Near Failures #10

Chenbl and I were wandering around Xinbei City one day in 2014, somehow ending up on a bus in Tucheng after sunset. Though Chenbl has a terrible sense of direction and would get lost in a 7-Eleven, I usually know more or less where I am, and I soon realized we were going in the opposite direction than we’d intended.

When we got off the bus along a desolate stretch of road lined with empty factories and abandoned cars to look for a bus going the other way, we saw an elaborate banquet being held under a desolate highway overpass, featuring a large colorful tent facing one of those dazzling truck stages that fold out into the gaudiest, most outlandish portable discotheque you can imagine. My friend and fellow photographer Shen Chao-liang’s most notable work involves an exploration of these stages all around Taiwan, and our band has played on them on many an occasion (Pro-tip, don’t touch anything on them when it’s raining; there’s most likely an electric shock waiting for you).

Had it appeared in a Ghibli film, the scene would have most certainly involved some kind of portal to another dimension and featured big-balled racoons or something. As we approached, some rough-looking men exited the tent to piss in the grass on the other side of the road. What appeared to be a portly, over-made up woman waited backstage while a couple of young women in skimpy outfits pranced in front of dozens of round tables that had been set up under the tend. A few older people sat listening to the cacophonous thumps of the music as chefs in white aprons rushed back and forth through the clouds of steam billowing from the makeshift kitchen. It was all part of a time-honored tradition in Taiwan, featured in a film released that year, Zone Pro Site: The Moveable Feast.

The portly woman eventually got up and went to the front of the tent, greeting people as she made her grand entrance to the stage, where she began to sing and dance.

“That’s a man,” said Chenbl. There was no doubt in his voice.

“Really?” I squinted. “Ah, I guess so.” I hadn’t realized that the man was lip-syncing to the woman’s voice coming from the loudspeakers as he twirled around the stage on silver high heels, the stage lights bouncing reflections off his shiny skirt onto the dirty concrete of the overpass.

I don’t usually take photos of performers, but this was just such an interesting situation and atmosphere that I felt compelled to record it, if only to prove that it had actually happened. I took a couple of photos with my Sony a7R from across the road, the 35mm f2.8 lens wide open at 1/60, ISO320. I was glad that the music and distance covered up the loud, ungainly clack of the a7R’s terrible shutter. The people in the audience mostly ignored the performer, but he didn’t seem to mind. It was just a gig to him, and, having played plenty of corporate gigs myself, I could relate.

After his show, the portly man went back to the space alongside the roadway by the truck cab and changed into a dirty T-shirt and jeans, packing his apparel into the back of a dusty hatchback. He then smoked a cigarette before heading off into the night as men in suits crowded the stage among the young women. Our bus finally arrived, and we, too, departed the scene.