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Dancing on My Own: Essays on Art, Collectivity, and Joy
"A genius melding of art criticism, autobiography, personal essay, and travel writing. . . . Wu—an artist, curator, and writer—layers experiences like translucent curtains through which we see the landscape of a past in the present making its future...A must read." –Claudia Rankine
"Simon Wu manages to be both a shrewd critic and enthused aspirant of what passes for today’s cultural capital. . . .with a disarming lack of cynicism that is both keen and refreshing." –Cathy Park Hong
“A neon-bright picture of gay nightlife, leftist class strivers, the seductions of the art world, and what Wu critically—but fondly—calls the ‘empty orchestra’ of Asian America.” –Andrea Long Chu
An expansive and deeply personal essay collection that explores the aesthetics of class aspiration, the complications of creating art and fashion, and the limits of identity politics.
In Robyn’s 2010 track Dancing on My Own , the Swedish pop-singer chronicles a night on the dance floor in the shadow of a former lover. She is bitter, angry, and at times desperate, and yet by the time the chorus arrives her frustration has melted away. She decides to dance on her own, and in this way, she transforms her solitude into a more complex joy.
Taking inspiration from Robyn’s seminal track, emerging art critic and curator Simon Wu dances through the institutions of art, capitalism, and identity in these expertly researched, beautifully rendered essays. In “For Everyone,” Wu explores the complicated sensation of the Telfar bag (often referred to as “the Brooklyn Birkin”) and asks whether fashion can truly be revolutionary in a capitalist system—if something can truly be “for everyone” without undercutting someone else. In “A Model Childhood” he catalogs the decades’ worth of clutter in his mother’s suburban garage and its meaning for himself and his family. Throughout, Wu centers the sticky vulnerability of living in a body in a world where history is mapped into every choice we make, every party drug we take, and every person we kiss.
Wu’s message is that to dance on your own is to move from critique into joy. To approach identity with the utmost sympathy for the kinds of belonging it might promise, and to look beyond it. For readers of Cathy Park Hong and Alexander Chee, Dancing on My Own is a deeply felt and ultimately triumphant anthem about the never-ending journey of discovering oneself, and introduces a brilliant new writer on the rise.
"Simon Wu manages to be both a shrewd critic and enthused aspirant of what passes for today’s cultural capital. . . .with a disarming lack of cynicism that is both keen and refreshing." –Cathy Park Hong
“A neon-bright picture of gay nightlife, leftist class strivers, the seductions of the art world, and what Wu critically—but fondly—calls the ‘empty orchestra’ of Asian America.” –Andrea Long Chu
An expansive and deeply personal essay collection that explores the aesthetics of class aspiration, the complications of creating art and fashion, and the limits of identity politics.
In Robyn’s 2010 track Dancing on My Own , the Swedish pop-singer chronicles a night on the dance floor in the shadow of a former lover. She is bitter, angry, and at times desperate, and yet by the time the chorus arrives her frustration has melted away. She decides to dance on her own, and in this way, she transforms her solitude into a more complex joy.
Taking inspiration from Robyn’s seminal track, emerging art critic and curator Simon Wu dances through the institutions of art, capitalism, and identity in these expertly researched, beautifully rendered essays. In “For Everyone,” Wu explores the complicated sensation of the Telfar bag (often referred to as “the Brooklyn Birkin”) and asks whether fashion can truly be revolutionary in a capitalist system—if something can truly be “for everyone” without undercutting someone else. In “A Model Childhood” he catalogs the decades’ worth of clutter in his mother’s suburban garage and its meaning for himself and his family. Throughout, Wu centers the sticky vulnerability of living in a body in a world where history is mapped into every choice we make, every party drug we take, and every person we kiss.
Wu’s message is that to dance on your own is to move from critique into joy. To approach identity with the utmost sympathy for the kinds of belonging it might promise, and to look beyond it. For readers of Cathy Park Hong and Alexander Chee, Dancing on My Own is a deeply felt and ultimately triumphant anthem about the never-ending journey of discovering oneself, and introduces a brilliant new writer on the rise.
224 pages, Hardcover
Published June 25, 2024
47 people are currently reading
4261 people want to read
About the author
Simon Wu
2 books43 followersSimon Wu is a curator and writer involved in collaborative art production and research. He has organized exhibitions and programs at the Brooklyn Museum, the Whitney Museum, The Kitchen, MoMA, and David Zwirner, among other venues. In 2021 he was awarded an Andy Warhol Foundation Art Writers Grant and was featured in Cultured magazine's Young Curators series. He is a member of the Racial Imaginary Institute, was a 2018 Helena Rubinstein Curatorial Fellow at the Whitney Museum Independent Study Program, and is currently in the PhD program in History of Art at Yale University. He has two brothers, Nick and Duke, and loves the ocean.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
May 22, 2024
REALLY incredible essay collection. They were able to blend personal memoir with more investigative looks at art/queer history/fashion in such a seamless way which is HARD! Read this if you’re gay lol!
September 24, 2024
I've always wanted to be famous and now I am bc I am in this book !
simon said, humbly, gratefully, that any of us could have written this which is not true but is true i think in how he meant it, in that it is largely a love letter to his friends. The essays are restructured adaptations of conversations he's had in our apartment and sitting in prospect park and texting and going out to cool raves and getting a burger at noosh and spending a hungover sunday lounging on the mustard couch with a lukewarm french press of strong coffee rewatching Girls episodes. In that way, reading this was bittersweet bc it captures a community that isn't the same as it used to be, we don't live in those apartments anymore, we know more about ourselves and maybe our paths, with clearer directions and less blurry edges, have started to angle wider apart (still connected tho, ever connected). I'm v grateful that this book captures the love and joy and collective spirit of that time when i ambled more and didnt know as much as i do now.
simon has a way of taking in the world around him, chewing on it, polishing it, and making it shine for everyone else.
~~~
i liked the discussion of/explicit frame of identity politics, and in simon's writing about it i realized it's a trend that wasn't always the way things are. i loved reading about the varied representations of asian americanness and how it can mean different things across different gens/cultures, esp the part where the Tin and Daniel had to explain what asian american identity means to the vietnamese tailors (!). we all live in our own world until we learn about other ways to be!
i was gripped by the essays grappling w whether to dismantle the institution from within vs working outside of it ("vaguely asian" and "without roots but flowers") mostly bc i feel v strongly about working outside of institutions not in them (see my review of anita de monte laughs last for that lol) but was moved by how simon tries to see every point of view. These essays are kind of a beautiful capsule of learning about the world and what he wants his place to be in it, and that constantly changes and will constantly change forever (unless u become a stagnant person then what's the point tho). the whole book is vulnerable and honest in that way, how the self-unsure-ness seeps through and that's pure and relatable.
im very proud of you simon and happy to be your friend! congrats and many more to come <3
simon said, humbly, gratefully, that any of us could have written this which is not true but is true i think in how he meant it, in that it is largely a love letter to his friends. The essays are restructured adaptations of conversations he's had in our apartment and sitting in prospect park and texting and going out to cool raves and getting a burger at noosh and spending a hungover sunday lounging on the mustard couch with a lukewarm french press of strong coffee rewatching Girls episodes. In that way, reading this was bittersweet bc it captures a community that isn't the same as it used to be, we don't live in those apartments anymore, we know more about ourselves and maybe our paths, with clearer directions and less blurry edges, have started to angle wider apart (still connected tho, ever connected). I'm v grateful that this book captures the love and joy and collective spirit of that time when i ambled more and didnt know as much as i do now.
simon has a way of taking in the world around him, chewing on it, polishing it, and making it shine for everyone else.
~~~
i liked the discussion of/explicit frame of identity politics, and in simon's writing about it i realized it's a trend that wasn't always the way things are. i loved reading about the varied representations of asian americanness and how it can mean different things across different gens/cultures, esp the part where the Tin and Daniel had to explain what asian american identity means to the vietnamese tailors (!). we all live in our own world until we learn about other ways to be!
i was gripped by the essays grappling w whether to dismantle the institution from within vs working outside of it ("vaguely asian" and "without roots but flowers") mostly bc i feel v strongly about working outside of institutions not in them (see my review of anita de monte laughs last for that lol) but was moved by how simon tries to see every point of view. These essays are kind of a beautiful capsule of learning about the world and what he wants his place to be in it, and that constantly changes and will constantly change forever (unless u become a stagnant person then what's the point tho). the whole book is vulnerable and honest in that way, how the self-unsure-ness seeps through and that's pure and relatable.
im very proud of you simon and happy to be your friend! congrats and many more to come <3
July 3, 2024
so cool that simon wrote a book
reading "dancing on my own" renewed and expanded my (already diehard) love for robyn for which i'm v grateful, am now am listening to her album "Honey" nonstop...
the primary thing that i was left with was simon's love for his friends and family, and i can see how this book emerges from such love
dancing on my own: writing towards asian american and aesthetic critique that is sympathetic and critical towards claims of belonging and radicality, that tries to acknowledge one's compromised and ambivalent positions without letting go of joy for living.
read this very quickly - prose is unselfconscious, heady but soft, accessible with incredibly keen observational eye and a musical sense of pacing - simon's very good at this thing where he ends the scene by recalling an earlier "punctum" line earlier in the chapter or just on the verge of taking flight, leaving you with a shining image.
more asian american writing about class!!! "a model childhood" one of my favorites - i don't think i realized how much i needed someone to write about Costco and living in a cluttered, hoarding immigrant family household. i was compelled by his writing about his second gen sense of indebtedness and aware that i did not feel the same way, despite being also Asian American immigrant, originally from China by way of SE Asia. no doubt that that my ancestors' and family's actions led to me being able to live a relatively privileged, mobile life, but i don't have a sense that they did this for *me* which has led me to a pretty different relationship w my parents and family at large. how we narrate our family's immigration histories is very interesting!!
"vaguely asian" is very helpful as a kind of "low theory" for asian americanness. i like how it riffs on the racist tropes of Asian countries and peoples being indistinguishable and interchangeable from each other, and also the piecemeal, contextlessness through which diasporic people learn about their past.
“A terrible sense of when he was wanted”
- i liked this one bc it felt vulnerable and i appreciated how Simon holds your hand and walks you through the club maze with him and you actually like being there w him. also that moment when you realize how another person activates your self-hatred is really an indelible experience and i'm glad that he wrote about it. one thing about reading memoir is that it gives you access to "more life," which i appreciated, as someone who isn't immersed in raves or art culture.
- i liked how simon wove his research of artists Tseng Kwong Chi and Ching Ho Chen - the 'queer ecologies' discourse bit did not quite hit for me, and i think it has something to do with gender, with these being male artists whose estates are being maintained by women (their sisters) and how that reaffirms a sexist dynamic, and how biological discourse can offer an apparent exit from oppressive human systems w/o actually addressing them
"without roots but flowers"
- i liked this one because it was interested in forming collectives and sociality, which is a perennial interest of mine. it also gave me a history on Godzilla and grappled with how to orient oneself in relation to power, trying to build inside vs outside of institutions, realizing that there is no real boundary btwn them, and how collectives find ways to last, endure, and re-activate even after periods of dormancy, which is ultimately about the relationships btwn ppl.
"I got the sense that Godzilla was a movement made of friends who just decided to take one another seriously" <3
reading "dancing on my own" renewed and expanded my (already diehard) love for robyn for which i'm v grateful, am now am listening to her album "Honey" nonstop...
the primary thing that i was left with was simon's love for his friends and family, and i can see how this book emerges from such love
dancing on my own: writing towards asian american and aesthetic critique that is sympathetic and critical towards claims of belonging and radicality, that tries to acknowledge one's compromised and ambivalent positions without letting go of joy for living.
read this very quickly - prose is unselfconscious, heady but soft, accessible with incredibly keen observational eye and a musical sense of pacing - simon's very good at this thing where he ends the scene by recalling an earlier "punctum" line earlier in the chapter or just on the verge of taking flight, leaving you with a shining image.
more asian american writing about class!!! "a model childhood" one of my favorites - i don't think i realized how much i needed someone to write about Costco and living in a cluttered, hoarding immigrant family household. i was compelled by his writing about his second gen sense of indebtedness and aware that i did not feel the same way, despite being also Asian American immigrant, originally from China by way of SE Asia. no doubt that that my ancestors' and family's actions led to me being able to live a relatively privileged, mobile life, but i don't have a sense that they did this for *me* which has led me to a pretty different relationship w my parents and family at large. how we narrate our family's immigration histories is very interesting!!
"vaguely asian" is very helpful as a kind of "low theory" for asian americanness. i like how it riffs on the racist tropes of Asian countries and peoples being indistinguishable and interchangeable from each other, and also the piecemeal, contextlessness through which diasporic people learn about their past.
“A terrible sense of when he was wanted”
- i liked this one bc it felt vulnerable and i appreciated how Simon holds your hand and walks you through the club maze with him and you actually like being there w him. also that moment when you realize how another person activates your self-hatred is really an indelible experience and i'm glad that he wrote about it. one thing about reading memoir is that it gives you access to "more life," which i appreciated, as someone who isn't immersed in raves or art culture.
- i liked how simon wove his research of artists Tseng Kwong Chi and Ching Ho Chen - the 'queer ecologies' discourse bit did not quite hit for me, and i think it has something to do with gender, with these being male artists whose estates are being maintained by women (their sisters) and how that reaffirms a sexist dynamic, and how biological discourse can offer an apparent exit from oppressive human systems w/o actually addressing them
"without roots but flowers"
- i liked this one because it was interested in forming collectives and sociality, which is a perennial interest of mine. it also gave me a history on Godzilla and grappled with how to orient oneself in relation to power, trying to build inside vs outside of institutions, realizing that there is no real boundary btwn them, and how collectives find ways to last, endure, and re-activate even after periods of dormancy, which is ultimately about the relationships btwn ppl.
"I got the sense that Godzilla was a movement made of friends who just decided to take one another seriously" <3
August 4, 2024
This book makes me think a lot about being seen and being known and being loved. It wonderfully covered a lot of topics that I've been thinking a lot about recently all through the lens of Robyn's song Dancing on my Own. Read this book if you're interested in the limitations of identity politics! Read if you’re queer! Read if you hate capitalism!
Thanks for thinking of me when you saw this book Oce. Makes me feel seen and known and loved!
Thanks for thinking of me when you saw this book Oce. Makes me feel seen and known and loved!
Read
November 23, 2024Intellectually stimulating, energetic, and introspective. Wu takes a delicate scalpel to his memories, interests, and pop culture fascinations and writes about them elegantly. The curator/art appreciator's perspective gives this a fascinating level of remove, and the chapter connecting being Asian in Berlin, clubbing, and the history of an Asian designer was brilliant.
I recommend for those of us who love to intellectualize our interests, The Sims fans, and those who straddle the line between deep thinker and party-er (some great writing about clubbing and going out!).
I recommend for those of us who love to intellectualize our interests, The Sims fans, and those who straddle the line between deep thinker and party-er (some great writing about clubbing and going out!).
Read
November 2, 2024It’s funny that my review of this is ambivalent bc what I did not like about this was the author’s ambivalence in a lot of the essays. But not for lack of trying (tea)!! Which is nice for a change even if it falls short. Lots of nuance given on each side of all of his arguments, however what got me more than once (🤨) was that the crux of multiple essays was: should we try to work within the system? Or other ourselves by refusing to collaborate? And it is 2024 I need you to have moved beyond that question please god. Now I’ll try to be less of a hater and list some things I liked: getting to scratch the surface of gay Asian art history, the way he captures the yucky feeling of going through your old things at your family home, his appropriate Robyn reverence. I would really like one more album before civilization’s end Robyn if you’re reading this 😇
May 15, 2025
4.5: This was a fantastic and unique essay collection blending insightful cultural / social criticism; sharp analysis of art, artists and art institutions; and reflective personal stories— all through the lens of Robyn’s “Dancing on My Own” as a metaphor for self love and discovery. I really appreciated reading Wu’s lyrical writing and unique perspectives as a queer, 2nd gen Chinese-Burmese American working in elite art institutions… a perspective so rarely highlighted; he weaves intersectional analyses of race, sexuality, and class into every essay and issue he tackles.
September 7, 2024
Some really standout essays in here - the first is my favorite. Simon is at his best discussing artists he loves or his relationship with his friends or his mother, weaving in art history with his personal experiences. It was nice to see themes I've been wanting to read a proper essay about - the gay Asian male experience with the white gaze, the Asian ABG / ABB obsession with EDM, circuit parties. I was sometimes frustrated by how many of the essays take ambivalence about a given phenomenon as their endpoint - not everything needs to be crystal clear, of course, but I think I wanted a more opinionated take, at times. Or if ambivalence is the endpoint, for it to be communicated more subtly.
ty grant for book clubbing w me!
ty grant for book clubbing w me!
December 13, 2024
This book is QUEEERRR and I am here for it! Such a beautiful collection of essays about identity and fashion and I think every queer reader should check this one out!
August 12, 2024
God, I love being queer. That same sentiment bubbles up whenever I hear the song from which this book gets its title. This collection of essays lives up to the emotional legacy of a queerness emerging out of the early 2000s. Wu’s writing is beautiful and promising, and his perspective is both cutting and refreshing.
———————————————————————————
“Objects were made to live multiple lives, so that our life—this life, not the next one—would be perfect.”
“At our house, aesthetics were produced through resourcefulness; beauty was to be found in an object’s resuscitation from the edge of disuse.”
“I don’t find myself exempt from this yearning, but I do find myself critical of it. Who, and what, do we leave behind in all this middle-class striving? But also, I get it. Without this upward drive, how else could my parents have gotten me to where I am? There will be corners of this house that will always be dark to me.”
———————————————————————————
“Objects were made to live multiple lives, so that our life—this life, not the next one—would be perfect.”
“At our house, aesthetics were produced through resourcefulness; beauty was to be found in an object’s resuscitation from the edge of disuse.”
“I don’t find myself exempt from this yearning, but I do find myself critical of it. Who, and what, do we leave behind in all this middle-class striving? But also, I get it. Without this upward drive, how else could my parents have gotten me to where I am? There will be corners of this house that will always be dark to me.”
May 22, 2025
strangely i think some aspects of simon’s writing felt too close to my own (old?) writing style for me to enjoy reading… also the time this book was written/written about falls right in that awkward window of cringe for me, where it’s outdated but not quite old enough yet…… idk i enjoyed parts of this but mostly felt myself critiquing it. someone else said it and i agree: it was too wrapped up & polished in a way that felt forced instead of satisfying. i liked the excerpts about other artists better than i liked the personal narrative — that’s new.
i, too, know what it’s like to take drugs and want to write about your (honestly tame) experience for the world to read, but i think that is one instance where we must have restraint
i, too, know what it’s like to take drugs and want to write about your (honestly tame) experience for the world to read, but i think that is one instance where we must have restraint
May 31, 2024
In this collection of essays, curator and writer Simon Wu makes sharp observations on class, belonging, identity and art.
The episodes about his family provide reflections on possessions and capitalism, and the way they are intrinsically impacted by inheritance and migration. Through the lives of diasporic artists, Wu shares experiences about queerness, pop culture/art and racial dynamics, in which the emotions are relatable at some degree. Disarmingly candid, the meticulous examination of Asianness (and being Asian in America) is, personally, the most compelling part - it is insightful how the author captures how East meets West. This intersectional approach about orientalism and the broken institutions, leading to profound dive into collectivity, moments that inspire recognition.
Wu's passion about art is contagious, and even though it might be a bit challenging for those unfamiliar with the 'art-world' to stay wholly focused on the passages, I appreciate the experience of an intimate study of art. Additionally, Wu also provides an expansive understanding of queerness, his words deeply human.
I found this blend of personal touch and cultural criticism collection unique and thought-provoking.
[ I received an ARC from the publisher - Harper books . All opinions are my own ]
The episodes about his family provide reflections on possessions and capitalism, and the way they are intrinsically impacted by inheritance and migration. Through the lives of diasporic artists, Wu shares experiences about queerness, pop culture/art and racial dynamics, in which the emotions are relatable at some degree. Disarmingly candid, the meticulous examination of Asianness (and being Asian in America) is, personally, the most compelling part - it is insightful how the author captures how East meets West. This intersectional approach about orientalism and the broken institutions, leading to profound dive into collectivity, moments that inspire recognition.
Wu's passion about art is contagious, and even though it might be a bit challenging for those unfamiliar with the 'art-world' to stay wholly focused on the passages, I appreciate the experience of an intimate study of art. Additionally, Wu also provides an expansive understanding of queerness, his words deeply human.
I found this blend of personal touch and cultural criticism collection unique and thought-provoking.
[ I received an ARC from the publisher - Harper books . All opinions are my own ]
June 25, 2024
Really wonderful collection of essays!! Simon Wu writes about identity, class, capitalism, and art - the whole book feels so contemporary (it just came out) in a way that I usually only get from things I read online. I really enjoyed it! Wu is writes about complex social and structural issues while also grounding them in contemporary references - most notably for me, the musician Robyn. Big recommend this book!
August 17, 2025
An artful dialogue/diatribe/epistle/love letter/rant/poem/song/rave/dance/painting/fashion show to culture, Telfar, parties, Asian/America, queerness, (children of) immigration, music, electronica, living abroad, Berlin, progressive politics, NYC, Robyn, everything!!!!
&tons of great scholarship referenced
&tons of great scholarship referenced
January 12, 2024
This book is beautifully written!! Can’t recommend enough!
Read
December 12, 2024loved simon's prose... and i too believe that friendship and pop songs are everything!
December 30, 2024
Fuller review to come, but one of the best books I read this year!
September 5, 2025
Centered around Robyn’s 2010 song “Dancing on My Own,” this book is a collection of essays on art, layered with the author’s personal experiences of being Asian American, queer, young, and living in New York City. Wu is an alum of the Whitney Independent Study Program and finds himself struggling to “make it” by the estimation of the art world and his family, who is not a part of that world. He writes a lot about fashion and nightlife. My favorite chapter was the first, for its more pointed themes of capitalism that I am more personally interested in. The rest took me on a journey learning about artists I had little exposure to and enjoyed learning about.
November 3, 2024
every time i go out now i WILL be listening to dancing on my own
June 12, 2025
𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘬 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴, "𝘞𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦."
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦-𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦—𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦-𝘢𝘴-𝘺𝘰𝘶-𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴? 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥.”
Some books are made for you. This is one of them. As someone that tethers from surrounding themselves in upper class to being in the throws of the lower working class, I can’t help but have art connect in all the networks of my own fungal living. From nightclubs to ma and pa restaurants. To pubs and then to $30 cocktail bars, it has been a skill to see what is inherent, what is intrinsic when seeing what matters for people and then how to make things matter, how to better bring appreciation to music or a piece of art or a piece of writing cross and fold over past social-class lines. And to layer it all up, as an Asian American.
Wu carefully weaves ideas and points into the form of investigative questioning that both comes from curiosity but also much anxiety. There’s a buffered distance between revealing too much and reveling in the importance of art and the physical world. Both are not distant stars, but a negative space worth exploring, much like footwork on dirt grounds of an abandoned warehouse rave. Expertly done with grant researchship but goes down smooth in that local pub happy hour kind of way.
Wu writes from a specific time, one I think about quite fondly. Robyn’s 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 from 2018 was a pinnacle time for culture. Because it was also at the hands of Frank Ocean’s 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 and Lorde’s 𝘔𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢, followed by that great Blood Orange summer. It was a time to be alive before things got worse. And by worse I mean a turn of politics, a turn of faces, a turn of hating the other, a death to communication. We don’t talk anymore. We don’t bridge gaps anymore. We see it as “work”. But really, it’s all a part of making community and making it work. It’s all a part of being alive.
I want to be so 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 in art. And I want to make art work for others. Because when we do, we see the other side of the lines. Exchange glances. Wave salutations over. Blur the lines. Make it one big celebration beyond our biases and histories. And then everything isn’t so bad, if only for a little while.
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘴? 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘦-𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦—𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦-𝘢𝘴-𝘺𝘰𝘶-𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴. 𝘛𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴? 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘥.”
Some books are made for you. This is one of them. As someone that tethers from surrounding themselves in upper class to being in the throws of the lower working class, I can’t help but have art connect in all the networks of my own fungal living. From nightclubs to ma and pa restaurants. To pubs and then to $30 cocktail bars, it has been a skill to see what is inherent, what is intrinsic when seeing what matters for people and then how to make things matter, how to better bring appreciation to music or a piece of art or a piece of writing cross and fold over past social-class lines. And to layer it all up, as an Asian American.
Wu carefully weaves ideas and points into the form of investigative questioning that both comes from curiosity but also much anxiety. There’s a buffered distance between revealing too much and reveling in the importance of art and the physical world. Both are not distant stars, but a negative space worth exploring, much like footwork on dirt grounds of an abandoned warehouse rave. Expertly done with grant researchship but goes down smooth in that local pub happy hour kind of way.
Wu writes from a specific time, one I think about quite fondly. Robyn’s 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 from 2018 was a pinnacle time for culture. Because it was also at the hands of Frank Ocean’s 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 and Lorde’s 𝘔𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘢, followed by that great Blood Orange summer. It was a time to be alive before things got worse. And by worse I mean a turn of politics, a turn of faces, a turn of hating the other, a death to communication. We don’t talk anymore. We don’t bridge gaps anymore. We see it as “work”. But really, it’s all a part of making community and making it work. It’s all a part of being alive.
I want to be so 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 in art. And I want to make art work for others. Because when we do, we see the other side of the lines. Exchange glances. Wave salutations over. Blur the lines. Make it one big celebration beyond our biases and histories. And then everything isn’t so bad, if only for a little while.
May 10, 2024
DANCING ON MY OWN |
Thank you so much @harperbooks for my gifted copy. This releases in June
7 essays from a queer, Asian American art curator on art, capitalism, and identity. Most of the essays are rooted in his life, from his days working at MOMA or living abroad in Berlin or Turkey & about being in a liminal space which at once identified him as marginalized while also affording him other privileges.
An overarching question throughout is to what degree can you change the system you're involved in? As a person living in society, as an employee of a world renown art institution, how do you best effect change? Can you when you're involved in the system by changing things from within the ranks? Or do you need to extricate yourself from the system and can you really do so?
Wu uses the art world to stand in for larger systems. In some of the essays the answer to the above is no. Using the phenomenon of the Telfar bag that is at once designed for no one singularly but also for everyone, what Wu once deemed so revolutionary and daring is in many ways using the system's rules of capitalism to thrive. While the design may have been rooted in something new and unusual, how successful can it ultimately be at breaking the rules if the objective is to sell?
"The question is, is it better to gain power within a new institution with that morality intact while compromising on some things, or to refuse to compromise or cooperate in exist on the sidelines?"
Artists' choice on subject matter, composition and form, and the curators' willingness to expose and display certain artists is likewise always a political and conscious decision to either market itself or the works as fitting some type of bill. Because ultimately one's identity is always at the root of the work, to be weighed and gauged in relation to the work, as living breathing pieces tethered to their creators.
Can someone or can artists ever truly be analyzed independently and separately from their identity, privileges, or personal history? No. And ultimately nor should they be. It is what makes us human, our constant insistence to understand others as friend or foe, strong or weak, to understand within a context of what fashioned them into the person that they are, because none of us lives and grows alone.
4.25
Thank you so much @harperbooks for my gifted copy. This releases in June
7 essays from a queer, Asian American art curator on art, capitalism, and identity. Most of the essays are rooted in his life, from his days working at MOMA or living abroad in Berlin or Turkey & about being in a liminal space which at once identified him as marginalized while also affording him other privileges.
An overarching question throughout is to what degree can you change the system you're involved in? As a person living in society, as an employee of a world renown art institution, how do you best effect change? Can you when you're involved in the system by changing things from within the ranks? Or do you need to extricate yourself from the system and can you really do so?
Wu uses the art world to stand in for larger systems. In some of the essays the answer to the above is no. Using the phenomenon of the Telfar bag that is at once designed for no one singularly but also for everyone, what Wu once deemed so revolutionary and daring is in many ways using the system's rules of capitalism to thrive. While the design may have been rooted in something new and unusual, how successful can it ultimately be at breaking the rules if the objective is to sell?
"The question is, is it better to gain power within a new institution with that morality intact while compromising on some things, or to refuse to compromise or cooperate in exist on the sidelines?"
Artists' choice on subject matter, composition and form, and the curators' willingness to expose and display certain artists is likewise always a political and conscious decision to either market itself or the works as fitting some type of bill. Because ultimately one's identity is always at the root of the work, to be weighed and gauged in relation to the work, as living breathing pieces tethered to their creators.
Can someone or can artists ever truly be analyzed independently and separately from their identity, privileges, or personal history? No. And ultimately nor should they be. It is what makes us human, our constant insistence to understand others as friend or foe, strong or weak, to understand within a context of what fashioned them into the person that they are, because none of us lives and grows alone.
4.25
December 28, 2024
I had a lot of thoughts on this one, especially on “Party Politics” and “A Terrible Sense of When He Was Wanted and When He Was Not” (the latter made me a little weepy, I’m not even gonna lie). I’ll append specific essay notes when I have the chance to clean them up, but overall:
This essay collection feels intimate the way knowing your friends’ hyperfixations and self-indulgent writerly signatures feels intimate (the return to quotes from Robyn, the circling around the same NYC Chinatown / Mid Atlantic suburbia topics and the same circuit of people & friends in a way that already felt like a consistency / closed loop by essay #3 (“Vaguely Asian”). At first, that felt a little claustrophobic, like I was reading one variation on the same set of thoughts too closely packed together to really feel like each essay was separate and unique. Then I hit “Party Politics” and suddenly the structure made sense: 1-3 lay a softer foundation for someone who’s not already embroiled in these conversations to walk in, and then 4-6 (including also “Without Roots But Flowers”) do this beautiful and sometimes heartbreaking crescendo that both raises really interesting questions (e.g. can “queer ecologies” exist in tandem with a world in which gay men especially had to be careful about how their molecules spread (re: HIV) because it was a matter of life and death?) and also places Wu in this world with those questions, working through the contradictions that characterize working in contemporary art, Asian American art, politically responsible art, and fashion AND/WHILE existing in the world as a queer Asian (what does Asian *mean* and what use does it still have? Good question!). And then in his final essay, “After, Life,”Wu decrescendos, tender and loving in his treatment of his subject. And why wouldn’t it be? He’s talking about his boyfriend.
I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this collection (lol) but my main takeaway is that Wu is talking about the art community of friends, interlocutors, challenges he has been building among people whose opinions he values and about whom he cares deeply. Time and time again I found myself texting my friends about this collection, living that sort of practice, loving my brilliant friends. Which is I think the best possible outcome for a book like this!
This essay collection feels intimate the way knowing your friends’ hyperfixations and self-indulgent writerly signatures feels intimate (the return to quotes from Robyn, the circling around the same NYC Chinatown / Mid Atlantic suburbia topics and the same circuit of people & friends in a way that already felt like a consistency / closed loop by essay #3 (“Vaguely Asian”). At first, that felt a little claustrophobic, like I was reading one variation on the same set of thoughts too closely packed together to really feel like each essay was separate and unique. Then I hit “Party Politics” and suddenly the structure made sense: 1-3 lay a softer foundation for someone who’s not already embroiled in these conversations to walk in, and then 4-6 (including also “Without Roots But Flowers”) do this beautiful and sometimes heartbreaking crescendo that both raises really interesting questions (e.g. can “queer ecologies” exist in tandem with a world in which gay men especially had to be careful about how their molecules spread (re: HIV) because it was a matter of life and death?) and also places Wu in this world with those questions, working through the contradictions that characterize working in contemporary art, Asian American art, politically responsible art, and fashion AND/WHILE existing in the world as a queer Asian (what does Asian *mean* and what use does it still have? Good question!). And then in his final essay, “After, Life,”Wu decrescendos, tender and loving in his treatment of his subject. And why wouldn’t it be? He’s talking about his boyfriend.
I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this collection (lol) but my main takeaway is that Wu is talking about the art community of friends, interlocutors, challenges he has been building among people whose opinions he values and about whom he cares deeply. Time and time again I found myself texting my friends about this collection, living that sort of practice, loving my brilliant friends. Which is I think the best possible outcome for a book like this!
August 15, 2024
A love letter to the authors family & friends presented as a fragmented memoir masquerading as a collection of essays centered around (mostly) art criticism , personal history and critiques of late stage capitalism with a continuing thread of paralleling personal experience with analysis of pop musician Robyn’s music , not a single weak essay in the collection, this books goes fast , is brisk, and hits the target very well, like a tight focused 12 inch wax, topics include fashion, art collectives, circuit parties and the James Baldwin Istanbul period (!), his writing is approachable,unassuming yet laser-focused, with a keen eye for detail regarding the object he’s writing about, soft and hard as nails, with economical use of language.
My single issue with this book is that at times it can be too on the nose or too cool, making me wonder who the target audience is for this book other than his immediate peers / creatives. But that to me is the magic of seeing it published because this book is SO specific and SO cool, it a hard book to recommend unless you know what’s what, and the analysis comes short at times with nothing to add to the conversation at large centered around the topic if you are well read into what the author is writing about.
Other than that , this book is absolutely the book of the summer, and establishes simon wu as something of an Eve Babitz (without the languishing).
Recommend for : people who go to out 4 nights a week and stroll into their graduate class level teaching assistant job with no sleep needed , the coolest person you know, fans of the personal essay.
5 stars to boost the algorithm, actual score is closer to 4
April 25, 2024
In "Dancing on My Own," Simon Wu embarks on a vivid exploration of gay nightlife, the allure of the art world, and the nuances of identity through a collection of essays that sparkle with intellectual curiosity and emotional depth. With a nod to Robyn's iconic track from which the book draws its title, Wu transforms the act of dancing alone from a symbol of solitude into a powerful metaphor for personal and communal liberation.
The essays weave together personal anecdotes with sharp cultural criticism, inviting the reader into Wu's thoughtful examination of class, creativity, and identity. My favoirte essay, "A Model Childhood," is not merely about sifting through the detritus in a suburban garage but serves as a poignant exploration of the memories and meanings attached to our possessions and the spaces we inhabit. This essay, like others in the book, uses personal narrative as a springboard into broader societal commentary, making Wu's insights both intimate and expansive.
What makes Wu's collection particularly compelling is its ability to balance critique with an underlying current of joy and hope. Through his essays, Wu dances through the complexities of life and art, never shying away from the difficult questions but also celebrating the moments of beauty and connection that arise in the midst of struggle. It is a book that will resonate with anyone engaged in the ongoing dance of self-discovery and societal engagement, offering a fresh perspective on what it means to belong and to stand apart.
The essays weave together personal anecdotes with sharp cultural criticism, inviting the reader into Wu's thoughtful examination of class, creativity, and identity. My favoirte essay, "A Model Childhood," is not merely about sifting through the detritus in a suburban garage but serves as a poignant exploration of the memories and meanings attached to our possessions and the spaces we inhabit. This essay, like others in the book, uses personal narrative as a springboard into broader societal commentary, making Wu's insights both intimate and expansive.
What makes Wu's collection particularly compelling is its ability to balance critique with an underlying current of joy and hope. Through his essays, Wu dances through the complexities of life and art, never shying away from the difficult questions but also celebrating the moments of beauty and connection that arise in the midst of struggle. It is a book that will resonate with anyone engaged in the ongoing dance of self-discovery and societal engagement, offering a fresh perspective on what it means to belong and to stand apart.
November 5, 2024
Through "Dancing on My Own," Simon Wu offers intelligent and sharp-witted critiques of capitalism, consumerism, diversity, and Asian American diasporic identity. His unique perspective as a millennial Burmese American, shaped by his experiences at the Whitney Museum of American Art and the Museum of Modern Art, and his ventures into the edgy EDM, populist couture, and gay nightlife scenes, provides a fresh and engaging take on these themes.
Wu's seven essays, deeply rooted in his experiences, offer a unique perspective on these issues, making them particularly relevant to readers interested in these themes. Wu's reflections on the intersections of power, money, and social identity during a time of heightened awareness about racial justice are both insightful and timely, offering a unique perspective on current social issues.
As an Asian immigrant GenXer born along the cusp of the millennial generation, I could not put down this book. Part of it is the voyeuristic curiosity to enter the lives of younger people, digital natives who learn about events on Facebook, meet lovers on Grindr, and connect with other creatives on Instagram. Wu incorporates wisdom from a variety of influences, drawing from the intellectual musings of writer James Baldwin and the emphatic lyrics of Robyn. I appreciated Wu’s thoughtful deconstruction of Asian American identity as one that is at once fluid and imprisoning at the same time. Readers invested in social justice issues would relish his soul-searching about belonging inside institutions built to exclude.
Wu's seven essays, deeply rooted in his experiences, offer a unique perspective on these issues, making them particularly relevant to readers interested in these themes. Wu's reflections on the intersections of power, money, and social identity during a time of heightened awareness about racial justice are both insightful and timely, offering a unique perspective on current social issues.
As an Asian immigrant GenXer born along the cusp of the millennial generation, I could not put down this book. Part of it is the voyeuristic curiosity to enter the lives of younger people, digital natives who learn about events on Facebook, meet lovers on Grindr, and connect with other creatives on Instagram. Wu incorporates wisdom from a variety of influences, drawing from the intellectual musings of writer James Baldwin and the emphatic lyrics of Robyn. I appreciated Wu’s thoughtful deconstruction of Asian American identity as one that is at once fluid and imprisoning at the same time. Readers invested in social justice issues would relish his soul-searching about belonging inside institutions built to exclude.
June 20, 2024
In this essay collection, art critic and curator Simon Wu explores art, identity, class, and queerness.
This has a large focus on art museums and the institutionalization of art, but also incorporates topics like music, fashion, and gay nightlife. It might sound like a lot, but it works. I also think it’s a testament to the strength of Wu’s writing that I was invested in knowing why things were important to him even if they weren’t things I would be interested in.
I loved the way the author puts himself in the writing with personal thoughts and experiences that made each essay feel alive and vibrant, as well as tied together.
My favorite essay, “A Terrible Sense of When He Was Wanted and When He Was Not,” looks at the work of two artists, who seemed to share a lot in common but never met, and Wu gives it a throughline with his experiences meeting the surviving sisters of the artists and his reflections on being another queer Asian in the NYC art scene decades later.
Even though I’m not super into art museums, I work in an adjacent field so I resonated with a lot of what Wu shared about the complicated feelings of working within arts institutions, navigating identity politics, and having a career and adult life that is very different from your upbringing.
* I received an ARC for review from the publisher.
This has a large focus on art museums and the institutionalization of art, but also incorporates topics like music, fashion, and gay nightlife. It might sound like a lot, but it works. I also think it’s a testament to the strength of Wu’s writing that I was invested in knowing why things were important to him even if they weren’t things I would be interested in.
I loved the way the author puts himself in the writing with personal thoughts and experiences that made each essay feel alive and vibrant, as well as tied together.
My favorite essay, “A Terrible Sense of When He Was Wanted and When He Was Not,” looks at the work of two artists, who seemed to share a lot in common but never met, and Wu gives it a throughline with his experiences meeting the surviving sisters of the artists and his reflections on being another queer Asian in the NYC art scene decades later.
Even though I’m not super into art museums, I work in an adjacent field so I resonated with a lot of what Wu shared about the complicated feelings of working within arts institutions, navigating identity politics, and having a career and adult life that is very different from your upbringing.
* I received an ARC for review from the publisher.
September 8, 2024
I adored this collection of essays!! This is a short collection combining personal reflections and stories, art and cultural critique, queer and Asian American identity, with a common thread of Robyn’s song Dancing On My Own. I really liked “vaguely asian”and “party politics” I found the brief history of EDM interesting. I enjoyed peeking into the world of art curation. Simon weaves personal stories between more scholarly passages, which creates a dazzling rhythm of shifts in perspective.
“my parents aligned their internal clocks to the rhythms of Costco’s sales schedule”
“Asians find freedom from repressive households in the space of the rave—or, at least, this is what the sociologist Judy Soojin Park writes in a 2015 research paper, “Searching for a Cultural Home: Asian American Youth in the EDM Festival Scene.” The article continues: many Asians like video games and EDM sounds like one. “
(Thought this was a funny excerpt from a research paper.)
“The trap of diversity is always the question: diverse from what? Something that Monica Youn, a TRII member had said earlier that day. There has to be a center in order for there to be a periphery. That center was whiteness, and giving shape to it helped dislodge it from its throne.”
“my parents aligned their internal clocks to the rhythms of Costco’s sales schedule”
“Asians find freedom from repressive households in the space of the rave—or, at least, this is what the sociologist Judy Soojin Park writes in a 2015 research paper, “Searching for a Cultural Home: Asian American Youth in the EDM Festival Scene.” The article continues: many Asians like video games and EDM sounds like one. “
(Thought this was a funny excerpt from a research paper.)
“The trap of diversity is always the question: diverse from what? Something that Monica Youn, a TRII member had said earlier that day. There has to be a center in order for there to be a periphery. That center was whiteness, and giving shape to it helped dislodge it from its throne.”
January 21, 2025
As a fellow queer Asian guy who has spent much of his career working within arts institutions, I was both immediately “in,” while a part of me wanted to hate this book from the outset. The material just felt like too much: too close, too exposing, too soon. On top of that I felt like using Robyn as a recurring thread was somehow overplayed, or redundant or something; like, what could this person possibly say about her music and what it means that the readers likely don’t already know from their own obsessive fandom (me, I’m Reader).
Wu is a capable guide as he weaves personal memoir with criticism. He has a knack for juxtaposing these strands—the recounting of nights out with friends and strangers, the tedium and moral quandaries of work, the romantic search for meaning everywhere he looks. These are interspersed with discursions into the work of artists and collectives like Godzilla, CFGNY, Tseng Kwong Chi, James Baldwin. He knows how to braid these together in ways that complement one another.
I enjoyed and appreciated it overall. I think it’ll hold up as a document of this time in the 2010s and 2020s: what it feels like to be young and queer and Asian and yearning, existing between worlds with the desire to create and be a part of those worlds.
Wu is a capable guide as he weaves personal memoir with criticism. He has a knack for juxtaposing these strands—the recounting of nights out with friends and strangers, the tedium and moral quandaries of work, the romantic search for meaning everywhere he looks. These are interspersed with discursions into the work of artists and collectives like Godzilla, CFGNY, Tseng Kwong Chi, James Baldwin. He knows how to braid these together in ways that complement one another.
I enjoyed and appreciated it overall. I think it’ll hold up as a document of this time in the 2010s and 2020s: what it feels like to be young and queer and Asian and yearning, existing between worlds with the desire to create and be a part of those worlds.
September 15, 2025
Achingly beautiful. Wu creates language for diffuse and complicated feelings, sensations and scenes from his life and the lives of artists, writers and organisers living before him. It almost felt like relief to read a book that confronts the questions and anxieties that animate my own being. Rather than shy away from discomfort - around not fitting in, around pressing oneself up to the glass of the art/lit elite, around not feeling desired - he pulls the string of these doubts. In unraveling them, he dares to release the tension that builds up around navigating various worlds- his immigrant parents' cluttered home, the various organised parties that gesture at utopia, the hallowed halls of America's most prestigious museums.
While one of the book's central tenets is ambivalence, I felt by the end of the collection, Wu arrives somewhere: a gauzy sense of belonging and trust that came from realising that him and his friends' earnest attempts at forging art, politics and selves were a kind of net that could always catch him, no matter where he found himself. The attempt matters, perhaps more than the sense of having arrived or succeeded. There's a sense of abundance - of pleasure, of experience and of possibility.
While one of the book's central tenets is ambivalence, I felt by the end of the collection, Wu arrives somewhere: a gauzy sense of belonging and trust that came from realising that him and his friends' earnest attempts at forging art, politics and selves were a kind of net that could always catch him, no matter where he found himself. The attempt matters, perhaps more than the sense of having arrived or succeeded. There's a sense of abundance - of pleasure, of experience and of possibility.
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