Posts Tagged ‘Chinese art’

Beyond the storage space: White Rabbit’s Beyond the Frame

Monday, October 17th, 2011

By Megan Hillyer

There has been no development in Australia’s art scene more exciting, or eagerly anticipated, than the recent emergence of privately funded, public art museums. In acts of philanthropy long overdue in Australia, a small group of private collectors have begun opening high-profile public spaces to display their very personal, much-loved art collections. Extravagant in nature and completely removed from the monetary limitations facing many of our state and public institutions, these spaces are continuing to astound gallery-goers with their novel approaches to thinking about and exhibiting art.

Sydney’s own White Rabbit Gallery, founded by Judith and Kerr Neilson, is no exception. Created out of Judith Nielson’s desire to share her 450+ collection of post-2000 contemporary Chinese art with all, the White Rabbit Gallery has quickly become one of Sydney’s most popular and lively art venues, celebrated for exhibitions that provide incredible insight into a very specific, relatively new area of contemporary art. In late August, they returned with another rehang, this time attempting to question and breakdown any sense of limits and boundaries in art.

Beyond the Frame, the fifth exhibition since opening in 2009, presents another diverse selection of thought-provoking, cutting-edge works drawn from the Neilson’s private collection. The exhibition revolves around a broad theme of transgression and transcendence — the word ‘frame’ having multiple connotations. It is intended literally, alluding to the transgression and transcendence of visual and artistic norms through choice of media and practice. It also refers to exploring and challenging conceptual frameworks and parameters of all kinds — social values, concepts of normality, the role and purpose of art, ideologies pertaining to Chinese culture, even the distinction between nature and man-made.

When it comes to contemporary Chinese art, a new generation of artists are indeed exploring and enjoying newfound artistic limitlessness. It was only thirty-five years ago that Mao Zedong’s death ended the Cultural Revolution. In the time since then, the cultural and artistic changes in China have been as dramatic as they have been rapid. Bouncing back in spectacular style from the global isolation and creative stagnation experienced under Mao, practicing artists concerned themselves with trying to establish new artistic paradigms that would restore a weakened nation and connect it to the West. Exposed to artistic and aesthetic styles occurring globally and fuelled with incredible cynicism over China’s political state, Chinese artists quickly began to test the boundaries of what was acceptable, both aesthetically and politically, in subtly subversive and disruptive ways.

Not much has changed when we consider the work of contemporary Chinese artists practicing today. As China continues to evolve as a commercial superpower, hurtling forward at a rate unparalleled by any other nation in the world, contemporary Chinese artists continue to do the same. In the process, they have captivated the international art world with daring works of art that respond to, and challenge, the rapid political and socioeconomic changes that have left the nation in a state of constant flux. The result? Visually innovative art that is more ambitious, subversive and thematically complex than anything else to emerge internationally in the last two decades.

It comes as no surprise then that an exhibition of Chinese contemporary art is held together by an overarching theme of transcendence of boundaries, or in this case, ‘frames and frameworks of all kinds’. Such ideas have become so synonymous with the vary nature of contemporary Chinese art that it is almost predictable.

Among the works exhibited, a standout piece thematically is Song Jianshu’s In the end, a mesmerising sculpture exhibited on the ground floor. In this work, Jianshu has subtly altered a large, uprooted tree by sanding and polishing the top of the trunk into a sharp point. In making slight interventions to its structure, Jianshu has removed the tree to a place where it is no longer identifiably part of or belonging to nature, yet neither a completely finished man-made work of art. This juxtaposition between untouched nature and human intervention is a conscious attempt to blur the boundary between nature and the built environment.

Works of art like In the end however, which have been created with the idea of blurring boundaries in mind, seem to be few and far between in this exhibition. With no real introduction to the theme aside from a brief statement that describes the works on display as thrilling demonstrations of how much more art can be than pretty pictures, Beyond the Frame as a concept is overly broad, non-specific, and above all, blatantly obvious. While the lack of definition around the idea of breaking down limits in art can be taken as a strategic move to demonstrate just how boundless art truly is, its complete lack of specificity makes it a fairly weak connecting theme to bring together nearly forty works of art which are all powerful and thematically complex in their own right.

Yet to base the value of Beyond the Frame solely on how well the works communicate the overall theme is to disregard the fact that first and foremost, this is an exhibition based on the display of works from a private collection.

At the very least, Beyond the Frame primarily revolves around the philosophy that drives White Rabbit Gallery as private art in a public art space. While the gallery was created based on Judith Neilson’s belief that art should be communally experienced and enjoyed, not bought and placed in storage, White Rabbit is fairly specific in its approach. Exclusively collecting contemporary Chinese art produced after 2000, the space operates on the idea of documenting and reflecting a new stage in contemporary Chinese art. Above all, the Neilsons want to change the way people think about this art. By continuing to provide visibility for lesser-known contemporary Chinese artists, White Rabbit displays its strength as a space committed to expanding perceptions of China’s art scene. Indeed, it is the impressive and unusual works of art selected for exhibition that has made White Rabbit such a popular venue, more so than any overruling theme put in place to make sense of them as a collective whole.

Beyond the Frame is no exception, an exhibition that presents another wide array of engaging works from both established and unknown contemporary Chinese artists, each reflecting just how dynamic and expansive the current practice of contemporary Chinese art actually is.

Typical of the awe-inspiring works often displayed at White Rabbit Gallery is the Madeln Company’s Calm, a hallucinatory installation piece composed of a waterbed, carpet and bricks. Originally exhibited as the work of an unknown Middle Eastern artist in an exhibition produced by the Madeln Company, Calm inspires contemplation of how prejudice is often manifested in the ways we think about the unrest in the Middle East. From afar, the work is deceivingly plain, nothing more than a large pile of dirt and rubble on the gallery floor. On closer inspection the work is visually astounding. The dirt is alive, appearing to breathe as the waterbed moves in waves beneath the rubble.

In the same vain is Peng Hungchih’s Farfur the Martyr, a politically charged water installation that explores the way cultural icons can become a tool for xenophobic sentiments. Visually spectacular, yet fairly unnerving in content, Hungchih has strangely placed a composite figure of Jesus Christ and Farfur — a famous Palestinian children’s TV show host who spread the word of jihad and was assassinated on live television by an Israeli — on top of the Star of David. Gushing water from various wounds and completely overwhelming in size, this work is a dark and absurd reflection on the many ways images and icons can have their meanings completely inverted in potentially destructive and subversive ways.

Farfur the Martyr © Peng Hungchih, 2009. All images courtesy of the artists and White Rabbit Gallery.

Farfur the Martyr is not the only work exhibited in Beyond the Frame truly unsettling in its questioning of sensitive and somber issues. In contrast to the flashy, technically impressive works displayed in previous exhibitions, the Neilson’s have chosen for Beyond the Frame a selection of works much more disturbing and serious in subject matter. Critical and reflective in nature, these works delve deep into uncomfortable truths and harrowing issues of both personal and communal importance. Illustrative of this is Cang Xin’s Sharmanism Series: Variation, exhibited on the second floor. Xin’s work presents pure carnage and butchery at its best. Demonstrating a cycle of sacrifice and subsequent regeneration, his drawings of life-sized dismembered male bodies with fresh wounds dripping blood, hooked by the ankle to a pulley system, are violent and visually shocking.

In the same space is Lu Zhengyuan’s Mental Patients and Lu Nan’s photographic documentation of Prison Camps in Northern Myanmar. Both works are concerned with telling the story of individuals on the margins of society — in the case of Zhengyuan, the mentally ill in China who have inadequate treatment options, overlooked as the nation forges forward without them. Nan alternatively explores the story and despondent experiences of the opium and heroin addicted prisoners in Myanmar.

Mental Patients © Lu Zhengyuan, 2006. All images courtesy of the artists and White Rabbit Gallery.

Lu Zhengyuan’s Mental Patients was created from memory after spending two weeks in a mental institution caring for an ill friend. Composed of fibreglass and grey paint, Zhengyuan’s seven patients are realistic, life-size human figures. While visitors are able to wander among the bodies sparsely positioned in a corner of the second floor, it is difficult to connect with them. These figures stare out and beyond, unaware of another presence. Bleak and disheveled in appearance, it is impossible not to feel the hopelessness of their predicament. One of the less familiar contemporary Chinese artists to be featured at White Rabbit, Zhengyuan’s Mental Patients is a surprisingly emotive work of art from a rising star.

Also among those that are less familiar are Jin Nü, a twenty-seven year old artist from Hebei, and Guo Fei, a young artist from Shanxi.  Jin Nü’s Exuviate II: Where Have All the Children Gone? and three works from Guo Fei’s Boxes series — Be Quiet, Autumn, and The Silence You Can Hear can be found on the first floor of White Rabbit. While visually distinct from each other and composed of varying media — installation and oil on wood respectively — the two works similarly consider the inevitable progression of life and societal development, commenting on the consequences such progression has had on their personal well-being and China’s ecological landscape.

In Jin Nü’s work, twenty small dresses of sheer starched silk hang unevenly from the gallery roof. While art critics interpreted the work to be a solemn comment on China’s one child policy, the translucent dresses functioning as a tribute to millions of female babies consequently killed or aborted, Jin Nü’s installation piece is really a meditation on her own lost childhood. Simultaneously nostalgic about the passing of time and unnerved by the harsh realities of adult life, Nü’s work represents her personal longing for the innocence and tenderness of young life, a stage she regretfully will never be able to return to.

Exuviate II: Where Have All the Children Gone © Jin Nu, 2005. All images courtesy of the artists and White Rabbit Gallery.

Similary, Guo Fei returns to memories of his childhood in Be Quiet, Autumn, and The Silence You Can Hear. Using wooden boxes as a base, a nod to the Chinese pastime of placing collected items in square wooden boxes, Fei paints his recollections of childhood, creating an odd collection of personal memories in the process. For the three works featured in Beyond the Frame, Fei presents the sublime and idyllic scenes of insects, wildlife and nature he remembers from his childhood. However, the impetus behind the three works of art is to pay homage to places that no longer exist — the passing of time and rapid urbanisation have seen these scenes replaced with sprawling suburban landscapes and cities. While reflecting on the loss of personal history, the only lasting remnants being intangible and vague memories, Fei also cleverly comments on the potential ecological disaster and destruction of cultural heritage continued urban expansion would result in.

With four floors of contemporary Chinese art on display, all unique in style and content, White Rabbit’s Beyond the Frame is well worth a visit. There truly is no other venue in the country that provides such a comprehensive look into the phenomenon that is contemporary Chinese art. Indeed, Beyond the Frame is yet another spectacular White Rabbit exhibition that affirms how phenomenal and multifaceted contemporary Chinese art practice currently is. Beyond the Frame is on display until December 31st, 2011. Admission is free.

All images courtesy of the artists and White Rabbit Gallery

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Posted in Artwrite Issue 47, Master of Art Administration students Semester 2, 2011, Exhibition Reviews | Comments Off

Shadow play— A Special Puppet Show

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

Suzy Shu

Chinese shadow play, also called ‘Piyingxi’, is one of the oldest drama forms in China. Its name means “lamp shadow play”, and it also can be seen as a special kind of puppet show. Chinese shadow play has a history of about 2,000 years. Because of the way it works, it has been called ‘the ancestor of movies’, while for people today the shadow play was performed and developed more as a kind of cultural heritage. Puppets and figures from shadow plays have been collected by museums in many foreign countries. The Chinese government also likes to give it to foreign leaders as a special gift from the Chinese people.

The shadow puppets are made of clear plastic or buffalo and donkey’s leather, and the figures of the shadow puppet show are from the Chinese myths, legends, stories and even classical books. People can tell a figure’s character by their mask. For example, a red mask represents uprightness, a black mask, fidelity, and a white one, treachery. The protagonist has long narrow eyes, a small mouth and a straight bridge of nose, while the antagonist has small eyes, a protruding forehead and sagging mouth. A clown has a circle around his eyes, projecting a humorous and frivolous air. These puppets are painted using bright colors, making them become very lively and beautiful. In shadow play, the puppets are usually moved by artists’ hands behind a thin screen with some music and singing which tells the story to the audience.

Chinese Shadow Play Puppets

Courtesy of Confucius Institute Online

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Posted in Artwrite 43 Children, Artwrite Issue 43 | Comments Off

Gunshot

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

Lunan Xing

The late 1980s in China was an age of innocence; a period where the government was liberalizing and commercial pressures had not yet come to dominate society. It was a period for enthusiasts, idealists and dreamers. In 1989, an art exhibition was held in the official national gallery. It was the first time contemporary artists had formed a group in China to appear in an official exhibition area. The young artists were so excited that they made numerous exotic modern works, including some kaleidoscopic performance works for the exhibition. The most eye-catching one was the historic ‘gunshot incident’.

On February 5, 1989, female artist Xiao Lu stood in front of her ‘Dialogue’ installation, which was made out of two telephone kiosks, and fired a gun at it. The exhibition was closed because of this ‘gunshot incident’. The artist Tang Song, partner of Xiao Lu, was arrested for owning firearms illegally. Xiao Lu reported herself to the police later on. The incident was so shocking that it covered the front page of various key newspapers, each with a varying interpretation of her actions. However, contemporary art is always accompanied by misreading.

The ‘gunshot incident’ could be described as announcing the end of an era. Idealism was ruined both in art and society in general. ‘They had a strong historical, political feeling to explain the work like this, but I just have some emotional obsessions at that time in my own female world, which seems too small for the male’, 1 said Xiao Lu years later. Back in 1989, Xiao had just graduated from college with a failed love, which made her believe that it was impossible to have an efficient dialogue between the two sexes. The ‘dialogue’ installation was created to express her personal feelings. The images of a female and a male were put separately inside the two telephone booths revealing their attempt to communicate with each other, while a microphone hung in between to show the failure of the conversation. The young artist at that time had no idea about performance art. She just wanted to destroy the installation in a speedy way to emphasize the idea of the work. A gun was an ideal method and available as she was the daughter of high-ranking officials.

After the bullets were shot on the exhibition, Tang Song, who actually wasn’t involved in the creation of the work, was arrested. Because of this, the two young artists fell in love with each other. Tang claimed himself as the creator of the artwork and interpreted it with the grand narratives from political, social and legal aspects. As both of the artists had high-ranking official family backgrounds, they were released after three days. Tang, who was experienced at talking in public, attracted considerable attention both from media reporters and art critics. Xiao, who loved Tang, chose to be silent.

The original intention of the work was to discuss the communication and paradox between two sexes, however what happened after the shot exceeded the expectations of everyone, including the artist herself. Tang and other critics perceived the work in a typical male-grand gesture way because of the political context. As a result of the failed communication and misunderstanding between each other, the original meaning was ignored and intentionally distorted. The female artist lost her voice. Fifteen years later, however, Xiao broke her silence to describe her original idea about the artwork in a letter also telling of her failed love affair with Tang, who had only loved himself and taken the gunshot performance from her. The tragic result of this love story forced Xiao to review the artwork, claim the sole right of the work and inspire her independence as an artist rather than just a lover of Tang.

In the long fifteen years, however, this artwork has always been accepted and explained by public from a political perception. ‘Dialogue’, no matter whether it was talking about the feminine private feelings or the masculine political metaphor, has exceeded the installation itself. All the issues surrounding the artwork can themselves be seen as performance art. Who was authorized to interpret the artwork? How many works in art history has been deprived its original meaning like this? Probably the process of continuing to question is the most meaningful thing.

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Posted in Artwrite 43 500, Artwrite Issue 43 | Comments Off

What does it mean to be Australian?

Wednesday, November 3rd, 2010

Jun-Woo Do

Chinese translation here

Hou Leong is a Chinese artist based in Canberra since 1989 who focuses on the ideas of cultural appropriation and perceptions in relation to identity and tradition. Through his simple and clever works, Leong raises questions of identity by combining and contrasting images of Asian people or landscapes with those of similar and familiar Australian images. Leong challenges dominant Anglo-Australian values. At the same time, an Asian-Australian culture successfully mingles with Anglo-Australian culture in his works, which demonstrate both cultural conflict and reconciliation.

Leong was born in Shanghai in 1964 and graduated from Shanghai Huashan Fine Arts School in 1983. He completed his Bachelors degree in Visual Arts with honours at the Canberra School of Art, Australian National University. His major solo exhibitions include “Paradox” at Canberra Contemporary Art Space and the Australian Embassy in Paris.  He has also exhibited in “Transit” at the Art Gallery of NSW, the Moet & Chandon Touring Exhibition at the National Gallery of Australia, the Queensland Art Gallery and the National Gallery of Victoria. Leong is not tied to Australia, and has also exhibited in Hong Kong, Bangkok, Shanghai, and Japan.

Leong is best known for the photomontage series An Australian.   In this series he questions the meaning of an Australian by replacing the face of an Australian figure in the photos with his own. The background of the photos represents the stereotypical value of the Anglo-Australian. For example, an Asian guy is present in an Australian outback pub, perceived as a real Australian thing. The first impression of this photo is one of ‘awkwardness’ due to the presence of an unexpected Asian guy in a typical white Australian space.  When we look at the photo we feel awkward and stereotypical mindsets are encountered and questioned.

Another example is ’An Australian – Crocodile Dundee’, a parody of one of the most famous Australian icons, Mick Crocodile Dundee.  Crocodile Dundee is a film which was directed by Peter Faiman and produced in 1986. The film parodies a stereotypically white Australian, Crocodile Dundee. At the same time, the film reinforces the stereotypes of Australia as a nation of white people with wild habits, to international audiences.

Leong has digitally reworked a still cut from the film. He has replaced Dundee’s white face with his own.   Leong’s intention works effectively when people watch and are shocked when Dundee’s white blue-eyed face is unexpectedly replaced with that of an Asian. This depiction questions the stereotypical mindset of the average Australian. (Edmundson, 2009)

Leong also raises symbolic and cultural questions by using photos of landscapes such as “Shells on Li River.” He has placed the Sydney Opera House on the Li River in China, surrounded by Chinese mountains. The same awkwardness caused by unnatural combination occurs here as well. (Chiu, 1997)

In his recent art works, Leong’s approach has been expanded by questioning Australian values and considering Western traditions and moral standards. For example, he fuses Asian and Western traditions and artistic styles by painting in ink and oil. His questioning on different cultures continues.

Hou Leong

An Australia – Crocodile Dundee

Digital photograph

1994

50 x 70cm

Courtesy the artist

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Posted in Artwrite 43 500, Artwrite Issue 43 | Comments Off

The New Exhibition Age of China

Monday, October 18th, 2010

Jia Guo

Chinese translation here

Initiated by three independent curators and avant-garde thinkers – Jiang Jian, Ji Ji, Qian Qian, and Ou Ning – in 2005, Get It Louder (GIL) is the first and biggest contemporary design touring biennale of its own kind in Mainland China.  Organised by Modern Media Group, GIL welcomes its third edition this year in October.

By focusing on the young Chinese artists and designers who work in different locations around the world with an average age of 25, the biennale redefines the concept of exhibition and gives the new generation of designers and artists a strong voice.  As one of the newest and the most significant art events in China, GIL is considered as a revolution in both the media and design industries of China.

In China, design used to serve politics.  Thanks to the economic reform and the open policy, Chinese independent designers started to emerge.  Since then, Chinese designers have been through three generations of evolution.  The first generation of designers, who grew up in the ‘80s, received their traditional training from conventional art schools.  They made their works by hand because computers were not so available at that time.  The second generation was raised up in the 90s, the age of computer-aided design programs.  As a result of being influenced by the trend of international digital design, they began to know how to use computers and to speak English.  The third generation is the designer of today.  They have grown up in the age of globalisation and the Internet and many of them have studied and worked overseas.  They are proficient in the latest techniques and have a diversely broad vision of art.  This is the generation that GIL focuses on.  The Chief Curator, Ou Ning, has heard the voice within the passion of these youths, and he wants to “get it louder”.  He called them the “New New Designer”, and he said in an interview conducted by Modern Weekly (29 April 2005): ‘The exhibition attempts to put them (the new generation of designer) into China’s 100 year design history, and then evaluates their status and influence in such a context.’ Since 2005, every edition has a fantastic collection of cross-media creations in a diverse range of creative fields, from poster design, illustration, photography, publication, toy design, t-shirt design, fashion, and product design; to animation, moving image, short film, interactive installation, digital media installation, architecture design, urban design, sound art, sound installation, and music performance.

Besides the spotlight on the young artists and designers, the curatorial team of GIL has also redefined the concept of exhibition.  ‘Art exhibitions aren’t supposed to be like this’, reported China Daily (24 August 2007) in its review of GIL’s 2007 edition.  This is however not a criticism but a compliment.  From participants to venues, from exhibition forms to project operation, GIL is nothing like a traditional art exhibition, but is a visual noise from the emerging artists and designers, a passionate carnival for the newest China design industry, an art party for the new generation.

Before GIL, young independent artists, designers, and creative people could barely find a place to show or exchange their ideas, and their self-initiated, original creations were often unnoticed under the surface.  ‘I think it’s a kind of accumulation of energy, after reaching certain level, then it is beginning to explode’, Ou said (Modern Weekly, 29 April 2005), ‘there was some kind of sub-culture is shaping up.’  Ou planned to release the energy of every participant: ‘Everyone coming out from the crowd could be a hero.  Everyone could be a designer. Let the so-called Masters love themselves alone’ (Modern Weekly, 29 April 2005).  Moreover, to give the exhibition an international scope, GIL also invited talented artists and designers from Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Germany, Sweden and the US to give a series of talks and other communications.  This year GIL will keep this practice by creating its own convention.

As a touring group exhibition, GIL chooses three to four big cities in China for each edition, such as Beijing, Shanghai and Guangzhou, in order to ‘broadcast’ the voice of art.  The exhibition venues and exhibition models are unprecedented and unexpected.  Instead of holding the exhibition at formal art museums or galleries, the curatorial team chooses fresh public spaces to exhibit artworks. Among them, shopping malls might be the most interesting choice. The main aims of GIL are to explore what inspires people’s daily lives, to attract more public attention, and to examine designs and artworks as lifestyles, living attitudes, and as an integral parts of urban culture. Thus shopping malls as a large-scale consumerist space that can embrace thousands of people to interact with art seemed to suit GIL very well.  Another reason that the curatorial team chose shopping centres rather than museums is that they are attempting to break away from the conventional exhibition model of biennials.  Ou said in the exhibition catalogue of 2007 that they hoped they could get rid of the idea that the exhibition room needs to be a sanctuary, because he believes that the traditional exhibition model failed to let art enter people’s lives and to bring art closer to the public. Moreover, shopping malls have the advantage to allow people to have encounters with art unexpectedly, and to discover artworks while enjoying their leisure time and consumer activities.  This is a more effective and efficient way to encourage art into people’s life rather than through rigid education or invariable ways of exhibiting.  ‘It’s the first time we’ve put an exhibition in a shopping mall.  We need to make sure that whatever we do doesn’t disturb the commercial activities there,’ said Liang Jingyu (Beijing Today, 12 May 2007) who is a principal architect of Approach Architecture Studio.  He was in charge of the architecture element of the exhibition in 2005.  Like a treasure hunt, ‘a guidebook will be available for audiences to help them track down all the works’, he added.  The curatorial team continued this exhibition model in the edition of 2007, and they will also develop this model into a new level in the following edition of 2010.

Moreover, GIL developed a unique marketing method: instead of making money through selling artworks, GIL seeks to sell its advertisement spaces through exhibitions and create opportunities for artists and designers to cooperate with worldwide brands.  For example, two main sponsors of 2005 Chivas and Grohe transformed exhibiting artists’ creative ideas and designs into products (Modern Weekly, 29 April 2005).

As part of the whole new concept of exhibiting, GIL has used the idea that ‘Everyone could be a curator’ to encourage participants to be their own exhibition’s curators.  Instead of being overruled by one curatorial team, the exhibition and its satellites are selected by several curators including pioneer curators from China, International professionals and even independent participants.  In GIL’s 2007 edition, nine curators including four Chinese curators and another five from United Kingdom and Japan formed the main curatorial team. Curators were responsible for their own part of the exhibition.  As a whole package, it brought a great mixture of diverse and creative innovation.

At the end of China’s 20th-century, several sound art pioneers Li Jianhong, Jimu and their friends had trouble finding an appropriate place to perform in Hangzhou.  To solve this problem, they began to perform at their own home or their friends’.  GIL 2007 adored this idea and got it ‘louder’.  They applied it to a larger scale and called it Homeshow. Homeshow is the collective phrase for utilizing private spaces to hold small exhibitions, performances, talks, symposiums, and film activities.  Traditional performances or shows insist on bringing audiences together to a particular place within a particular period.  By contrast, as a natural result of a lack of public spaces for performances in China, the flexible Homeshow blurs the concept of public and private, and develops a new urban interpersonal culture. To borrow Ou’s, concept ‘an exhibition should be part of daily life, which can be easily found everywhere’ (Ou, 2007). More creative ideas can be found as a result of the Homeshows, and the idea that everyone can be a curator is no longer ‘just a dream’.

GIL has become the most successful series of contemporary design exhibitions in China and has attracted over 120,000 visitors in the first edition alone.  As China is going through a transitional period from the conservative to the innovative, GIL seems to be a consequence of this current situation, which explains the success of GIL. From a human perspective, GIL plans to let the public put more attention on the social value of creative arts and design, which could assist young Chinese artists so they can focus on the quality of their works more effectively, hence to promote the position of the design industry in China and gain International notoriety. From a sociological point of view, GIL helps to meet the psychological needs of young people as an underprivileged social group, and alleviate latent generational conflicts. Additionally, interactions between the public and art will help the society to form a new lifestyle with art playing a more substantial role, which will eventually be a benefit to the next generation and will help alleviate educational issues in China.  Ou believes that in the future, ‘people will no longer do good deeds because of mobilization by the State, but of their own free will.  This is remarkable progress for present-day Chinese society, and allows people to perceive the hope of a more civilised society.’(Ou, 2007)

To China, GIL is more than just an unconventional touring biennial.  It encourages the younger generation to explore their creative selves; it promotes the design industry of China; it creates a new national and International identity of contemporary China; it gives a voice to emerging artists and designers and it starts the new exhibition age of China.  After the success of previous GIL editions it will be interesting to see both public and critical reactions in response to GIL 2010.

Bibliography

‘Get It Louder: Voice of China’s New Design’, Modern Weekly, Alternative Issue 32, 29 April 2005.

Ou, Ning, ‘Everyone is a Curator – Introduction of Get It Louder 2007’, Get It Louder 2007, Exhibition Catalogue, Modern Media, 2007.

He, Jianwei, ‘Artist Getting It Louder’, Beijing Today, Issue 12 May 2007, accessed 8 Sep 2010, <http://www.getitlouder.com/2007/detail.asp?articleid=160>.

Artists, Get It Louder, accessed 7 Sep 2010,

<http://www.getitlouder.com/2007/artist_en.htm>.

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Would You Call This “Social Sculpture?”-Fairytale Art Event Documenta 2007

Monday, October 18th, 2010

Xi Fu

Ai Weiwei

TEMPLATE-1, 001 Ming and Qing dynasty wooden window frames and doors

Dimensions unknown

2007

Installation view, Documenta 12

Courtesy and copyright of the artist

http://www.aiweiwei.com

‘Ai Weiwei’s artistic output, based on the formulation of ideas, is interwoven with his political thinking and illuminates for the audience the internal struggles China currently faces, as well as deep human concerns.’- Gene Sherman, Chairman, Executive Director of the SCAF

Ai Weiwei is one of the most innovative artists of the contemporary art scene. Widely regarded as an agent provocateur, Ai chooses art as a means through which to express his disdain for the political pressures of a system condemning society to cultural improvement in China. His work outrages conservative traditionalists as he questions the role of culture and its historical and ideological nature (Alnertini, 2008). Until he discovered the works of Marcel Duchamp, he had no idea that art could be a lifestyle, which brought an instant end to the struggle with the form of painting. Ai decided that painting was “a dead-end form of expression” and devoted his energies to create sculptural assemblage, which he constructed using objects appropriated from daily life (Smith, 2007). In recent years much has been made of the apparent tendency towards the neo-Dadaist gesture in Ai’s approach.

Fairytale

In thinking through the conceptual potentiality of the ‘Readymade,’ underpinned by the nation that art practice is but the administration of things, Ai Weiwei expands the concept to such a degree that he reinvents it. Fairytale, specifically made for the art event Documenta 12 2007, could best be explained as a type of performance or happening. It was conceived as three interlocking projects that extend the critical engagement with concept of China not only in its conception of China as a physical construct but as a constructed identity, in which reply to the three leitmotifs of the exhibition, ‘Is modernity our antiquity’, ‘What is bare life?’ and ‘What is to be done?’ he displayed a characteristic desire to work outside conventional art forms and create a work with ordinary people at its heart (Close, 2008).

Ai cheerfully showed his guests a quotation by Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, the pioneering Russian space theorist, printed on one of the first pages of the introduction for the project:

First inevitably comes the idea, the fantasy, the fairy tale. Then scientific calculation. Ultimately, fulfillment crowns the dream (Ammer, 2007).

These words condensed the whole process, conceived as an artwork itself, of the large- scale, multi-faceted project about ‘possibility and imagination.’

Project 1-1,001 Chinese visitors

The first project was the invitation of 1,001 Chinese travelling to Kassel free of any costs (Appendix 1). It involved exploring what it means to be Chinese beyond the physical limits of place. Most of these participants were selected because they would never have otherwise had the opportunity to travel overseas and were chosen in a relatively random manner as an open invitation published on Ai’s blog.

In terms of size and concept, Fairytale is the biggest and the most multilayered work ever developed by Ai, and one of the most ambitious projects ever presented in the history of Documenta (Smith, 2009). A part of the project included living individuals visiting the small town of Kassel. The travelers, whose ages range from 2 to 70, come from dissimilar social classes and have dissimilar occupations and life styles. Because of the support the sponsors allowed a 3.1 million Euro budget, Ai was able to initiate an enormous process with several different aspects such as the planning of the tourist and educational activities, the location of suitable infrastructures, the creation of proper living and sanitary conditions, the design of utensils and furniture, the recruiting of personnel (cooks, video makers etc.), the processing of visa applications and travel insurance, in which every stage of the processes required overseeing by Ai and his FAKE team.

Ai states, ‘I see the whole process as the work itself. I see what kind of hopes, what kind of worries, what kind of frustrations… and waiting and anticipating. Many people said that it is already a miracle for them, it is already a fairytale’ (Colonnello, 2007).

The 1,001 Chinese travelers were in Documenta as tourists, viewers and as part of the artworks. One of the topics stressed in Fairytale is the person as a single individual and their individual experience within the context of their lives as citizens of a Communist country where the importance of the individual is lost to the dominance of the State. The choice of 1,001 participants was significant, not simply because of the logistical involving that number of people. Ai discussed the decision to invite 1,001 people to take part in the work:

The choice is due to the fact that what we really want to emphasize is “1” not “1,001”. Each participant is a single person, and that’s why our logo is “1=1000” that means that in the project 1,001 is not represented by one project, but by 1,001 projects, as each individual will have his or her independent experience (Colonnello, 2007).

That is, the person sees him or herself as an individual rather than as a collective or undifferentiated part of a mass, a not insignificant concept given the recent past of China. Each participant was asked to fill out 99 questions and was filmed on occasion from the preparatory stage through to their returns to China. This becomes a very foreign experience in anyone’s personal life, which will help each participant to think differently:

Against the backdrop of a totalitarian past and massive social changes, China is particularly in need of an exchange not based on institutions but rather on the individual (Ammer, 2007).

Project 2-1,001 Ming and Qing dynasty chairs

The second project was the installation of 1,001 late Ming and Qing dynasty chairs in clusters across the different exhibition venues (Appendix 2). The chairs echoed Ai’s past use of ‘Readymade,’ but their connection with the 1,001 Chinese participants added a more personal resonance to the way in which the objects were received. Able to be moved around and used by the public, the chairs provided an individual and collective place for people who came from all over the world for dialogue and exchange. Ai Weiwei’s Fairytale had staged a massive encounter between totally different cultures, each confronting the other and the unknown, in a context that was both familiar and strange.

Ai states, ‘I think that past and future, these two realities which are both internal and external to each person, are all integrated in very different forms and possibilities that make each individual unique. (Colonnello, 2007)’

Project 3-TEMPLATE-1, 001 Ming and Qing dynasty wooden window frames and doors

The third project, TEMPLATE, was composed of 1,001 late Ming and Qing dynasty wooden window frames and doors, which formerly belonged to destroyed houses from areas all over China, where entire ancient townships and villages had been destroyed (Appendix 3).

In many of the works discussed so far, the materials used in their construction have been identified as recycled elements of the past. Things that are no longer of use themselves, and that would otherwise be cast aside or thrown away.

Ai explains, ‘the materials I use comes from objects destroyed in the name of development, or would be used by antique dealers to make copies of antique future. (Colonnello, 2007)’

The artists recovered these pieces and, joining together five layers per side, formed an open vertical structure with an eight-pointed base, creating in its centre the volume of a traditional Chinese temple. The work had been exhibited in the courtyard of the greenhouse designed by Lacaton and Vassel also known as the ‘Crystal Palace,’ a temporary building erected ad hoc for Documenta 12. Ai bought the last fragments of that civilization and relocated them in a completely contemporary setting. Ai (2007) explains, ‘It really is a mixed, troubled, questioning context that protest for its own identity.’ Once counted, the pieces of which the Template is made up of surprisingly turned out to be exactly tantamount to 1001, a coincidence that Ai Weiwei finds significant (Smith, 2009). While standing in the middle of Template, the viewer is surrounded by a space that is fictional, abstract and ethereal.

Ai states, ‘I’m not religious, to me the temple itself means a station where you can think about the past and future, it’s a void space. The selected area, not the material temple itself, tells you that the real physical temple is not there, but constructed through the leftovers of the past (Colonnello, 2007).’

Constructed around a void, the structure becomes an empty shell, a void as in the spaces of ‘provisional landscapes’. The void is the disappearance of the civilizations from which the fragments were taken in the process of China redefining itself. Salvaging the leftovers of the past is not about the preservation of relics, or sufficient to construct something self-sustaining. Whatever meaning they had no longer exists.

Ironically, TEMPLATE as a structure collapsed under heavy weather conditions some days after its inauguration (Smith, 2009). This is the condition of time, a condition of temporality that governs everything and therefore offers no guarantee as to what will come after. One can only create the conditions of possibility through the actualisations that reveal the material force of its being. These actualisations are what is given at the time but they contain, nonetheless, a potentiality or virtuality which is yet to be determined. This then is the freedom of the work itself, and in turn the freedom of its audience.

Post-project

The significant impact Fairytale made on the lives of the participants was the outstanding success of the work for Ai. By providing the 1,001 participants with the opportunity to travel overseas, Ai enabled them to be exposed to foreign culture and ideas, many for the first time. They were also able to experience a new world of ideas and possibilities that they would take with them on their return to China. In this way the impact of project continues to resonate for participants long after the event itself is over.

Ai explains, ‘It’s like a dream; they said it’s affected their lives and the way they look at the world…I really think a new awareness has been added to their lives (Colonnello, 2007).’

While Fairytale has been discussed as a modern mobilizing of the masses, directly reflecting the socio-cultural climate in China, the mass unity associated with socialism and its lingering impact on China’s social structure and strata, the communists’ emphasis on the group above the individual, restrictions of personal freedoms as well as the ‘reconnecting’ of China with the international community. For Ai, the intervention was emphatically aimed at the 1,001 individuals. Kassel is the home of the Brothers Grimm, hence Ai’s choice of title, which alludes to the unleashing of the imagination that makes fairytales so beloved by children (Merewether, C, 2008). 1,001 people sounds like a big group, but the impact of even visiting Kassel could only be understood at an individual level. Only of its results in a force for change, personal experience is the foundation for social change. Ai explains:

‘Everyone responds differently. I wanted to give the participants an opportunity to be conscious of that, to learn something about their imaginations and differentiations (Colonnello, 2007).’

Taking a cue from Warhol’s charge that ‘actually you have to change (things) yourself,’ this notion of art as a ‘force for change’ is the meridian running through Ai’s practice, uniting the form it takes, the materials it deploys and the diversity of activities it embraces (Smith, 2007). As a body of work, his art is emblematic changes, which again manifests in the diverse range of his practice as well as in the ambitions that drive the work and the scale of individual projects. All such opportunities are potential means of furthering the process of change.

Bibliography

Alnertini, C., Avaters and Antiheroes-A guide to Contemporary Chinese artists, Kodansha International, 2008.

Ammer, M., ‘Ai Weiwei: Fairytale performance,’ in Roder M Buergel (ed), Documenta Kassell, Taschen, Cologne, 16/06-23/09, 2007, p. 208.

Colonnello, N.’An interview with Ai Weiwei,’ Artzine, accessed 21 November 2007, <http://new.artzinechina.com>.

Colonnello, N., 1=1000, 2007, <“http://www.artnet.de/magazine/isa/features/colonnello08-10-07.asp”>.

Close, G., Ai Weiwei:Under Construction-Education Resource Kit, Campbelltown Arts Centre, Sydney, 2008.

Exhibition catalogue, Documenta Kassel, Taschen, Cologne, 16/06-12/09/2007, p. 356.

Merewether, C., Ai Weiwei:Under Construction, Univeristy of New South Wales in association with Sherman Contemporary Art Foundation and Campbelltown Arts Centre, Sydney, 2008.

Smith, K., AI WEIWEI. In: the real thing. Contemporary art in China, Abrame, New York, 2007, p. 39.

Smith, K. et al, AI WEIWEI, PHAIDON, 2009.

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China and Revolution

Monday, October 18th, 2010

Jun-Woo Do

Shen Jiawei

Standing guard for Our Great Motherland

1975

Poster

53 x 77cm

Courtesy and copyright of the artist

http://sydney.edu.au/museums/

The exhibition ‘China and Revolution: History, Parody and Memory in Contemporary Art’ examines the relationship between poster art made during the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (GPCR) from 1966 to 1976 and the work of contemporary artists who respond to the events of that period. It is based on the research project, ‘Posters of the Cultural Revolution,’ funded by the Australian Research Council. This project re-evaluates the Cultural Revolution by analysing the propaganda in China during the period, focusing on political posters. Since the exhibition is based on the research project, there is a close relationship between the artworks displayed. As the title suggests, we can also read the position of the exhibition on the Cultural Revolution and communism in China. Furthermore, it has several upsides and downsides from a curatorial point of view.

The exhibition can be divided into four sections: the revolutionary Chinese posters, the portraits of Xu Weixin, the new Propaganda Posters of Liu Dahong and the parodistic paintings of Li Gongming. Each artist talks about the Cultural Revolution through their recent works. Thus the original revolutionary posters from the time of the Cultural Revolution allow us to compare and contrast the different responses to them in contemporary art in China.

Revolutionary Chinese Posters

The GPCR was an incredibly tumultuous period when the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) reinforced its plan to modernise China, boosted its gross national product, and increased the pace of Chinese socialist transformation (Esmein, 1973). The creation of art was strongly regulated by the CCP during the GPCR. It was forbidden to use Western or classical Chinese styles because the GPCR aimed to build a new socialist nation without reliance on the corrupt Chinese values or the values of other countries. In addition, the CCP supported art by people who were workers, peasants, and soldiers and the art style it promoted was narrowed to Socialist Realism, with no abstraction or reference to modernism (Galikowski, 1998). The revolutionary Chinese posters are good examples of the art of this period as they were ‘part of a comprehensive and highly controlled media apparatus whose objectives were the consolidation of authority and the transformation of society’ under the communist government (Crushing & Tompkins, 2007, p. 9).

Standing guard for Our Great Motherland (Shen Jiawei, 2007) depicts the soldiers guarding the border of China. Their exaggerated and powerful figures, painted much bigger than nature, represent the power of the CCP. Not only that, they encourage people to believe in the utopian communism society by showing the strength and optimistic vision of the government through the soldier’s eyes looking far beyond. Aerial drawing of Dazhai & surroundings, another pictures in the exhibition, shows the features of human development, such as power lines, bridges, and irrigation. These modern transformations of the landscape present the greatness of the CCP and its policies aiming to protect people from repeated natural calamities such as floods, earthquakes, and droughts (Crushing & Tompkins 2007).

Xu Weixin

Weixin draws portraits of figures represented in the book Chinese Historical Figures 1966-1976. In 1966, shortly after the GPCR, he was a class representative for the second grade. Most of the students were brainwashed by the ideal of classless society and denounced landlords because those who had private property were seen as the enemy of the communist ideal. At that time, there was a rumor that his homeroom teacher was the daughter of a landlord. Weixin ‘heroically’ painted the portrait of his teacher on the blackboard to mock her, in the current fashion of caricaturing people in authority. When the homeroom teacher found the portrait Weixin was very proud of himself and felt that the enemy was punished as deserved. When he grew up, he realised his wrong behaviour and we can see feelings of guilt and reconciliation in his recent portrait works. This childhood experience led him to portray the historical figures who engaged with the Cultural Revolution. Besides questioning his behaviour, he also refers more generally to Chinese people’s behaviour during the Cultural Revolution: ‘Should not we resolve to repent and examine ourselves and our actions?’(Donald & Evans, 2010, p. 25).

Liu Dahong

Dahong’s works are parodies of paintings created during the Cultural Revolution that deified Mao. Dahong’s Red Calendar in four seasons and Fairytales of the Twelfth Month are examples of the parodies. It is a common strategy in communist countries to make leaders look like gods. Stalin and Lenin were depicted as huge figures in many Socialist Realist Posters in the Soviet Union, and the leaders of North Korea were also shown as gods in political posters. Dahong critiques this strategy and produces parodistic version of the posters. In Four Seasons – Summer, Mao is shown as a hero with a sword on his back. However, figures assuming funny poses, that look comic book characters, ridicule the process of deifying Mao. Through these parodies, Dahong reports the dark side of the history filled with the tears and the blood of the republic, when people could survive by unconditionally believing in Mao. (Donald & Evans, 2010)

Li Gongming

As a member of the New Propaganda Work Group, Li Gongming, creates New Propaganda Posters, a modified version of the revolutionary posters made during the Cultural Revolution, where he adds critical thinking and new technologies. Through these posters, the Group members criticise the widespread repression and inequality of contemporary Chinese society, calling for social justice and equity. The work of Xiaoyan, another member of the Group, looks identical to the original revolutionary posters, they do however, have different purposes. The text in Gongming’s poster means ‘call for a harmonious countryside and a prosperous life for farmers’ and in Xiaoyan’s work it means ‘call for social justice.’ Both works use the style of revolutionary posters but they point out the promises that the CCP has not kept yet. (Donald & Evans, 2010)

Revolutionary posters VS New forms

The key to the exhibition is a comparison between the revolutionary posters and the new works responding to them. The original posters were produced as propaganda to reinforce the communist ideal during the Cultural Revolution. Conversely, the new works are mocking of and complaining about the communist ideal, as well as creating personal reconsiderations about the artist’s own behavior during the Cultural Revolution. Liu Dahong directly mocks the ideals of the Cultural Revolution, by ridiculing Mao, the symbolic and physical power of Chinese communism, he responds to the Cultural Revolution critically. Li Gongming and New Propaganda Work Group respond to the Cultural Revolution requesting actions from the government in order to solve social problems of contemporary China. This activism differs from Dahong’s lyrical attitude. Xu Weixin responds to the Cultural Revolution very personally. He finds the Cultural Revolution in his memories and reconsiders the past from the present point of view, trying to reconcile with his guilty memories.

The Display of the original revolutionary Chinese posters opposite to Liu Dahong’s works and new propaganda postcards is very effective. In spite of the small size of the gallery, the space is used very pragmatically. The New Propaganda posters are hung from the ceiling and Dahong’s video is projected onto a small fireplace on the wall. Despite the clever use of the space, some aspects are disappointing. Not every exhibition needs to be contextualised, but China and Revolution should provide more information to visitors to help them understand it, because it is difficult to fully appreciate it without the background of the Cultural Revolution and the recent history of China. For example, there is a documentary video, which is integral to understanding of the whole exhibition. There is no explanation as to why Weixin draws portraits and what Dahong tries to show unless visitors watch the documentary video. But this is located in a corner of the gallery, which is difficult to access. Furthermore, there is no guide to distinguish the revolutionary Chinese posters from new propaganda posters except the catalogue on sale. Since both posters have the same style, visitors cannot easily tell the difference unless they can read Chinese.

History, Parody and Memory

As the title of exhibition suggests, some would expect to find the political position that the three artists and the exhibition have in relation to the Cultural Revolution and communism. On the contrary, the works shown are neutral, so the position of the exhibition on communism is unclear. This might be the attitude that most artists and people have towards communism and the Cultural Revolution in China, since they cannot freely express their opinion on political issues. The artists are not necessarily neutral, but they are politically ambiguous because they try not to show that they are against communism. Dahong could depict Mao more aggressively and Gongming could criticise the government more critically. Weixin through his work could question why the CCP brainwashed innocent people to take control over them rather than just portraying historical figures. Instead, Dahong and Gongming simply parody the styles of the Cultural Revolution and Weixin just talks about his memories. Nevertheless, all of them respond to history actively. That may be the reason why the exhibition is titled not ‘against communism or anti-communism’ but just ‘History, Parody and Memory’

Bibliography

Cushing, L. & Tompkins, A. Chinese Posters: Art from the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. San Francisco: Chronicle Books. 2007

Esmein, J. The Chinese Cultural Revolution. London: Andre Deutsch. 1973.

Donald, S. H. & Evans, H. China and Revolution: History, Parody and Memory in Contemporary Art Sydney: University Publishing Service, University of Sydney. 2010

Galikowski, M. Art and Politics in China 1949-1984. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press. 1998

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