Amy Chou
A Little History of 798 Dashanzi Art District

798 Dashanzi Art District in Beijing's Chaoyang District, compared
to many other creative centers, such as M50 in Shanghai, has a unique
history of its own. 798 was originally built by the East German
government as reparations for World War II. The strange thing is that
those reparations were meant for the Soviet Union. The factory
buildings were built as an example of a "harmonious collaboration
between Socialist countries" and the efforts were led by the Soviet
Union. The complex, built during the 1960s, was built in the Bauhaus
style. The style, known for its simplicity and functionality,
symbolized Mao's ideals of "an advanced Socialist state founded on
heavy industry and Communist ideology." Eventually in the 1990s, the
spacious military electronics factories were abandoned when the
government began to decrease its subsidies for state-run factories.

The first group of artists to use the abandoned complex as art
studios was from the Central Academy of Fine Arts. The large spaces
with many windows for natural light and cheap rent seemed perfect for
the school's sculpture department. Around the same time, an artists'
village near the Old Summer Palace was shutdown by the government.
Contemporary artists, who were evicted from their run-down houses in
1993 and seeking new refuge, discovered 798 and began moving in. While
converting the factories into gallery spaces, many of the artists
requested that the construction workers preserve the high-sweeping
arches of the ceilings and the Communist slogans. The simple factory
facades, red bricks, and old slogans act as echoes from the past.

798 Dashanzi Art District seems to be disconnected from the rest of
Beijing. Compared to the hustle and bustle of the city, 798's serene,
tree-lined roads create the perfect haven for artists and visitors
alike. Due to government restrictions on where foreigners could live
in the 1990s, Chaoyang District became a central location for foreign
embassies and institutions. The galleries in 798 received much foreign
exposure when they first started up and now rely solely on 798's name
to attract visitors from all around the globe.

Minsheng Art Museum (民生现代美术馆) opened on April 18th, 2010 with the
exhibition titled Thirty Years of Chinese Contemporary Art. The
exhibition boasts an impressive collection of 100 original works from
the past 30 years. The works are from 80 different artists including
famous artists such as Xu Bing, Zhao Bandi, Qiu Zhijie, Din Yi, Fang
Lijun, Cai Guoqiang, Zhou Tiehai, and Yang Pei Ming. He Juxing, the
president of the Museum stated that the purpose was "to let audience
review the historic development process of China's contemporary art".

The exhibition space consists of five main rooms and two floors. No.1
and No.2 are on the first floor and No.3-5 are on the second floor.
No.1, No. 3, No. 4, and No. 5 are all a single room, whereas, No.2 is
divided into sections. The walls and ceilings are all painted white
and the floors are painted grey. There is a security guard for each
room and they will follow you around from a distance.

Most of the works are quite large and are usually oil on canvas works.
The works displayed in No.1 have an apparent motif of common people
and laborers. When you first enter No.2, the motif seems to be about
Christianity, but as you move on into the next section, the motif
begins to blur. By the time I was finished looking at the works in
No.2, I had no idea what the common theme was that strung those pieces
together. No.3's works mainly consisted of portraits, but the
portraits made me feel a little uneasy. No.4 and No.5's motifs are
also unclear.

There is an entrance fee. A regular ticket is 20RMB and a student
ticket is 5RMB. You have to check-in your bags, but you can bring in a
camera.

Bldg F, 570 Huaihai Xi Lu,
near Kaixuan Lu

淮海西路570号F座，
近凯旋路

Amy Chou

Amy Chou

The Women on Women Exhibit is set in the beautiful Taoist Hong Miao,
literally meaning 'Red Temple,' built in the Ming Dynasty. Renovated
and reopened as a gallery in 2006, the Hong Miao Gallery's ancient
interior design, high ceilings, and windows allows outer light to
stream in adding an ambience that other galleries are unable to
achieve. Complimenting the female Buddha, Guan Yin, who is situated in
the temple, the exhibit displays works from eight women artists all
striving to show their thoughts about the society around them. Ann Yen
(Chinese), Barbara Edelstein (US), Chen Xiao Dan (Chinese), Christin
Kalweit (Germany), Gao Qian (Chinese), Lige Ye (Chinese), Virginie
Lerouge Knight (French). The works are created from a range of media
from a sculpture made of sponges to traditional paintings. One
particular piece that I liked was by Lige Ye. Her hanging scrolls of
traditional rice paper had paintings of floating faceless people. The
fact that there was no face made it difficult to connect with the
people in the paintings, but at the same time, it felt like there was
a connection to all people. Most of the other Chinese artists' works
were done traditionally and seemed to be more about looking beautiful
than carrying a political message.

MinSheng Bank Art Museum Reviews for this week by Christina Xiong

Title of Exhibition: 30 Years of Chinese Contemporary Art at the
MinSheng Art Museum, Shanghai

Artists (more than 80 artists) Include:  Shi Chong, Wang Chuan, Zhou
Chunya, Cheng Conglin, Chen Danqing, Fei Dawei, Shao Dazhen, Peng De,
Fan Dian, Jia Fangzhou, Yang Feiyun, Chao Ge, WEI Guangqing, Wang
Guangyi, Hou Hanru, Lu Hong, Yu Hong, Wang Huangsheng, Wu Hung, Xu
Jiang, Geng Jianyi, Yin Jinan, Zhao Li, Fang Lijun, Wang Lin, Meng
Luding, Zhong Ming, Gao Minglu, Yue Minjun, Lv Peng, Wen Pulin, Zhu
Qingsheng, Shu Qun, Li Shan, Jin Shangyi, Gao Shiming, Yin Shuangxi,
Liao Wen, Li Xianting, Liu Xiaochun, Liu Xiaodong, Zhang Xiaogang, Li
Xiaoshan, Ai Xuan, Mao Xuhui, Ding Yi, Yi Ying, YU Youhan, Yin
Zhaoyang, Luo Zhongli, Huang Zhuan

The name of this exhibition seems to speak for itself, featuring a
collection and "coming together" of various Chinese Contemporary Art
ever since 1979. Before visiting the exhibition, I had just returned
from a trip to the YunNan province, known for its diversity and
presence of over 25 ethnic minorities. During our stay in Shangri-La,
we had our first encounter with a predominant Tibetan population, an
experience that certainly resonates with Chen Danqing's Tibetan
series. As a leading realist painter, Chen is known for contributing
largely to breaking away from authority. Despite the general Han
Chinese perception of ethnic minorities as inferior, Chen portrayed
them as a "dignified" group, determined to follow their own values and
principles. This is very typical of what I saw in Shangri-La. Many of
these Tibetans still led pastoral lives, farming and herding yak and
yet, they were perfectly satisfied with their conditions. Moreover, as
our Tibetan driver put it, they desired and demanded every hint of
respect, a sign of equality and offer of friendship. Thus, the truth,
often hidden and difficult to attain, is very much apparent in Chen's
works, from two men in town to a couple carrying a child and striding
(Tibet 1982) forward.  In reality, this concept of expressing the
feelings of the common people, whether it be depression during
political strife, excitement over a new age or uncertainty over
materialism, correlates with the museum's aim of showing China's
history through different perspectives.

Another piece that I liked at the MinSheng Art Museum was Fang Lijun's
1998 work, 98.10.1, which once again included the same bald men with
ambiguous expressions. Fang Lijun is a cynical realist and often, his
works consist of an underlying satire and mockery. However, I'm used
to seeing more scrunched up faces and more surprised by his use of
vibrant colors and falling flowers. As you can see in the picture I
took, the faces, looking up into the sky, express more amazement,
sudden realization and thought. It reminds me of rural farmers who,
having not felt a drop of rain in years, is ironically taken aback by
the fortunate turn of events. Once again, this painting is also very
"timely" in that it symbolizes wonder, and the surprising optimism
towards China's future at the turn of the century.

Response to “Transexperiences” by Melody Song

Melody Song

Response to "Transexperiences"

I think the interview of Chen Zhen by Zhu Xian was very profound.

The discussion revolved around how leaving China for France in 1986
affected Chen Zhen's art and perspective on life.

Chen Zhen discussed how leaving China allowed him to break away from
all he had known – the Chinese culture, himself, and his
relationships. By not being fully integrated into Chinese or French
culture (or by being a part of both), Chen Zhen reached a
"transexperiential" state. It is a position where he can see the
conflicts and exchanges between these cultures, their similarities,
and transcend cultural paradigms of thought to reach a more global,
humanity-centered outlook. Chen Zhen is like a ghost that is "loosed"
from his cultural ties and previous perspectives. He can observe human
networks and society in a more objective, and also understanding way.
He "does not belong to anybody, yet [he] is in possession of
everything."
This manner of observing and absorbing things, of seeing networks
among culture and people, becomes Chen Zhen's stable approach to the
world. His attitude towards life (which feeds his art) is constant
amidst the physical changes around him. He quotes that even if we
travel ten thousand miles on the globe, "we should be able to move our
body with our heart remaining still." Chen Zhen means that he holds an
internal peace and attitude that is aloof from exterior surroundings.

I follow a similar life perspective with Chen Zhen. I was brought up
in Korea all my life, but always received an American education. I
rarely had Korean friends who went to Korean school and followed the
"average" Korean track in life. However, when I went to the US for my
university degree, I had immense culture shock. I was neither Korean
nor American. This sense of physical homelessness and loneliness made
me make "myself" (my interior) a home. Wherever I go, I am at peace,
because I am at home with my values and open outlook on life. My
belief in God contributes to this. An analogy would be the sea.
Although the exterior world may rain down on the surface or change
temperatures, the deep inner core of the sea remains constant and
peaceful. It is never changing. I think this way of thinking develops
when a physical home ceases to exist.

The Minsheng Art Museum by Alexa Haas

The Minsheng Art Museum
Thirty Years of Chinese Contemporary Art 1979-2009

This exhibit marked the opening of this new museum, and it proves
itself to be quite promising. Visitors follow a path and linearly go
through the decades (Though the work itself is not in any
chronological order, and I wonder why). It is a unique experience to
look through a collection is the context of its place in history.
There was one viewer who literally ran through each room, looking at
the plaque, glancing at the work then running to the next one.
Literally, running. There is a somewhat clear line in the shifts of
the work, but those clear divisions are continuously stepped on and
redefined. At the end of Exhibition Hall 2 you can see the rise of
color, while the 1980s remains very Earthy. Particularly when you
reach Exhibition Hall 3 ~ the 2000s, there is the rise of pink ~hot
pink~ which I'd like to coin as the 'color of our generation.' We can
see this quite obviously in Li Shan's 2001 work, "Reading" to Liu
Wei's neon "Landscape" in 2008. I think hot pink has a specific
connotation for this era in time, for some reason its usage just looks
like it was made in the 2000s. It is the same in America, if we look
at musical artist Dan Deacon's performance art or Os Gemeos' new mural
on Houston Street. This neon pink represents happiness and the
playfulness of the work, because it does not conjure any negative
feelings, it is just highly pleasant for the eye to look at.

Double Infinity by Alexa Haas

Double Infinity

In the Double Infinity exhibit, artist Liu Gong has a photo of a
satellite town in Shanghai where it is made to replicate a little
Holland. His photo is of a real tree in front of a billboard of a
picture of a windmill in little Holland. At the opening of the
exhibit, we talked to him. A student asked, "Why doesn't the plaque
say that it is a billboard? Or else no one will know!" He replied by
saying, when people look at it everyone has their own interpretation,
even if there was a plaque. This interpretation is always
misinterpretation, always a miscommunication between the artist and
the viewer. He pointed out, "Even right now, talking, we are
miscommunicating. I am explaining to you my idea, but you understand
my words on your own terms, and not the way I am thinking…We can't
fully explain to each other what we are thinking."

Historian Lynn Pan, mentioned that you cannot understand a
culture without understanding the language. I read online that she
does not consider Amy Tan, the writer of The Joy Luck Club, as Chinese
but as an American, on account that Amy Tan does not speak Chinese and
therefore does not understand the Chinese mindset. There are words in
every language that another language cannot translate. And in that
there are entire concepts and observations of the world that cannot be
articulated full from language to language.

John Lennon in his song 'How?' has this line, "how can I have
feeling when I don't know if it's a feeling" There are feelings and
emotions that different languages note on. In Japanese, おもいしろい
(omoishiroi) is often translated into English as interesting, but it
really means interesting in the sense that it is very funny. In
Portuguese there is a word saudade which means longing for something
you never had, sort of. It cannot be fully conveyed in English words.
In Chinese 开心 (kai xin ~ open heart) is constantly being translated to
me in two different ways: funny or happy, so I am still sort of unsure
how to use it. There is an eternal disconnect from country to country,
culture to culture, person to person. This is miscommunication.

Culture and morals are embedded in the language. The Double
Infinity symposium held last weekend was trying to figure out what
would be written in the textbooks of our era ~ to figure out if a
globalized history is possible ~ and to have a conversation between
different countries' timelines. One of the speakers, an art historian,
Dr. Paul Gladston asked if it was even possible to have a unified
history of anything. Specifically with China and 'The west,' who to
their core have huge philosophical differences in their outlooks on
life; societal, religious, sexual, cultural differences. He said our
timelines would have "polaristic narrative."

For the whole weekend I listened to Chinese artists speak about
their art, opinions and lives through these rechid headphones and an
Chinese to English translator's heavy breathing and salivating mouth.
I couldn't help but feel like I was missing something entirely. The
audience would laugh and I heard nothing funny. The entire weekend
revolved around this whole idea of miscommunication. I would be
writing down quotes of the artists, but in the translator's words. I
couldn't help but feel like I was looking at this entire event through
her eyes and her own personal opinions on the matter. During the
English speakers, the speakers would often use words I didn't even
know, so I wondered how it was translated into Chinese. Did the
translator know these words? English is especially hard to translate,
I would imagine, because one definition has so many words. And each
other those words are used in a specific context that one could only
know after hearing it used in those contexts! How difficult it is to
get around this miscommunication!

At the end of the first day of the symposium, there was a
performance revolving around this very idea. It was called "Rites of
Passage" by Julika Rudelius. A native English speaker stands at the
front of a line with four Chinese translators. They play a game of
telephone, translating her English phrase to Chinese, back to English,
then back to Chinese and finally at the end we see how it was
ultimately translated in english. In this performance, or experiment a
sentence goes through 5 different contexts. 5 different outlooks on
the world. The story Julika Rudelius was telling was kind of
scandalous, with a strong erotic feeling through the entire thing. In
the English translation at the end this raunch was hardly every
conveyed. Every language has their own poetics. English has their own
idioms. The Chinese language definitely has their little sayings and
three character sentences that I think native-Westerners will never
fully understand.

What does this all mean? I don't really know. It's sort of a
pity that we will always misunderstand each other, but it's sort of
beautiful. I am so scared that during this time of Chinese
'modernization' in light of the Western model, that Chinese ideals
will lose itself. I don't even like how the West has modernized,
because they forgot about Mother Nature in doing so! But an
appreciation of the body, and nature and the heavens are embedded in
the Chinese language, so hopefully the Chinese can reinterpret the
definition of modernization.