WHAT THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT THE WU
By Christopher J. Garcia
Republished with permission of the author from the Arisia 2006 program book
For a brief time, I held the auction record for a piece of Frank Wu’s artwork. It was at BayCon and it was somewhere north of a hundred-something. That number now seems insignificant, as Frank has gone above and beyond into the heights of SF art. And why not? He’s most certainly a ghenius; a visionary looking so far forward that the superlative evolved an extra h. That’s Frank Wu.
If you’ve ever tried to herd cats through a single opening in a wall a mile away while a million shiny things stand between you and the hole, then you might understand what it’s like in Frank’s brain. There are thousands of ideas for paintings, for stories, for plays, for screenplays, for strange meals, you name it, I’m fairly certain that Frank has thought about it seriously at some point in the last twenty-four hours. While others may operate on a gigaflop scale, Frank’s mind bolts through a sea of ideas at petaflop rates, processing input and putting out masterfully inventive output seemingly at will.
Well, almost.
You see, like all great artists, Frank has the trouble of focus. Once, while he was drawing in the fanzine lounge at CorFlu, I said his name three times and received the answer of silence. I took a seat next to him and repeated the process. Crickets chirped. I placed a finger over the edge of the drawing and Frank practically jumped. ‘I didn’t see you there.’ He said. Such is Frank Wu the artist.
I also happen to hate Frank, as he’s turned into a writer that has imagination that goes far beyond anything that’s ever blipped across my screen. His first story sale was for an anthology called Daikaiju, an Australian thingee that was All Giant Monsters, All the Time. Frank’s story would be considered a work of fever-dream ghenius if one was unaware of Frank’s mind operating on a plane where only quantum computers and obsessive-compulsive Jazzbos dare to tread. The Tragical Historie of Guidolon, the Giant Space Chicken, is not only a story of a Giant Space Chicken…I’m sorry, a Cosmic Avian Avenger, who comes to Earth, but it’s the story of a Giant Space Chicken who directs a movie about a Cosmic Avian Avenger who comes to Earth. Yep, it’s meta alright. The story is silly, with backlot golf cart chases, brawls between a giant octopus and a giant jellyfish, and a lead character who is something like Orson Welles if he had been bathing off of Three Mile Island at exactly the right moment. Frank debuted it with a reading at LosCon 2005 which left the audience gasping for breath.
Frank’s written other pieces for publications like the Hugo-winning Emerald City, the Nova-winning Zoo Nation, and the steaming pile of fanzine that I edit called The Drink Tank. His work has ranged from political to artsy, often at the same time. My personal favorite of his pieces dealt with the things we are finding due to today’s culture of recording. This was a work worthy of a historian, published in a zine edited by a historian who could never in his wildest dreams put together a piece that smart and wide-ranging.
Frank once played a homeless man in a silly little film I produced. It was a part with a single line, but Frank took that character and made it his own, building around a theme of the seven deadly sins and delivering the line, which was only half-caught by the camera, with a force of will that actually made him one of the stars.
I’ve never been fishing with Frank Wu. I’ve always wanted to, but it’s never come up.
Frank is probably one of the great talkers in fandom, and that is saying something. Frank can turn a thing of hot wings and chicken tenders at a sports bar into a surrealist mélange of high scientific ideas, TV theme songs, strange diagrams and general whackiness. When dining with Frank, it would be wise to bring a tape recorder because the ideas will be flying, sometimes literally, and you’ll want to make sure you have a record of it so when you steal…I mean reference them, you’ll get it right.
There are truths about Frank Wu, his passion for polo and Aramaic cooking notwithstanding, that the world just doesn’t know. He collects things, a lot of things, and is the guy who maintains the Frank R. Paul website. He also served as the inspiration for The Karate Kid. Frank’s writing a Giant Space Worm story, as well as breeding Earthworms to reach the titanic size he’s writing about. Frank has a PhD. Frank also knows the lyrics to most of the songs of the last century. Frank doesn’t drink, though a number of people I’ve spoken with have claimed that he’s drunk 24-7. I personally think they just can’t deal with the reality he’s dropping.
More people might know The Wu than anyone else I know. I’ve gone to cons with Frank and he greets and is greeted by more people that I knew were in fandom. He’s also a hugger. I’ve been to gatherings where the last five minutes are devoted entirely to Frnak giving goodbye hugs. What’s amazing about Frank is that he can know everyone and they all know him and through him there is a gathering of souls. He is the guiding force behind the concept of the Food Amoeba, a nebulous group that goes for food at cons. You’ll even see people who didn’t know each other the day before, but after one meal in the Frank-guided amoeba and they’re fast friends. Frank has a field of ‘getting-to-know-you’ around him.
There is a dark side to Frank Wu, there must be. I mean, you don’t know that many people and do such great work without being evil. Frank may seem innocent, but perhaps he actually is the devil himself.
Nah.
So, that’s Frank Wu. When you’re walking down the hall of the con, go ahead, touch him. Offer him a seat at your table and start a conversation of 1970s animation or biological catastrophe and the impact on the science fiction stories of Theodore Sturgeon. Knit him a hat, it’s cold out there and he’s become used to California sun. Most of all, enjoy Frank, it’s incredibly easy to do.