Artist Tribute: Gossen Chang

My grandfather died a little over ten years ago. In the time that he was alive, I regrettably knew little about him. Since then, I’ve made efforts to learn more about him and further connect with him through our art. 張東陽, Gossen Chang, or as I called him, a-gong, was born in 1936 in Dadaocheng, Taipei, in a time of great social and political uncertainty in Taiwan. Despite this, he became a prominent photographer within the community. Growing up in this turbulent era forged in him a deep-rooted connection to his homeland, shaping a lifelong appreciation for its people, culture, and spirit.

From a young age, he was marked by his intelligence, curiosity, and a wide array of passions, most notably a love for art, literature, and music. But it was photography that became his enduring pursuit. Once he picked up a camera in his youth, he rarely put it down.A true self-taught artist, my grandfather built his photography career through perseverance and experimentation. Without mentors or formal instruction, he learned by doing, making mistakes, reflecting, and growing. 

His subjects ranged from the everyday to the extraordinary: a bare tree by the roadside, a stray dog lingering on a street corner, the vastness of Taiwan’s mountains, or the annual superbloom of poppies. Whatever the subject, his lens revealed something deeper, whether that be a story, a memory, or a moment suspended in time. He was especially fond of capturing what he called the 浮世絵 (ukiyo-e), which is often translated as "pictures of the floating world.” This refers to a medium of Japanese woodblock prints in the Edo period, known for depicting scenes from everyday life. 

He later became one of the three founding members of a photography society in Taiwan, and was president from 1998 to 1999, and from 2004 to 2006. Many who knew him all noted that he treated the society as his second home. Even in his later years, he continued to learn and evolve. He taught himself computer skills and embraced digital editing, using Photoshop to enhance and refine his photography. He also shared his thoughts on Taiwanese literature through a personal blog, engaging in thoughtful dialogue with a growing online community.

After suffering a stroke in 2010, my grandfather lost mobility on the left side of his body. He passed away in 2014 at the age of 78, when I was 7, leaving behind only his photographs on my walls to remember him by. My grandfather saw the world with rare clarity and compassion. Through his camera, he preserved not just images, but emotions and stories, offering all who knew him, and all who view his work, a deeper understanding of beauty, memory, and meaning.

谢谢阿公。