
On a journey of play, artist Szu-Chieh Yun guides students to a path from fear
'They imagined their own forest and they saw something in their mind and brought it into the real world' by making art out of it, she said. 'A way to overcome fear is to make room to imagine a pathway forward. Just like they did in this project.'
Get Starting Point
A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday.
Enter Email
Sign Up
'Into the Forest' is on view at the MFA through Oct. 26.
Advertisement
Community Arts Initiative "Into The Forest" is Szu-Chieh Yun's exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
Where to find her
: www.szuyun.com/
Age
: 36
Originally from
: Yun immigrated with her family from Taiwan to Boston when she was 9.
Lives in
: East Boston
Making a living
: The artist/teacher is an adjunct professor at Massachusetts College of Art and Design.
Painter Szu-Chieh Yun at a table where she does bead work in her East Boston studio.
Jonathan Wiggs/Globe Staff
Studio
: Yun calls the studio in her live/work space in East Boston 'a cubicle.' Her tasks there are small-scale. 'I stretch my canvases there,' she said. For more ambitious projects, she makes use of her access to facilities at MassArt.
Advertisement
How she started
: When she was a student at
Paint tests on the wall at Szu-Chieh Yun's East Boston studio.
Jonathan Wiggs/Globe Staff
More recently, the pandemic jumpstarted her art. Shortly before lockdown, Yun returned to Boston from Shanghai, where she taught elementary school art.
'I couldn't really apply for a job,' she said. 'My instinct was: You actually need to paint. This is what you
need
to do.'
What she makes
: 'Rage & Ecstasy,' the painting series she began during COVID, explores the
'I imagine myself as Karen and I'm caught on camera in this rage moment in public spaces,' Yun said. 'They were very emotionally taxing. I grew a lot of white hair.'
Beadwork by artist Szu-Chieh Yun at her East Boston studio.
Jonathan Wiggs/Globe Staff
The ecstasy followed. 'I started beading,' the artist said. 'It almost has a spiritual quality. It feels like drawing — the lines of these threads pull all these different pieces together.'
Now, she sews glittering beaded pieces into her paintings. Her 'Rage & Ecstasy' exhibition opens at Simmons University's Trustman Art Gallery in September.
How she works:
'With my hands first, and then I allow this personal journey through that,' Yun said. 'I respond to my environment and my experiences. I think deeply. I have to create from that.'
Advice for artists
: 'The reason why they're on this journey is to play,' Yun said. 'Let that lead them to the next thing.'
Advertisement
An untitled work by artist Szu-Cheh Yun, made of charcoal, coal slag, glass beads, and acrylic paint, on display at the Museum of Fine Arts.
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
COMMUNITY ARTS INITIATIVE: INTO THE FOREST
At Museum of Fine Arts, 465 Huntington Ave., through Oct. 26.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Boston Globe
5 hours ago
- Boston Globe
‘This is home for us.' Festival Betances in the South End celebrates Latin American culture.
Advertisement Boston Mayor Michelle Wu taking a selfie of her campaign crew during the parade at New England's longest running Latino cultural festival, Festival Betances at Plaza Betances. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff In her speech, Wu thanked the Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción for its work in affordable housing which she described as 'housing that will keep people in their homes.' 'This community exists because of the activists who fought for generations to come,' Wu said. 'We're so proud to partner with you.' The parade kicked off at the Plaza Betances, wound its way around Villa Victoria, a community of affordable housing units owned by Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción, and spilled onto Washington Street. Along the route, community groups carried banners, and dancers energized the onlooking crowd with their moves. Latin American music blasted from speakers tucked in open car trunks, as vehicles rolled down the road. Isabella Santana, 13, from Roxbury, performed a dance that she's been working on since March in the parade. In a sparkly red and blue uniform and her hair tied up in a bun, she strutted, swayed, and spun her way down the streets — along with her baton team Estrella Tropicales. Advertisement 'This is my first ever parade,' Santana said, with a big smile, surrounded by a few of her dance team members. 'It was really cool.' Also marching was Leah Ruiz-Medina, 13, from Attleboro, who won 'Teen Queen' at the Puerto Rican Festival in Massachusetts' pageant. With other contestants, she walked down the blocks, wearing a red dress, a silver crown on her head, and a sash. The stretch of road did not deter Ruiz-Medina from wearing black heels. She felt 'so happy that I forgot' about any foot pain, she said. 'It really just brings me joy to see everybody coming out here and having a fun time together,' Ruiz-Medina said. Along the route, Puerto Rican flags hung from homes, balloons bounced, and people sat in plastic chairs to witness the festivities. On the side of the road, Jorge Ortiz, 53, stood outside with a dog in his arms, as he watched the parade pass by his house. Noberto Garcia danced with Sixta Sanchez to the music of Jorge arce y Raiz de Plena on the main stage during New England's longest running Latino cultural festival on Saturday. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff As smoke streamed out from a portable grill, Ortiz said that he was hosting a cookout to celebrate the festival — with pinchos, or Puerto Rican grilled chicken and pork skewers, on the menu. Back at the Plaza Betances, bands played Latin American music on a stage, as a small crowd of people danced to the beat of the drums. Attendees waved Puerto Rican flags — and others draped the flags around their shoulders. The only thing missing? Attendees said they missed the greased pole contest, held during the past festivals. In the competition, people climb onto each other's shoulders, hug the greased pole, and form a human ladder until someone reaches the flag at the top. Advertisement The festival did not host the greased pole competition this year, due to construction surrounding the pole, according to Rosa Gonzalez, the resident ambassador of the Inquilinos Boricuas en Acción. 'One of my dear friends always would win it,' she said, laughing. 'It was very machismo, where men got to show their egos and their masculinity.' Still, the spirit of the festival lived on. Josymir Rivera, 37,grew up on the South End — a 'few doors down' from the parade route. Though she looked forward to the greased pole competition, the excitement remained, she said. 'This is home for us. Honestly, (the festival) keeps us tied to our roots,' Rivera said. Jessica Ma can be reached at


Boston Globe
12 hours ago
- Boston Globe
Pixies create a 1990s time machine at MGM Music Hall at Fenway
Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Pixies frontman Black Francis invited guests to step into a time machine set to 1990. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff Advertisement The galloping Western/surf chug 'Cecilia Ann' burst out of the gate, and 'Velouria' didn't roar so much as scream, while the short and sweet 'Allison' played as a beach-party rave. Joey Santiago spat out little curlicues on his guitar as bassist Emma Richardson dug a trench deep enough for 'Is She Weird' to move through, and Santiago's ringing two-note figure in 'The Happening' repeated so much that it began to sound like shattered glass. The guitars were mixed hot enough throughout to give them a visceral, tactile charge. Advertisement 'Havalina' signaled the end of 'Bossanova,' but there was no time to linger on what might have been a nearly serene comedown; 'Here comes 'Trompe le Monde,'' said Francis. (The ringed planets hanging behind the band as their only stagecraft rotated to become the giant eyeballs of that album's cover.) The warped, art-rock wallop of the title track, and the dead-eyed roar and strangled leads of 'Planet of Sound' unspooled quickly, and when manic screamer 'The Sad Punk' slowed down, it felt drunk, with the instruments wobbling against one another. Since the abrupt ending of 'Trompe le Monde' closer 'The Navajo Know' would have made for an unsatisfying sendoff, Pixies sweetened the pot, first with the dreamy and harsh spiral of 'In Heaven' and then with gimmes 'Here Comes Your Man' and 'Where Is My Mind?' plus 'Into the White,' a b-side trifle that they still played the hell out of. Pixies drummer David Lovering. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff The house lights came on in full during that last song and remained up for the wild 'Debaser,' where David Lovering's drums felt like they were going to spring right off the stage and the crowd exploded every time Francis spat out the lyric 'chien!' They didn't need it to be dark to imagine that it was still 1990. They were already there. Momma opened with a pitch-perfect recreation of '90s-style alt/indie that they could have thawed out from 30 years ago. Their gauzy churn might have landed them a gig at the 'Buffy The Vampire Slayer' rock club the Bronze, with a touch of Veruca Salt in their dissociated harmonies. PIXIES With Momma. At MGM Music Hall at Fenway, Friday. Advertisement Marc Hirsh can be reached at Pixies frontman Black Francis. Matthew J. Lee/Globe Staff Here's the setlist from Friday night, according to

Boston Globe
16 hours ago
- Boston Globe
Amid squeeze on musical ecosystem, an old Cambridge venue gets new life
It reopened earlier this year, after a year-and-a-half closure, according to the venue's owners. In doing so, it became something of an anomaly in Greater Boston. Band member Clifford Carraha tested a microphone on the small stage. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe As beloved, housing and cost of living crises. Gregg Perry, the trio's 42-year-old guitarist from Arlington, plays in a couple bands, but the gigs don't come as often as they once did. A Berklee College of Music dropout, Perry works as a delivery driver part time nowadays, he said. Advertisement 'I don't know, man, the Boston music scene is really tough,' he said. 'Just trying to get a gig, dude is like, [expletive]. . .' His voice trailed off. Advertisement JP Faundez Power Trio bandmates Gregg Perry, J.P. Faundez, and Clifford Carraha (left to right) played together in Toad. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe Tommy McCarthy, and his wife, Louise Costello, are behind Toad's rebirth. It is the fifth bar they've opened. The first, and perhaps most well known, is Both musicians by trade, McCarthy and Costello didn't know much about running a bar at the time. 'We just thought if you could create the music, the rest will follow,' said McCarthy recently. That mantra has guided the reopening of Toad. It's connected by a doorway to a larger pub, formerly known as Christopher's, now called McCarthy's. While Toad puts on live music — blues, acoustic singer-songwriters, rock — later at night, McCarthy's has a traditional Irish session every day of the week that starts at 7 p.m. The Burren has a similar setup of different performance spaces. Jonathan Bricker, a professor who teaches courses on live music, touring, and concerts at Berklee, said the COVID-19 pandemic wiped out many small, independently run venues that are a creative lifeblood for the local musical community. 'Rooms like that are essential for developing, for trying out, and growing as an artist, as a band, wherever you find yourself on the musical spectrum,' said Bricker, who manages several local acts. Data on small, independent music venues, and their closures since the start of the pandemic, are hard to come by. The Advertisement Toad's reopening is welcome news among local musicians. Trama acknowledged that at a time when it is becoming 'tougher and tougher' for artists to exist in Greater Boston, any survival of another place to gig should be applauded. 'All of these smaller places, they are a lifeline to the culture of art in the whole Boston area,' he said recently. 'More of them, the better.' People mingled before the music started at Toad. Ben Pennington/for The Boston Globe 'It's a victory, definitely,' she said of Toad's reopening this past April. 'Having it back is a major win. Places like Toad, you have every skill level of musician playing that room.' Jim Haggerty, a full-time musician who has played bass for about 50 years, lamented the dwindling number of small venues. He described Toad, a place he has played more than a hundred times, as somewhere 'where professional musicians can play, and, if you have a good enough following, you can make a living.' Haggerty moved to Boston from upstate New York in the 1980s, when it was possible to work odd jobs, pay cheap rent with 'a bunch of buddies,' and pursue one's artistic dreams. It's no longer that town, he said. Haggerty lives in Roslindale and was able to buy a house 'before things got crazy.' Implied is that musicians nowadays have a much steeper fiscal climb to put down roots locally. Advertisement 'I got extremely lucky,' he said. Back in Toad before his gig, Carraha, the bassist and singer, said for him, the barometers of a good set are straightforward: Are the players in sync, feeling the groove? Is the crowd responding positively? Carraha, a 42-year-old Watertown resident, has been playing gigs around town for about 25 years. In his day job, he co-owns a catering company. 'Every venue is essential because as artists we need that,' he said. His bandmate, Perry, will be happy with his take from the night's performance. Perry will make $120, he said. In years past, he played gigs at Toad where the entire band got $150, plus whatever was in the tip bucket, and some comped food and drinks. 'It's medicine for the soul,' he said of music. 'I need this.' Minutes later, his band started to play. Danny McDonald can be reached at