Crossing Boundaries with Ko Si-chi and Jessie Fan
Anna Wang / photos courtesy of Ko Si-chi / tr. by Phil Newell
September 2001

There is a photographer from Taiwan about whom Nobel Prize winner Gao Xingjian has waxed poetically, describing the man's journey from Taiwan to Japan to America and across half the globe, only to end up back in Taipei. Who is the man with this amazing life story, who uses light, colors, and shadows to pierce space and time and create an eternity that you can virtually embrace?
Beginning in September, in New York, there will be an exhibition of photographs related to the Dalai Lama, the spiritual and political leader of the Tibetan people. One of the five photographers in the show is Ko Si-chi from Taiwan. One of his photos, called Sunning the Buddha, signed by the Dalai Lama himself, has been selected for the poster and catalogue of the exhibition. The photo was taken by Ko in 1985 at the Dalai Lama's birthplace. To get the enormous tanka in the picture to fit on film, Ko, then already in his 50s, had to hike halfway up a mountain across from the tanka.
Bustin' out
Another of Ko's works in the exhibition is Jingang Dance (a Tibetan mask dance). It is noteworthy both for its unusual subject matter as well as the elegance of the composition. Ko spared no expense to hire Guy Stricherz, considered the world's top dye transfer expert, to process his photos. This not only shows Ko's respect for artistic skill, but explains also why he is one of the few photographers from Taiwan with an international reputation.
Ko's life story is precisely about his artistic sensitivity, skill, and determination.
Though never formally educated in the arts, Ko has always been an aesthetically sensitive person with a love of music, literature, and especially painting. After graduating from an industrial high school, he worked for a chemical company. After the Nationalist government came to Taiwan in 1949, he responded to the call to defend Taiwan and joined the military. But he found the regimented life of the army difficult to accept, and went on the run. He hid for 18 months before turning himself in to accept his punishment. By the time he got out, he was 26.
Looking back, Ko thinks this experience, though painful, was valuable, setting the basis for his strong health and his ability to endure hardship.
His wife, Jessie Fan, a dancer by profession, says that she most admires her husband's courage, as well as his optimistic, positive, uninhibited personality. "He is very courageous. His dictionary has no words for fear." Fan laughs and says she really has no idea how he got this way.
Starting over. . . and over. . .
Ko's entire life is testimony to his character. After taking his punishment in the military, he got married and opened a photo studio. Next he went to Japan and formally studied photography theory and technique. Moreover, Tokyo opened his eyes to the wider world of art. After returning to Taiwan he quickly established himself as a leading photographer, capturing numerous images that became part of the collective memory of an entire generation.
But for Ko, standing at the peak did not mean satisfaction. It merely allowed him to see farther and realize what was still missing. So, with a few simple things on his back, and carrying a couple of sets of cameras, he went to New York. There he entered the world of commercial photography, starting all over from the bottom up.
Working for US$65 per week in the studio of the highly individualistic commercial photographer Silano, Ko sought not money but experience: to learn what is behind the creativity and professionalism of commercial photography. He found the answer to be "meticulous attention to every detail."
The name Si Chi Ko quickly became established in the Big Apple, making him the first well-known commercial photographer from Taiwan in the States. For recreation he drank champagne, listened to music, and made love with his models after a photo shoot in his studio. He became increasingly estranged from his first wife, and eventually they broke up.
After eight years in New York, he had fame and fortune, and a first-rate agent sought to represent him. "If I had signed with him, I'd be rich now," smiles Ko. But he doesn't regret rejecting the offer, because he doesn't want to be led around by the nose just for the money.
Commercial success left Ko feeling empty. He closed the studio, burned all his work, and sat around moping for a month. "I was already 50, wondering if that was all there was to life."
Renaissance man
So once again, Ko walked away from everything. Carrying only his Nikon and two lenses, he drove off alone, feeling that in this gigantic universe, he had nothing to his name and no one who cared about him.
Total freedom and time to think washed his mind clean, and smashed to pieces the virtual world of the lights, models, and image-manufacturing of his photo studio. For six months, he went where his whims took him, subconsciously searching for images that moved him. Many of his most important works, including Waiting for Venus, were taken at that time. Ko finally found what he was looking for, an intersection of time, space, and his inner self captured in an instant. Indeed, this describes the essence of his aesthetic.
After returning to New York, Ko threw himself into creative photography and multimedia artistic works incorporating visual images, music, and dance. And, in the autumn of his life, he found a partner who really understood him.
Hsi-chieh, Chieh-hsi
The ancients said that marital destiny is decided in a previous life. When Ko met the then not-yet-30 Jessie Fan, he was struck at once, and commented on what a natural match his Chinese name (Hsi-chieh) seemed to be for hers (Chieh-hsi). Fan didn't think too much about this comment at the time, but thought it was wonderful to be able to speak, seemingly inexhaustibly, with this great man about art and dance. Seeing the passion that Fan had for dance, as well as her natural dancer's physique and beautiful hands, Ko saw unlimited potential and "decided to help her develop into a first-rate dancer."
They were married in 1985, and on their honeymoon went to Dunhuang and the Silk Road. "These two months, with the artistic shock and the learning period of the new marriage, changed my entire life." Jessie Fan still remembers how powerful her feelings were on the journey, and how seeing Dunhuang for the first time sent a jolt right through her. "She just kept weeping and couldn't say anything." But Ko understood: she had found "it."
After returning to New York, Fan, who had been dancing since childhood and studied dance in university and in Japan, set to work with the intensity of a beginner. She took classes, saw performances, and practiced. Ko spared no expense, hiring the best (and naturally most expensive) teacher in New York for one-on-one lessons. Fan recalls that in the first few years in New York, she only knew the streets between her home, classes, and the practice studio. They lived frugally. Yet their spirits soared. She found her own path, based on her Dunhuang inspiration, and after performing in New York and Europe, delivered an impressive performance at Taiwan's National Theater in 1989.
In 1993, the Government Information Office asked Ko and Fan to appear in advertisements promoting a new image for Taiwan. The metamorphosis of Taiwan's image that was promoted by the GIO worldwide also served to remind Ko of his boyhood in Tainan. He realized that Taiwan was his "real home."
The couple moved back to Taiwan permanently five years ago. Though both enjoy considerable fame, they have not been resting on their laurels. In September, Fan will put on a combined image-and-dance performance with a Japanese photographer at the Taipei Municipal Museum of Fine Arts, and in October will perform in New Delhi at the invitation of Taipei's economic and cultural office there. Ko, meanwhile, besides a full schedule of receiving awards and holding exhibitions, will lead a group of photography students on a trip to Greece in September.
Ko says that a great work of art comes from the richness of one's life and personal reflection. "Human life is connected to everything in the universe. You should see more art, listen to more music, read more books and think more, and the cells in your brain will naturally tell you when is the best time to click the shutter."
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Internationally known photographer Ko Si-chi (left) is as enthusiastic as ever when talking about his art, his eyes glittering with a childlike delight. (photo by Hsueh Chi-kuang)
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Ko's photo Sunning the Buddha, taken at the birthplace of the Dalai Lama in Tibet, will be part of a show opening soon in New York. The Dalai Lama, in exile for nearly half a century, was so moved when he saw this photo that he added his signature (reproduced above) to show his appreciation.
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Waiting for Venus is perhaps Ko's most famous work. The composition and color-especially the meeting place of sea and sky-leave limitless scope for the imagination, though the photographer wasn't deliberately trying for any particular effect when he took the shot.
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Bullfight was taken in 1979, when Ko was on a wandering journey in search of himself. Caught up in the excitement of the crowd, Ko could not help yelling "Ole, Antonio!," and without really thinking picked up his camera and produced this dream-like image.
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Jessie Fan has established herself in the dance world with her interpretation of the Dunhuang cave art of China. For her, the body and limbs are the vocabulary of dance, and when she extends her elegant hands, she not only moves viewers, but draws their imaginations into the dancer's world.





