分类： other

Two of the world’s most iconic waterfront metropolises, Shanghai sitting on the banks of the Huangpu River and New York along the Hudson, have renewed their cross-Pacific cultural connection through a landmark humanities dialogue that deepens mutual understanding between young people of China and the United States.

On June 29, the core session of the third season of “Bund: A Global Urban Humanities Dialogue between Shanghai and New York” — titled “From Shanghai to New York: A Century-Long Cultural Journey Inspiring New China-US Dialogue” — took place at the China Institute of America in Manhattan, bringing together emerging scholars, artists and academic leaders from both nations to explore the intersections of technology, art and cross-cultural philosophy.

The gathering builds on decades of people-to-people exchange between the two port cities, which share a foundational identity shaped by water and a shared ethos of openness and inclusiveness. Unlike formal high-level diplomatic talks, this dialogue centered on elevating youth engagement and bridging cultural divides through creative and intellectual collaboration, creating a dedicated space for younger generations to exchange ideas and advance cross-cultural mutual learning.

Yu Yougen, education counselor at the Chinese Consulate General in New York, emphasized that the event represents far more than a cross-border academic exchange. “This is not only an academic dialogue across geographical boundaries, but also a cultural exchange that connects history with the future,” he said. Noting the decades of close, productive exchange between the two cities, Yu added that what travels across the Pacific Ocean between the Huangpu and Hudson extends far beyond exhibitions and discussions: it carries the shared desire of people from both countries to learn from one another.

Yu Jin, president of the China Institute of America, framed the gathering as both a reflection on a century of people-to-people connection and a stepping stone for future collaboration. Founded in New York in 1926 by pioneering figures including Chinese scholar Hu Shih and leading American educators John Dewey and Paul Monroe, the China Institute is one of the oldest non-profit organizations in the U.S. focused on advancing U.S.-China understanding through cultural and educational programming. Yu Jin expressed hope that through deepened partnerships with East China Normal University and other collaborating institutions, the dialogue will help more young people develop cross-cultural awareness and build lasting connections across borders.

Zhang Huihong, deputy chair of the University Council of East China Normal University, echoed that sentiment, noting that the two cities share far more than their status as leading global hubs. “Shanghai and New York are both cities shaped by water and recognized as international metropolises. Although they are thousands of miles apart, they share similar city spirits of openness and inclusiveness,” she said, adding that the event aims to unlock new opportunities for people-to-people exchange between the two nations through collaborative cultural creation and transoceanic dialogue.

Complementing the core dialogue, a companion art exhibition will run at the China Institute gallery from July 9 to 30, featuring more than 100 works created by students and faculty from East China Normal University. The exhibition draws direct inspiration from Mei Lanfang’s historic 1930 tour of the United States, a landmark moment that introduced Chinese Peking Opera to American audiences and cemented its place as a foundational milestone in U.S.-China cultural exchange.

Spanning prints, paintings, illustrations, animations and AI-generated works, the exhibition explores how contemporary creators can reimagine traditional Chinese art and intangible cultural heritage through modern design principles and emerging digital technologies. Wei Shaonong, a professor in the School of Design at East China Normal University, explained that the project encourages young creators to reconnect with their cultural roots while reinterpreting traditional motifs for contemporary audiences. “Traditional Chinese culture contains rich artistic elements, and we hope students can reinterpret them through today’s artistic language and creative approaches. In this process, they learn from tradition while exploring how traditional art can remain connected to contemporary life,” he said.

Reflecting on Mei Lanfang’s enduring legacy, Wei noted that the legendary performer offered a timeless lesson for cross-cultural communication. Even though Peking Opera operated within a cultural context far removed from most 1930s American audiences, Mei’s tour was a resounding success because he grasped a core principle: when introducing art and culture to a new audience, creators must adapt their storytelling to resonate with shared understanding. “The great inspiration we gained from Mei Lanfang’s visit is that cultural communication requires translating not only language, but also the way stories are told and the cultural context behind them,” Wei added.

The event also included the launch of “Collaborative Learning,” an in-person intercultural roundtable discussion initiated by Paul J. D’Ambrosio, a professor of Chinese philosophy at East China Normal University. D’Ambrosio emphasized that cultural exchange thrives through diverse, accessible forms of engagement beyond traditional academic scholarship. “As scholars, we should remember that cultural exchange happens through many different forms,” he said. “It can happen through films, music, entertainment and many other creative expressions. While academic research and focused discussions remain important, we also need to stay open to broader forms of communication.”

Veteran Associated Press journalist David Briscoe, whose decades-long career was defined by his vivid on-the-ground coverage of the collapse of authoritarian rule and the birth of democracy in the Philippines during one of the nation’s most turbulent modern eras, has died at the age of 82. His wife, Leonor Briscoe, confirmed he passed away Sunday at an assisted living community in Kapolei, Hawaii, following an April diagnosis of amyloidosis, a progressive condition marked by dangerous protein buildup that damages vital organs.

Over a career that stretched across five decades and multiple continents, Briscoe brought his signature relentless curiosity to assignments across his home state of Utah, the nation’s capital in Washington D.C., and Hawaii. But it was his posting as Manila bureau chief that placed him at the center of the most consequential story of his professional life.

When Briscoe took the reins of the AP’s Manila bureau in 1980, he spent the next six years documenting the final declining years of Ferdinand Marcos’ brutal authoritarian regime, and the national chaos that erupted following the assassination of opposition leader Benigno Aquino Jr. Briscoe and his reporting team crisscrossed the archipelago, traveling via chartered aircraft, rented jeeps, and on one notable occasion, a horse-drawn cart, to keep up with the fast-moving story. They covered a relentless string of corruption investigations, legislative hearings, and the unlikely 1986 presidential campaign that saw Aquino’s grieving widow, Corazon Aquino, pushed into the national spotlight to lead a grassroots democratic movement.

The iconic finale of that movement, which saw Corazon Aquino sworn in as president and Marcos forced into sudden exile, remained etched in Briscoe’s memory for the rest of his life. He often recalled searing, unforgettable images from that period: “of nuns kneeling in front of military tanks” and “soldiers and civilians crying in each other’s arms.” Writing for AP World, the outlet’s in-house publication shortly after the revolution in 1986, Briscoe noted, “I expect to witness or cover no greater event in my life.”

Born David Chesley Briscoe on July 30, 1943, in Salt Lake City, Utah, Briscoe grew up in a working-class household, where his father worked as a union steward and his mother as a homemaker, raising Briscoe and his brother in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He first discovered his passion for journalism while studying at the University of Utah, writing for the campus student newspaper before landing his first professional role at the Deseret News, where he cut his teeth writing obituaries and profiles of high-achieving local students.

After two years at the Utah paper, Briscoe joined the Peace Corps and was assigned first to Paracale, then to Naga City in the Philippines, where he taught English. For a young man who had barely left his home state of Utah in his early life, every corner of the Philippines was a revelation: from water buffalo cooling off in muddy waterholes to children running along sunbaked dirt roads.

Briscoe quickly fell in love with his adopted country, and bristled at the thought of leaving when his Peace Corps service came to an end. He took a job at a local Philippine newspaper, and while covering an event featuring a speech by Ferdinand Marcos, he met Leonor Aureus, an editor at a competing local outlet. The pair bonded over their shared love of journalism, and soon married, decorating their wedding aisle with copies of their respective papers, The Naga Times and the Bicol Mail.

In 1970, Briscoe was hired by the AP’s Manila bureau, where he covered major breaking stories including a deadly earthquake that shook the capital, an assassination attempt on Pope Paul VI during a pastoral visit, and a commercial plane hijacking. By 1971, however, AP leadership ordered Briscoe to return to the United States to take up a domestic posting. He moved back to Salt Lake City, holding out hope that fate would one day bring him back to the Philippines he had come to love.

During his time back in Utah, Briscoe found himself increasingly at odds with the Latter-day Saint Church that had shaped his upbringing. His wife recalled he faced church discipline after speaking out against the Church’s longstanding ban barring Black men from the priesthood during a discussion class he taught; Briscoe openly opposed the exclusion, which the Church eventually lifted years later. He also ran afoul of Church leadership after co-writing a three-part investigative series with colleague Bill Beecham that examined the Church’s extensive network of business holdings, estimating that annual revenue from member tithing alone exceeded $1 billion. No major Utah newspaper dared to publish the reporting, the pair later said.

After nine years back in Salt Lake City, AP leadership offered Briscoe the chance to return to Manila as bureau chief. He immediately called his wife with the news, asking her, “Noree, are you sitting down?”

After completing his six-year term leading the AP Manila bureau, Briscoe relocated to Washington D.C. in 1986, where he covered international affairs. He went on to serve as AP’s Honolulu bureau chief from 2001 until his retirement in 2009. In Hawaii, dressed in casual aloha shirts and soaking up the tropical sunshine, Briscoe often said he felt “halfway back” to the Philippines he cherished.

Until his final days, Briscoe held his time covering the Philippines close to his heart. As his health declined in his final weeks, his family gathered at his side to pray. He squeezed his wife’s hand, told her he loved her, and asked her to let him pass peacefully.

Per his family’s plans, a boat will carry Briscoe’s ashes out into the Pacific Ocean, where they will be scattered, with the hope that ocean currents will carry his remains back to the Philippines that became his adopted home. “The land that David learned to love,” his wife said, “and where he met the love of his life.”

For decades, China Daily Information Co (CDIC) has maintained clear intellectual property guidelines for all content hosted on its official digital platform. First established with copyright protection in 1994, the company retains full legal rights to every piece of content published on the site, covering a broad range of material from written articles and photographic work to interactive multimedia resources. Under CDIC’s intellectual property rules, no party is permitted to republish or reuse any content from the platform in any format without obtaining explicit, written advance authorization from the organization.

Beyond its copyright policies, the website also provides practical guidance for visitors, recommending that users access the platform through browsers configured to a minimum resolution of 1024*768 for the optimal viewing experience. The site also holds the required official licensing for online multimedia publication, with a published license identifier 0108263 and official registration number 130349 on record.

To help visitors engage more deeply with the organization, the platform lists a range of quick access links for core services and resources. These include a detailed informational page about China Daily, resources for brands and organizations interested in purchasing advertising space on the site, contact information for general inquiries, current open job vacancies for job seekers, and dedicated employment resources for expatriate workers looking for opportunities with the organization. Visitors are also invited to follow China Daily’s content across its social media channels to stay updated on the latest news and updates.

Dang Van Phuoc, the fearless former Associated Press photographer who built a legendary career covering the Vietnam War through devastating personal injury and immense hardship, has passed away at the age of 91. He died suddenly Saturday at his home in Southern California, confirmed his nephew Van Nguyen.

Phuoc’s life was marked by struggle from its earliest days. Born in 1935 in a small Vietnamese village near Quang Ngai, south of Da Nang, he was orphaned by his mid-teens: his father was killed by Viet Cong insurgents when Phuoc was around 10 years old, and his mother died a few years later, leaving him homeless with no support system.

In his young adulthood, Phuoc volunteered to carry equipment at a Saigon film studio where his aunt worked as a cook. It was in this space that he first encountered a camera, teaching himself the fundamentals of photography through self-guided practice and on-the-job observation.

In 1965, Horst Faas, AP’s then–photo chief, hired Phuoc to replace a local photojournalist who had been killed while on assignment. It did not take long for Phuoc to earn a distinctive reputation among fellow journalists and coalition troops: he had an almost preternatural ability to reach the center of active combat, putting him in position to capture raw, unflinching images of the war that other photographers could not access. Faas would later dub Phuoc the news agency’s “secret weapon” for his unmatched prowess in the field. Phuoc regularly walked alongside the lead point man on combat patrols, a choice that produced extraordinary photography but exposed him to constant mortal danger.

Over his 10-year tenure covering the war for AP, Phuoc sustained at least five separate combat injuries. Just five months after he was hired, a grenade explosion sprayed shrapnel into his chest and leg, but he returned to frontline reporting within a few months to continue covering the protracted conflict between North Vietnam’s Communist forces and the U.S.-backed South Vietnamese military. In 1968, he suffered a concussion when a rocket fragment struck his head while he documented intense street fighting in Saigon. That same year, he braved continuous sniper fire to carry a wounded U.S. soldier to safety, earning a formal commendation from the Ninth U.S. Army Infantry Division for his act of courage.

The most devastating injury came in 1969, when a grenade explosion during a patrol with a U.S. Ranger battalion south of Da Nang cost Phuoc his right eye. Undeterred, he relearned how to frame and shoot photographs with a single eye and returned to his post within months. In a 2011 interview for AP’s institutional archives, Phuoc opened up about the unique challenges of working with one eye: he had to balance peering through his camera viewfinder while also staying alert for silent hand signals from the soldiers accompanying him on patrol.

Huỳnh Công “Nick” Út, Phuoc’s colleague in AP’s Saigon bureau and the Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer behind the iconic image of a burned Vietnamese girl fleeing a napalm attack, remembered Phuoc as both a fearless professional and a devoted friend. “He was fearless and resourceful in the field,” Út said. “Behind the scenes, he was a giving man and loyal friend who treated me like a brother. When I heard he had passed, I cried, ‘My brother, he’s gone.’ Everyone loved him so much.”

Though Phuoc was celebrated for his gripping combat photography, he often said the images that mattered most to him were those that captured the suffering of civilian civilians trapped in the crossfire of war. In the 2011 interview, he framed his work as a quiet act of service, comparing himself to “a small grain of sand” who used his camera to amplify unheard stories of civilian hardship to a global audience.

When Saigon fell to North Vietnamese forces in 1975, Phuoc fled Vietnam with his family, carrying only the clothes on their backs and a single bottle of milk for his child. After being stranded in a Guam refugee camp, AP reporter Linda Deutsch—who was covering the camp at the time—intervened to help the family resettle, and they were flown to the U.S. to process at Camp Pendleton in Southern California.

Phuoc briefly returned to Asia to work for AP’s Hong Kong bureau before leaving the news organization and settling permanently in Southern California with his family. He built a second career as a professional portrait photographer in Orange County, home to Little Saigon, the largest community of Vietnamese refugees outside Vietnam.

In retirement, Phuoc remained deeply engaged in his craft and his community. He was a founding member of The Artistic Photography Association, where he trained generations of young emerging photographers. He also served as a civilian volunteer for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, and was named the county’s Volunteer of the Year in 1994.

Kim Nguyen, Phuoc’s great-nephew, reflected on his legacy Tuesday, recalling the childhood portraits Phuoc took of him as an infant and a recent visit to a Vietnamese museum where he brought his own infant son to view Phuoc’s wartime work on public display.