Chinese Takeaway (2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
Mark du Potiers remembers his mother’s work in a Chinese textile factory as he sews together a personal temple.
I’ve only just realised—relatively recently—that I’m a serious person. Very serious. Sure, I may have cultivated an air of friendly, easygoingness about myself. Or encouraged belief that I’m some ebullient combo of strange and silly and sarcastic and sassy. And maybe I do let some people go ahead and think I’m quiet and boring, too – perhaps I could be so bland that vanilla looks exhilarating. While that’s all probably a little bit true, the very-serious seriousness is always there. Maybe I’m not convincing you? We can work on that.
I’ve recently been thinking a lot about why I sew. Perhaps in relation to all these straggly thoughts, I’ve been reflecting on how sewing managed to find its way into so many of my artworks. Or maybe it was the other way around – instead of the needles and threads choosing me, I was actually the one choosing them. I struggle to remember…
Chinese Takeaway (2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
Trawling my memories, I eventually pause to think about when I was an artist-in-residence at the Museum of Brisbane. The Museum of Brisbane is in City Hall, at the heart of Brisbane city, Australia. (Brisbane is the quieter and cheaper version of Sydney, the smaller and warmer version of Melbourne, and the location of the future 2032 Olympic Games.) Over my month-long residency back in 2019, I did a lot of thinking in this place. I remember learning that we are the only capital city in Australia with a city hall. The others only have Town Halls. Brisbane’s City Hall is a distinguished public monument housing ornate architecture, a palatial auditorium, a grand clock tower, and a curious mix of historic and contemporary features. Like the rest of the building, the Museum of Brisbane is a combination of old and new. It is both a traditional art gallery and a museum, as the name suggests. In this context of merging the past with the present, it’s no wonder that together, the gallery, the building, and its location remind me of a temple.
Chinese Takeaway: Fu / Fuk (detail, 2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
A temple has connotations of all things solemn and sombre: a place of thoughtful sincerity or quiet consideration, perhaps. In this “temple”, I remember envisioning a project to challenge me. I wondered how I came to be born in Brisbane, what my family’s story was, and what our connections to the world are from this city. It was here that I found there was much to draw upon. Because—like the building and gallery itself—I’m a curious mix too. I have Australian, Hong Konger, and Chinese migrant heritage, and so I approached this artist residency as an opportunity to investigate my cultural history. It seems fitting, then, that the artwork I created for this residency reflects the site in how it was fashioned and exhibited.
Chinese Takeaway: Lu / Luk (detail, 2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
I crafted contemporary re-imaginings of a mystical trio of figurines from my childhood. Entirely sewn by hand, I made giant colourful fabric hangings that were a mash-up of old and new. Fuk, Luk, Sau (pronounced “fook, look, sauw” in Cantonese language) or Fu, Lu, Shou (as they are known in Mandarin Chinese) are traditionally depicted as three ‘wise men’. The trio are embodiments of fortune, prosperity, and longevity. Having a set of these porcelain figurines in one’s home (or office or shop) is a good luck charm—a hopeful invocation of the qualities they represent.
Chinese Takeaway: Shou / Sau + Lu / Luk (2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
Intended to be explored from dual perspectives, the three hangings simultaneously interrupted the space yet harmoniously furnished it too. I augmented the original mythology with visual language referencing Brisbane, Queensland (the state Brisbane is the capital city of), and the history of me and my family. I told these stories via additions of vibrant colour, elements of camp through design and texture, and multiple abstractions of the traditional representations and meanings – conceptually and visually.
Chinese Takeaway: Lu / Luk (detail, 2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
Perhaps the most important part of the artwork was the sewing. I’m sure that when I was dreaming up this project, I remembered my mother having worked in textile manufacturing back in Guangzhou, China. Because of this, she was and still is a master at sewing. I’ve often joked that her hand-sewing skills could put factory machines out of a job. So, the joke was on me when I realised I never made myself available to learn. This residency became the chance to undo what was missed when I was younger and to open myself up to opportunity…
Chinese Takeaway: Lu / Luk (detail, 2019), textiles, site-specific installation.Installation view at Museum of Brisbane, 2019. Photograph by Thomas Oliver.
So there I was in the temple of thoughts and people and stories and history and architecture and art, at once teaching myself how to sew and also learning how to do it. In and out, in and out, in and out. Knot. Needle and thread, thread and needle. Knot. Thinking, doing; doing, thinking; thinking, doing. Knot. Did I have any inkling back in 2019 that sewing would appear in many of my future artworks? Not (sure). Did I realise continuing this practice links me to my heritage, my family’s story, history and culture? Not (sure). I’ve often wondered where my seriousness comes from. And why I hide it away, underneath the colour, the silly, and the sarcastic. My mum was on holiday when she met dad. And she stayed—for love, courageously starting a new life in Australia whilst giving up life elsewhere and missing out on opportunity, connection, comfort, and familiarity in the hope of gaining more. I don’t want to feel I’m wasting her sacrifice. So, I’ll continue to think deeply as I learn how to sew… and maybe this is why I’m so serious.
About Mark du Potiers
Mark du Potiers is an Australian sculptor born, raised, and based in Magandjin (Brisbane). He’s interested in how images, ideas, and meanings are interpreted across different multi-cultural contexts. Mark likes working with textiles, vibrant colour, manipulated space, and collaborative practices. Follow @blisteredhand
