturally they all laughed.

When we got to the mall I told them we would have about two hours there until everything closed, and we would meet back at my car at that point. Then the fun began. They raced into the mall like cockroaches when the lights turn on, like a group of 7th graders at Cedar Point. It was hilarious. They were genuinely happy to be there, which is something most Americans can’t say. Even when the prices were more than they expected and they couldn’t buy coach purses, they simply found something else they wanted, bought it, and were satisfied. It was the exact opposite of Americans during the holiday season. Or in life, in general.

To thank me for taking them, my group bought me $40 of Godiva chocolates. I explained to them I was there to show them around, and that it was my pleasure, but even in the midst of buying things for themselves and their families, they still had time to stop and thank me by buying me a gift. I will never forget how joyfully the Chinese people give gifts. It is something I hope to adopt in my own attitudes. I learned, maybe more than anything else that week, that I need to be more grateful. I live in a time and a place that my ancestors and many people today in other countries would give their lives for. My Chinese friends exuded thankfulness in everything. They had a quaint humility which made them some of the most beautiful souls I have ever met. If only the entire world could have that demeanor.