He was a visiting scholar from Shanghai, researching the intersection of Eastern calligraphy and Western abstract expressionism. He had a calm, deliberate way of moving, as if every gesture had been considered before executed. Jane noticed him first because he stood in front of a large, chaotic painting by Mira Schendel—all wandering lines and ghostly translucence—and simply breathed. Not analyzing. Just being with it.
They had three months. They both knew it. Gang’s life was in Shanghai—his aging parents, his research, his students. Jane’s life was here—the gallery, her mother nearby, the city she had rebuilt herself inside. Neither pretended it would be easy. But they also didn’t pretend it wasn’t real. jane costa liu gang
For our next chapter. I’ll see you in March. He was a visiting scholar from Shanghai, researching