我的人生像是一條 文化地理線 My Life Is a Cultural Cartographic Line-— Moving between islands
這是「回望」與「對話」， 今年春天的一小段感想, 一個是對社會，一個是對自己。
「回望」：旅居在紐約三十年，我始終在思考：我回顧這些年，
我最感到真正有價值的，不是一次性的光芒, 並不是某一個展覽、某一場活動，
而是——我為台灣建立了一座長期存在的橋,
為台灣，在國際文化藝術地圖上，多畫了一條線。
我從台灣出發，到愛爾蘭念藝術史，後來在紐約生活三十年。
一路走來，好像一直在不同城市之間移動。
但後來我才明白，我不是在「移動」，我是在「連結」。
把台灣介紹給世界，也把世界帶回台灣。
讓藝術家被看見，讓文化有對話的空間、讓文化被理解、讓社群彼此連結的平台。
從成為獨立策展人開始，到2014年創立 TAAC，到 2022進駐Governors Island 的4期計畫，
無數藝術家、學者、年輕實習生參與其中, 不是我做了什麼，而是這個平台讓更多人可以一起做。如果說我留下了一件值得思考的事，那就是建立了一座橋—一個讓人可以持續往返的橋，而不是一次性的交流。
我希望當人們提起台灣時，不只是科技或政治，也能想到文化、藝術、溫柔與深度。
有時候飛機坐太多，真的會懷疑自己到底住在哪裡，但後來發現，我其實住在「文化藝術之間」。
妳不是只「代表台灣」，妳也在重新定義台灣如何被觀看。
妳不是只「住在紐約」，妳在紐約建立了一個台灣文化的節點。
所以我說——妳的人生不是定點，是連線。
如果我能回到 18 歲的自己面前，‘’我會跟那個有點焦慮、急著證明自己的女孩說：「不要急。
你的人生不需要跟任何人比較. 那時候的我們，總想證明自己，想要快一點成功，快一點被看見。
但其實，真正重要的不是速度，而是方向。我會告訴她—有一天，你會在異鄉建立屬於自己的文化家園；你會離開家鄉很遠，但你會用自己的方式，把家鄉帶在身上。你會理解，離開其實不是失去，而是另一種回望。也會告訴她，不要太苛責自己。你已經比自己想像的更勇敢。
現在回頭看，我很感謝那個 18 歲的自己，願意走出來。
也感謝一路上陪我走這段「文化航線」的朋友們。
My Life Is a Cultural Cartographic Line
— Moving between islands,
reassembling identity, memory, and responsibility across different geographies.
This is a moment of “looking back” and “dialogue”—a brief reflection from this spring.
One part is addressed to society; the other, to myself.
Looking Back
Having lived in New York for thirty years, I often ask myself:
When I look back on these decades, what feels truly meaningful?
It is not a fleeting moment of brilliance—
not a single exhibition, nor one particular event.
Rather, it is this:
I helped build a bridge for Taiwan that continues to stand.
I helped draw one more line for Taiwan on the international cultural map.
I began in Taiwan, went to Ireland to study art history, and eventually made my life in New York.
For many years, it seemed as though I was simply moving from city to city.
But later I understood — I was not “moving.” I was connecting.
Introducing Taiwan to the world, and bringing the world back to Taiwan.
Creating spaces where artists can be seen,
where cultures can enter into dialogue,
where understanding can take root,
and where communities can connect.
From becoming an independent curator,
to founding TAAC in 2014,
to launching four program cycles on Governors Island beginning in 2022 —
countless artists, scholars, and young interns have participated.
It was never about what I alone accomplished.
It was about building a platform where many could work together.
If there is one thing I have left behind that is worth reflecting on,
it is this bridge —
a bridge people can cross back and forth,
not a one-time exchange.
When people speak of Taiwan, I hope they think not only of technology or politics,
but also of culture, art, tenderness, and depth.
Sometimes, after too many flights, I question where I truly live.
But I eventually realized —
I live between cultures and art.
You are not only “representing Taiwan.”
You are redefining how Taiwan is seen.
You are not simply “living in New York.”
You have created a node of Taiwanese culture within New York.
So I say —
your life is not a fixed point;
it is a network of connections.
If I Could Speak to My 18-Year-Old Self
If I could stand before that slightly anxious girl, eager to prove herself,
I would say: Don’t rush.
Your life does not need to be measured against anyone else’s.
At that age, we always wanted to prove ourselves —
to succeed quickly, to be seen quickly.
But what truly matters is not speed.
It is direction.
I would tell her:
One day, you will build your own cultural home in a distant land.
You will travel far from your birthplace,
yet you will carry it with you in your own way.
You will come to understand that leaving is not losing —
it is another way of looking back.
And I would tell her not to be so hard on herself.
You are already braver than you think.
Now, when I look back,
I am grateful to that 18-year-old self for having the courage to step forward.
And I am grateful to all the friends who have traveled this “cultural route” with me.
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