China Surreal

Currently on display at m97 Gallery Shanghai is Exquisite Corpse: China Surreal, a group exhibition of photographic works. The show is co-curated by Mathieu Borysevicz, who has made a career as Zhang Huan's videographer. He also occasionally contributes to art publications. The title of the show is derived from the classic game of the same name in which words or images from different individuals are randomly strung together in order to create a singular work of collective subconscious.

The goal of the exhibition is to present photographs from both established as well as emerging artist who are exploring the current state of surreality in modern China. Many have proclaimed the the current conditions of culture, tradition, the body, and the imagination have been disrupted to a point of absurdity. The images are displayed so that each work is linked to the next my thematic or conceptual themes ultimately culminating in a disturbing and mesmerizing look at China's present reality through the eyes of twenty artists.

In the west, Surrealism once offered a cultural respite in an age deprived of representational range, providing a kind of pyschological retreat. Through metaphoricity, familiar strangeness, illusion, and the erotic, surrealists simultaneously accepted and challenged what was there. Surrealism was not simply an artistic avant-garde but a subterranean movement of modern culture that sought to express pure psychic automatism, by any means necessary, regardless of moral or aesthetic preoccupations. Its ultimate goal was to reach an absolute point of reconciliation between dream and reality.

Now is more than ever and appropriate time for Chinese artists to confront and challenge every kind of experience and actuality. The difficulty lies in the ability to communicate and visualize such confounding issues of this manner. Tenets linked with surrealism maintain the capacity for ontological, or representational depth, in a Modernist age dominated by instrumentality. The consensus of many is that the content of the artworks is too rarely discussed. Chinese artists are beginning to break away from this paradigm to find their own voice and true means of expression. The art scene is Shanghai is very young and still percolating, but there is tremendous potential. The sources of inspiration and the issues that Chinese artists are facing are poignant and among the most difficult to articulate. Though the works in this exhibition appear to be heavily influenced by western art aesthetics, the show does represent a new direction for contemporary Chinese art, and if it continues and evolves, will come as a welcome relief.

exquisitely pleasant

Matching Hana's enthusiasm, I absolutely LOVED "Exquisite Corpse." We arrived around 5:45PM and the exhibit closed at 6:30PM so we figured we would just take a look around, write some notes, and research more online. Little did we know that the curator introduced himself, asked us where we were studying, and asked if Defne was our professor! We told him our troubles with understanding the context of contemporary art and he immediately began to give us a tour of the exhibit—from beginning to end. With each work each gave us background information, his interpretation of the work, and what others have thought of the work. He told us that the exhibition was arranged in such a away that all the pieces flowed together. I hadn't noticed it before but once he explained it to us I began to see how pieces with trees went after one another and similarly pieces with architecture, boats, bubbles, etc; He ended our tour with one last lingering question—is it always necessary to understand the context behind contemporary art? Maybe contemporary art isn't always meant to be understood… maybe it isn't always so clear cut. Contemporary art's focus is not purely aesthetic, as may be in the case of fine arts. Rather, contemporary art is comparatively, in his opinion, more thought provoking and more open to interpretation.



I learned that "Exquisite Corpse" was originally a game in which random words were placed together to create a new sentence or story. The first two words ever used in that game were exquisite and corpse, giving way to the title of the exhibition. These newly created sentences or stories were sometimes thought to contain a subconscious element—they were more than merely arbitrary words juxtaposed together. And thus this was the perfect term to name the exhibit as they all contained a subconscious opinion on the surreality of life in China.



One of my most favorite pieces was Lu Jin's "Chinese Real Estate Dream #15." The piece put together the traditional paint strokes of hills, trees, and running water with photos of skyscrapers placed within the waves of ocean. I thought it was so interesting to see the two opposite spectrums of tradition and modernity juxtaposed into one piece. It's a seemingly calm clash of East meets West and how they just might intertwine and live together in harmony.


Another one of my favorite pieces was Liu Ren's "Someday, Somewhere." She placed herself in her own piece, surrounded by bubbles with her inside also. There is also a beach scene juxtaposed into the photo. She is dancing on a street, in front of a governmental building in Beijing. She used very bright colors including magenta pink and bright blue. Her work gave off a very playful feel. It seemed like she was giving us a view into her fantastical world. She seemed to defy the stringent Communist government by dancing freely in front of it. It looked like she was living life listening to her own tunes, and "dancing as if nobody was watching." This work seems to convey the view of the youngest generation in China. Most of China's youth have lost sight of China's traditionalist views and moved onto their own age, where individualism takes precedence. Liu Ren's piece seems to perfectly manifest the views of Chinese youth.

The Exquisite Corpse Will Drink the Young Wine

The Exquisite Corpse Exhibition was by far my most favorite exhibition throughout this whole semester. A major component of this is because we had the most amazing curator ever! He was the first curator who I learned anything substantial from, especially in comparison to the Shanghai Biennale’s curator, who I felt had no idea what she was talking about and hesitated every time she tried to explain something. This guy, on the other hand, took such a meticulous and passionate effort to take Val and I through EVERY single photography work, explaining not only the background of the artist and where he is from, but also what he thinks about the artwork, what he thinks the artist was trying to express through the photography, etc. He also made a lot of opinionated commentary about why he loved certain aspects of the works, which I loved because it showed his passion towards what he was promoting.

I was intrigued by his explanations. I know that if Val and I had been left alone there and he had not walked up to us, we would have missed a million beautiful concepts. First, I loved how the exhibition was named “Exquisite Corpse.” Turns out that it originates from a game first played in France in the 1920s in which artists will write down a word, fold it, and pass it to the next person, who will then write down another word not knowing what the previous person wrote and so on. The first round result of this game was “The exquisite corpse will drink the young wine,” thus the name of the exhibition. This game was significant because some people believed in the subconscious element of it—the working together of everyone’s individual subconscious thinking. Thus, much of the photography I saw today contained a lot of surreal, subconscious aspects to it, which were embraced to show the 20 different artists’ unintentional but poignantly collective subconsciousness spoken through their works.

The part of this Exquisite Corpse Exhibition that thoroughly intrigued me was that although there were twenty completely different artists, who had no relation to each other whatsoever, their photography pieces were intentionally and deliberately positioned in an order that creates this one collective state of the subconscious. In other words, an aspect or idea of one work somehow connected to the next work and so on. Let me give you an example. First observe these four photography pieces each created by a different artist. Hong Lei’s “I Dreamt I was Hanging Upside Down While Listening to Emperor Song HuiZong Playing Guqin with Chairman Mao” is followed by Mao Yu’s “Tree of Man.” The connection? The concept of a human hanging from a tree. Then Mao Yu’s “Tree of Man” is followed by Sheng Qi’s “My Left Hand, Skeleton.” The connection here? Mao Yu emphasizes the color red on the body wraps as well as the naked skin color of the man underneath the tree. The color emphasized (by the background) of Sheng Qi’s work was also red as well as the focus on the naked, hand. Then, Sheng Qi’s work is followed by Bai Yiluo’s “Destiny No. 2” The connection here? Mao Yu’s hand is holding a picture of a skeleton, which logically connects to Bai Yiluo’s skeleton photography piece. The ENTIRE Exquisite Corpse Exhibition is deliberately positioned to relate to one another—maybe to again, emphasize the collective, subconscious circuit of energy even from unrelated artists and artwork.

I had two favorite photography pieces.

One was Liu Ren’s “Someday, Somewhere #1.” I loved this piece because it had such a fantastical fairytale-like character to it, which I love. I love the capabilities of digital photography, because this technology makes it possible to create such surreal, timeless, dreamy worlds and capture it in a way that makes it look real. The artist herself is the central figure. She is standing in the middle of a beach shore with calm waves coming at her feet, but with the help of digital photography, she merges the Beijing Train station right at the horizon. Dreamy purple bubbles are airily floating around everywhere around her with little fairy tale figures in them. There are soothing pastel-colored bubbles afloat everywhere. I love this piece not only because of the dreamy, fantasy-like world she creates so naturally, but also because she uses the element of putting herself in her own artwork and juxtaposing herself with the greater society to make a point, whatever it may be. This also emitted an aura of the younger generation’s approach to art.

My other favorite was Lu Jun’s “Chinese Real Estate Dream #15.” There was such a calm and soothing fusion of traditional Chinese characteristics and China today’s modern characteristics—I think he couldn’t have chosen a better symbol for this: real estate. Despite the clashing ideas, such as traditional ink and ancient trees verses modern buildings that are being built in the blink of an eye, Lu Jun somehow fused these two quite beautifully. I also loved his emphasis on mix media. I felt like the other ones had the main focus on letting their art work be just photos, but his focus was a mix of so many things. For instance, the curator explained to us how Lu Jun used this method of dripping ink in the water and then photographing this reaction from the side. There was such a unique and weirdly soothing aura about this work of art.

The curator and we also discussed some interesting topics. He pointed out that if he had to guess a rough figure, around 50% of the artists featured in the exhibition are not experts on photography—meaning a lot of them don’t know much about the techniques of photographing. Instead, what makes these artworks so beautiful is concept—the right capturing and expression of the concept the artist wants to portray. I loved that idea.

Exquisite Corpse at m97

The exquisite corpse, both an intriguing concept and combination of words, provides the idea that informs the exhibition of the same name currently at m97 Gallery. For those unfamiliar with the game of Exquisite Corpse or the ideology behind it, below I quote the curator’s statement:

“The Exquisite Corpse game began in France in 1925 around a table of poets and artists. In this improvisational game a player would write a phrase on a sheet of paper, fold the paper to cover part of it, and pass it on to the next player for their contribution. “The exquisite/corpse/will drink/the young/wine” was the poetic result of the first round played and hence the game’s name was born. While many initially condemned it as a frivolous game, others were quick to praise its significance for illuminating what Nicolas Calas deemed as the "unconscious reality in the personality of the group" or the group’s collective subconscious. Max Ernst identified these subconscious outcomes as the result of the process called "mental contagion." The game was quickly adapted to the visual realm of drawing and collage by assigning a section of the human body for each player to imagine.”

More familiar to most young people today is probably the visual version of the game, which I remember being played during math or science class, as it was easy to covertly pass a strip of folded paper to a nearby classmate. I’m not sure how much the game tapped into the subconscious of ten-year-old minds; we, however, found it thoroughly amusing to see the head of an alien on the body of a horse with the feet of a ballet dancer.
The intellectual, more ideological side to the game (I suppose it should henceforth be referred to as an “exercise”, not a game) is something I had never really considered before. The name alone, exquisite corpse, lends a mysterious tone of 19th century thought (at least in my mind). The combination of exquisite, evoking something extremely beautiful and delicate, and corpse, perhaps suggesting something not so much delicate as vulgar, together create something elegantly macabre, like something out of an Edgar Allen Poe story. This combination is not thoroughly paradoxical though, and it reminds us that even the most unlikely pairs can work in harmony under the right circumstances.

Just as paradoxical is the word that might come to mind when hearing the term exquisite corpse, I have realized that many people also think of contemporary China as paradoxical. Cities in China are paradoxical. Take Beijing as an example. Beijing, the imperial city, is the pride and joy China, home of the Forbidden City, the Summer Palace, and numerous famous temples. However, the Chinese are quick to forget about that history in the name of upward mobility. One of aspect of Beijing culture that doesn’t involve emperors but common people, is the style of neighborhood construct known as the hutong. Anyone who has been to Beijing, or seen older photographs of Beijing can visualize these low, curving blocks of houses divided by narrow, swooping alleyways. They are the epitome of the word community, as most people not only live in them but work nearby, and there are many people living in close proximity (which I imagine doesn’t lend itself too much privacy). However, in the wake of the recent Beijing Olympics, the government was all too quick to destroy much of this housing, early versions of which date back to the 13th century or so. About 15% of Beijing’s hutongs have been maintained for tourist purposes only. The paradox here is as follows: China takes a certain pride in its history, however, it fails to realize the value of such a structure that not so long ago dominated the city. The Beijing government wants the city to appear modern and prosperous, and decided to do so by destroying anything that wasn’t super modern, lest a Westerner’s conception of China actually be accurate. However, what people want to see when coming to China is, in fact, China. I can see incredibly modern buildings in New York, saving myself the 22-hour flight and visa application process. When I am in China, however, I would like to feel as though I am actually on a different continent. That said, there are definitely benefits to a modernized China, most of which are too complex and great to go into here. However, what China fails to achieve is balance, that harmonious blend between Eastern and Western (often things in China are dramatically polar, Eastern or Western, modern or ancient). More and more often, in dialogue about contemporary Chinese society some kind of binary will arise. As China grapples with its rich history and its desperate hunger to catapult itself into a future of modernity and prosperity, it remains caught up in (and set back by) much of its past.

To relate this back to the exhibition at m97 and the principle of exquisite corpse, I will reference Hong Lei’s photograph entitled “I Dreamt I was Hanging Upside Down While Listening to Emperor Song Hui Zong Playing Guqin with Chairman Mao” (2004). The photograph is a montage of bizarre images that cause a few double takes. The photograph depicts the following in a barren field: a man dressed in imperial clothing seated under a tree, apparently Emperor Song Hui Zong, playing the traditional Chinese instrument guqin. To his right sits a somewhat disproportionate Mao Zedong, whose profile is not entirely clear at first glance, but whose haircut is unmistakable. The ground is not only barren but appears to be the kind of overworked, nutrient-free soil so dry that the ground cracks and crumbles under foot. It is enhanced with obviously digital, copy-and-pasted emerald green shrubbery. To the left of the Emperor, looking more digitally imposed on the scene than either of his historical counterparts, is the artist, feet bound in rope, hanging upside down from an unseen source. A chair identical to the Chairman’s sits below the hanging man, suggesting that he was previously seated for the Emperor’s performance. Above the horizon line floats a small explosion, surrounded by the heavenly glow usually associated with the father of China, Mao Zedong. This photograph is almost an exquisite corpse game on the subject of Chinese history, juxtaposing several elements of Chinese politics and society from different eras. The way I see it, three eras are represented: the golden age of China’s dynastic years, the formation of the PRC and the Cultural Revolution, and the present. The artist chooses himself to represent the present, which I admire, as he is admitting that he can only speak for himself. Though the sentiments he expresses might be shared, but ultimately they are of his own opinion. And his opinion is clear- whether he his suggesting suicide by hanging (though he dangles from his feet, probably more torturous than suicidal) or he is simply evoking the feeling of blood rushing to one’s head from hanging upside down, the feeling isn’t good. His arms dangle at an unnatural 90-degree angle, and if he is turned right side up he appears to be putting his arms up in surrender. Is he surrendering himself to history, to China’s inescapable past (both the good and the bad) or is he surrendering himself to the future? Or do both just make him want to hang himself? There is a wide realm of interpretation in this photograph, much of it depending on how you view contemporary China. Physically, the emperor is entertaining Chairman Mao, not as a host but as a bard. I think this use of classical Chinese imagery suggests the employment of sacred Chinese history and culture as commodity, something that is prided in on the surface yet really exploited in the name of money. I get the feeling that, like Mao Zedong, contemporary China would rather forget the history that it somehow can’t escape. It seems as though China has jumped from ancient times to hypermodernity, which accounts for many of its current issues of identity. Mao sitting there, politely listening to classical Chinese music is akin to snap-happy tourists gawking at underdeveloped parts of old Shanghai or buying qipaos to take home to Florida. They are tokens of a bygone era, yet they are inextricable symbols of China, past and present. Symbols that China paradoxically seems equally eager to embrace and escape.