An artist I identify with on a new level is Jean Tinguely.  He is one of the first to trade in the Futurists motion on canvas, in preference to making actual moving sculptures.  He is a touchstone for me.  He used motion in a way that, to me, resembles the tentative nature of my own creations.  He created a mammoth monstrosity out of motors, a piano, clanging pots and parts of bikes.  This project, like others of his, was meant to self-destruct.  I have always admired his notion that art isn’t always meant to be permanent.  A sculptural performance: I love it.  The sculpture I am talking about in particular is titled Homage to New York, 1960.  In this piece, he is discussing a city he is visiting, and I gather he felt out of place.   English was a struggle for him, and the city felt overwhelmingly chaotic to the European.  The struggles he was dealing with, for me, come through when I watch video of the ordeal. 
When Tinguely put into this sculpture, his feelings about an environment, I would say, that strongly relates to what I do.   Using video and kinetic sculpture, I discuss my amazement about life cycles by creating seemingly living creatures and letting the viewer watch them go through phases of life.  My contraptions appear as if their movements are impossible yet unpreventable, not unlike life itself.  When it comes to the aesthetics of my films, I often think of Andy Goldsworthy, another significant figure to me.  He finds patterns in nature, and uses them as inspiration to create temporary sculptures and instillations that may fall away within hours of their creation.  Similarly, I find patterns of motion in nature and use that as a starting point for imitating life, not always elegant, hopefully unexpected.  Like Goldsworthy, my camera and I were often the only ones who witnessed the actual events.
I have more recently opened a new page within my artwork.  While teaching college, I had the opportunity to work with several assistants, not always art students, but teachers and friends and students from many fields interested in being a part of artistic activities.  We made educational films, comedies, installations and we put on educational events for kids in the community.  As I followed this course of art-related community interaction, I found myself wanting to experience a new culture where I can experience other versions of community.  I couldn’t help but feel I could grasp new elements and apply them to my own style.  My focus is shifting from a life cycle of a few creatures in a mystical wilderness, to all of us.  I may be ready to shed the allegories in exchange for something more stark.  I am not sure how that will gel yet, but my starting point is clear:  China.  
In the late 1800s, an increasing amount of Oriental art was reaching Europe.  It was an important influence that altered Western Art and Fashion.  The impact was extreme and obvious at the time, though it seems downplayed when we discuss the artists today.  Names we all know—Picasso and Gauguin, for instance—would not be known for their styles as they are if not for prints from Japan and African tribal masks.  These artists and others lesser known were reacting against each other and in response to Eastern and tribal influences; I would point out that they were reacting to new cultural ideas that they saw.  Tinguely on the other hand, lived his changes.  Being that we are more similar today than when I came to know of him many years ago, I realize that the idea of his machines self-destructing came to him after moving from Europe.  It was in response to what he was feeling in NYC.  In art classes, I encourage students often to leave the class, books, and Internet behind—“Don’t just see it, experience it for your self.  It is so much more impactful in person.”  Simply put, I am broadening my own scope of influences; practicing what I preach.  As it is for Tinguely, I too seem to be drawn to elements of the cityscape as my inspiration after living abroad.  specifically, I have become most interested in the rapidly flipping cityscapes of low income housing.
Van Gogh with Japanese Print
I have been using an interpreter to talk with rather poor Shanghainese who are also homeowners being moved by the Government (surprisingly few with great reluctance).  The majority of people are optimistic about their future homes, yet there are situations where it can seem unfair.  At this time, those homes I visited are rubble.  This is not an isolated area and it is not a rare event.  It seems to be happening in every city I visit.  From my American perspective, the overwhelming acceptance of this was initially surprising.  I tried to imagine this happening in America on such a scale.  Though buildings are condemned or a new highway takes out homes, what I am watching is the erasing of a lifestyle.  I have no reason for this to upset me when those involved overwhelmingly are glad to be moving to what they agree are better situations.  As I take it in, I am witnessing a cycle of a changing cityscape—a culture itself is shedding its skin.  I have a particular area where I have been documenting the evolution.  I have recorded, with video, some conversations with the people who feel forced out.  It is becoming a wasteland.  You can see various stages below.  The empty black holes that you see were businesses and homes within days of some of these first pictures.  Eventually it will be apartment buildings, not housing those that have been removed.  The people are shifted out of these homes to newer ones.  When these homes have been replaced some of the new tenants will be people removed from other areas.  The cycle continues.  This is what I have been looking for:  landscape, culture, community, motion, and renewal.  And my next phase of my own expressions of art will seek to capture this landscape, this decrescendo of a culture, and the tenor of a dying Chinese subculture.