They gallopped and pranced elegantly around the field. With their mane perfectly groomed, hoofs polished, they displayed their artistry and perfection of movement as they lept over obstacles set up to test their speed and precision.

Using the Nikon Super Coolscan 9282 Film/Slide scanner, I scanned in my color chromes of horses. Seeing the high resolution scans brought them back to life. I can see them in my mind, galloping and prancing about. I remember how they would sneeze at me, with that green hay coming out of their nostrils. They look magnificent. Seeing the chromes I took of them brought back the joy I experience around horses. They are one of my favorite subjects. They bring me much joy and serenity. I can spend all day with them watching them go about their day - eating, sleeping, roaming around the field.

When I am around them, I feel as though time has stopped and all that matters is my relationship with them. I gaze into their eyes and we seem to have an mutual understanding. At the stable, the smell of hay and horses nostalgic for simplier times, for a time when they roam freely around the wilderness. Now they've become our pets, and that makes me sad. We have taken away their freedom. We have invaded into their wilderness. They are the most beautiful creatures. My love affair with horses will last forever.

Title: Caged
Artist: Kathy Chin
Desription: surreal self-portrait, mixed media installation, surrealism, kathy chin with butterfly wings sitting on a rock, digital print, lovebirds

"Caged" is my surreal self-portrait. It depicts the imprisonment of my 14 lovebirds that are confined in a large cage. My boyfriend gave me two lovebirds as a gift, to keep me company. Over the course of a few years, they have developed into a big family. They've become part of our family. We have grown to love them.

They each have their unique personality and character. There's Papa, Mama, Olive, Hannah, Greta, Pegleg, and so on. We stopped naming them when we started having trouble keeping track of them. They look very similar, in their coloration and size. Initially, they caught his eye because they look so vibrant and beautiful. We keep them caged, as pretty things to look at. They are at our mercy for food and shelter.

In a similar manner, I perceive women's role in society in a similar manner. Many females groom themselves into these pretty, exquite creatures, waiting to catch the eyes of that special person who will take care of them, keep them caged in a sense. Often, females are kept around for their ornamental value.

We are all imprisoned in some way, whether by cages we erect for ourselves, or imposed upon us. The reality of our imprisonment isn't as surreal as the art I create. "Caged" is dedicated to my lovebirds, to enslaved women, to their longing for flight. I, too, long for the freedom of flight. Despite endowing myself with butterfly wings, I remain caged.

(I was thinking of "Paradise City" by Guns and Roses.)

The lockers caught my eyes because they had character. They are rusted and faded from exposure to the harsh elements of nature, if one could call the elements of nature in sunny Los Angeles harsh. The gray ones were the ones I used. I've never seen blue lockers until now. They even designated ones for handicapped people. That's so P.C..

Seeing them brought me back to my high school days, when between classes I always made a visit to my locker, that I shared with my best friend, Tina. It wasn't that there weren't enough lockers to go around. We just enjoyed seeing each other and catching up on the latest gossip and problems in our lives. I miss Tina.

Outside MOCA at the Geffen Contemporary, in the middle of Los Angeles' Little Tokyo, I was inspired to take these photographs of me and my boyfriend as we walked through the parking lot to my car. The shadows give me a new perspective on myself. Devoid of recognizable facial features, the self looks very different - refreshing and less distracting. The focus falls upon the shapes and lines, the interplay of lines and contours. Drama can be seen in the movement of the shadows, created by our movement. This series of photographs involving me and my boyfriend was taken in April.

I love self-portraits. I like the fact that I have control over access to the subject and permission to do as I want with it. Another important aspect to it is that I own the copyright to all the photos I take. I could be nude, I could be role-playing or acting. Art is personal. Many artists draw from the personal. I believe in that. I've learned from my feminist classes at UCLA that the "personal is political." The saying is cliche by now, but its implication remains powerful.

My art is autobiographical for the most part, for now at least. I am interested in taking it elsewhere. I explore myself through self-portraits, as Cindy Sherman has explored herself and issues through her self-portraits. Cindy Sherman developed and delivered her commentary about female existence through photos of herself in different situations and as different characters. She reaffirms one's self as a worthy subject. I think that's a big part in feminist art. From a female and feminist perspective, Sherman gets into character and comments about herself and the plight of women in society. She by trying on different roles as she attempts to find herself and her voice in the process.

Her untitled series of black and white photographs is my favorite. I am thinking about her because she was part of the exhibit, "Street Credibility," that I saw at MOCA in April. She's one of my biggest inspiration.

Another photographer who made an imprint on me from the exhibit was Lee Friedlander. He and fellow street photographer, Garry Winogrand, were part of the "Street Credibility" exhibit. I love Lee Friedlander's photographs of people on the streets of downtown New York. He's my other inspiration.

Sitting in a restaurant late at night, I love looking out the window and watching people and cars drive by. In the darkness, their forms and outlines, stand out as stark, sihouetted figures, mysterious and interesting. I feel voyeuristic as I sip my hot tea with lemon and honey, contemplating the relationships between different people I see just outside the window. The window pane shelters me from their existence. Their shadowy forms show details only when bright lights from cars and lamp posts fall upon them. People come in and out of focus depending on distance and illumination. I find forms in the dark fascinating.

Some songs on my playlist include:

Hey Jupiter (Tori Amos)
What it feels like for a girl (Madonna)
Life in Mono (Mono)
Love Affair (Trickle)
Creep (Radiohead)
A Question of Lust (Depeche Mode)
Playgirl (Ladytron)
Seventeen (Ladytron)
Single (Everything but the Girl)

I saw the movie "Chinatown" starring Faye Dunaway and Jack Nicholson for the first time tonight. I was surprised by the content and subject matter of the film. Filmed in 1974, it's ahead of its time for dealing with issues of incest, rape, and domestic violence. It shows the immense courage and strength of women such Faye Dunaway's character in how they cope with their plight.

I was wondering why the movie was titled "Chinatown" and it didn't make sense to me until the end. The final scenes filmed in Los Angeles Chinatown were shocking and tragic, not because of any deaths, but because of the ones left alive. I was saddened that mother and child didn't both die. I was saddened at the fate of the child, at how she's going to live. It hurts me to see that she could repeat the life of her mother.

The movie points out that there's no protecting our loved ones from being hurt, ultimately. Its ending illustrates the futility of our efforts in protecting those we love and cherish against harm. It's a pessimistic view of the world and its evil, corruption, and ugliness that destroys the best of us, the best in us.

I've heard others talk about the racist portrayal of Chinese in "Chinatown." Racist attitudes and comments were in the movie. The Chinese played the role of servants but that was probably the social status of the Chinese during that period in the history of Los Angeles. We have come a long way, but I am sure racism will always be a factor. It was just more overt back then. Though I am aware of the issues of racism in the movie, I still see "Chinatown" as one of the most important film I've seen. Roman Polanski had the courage to tackle difficult issues of violence against women and children and I appreciate his efforts and creative work. Though I am also aware that he is a controversial figure, that he himself is a pertrator of violence against women and children. That's the irony and tragedy of it all.

It's not a leap for Roman Polanski to delve into issues of incest and rape in "Chinatown." The same year that "Chinatown" was filmed, Polanski was charged with rape against a 13-year-old girl, Samantha Geimer. Samantha was the daughter of an actress. The initial charges were rape, suspicion of sodomy, child molestation and furnishing dangerous drugs to a minor. Geimer's mother had hoped that he would help her daughter get into show business. Polanski fled the United States and returned in 1978 to plead guilty to charges. He skipped bail and fled to France.

He's not able to return to the US because he faces sentencing of up to 50 years in jail. Like the police said in the movie, "This is Chinatown." Daddy walks off with the girl, and the police does nothing about it. This is perhaps the same liberty and license that Polanski wants in his life - to do as he wants with girls. Polanski is not in jail, because he is Polanski. Hollywood tolerates him. The business is harbouring a criminal, though I am sure he's not the only one.

Perhaps the movie was autobiographical in ways. We are all drawn to certain work because of their appeal to us, of how the work speaks to us. People's creative genius comes from somewhere, sometimes a darker place than we can ever imagine. "Chinatown" makes more sense to me now that I take into consideration Polanski's personal life, his own illness, crime, and torments. The man proves to be as controversial and intriguing as the movie he directed.

Apple Pan is quaint and charming restaurant in West LA. It serves greasy, yummy hamburgers, fries, and apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream (my favorite). Eating there takes me to another era, where life might be simpler. I love the older men who work there. They look like they might have taken their dates to a hang out like this back in the day. They add to the character and atmosphere of the place. I go there to see them as much as I go there for the food.

Shapely vases on the tables and desks caught my eyes. Instead of being interested in furniture - couches, tables, chairs, etc. - I was more interested in the decoration on them. They evoke a calmness through the natural curvatures, colors, and placement.