Showing posts with label art history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art history. Show all posts

Monday, August 27, 2007

Shanghai: Art Deco capital - for now

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/arts/main.jhtml?xml=/arts/2007/08/25/

bashanghai125.xml

Say Art Deco and everyone knows what you mean: sharp geometry, cool
curves, an effortless marriage of style and function. Where to find it,
though, is a different matter.

Dotted around London and New York are palaces of 1920s and 1930s
modernism - such as Senate House in Bloomsbury and the Chrysler
building on Lexington Avenue - their straight lines and sweeping curves
dominating their historic sites or looking almost quaint amid the
higher, newer skyscrapers now surrounding them.

But London and New York are not Art Deco cities. The 1930s, the
movement's peak decade, were not great years for the West, and while
apartment blocks from the period still punctuate the suburbs, they
suffered from the Second World War and post-industrial decay. Too
often, they look shabby and forgotten beside the sturdier homes of
previous eras and the bright convenience of the present.

Yet in a few hold-outs, where history played odd tricks, Art Deco still
dominates. Their names are surprising: Napier in New Zealand, rebuilt
in one go after an earthquake in 1931; Miami Beach; the Eritrean
capital Asmara, a masterpiece from the age of the brief Italian empire.

Shanghai, home to more skyscrapers than New York and a population of 20
million swept into an endless sprawl of suburbs, is not a city one
tends to associate with Art Deco. Yet the 1930s was Shanghai's first
great decade of economic boom, and both the Western bankers who ran the
city and the new Chinese middle classes wanted to associate only with
the new.

In a whirl of construction, grandiose office buildings, apartment
blocks and showpiece villas were erected by international firms, for
European exiles washed up on the shores of the Yangtse, young bachelors
on short-term postings or Chinese students who had followed the fashion
for professional training abroad.

Ladislaus Hudec, a Czech architect from Budapest who was sent to
Siberia by the Russians, ended up in Shanghai designing high-rises such
as the 22-storey Park Hotel (1934) overlooking the racecourse, at the
time the tallest building outside of America.

C H Gonda, another Czech, built cinemas such as the Capitol, now
government offices, and the Cathay, a startling beneficiary of
Shanghai's new trendiness. Recently refurbished, it remains a gleaming
star on the former Avenue Maréchal Joffre, now called Huaihai Lu and
once again the city's most fashionable street.

The years in between have been traumatic: war, Cultural Revolution, the
sudden reopening to the West. It is only now the city is being rebuilt
once again (and much of this architectural reliquary is being
demolished) that Shanghai is being recognised as probably the most
extensive Art Deco landscape anywhere in the world.

After five decades frozen in time, in which waves of poor new residents
have been bundled, a family to a room, into expropriated mansions, this
architectural collection is now emerging.

Two new books, and an associated exhibition on display in the city,
have focused minds. Whether they will be enough to stop the rampant
destruction is another matter. "So many beautiful buildings have been
knocked down: I can't be optimistic about the outlook for protecting
historical buildings," says Deke Erh, co-author of Shanghai Art Deco,
who grew up in Shanghai's French Concession and has become the city's
best-known architectural photographer.

Yet there are signs that even a country as merciless with its past as
China has recognised that its colonial architecture could be an asset,
not an embarrassment. The Peace Hotel on Shanghai's famous waterfront,
the Bund, is under government restoration; once upon a time it was the
Cathay, East Asia's most glamorous address, from whose window young Jim
watched the start of the Second World War in Empire of the Sun. A
handful of the grander family homes, of the sort Jim lived in, are
being "done up" as status symbols by Shanghai's new elite - in some
cases the returned grandchildren of the old elite.

It's not just the buildings. The French Concession, which along with
the International (British and American) Concession has the highest
concentration of pre-revolutionary Western architecture in the city,
used to be full of junk shops. Today it has boutiques and antiques
stores, where the same distinctive old radios and wooden chests are
sold at much higher prices.

Cultural leftovers illuminate Phantom Shanghai, a collection of ghostly
images by the Canadian photographer Greg Girard. While Erh focuses on
what is there, Girard photographs what is not. Navigating the
fluorescent-tinged demolition zones of old Shanghai, Girard narrates
the destruction of a way of life. In some images, house fronts have
been ripped off, to reveal the remains of bedrooms or kitchens. In
others, people still eke out a life amid furniture and detritus
inherited from another age. The decay of a city as its residents lapsed
into squalour is all too evident; in one mansion, a fantastical mixture
of Art Deco and Southern Chinese fancy, Girard counted 152 people
occupying a space originally built for an opium merchant and his family
- albeit a family that included four wives.

But there is also great humanity here, and Girard finds it hard to
begrudge these families their new flats. "I am very anti-nostalgic," he
says, though it would be a hard heart that found no nostalgia here.

The fluorescence is that of the gaudy new Shanghai that overlooks these
curious scenes. And of course it continues; as Girard and I spoke in a
café on the Bund, more bulldozers were moving in a few hundred yards
away.
# 'Shanghai Art Deco' by Deke Erh and Tess Johnston (Old China Hand
Press, Hong Kong). 'Phantom Shanghai' by Greg Girard (Magenta, £25). An
exhibition of photographs from 'Phantom Shanghai' runs at Studio Rouge
M50, 50 Moganshan Lu, Shanghai, from Sept 30-Oct 21.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

EXHIBITION: NET, curated by Wu Hung

For Immediate Release
September 1, 2007

EXHIBITION: NET, curated by Wu Hung

DATES: Sept 20 – Nov 3, 2007

Seven years after the opening of Chambers Fine Art in New York in 2000,
Christophe W. Mao is pleased to announce the opening of Chambers Fine
Art in Beijing on September 20th. Opening at a time when the interest
in contemporary Chinese was becoming an international phenomenon,
Chambers Fine Art became one of the primary showcases for the work of a
wide range of Chinese artists in the United States. As the art world
has become increasingly globalized in the last seven years, the
significance of Beijing as a cultural and artistic center has grown
enormously, leading to the decision to open a gallery there.

The striking new gallery, designed by Ai Weiwei is located in the Cao
Changdi district, a choice location which is rapidly becoming one of
the major centers for contemporary art in Beijing. The first exhibition
to be held in the new space, Net: Reimiganing Space, Time and Culture
is organized by Wu Hung, who has served as chief curator for many of
the biennials held in China and South Korea including the Shanghai
Biennale (2000) and the Gwangju Biennial (2006) and influential
exhibitions held in the United States and Great Britain (Between Past
and Future: New Photography and Video in China, 2004).

Wu Hung's first association with Chambers Fine Art began in 2000 with
First Encounter: Lu Shengzhong. For the current exhibition which brings
together specially commissioned works by seventeen artists associated
with Chambers Fine Art, Wu Hung has investigated the concept of a "net"
which "transcends any given time of space, history and region,
specificity and abstraction. At the same time it also inhabits any
given time and space, history and region, specificity and abstraction."
The meanings of the word range from the simple fishing net to Laozi's
use of the word as a political metaphor, and continue into the present
day with the omnipresence of the internet. As Wu Hung points out: "To
modern and contemporary artists, the "net" has become a favorite
subject of their work, mainly because this image allows them to explore
the connectivity and fluidity between the phenomenal world and the
conceptual world… Because of the complexity of this concept, the show
is expected to address many issues, from history and culture to its
status as a fundamental image."

Included in the exhibition are works by Ai Weiwei, He Yunchang, Hong
Hao, Hong Lei, Lu Shengzhong, Qiu Zhujie, Rong Rong, Shi Jinsong, Song
Dong, Wang Jianwei, Wang Tiande, Wu Jian'an, Yin Xiuzhen, Yu Hong, Zhan
Wang, Zhang Peili, Zheng Guogu. Representing several generations, the
selected are notably diverse stylistically and in the nature of their
relationship to the overpowering presence of the culture of classical
China. Their attitude to the massive transformation of Chinese society
in the last two decades, unparalleled in history, also ranges from
outright rejection to enthusiastic acceptance.

In the various phases of his development, Ai Weiwei has attempted to
emulate the achievements of classical art, on occasion to rescue it and
to demolish it altogether. Wang Tiande, Qiu Zhijie and Zheng Guogu have
turned to calligraphy to examine how it might become something other
than an antiquarian pursuit. Lu Shengzhong and Wu Jian'an have delved
deeply into the traditional world of Chinese paper-cut and have turned
away from the face of contemporary China. For Zhang Peili in his
photographic works, and for the searching Realist paintings of Yu Hong,
on the other hand, it is life as it is lived today that is of primary
importance. Song Dong and Yin Xiuzhen have used video, performance and
installation in their investigation of personal and social issues. Rong
Rong, Hong Hao and Hong Lei have used the contemporary medium of
photography as a means of creating haunting pictorial illusions while
Wang Jianwei and Zhang Peili have made major contributions in the field
of video. The disturbing performances of He Yunchang, one of which will
take place during the opening, in which he frequently puts himself in
situations of extreme discomfort or even danger, contrast with the
steely perfection of the sculpture of Shi Jinsong in which the element
of risk is an essential part of its appeal.

Christophe W. Mao has remarked: "It has been a rewarding experience
for me over the past seven years to work with this group of artists,
all great individualists unmoved by trends and what is currently in
vogue. Finally - and thanks to Wu Hung - I will be able to see what it
is that attracted me to them in the first place. Installed in the new
gallery their works will speak to each other and I will be able to see
not only what unites artists with similar interests but also artists at
the other end of the artistic spectrum from each other. Is there any
connection between the performances of He Yunchang and the sculptures
of Shi Jinsong and Zhan Wang. Or between the paper- cuts of Lu
Shengzhong and the paintings of Yu Hong. The "net" that Wu Hung
described will occupy real space from September 20."


A catalog on the exhibition will be available
For further information, please contact the gallery at (212) 414-1169
or cfa@chambersfineart.com

LIANG Shaoji: CLOUD

LIANG Shaoji: CLOUD
ShanghART H-space
50 MoGanshan Rd., Bldg.18, Shanghai
Reception: Tuesday, 4 Sept. 2007, 6 -8 pm
Telephone:86-21 63593923,86-21 62762818, fax:86-21 63594570
Exhibition: 5 Sept. � 10 Oct. 2007
Daily: 1- 6 pm except Mondays

Press Release

Liang Shaoji is well known for working with animals and nature in his
art. But to understand his work, we must understand something of the
Chinese traditions he is referring to when he lovingly rescues
fragments of China's architectural past from destruction, wraps
references to the sadness and the strife of human life in raw silk
thread, and atones for the unrest and the competition of the floating
world by sitting on top of the sacred mountain of his village watching
in a mirror how the clouds go by. We must know a little at least of the
all-encompassing importance nature has in Chinese thought, and the
ancient poetry that has canonized the images of silk and bamboo,
candles and clouds, as symbols fleeting of life, of suffering and
generosity. But even while referring to Chinese tradition and
associative philosophy, Liang's works target the here and now,
transforming those well-known references into thoroughly contemporary
installations and performances. Demanding unusual expertise and
extraordinary techniques, his works are slow in the making and
difficult to interpret. His installations don't easily submit to
commodification - they should be seen as the residue of actions and
thought processes, indeed as markers of a chosen path of life, rather
than as mere objects.

Liang Shaoji was born in Shanghai in 1945, graduated from Zhejiang Fine
Art School, and studied at Varbanov Institute of Tapestry in Zhejiang
Academy of Art. His early works consisted of serenely abstract hangings
and installations made from textiles, often including bamboo as well.
They made him a well-respected figure in international exhibitions of
arts and crafts. But he felt that this was not enough to satisfy his
desire to make art. In 1988 he started working with silkworms, breeding
them and using them in his works. From that moment on, a whole new
oeuvre emerged, in which he tries to combine biology, bio-ecology,
weaving and sculpture, installation and action. Generally these works
are entitled Nature Series, followed by a number and a date. He refers
to them as sculptures made of time, life and nature, as "recordings of
the fourth dimension". Many works consist of objects (often objects
trouvées) wrapped in the silk threads he has his silkworms spin around
them. The silkworm symbolizes generosity; its thread human life and
history. Liang often makes use of this symbolism to soften or ease the
violence, cruelty or sadness represented by the objects he uses.

Liang Shaoji has exhibited widely in international Biennales and
Triennales, the Venice and Shanghai Biennales among them.

"Cloud" is Liang Shaoji's first solo exhibition in China. It brings
together a selection of works that deal with the uniquely redemptive
aspects of his oeuvre. It comprises recent installation works from the
Natures Series, as well as videos and photographs. The show is curated
by Marianne Brouwer, who was the guest curator of Another Long March.
Chinese Conceptual and Installation Art in the Nineties, held in Breda,
The Netherlands, in 1997.

Latest Update on Creative Clusters

http://www.shmag.cn/feature/planning_creativity

Planning for Creativity
Fri, 2007-08-10 12:00 — Renee Chen

Shanghai is awash with creative spaces, part of a plan to develop the
city's creative industries. Renee Chen finds out more about the
makeover.

Although Tianzifang (Taikang Lu), M50 (50 Moganshan Lu), and Bridge 8
are already landmarks on the city map, their relatively recent arrival
marks the beginning of a new era in our cultural development. Until
now, we knew them simply as cool buildings, or areas in which to have
coffee, go shopping, or visit art exhibitions. But today, developments
like these are being heralded as the new seats of Shanghai's creative
industries.

Their growth hasn't gone unnoticed. Shanghai's creative businesses
generated ¥54.91 billion more in 2005 than in 2004, and back in
December 2004, this burgeoning success led the Shanghai government to
announce a policy designed to identify and develop other creative
spaces around the city. According to He Zengqiang, Secretary General of
the Shanghai Creative Industry Center (SCIC), "A creative industry
indicates that it is based on creative thought and an intensity of
knowledge. Supporting them will lead to an increase in job
opportunities in these fields."

In addition to revenue, it is the hope of transforming the local
economy from a manufacturing to a service industry that further compels
the government to push the trend. Shanghai's serious economic
development began with the influx of foreigners during the middle of
the 19th century, and as industry built a solid foundation, a mass
stock of industrial capital was erected, shaping the city's landscape.
But after 164 years of economic ebbing and flowing, many of these once
bustling factories fell victim to what the noted Austrian economist
Joseph Schumpeter called "creative destruction." They lie dormant now,
but are primed for a new life.

"There are over 30 million square meters of old and idle factory space
in Shanghai, but unlike the newer office buildings, they have a history
that gives a full sense of our culture," says He. The SCIC helps to
invest and renovate this glut of old factory space, while keeping the
cost down to as little as ¥1 per square meter in areas such as Hongkou
district. "We did a study this May which found the average rent for old
warehouses and factories is ¥2.75 per square meter per day, which is
much cheaper than office buildings," says He. "This price is perfect
for those with a creative streak."

Although the big name areas such as Taikang Lu get most of the
attention, there are already 75 such creative clusters in Shanghai,
involving 3,000 companies and 27,000 employees and covering industries
such as R&D, architectural design, art, consulting, and fashion.

When creative types find a home, creative ideas are bound to follow.
Bridge 8, which opened its doors in December 2004, now has a 100
percent occupancy rate with companies from the catering, retail,
interior design, and film production industries. The number of tenants
has risen from 25 to 100, and has drawn many internationally When
creative types find a home, creative ideas are bound to follow. Bridge
8, which opened its doors in December 2004, now has a 100 percent
occupancy rate with companies from the catering, retail, interior
design, and film production industries. The number of tenants has risen
from 25 to 100, and has drawn many internationally famous studios like
ALSOP from the UK and SOM from the US. "My job is just like writing a
play," says Huang Hanhong, the CEO of the Lifestyle Consulting, Ltd.,
the operators of Bridge 8. "I want a play that can bring out the best
from its actors; in other words, its tenants. Maybe that's my
inspiration."

The success of clusters such as Bridge 8 has provided the impetus for
new projects in the city. The hugely impressive former slaughterhouse
Old Millfun, located in Hongkou district, is one of the newer projects
under construction and will be one of the largest creative centers in
Shanghai. "If you want to experience buildings typical of Shanghai in
the 1920s, you have other choices than just Xintiandi," says SCIC
undersecretary Cherry Zhou, pointing to this 1933 slaughterhouse.

And unlike Xintiandi, which razed local buildings to make way for
upscale shopping and dining, Old Millfun will keep and renovate its
original building, a vast network of concrete ramps, bridges, and
staircases, in an effort to maintain this portion of the city's
history. Meanwhile, certain modern elements will be incorporated. Old
Millfun will be finished by the end of next month, and will host the
2007 Shanghai International Creative Industry Week this November.

Apart from government supported projects, there are still independent
clusters like the Wujiaochang 800 Art Space. This brand new five-floor
building located in the university area of Wujiaochang, was developed
by Shanghai Hanqu Ltd. Besides several urban planning and architecture
design studios, 800 Art Space is mainly for art galleries. "We only
recruit professional artists, which is the very thing we pride
ourselves in, as even M50 has many personal studios," says Judy Yan,
who works for the investment department of 800 Art Space. They have
already recruited 40 studios and galleries, including ShanghART Gallery
and Shine Art Space.

The creative industry in Shanghai is so young that it's hard to compare
it with western cities which have highly developed cultural,
publishing, film, and advertising industries. Intellectual property and
market cultivation are two hurdles the creative industry will have to
clear on its way to development. "The Chinese are quite good at copying
things," says He. "If a new fashion style came out in Europe yesterday,
it will have arrived in Hong Kong today, and will travel everywhere on
the Mainland tomorrow."

Many, including the government, have now indicated that this trend must
stop. As long as the profitability stemming from a company's work is
threatened, the market will never build up the resources necessary for
its own growth – which is why so few foreign creative companies have
been willing to set down roots here.

Regarding homegrown talent, SCIC has done its bit, enacting regulations
that aim to protect the ideas coming from entrepreneurs and other
creatives. But there is a recognition that more must also be done to
nurture creativity at an earlier age. "The interests of students are
ignored by our education system, since there is too much pressure to
get into university and then land a job after graduation," sighs He.
"It just ruins young people's lives."

Fortunately, this may be changing, as educational projects are being
designed to develop students' critical thinking. Shanghai Normal
University, for example, has set up a Cultural Industry Management
course that Shanghai Jiaotong University had already been using for ten
years. A creative institute is also opening for the first time at the
Shanghai Theater Academy.

The hope is that while the government develops the city's creative
spaces into platforms for an emerging creative industry, talent will
also be nurtured to step up onto that stage.
Other creative clusters to check out

Xin Shi Gang
Formally a steel factory, this building now houses the Shanghai
Sculpture Space. Later phases will add a space for multimedia companies
and the Jiangsheng flower and plant market.
570 Huaihai Xi Lu, near Hongqiao Lu, 6280 0789.
淮海西路570 近虹桥路

Yifei Creative Street
Originally conceived by the famed-painter Chen Yifei, this 723 meter
long street on Yanggao Nan Lu will be an upscale leisure center
complimented by several international design studios.
Yanggao Nan Lu, near Jinxiu Lu.
杨高南路, 近锦绣路

Sihang Warehouse
This 1920s warehouse on Suzhou Creek houses a science and technology
cluster, as well as visual arts and architectural design studios.
21 Guangfu Lu, near Wuzhen Lu, 6380 1202.
光复路21号, 近乌镇路

Tianshan Fashion Cluster
This block was designed by the China Fashion Designers Association and
the Fashion and Art Design Institute of Donghua University. It aims to
nurture fashion businesses, as well as professional design, and
training.
1718 Tianshan Lu, near Loushanguan Lu.
天山路1718号, 近娄山关路

Y&G Art Warehouse
This renovated printing press hopes to attract artists seeking personal
studio spaces. Some contemporary painters like Ye Qiang and Liu Hong
have already moved in.
No.2, Lane 295, Xianxia Lu, near Loushanguan Lu, 5206 9176.
仙霞路295弄2号, 近娄山关路

Bizart this Fall

9月SEPTEMBER 2007

2007皮埃.埃尔创作奖提名展
2007 Pierre Huber Creation Prize
Nominees Exhibition
Opening: September 4th, 2007, Tuesday 18:30
Press Conference: September 4th, 2007, Tuesday 19:00
Exhibition dates: September 5th to 10th, 2007, from 11:00 to 18:00

Organizer: China Art Academy
Co-organizer: New Media Art Department, China Art Academy
Venue: BizArt Art Center
Nominated artists:
Dong Dayuan, Jiang Zhuyun, Lu Yang, Shi Chuan, Wang Xin, Ma Xiaoxiao,
Sun Huiyuan, Xiao Yuankun


About Pierre Huber New Media Art Creation Prize and Fund

On September 7th, 2006, Mr. Pierre Huber met with the students of the
New Media Art Deparment of the China Art Academy and inquired about the
education situation.
In view of stimulating New Media Art Creation, education and diffusion,
as well as encouraging and supporting creative activities of the new
media art students, Mr. Pierre Huber founded the "Pierre Huber" New
Media Art Creation Prize and Fund.

The grant will finance a small management group in charge of
supervising the use of the fund, and formulate a regulation system.

Part of the grant will fund the "Pierre Huber New Media Art Creation
Prize" to support over the years the creativity of outstanding
students. Three prizes will be awarded to the students.
Fund will also be used to support students' creativity: students will
directly submit their project which will be examinated and subsidized
by the management group. At last, part of the grant will finance
studies of prominent new media art students with family difficulties.
Reward process will be composed of two phases: first, teachers will
nominate skillful students, who will participate to an exhibition. The
second phase will be the final selection by a jury made of renowned
curators and artists.
Jury will be composed of five members selected each year from a list,
members will change from a year to another.

Jury members list:
Beijing: Fei Dawei, Pili, Karen Smith, Wang Gongxin, Lu Jie
Shanghai: Zhang Qing, Zhou Tiehai, Xu Zhen, Yang Zhenzhong, Lorenz
Helbling, Chen Jieyang, Lin Shumin, Yang Fudong
Guangzhou: Huang Zhuan
Abroad: Hou Hanru (U.S.A., France, China), Hans Ulrich-Obrist (U.S.A.,
France), Barbara London (U.S.A.), Zheng Shengtian (Canada), Yves
Aupetitallot (France), Zhang Ga (U.S.A., China).

韩国艺术家朴芝恩和中国艺术家李平虎的展览
Exhibition of Jee Eun Park (Korea) and Li Pinghu (China)

Opening: September 14th, 2007, Friday (18:30)
Exhibition Dates: September 15th � September 28th, 2007 (11:00 � 18:00)

Exhibition of the artworks produced by Korean artist, Jee Eun Park,
during her residency in BizArt and the works produced by Chinese
artist, Li Pinghu, during his residency in Ssamzie Space, Seoul. The
exhibition will be held in September in BizArt for one week.

10月October 2007
仔细想想,昨天你究竟干嘛去了? -- 施勇个展
Let's think, where have you been yesterday? --Shi Yong's solo
exhibition

开幕时间:2007年10月12日,星期五 (18:30)
展览时间:2007年10月13日-10月22日 (11:00 � 18:00)

Opening: October 12nd, 2007, Friday (18:30)
Exhibition Dates: October 13rd �October 22nd, 2007 (11:00 � 18:00)

往事 � 被遗忘的时光
6位印尼艺术家阐释的印尼历史, 1930-1960
The Past - The Forgotten Time
Six Indonesian artists interpret Indonesian history, 1930 - 1960

Opening: October 25th, 2007, Thursday (18:30)
Exhibition Dates: October 26th � November 11st, 2007 (11:00 � 18:00)


Introduction:
This exhibition represents a variety of perspectives focusing on the
struggle of "Becoming Indonesia" during the period between 1930 and
1960. Personal stories mixed with formal facts to indicate how the
colonial situation became a major part in the attempt to formulate an
Indonesian identity. Beginning with the visual forms produced by these
artists, we learn to remember and reflect on the past and, together,
oppose forgetting.

U-TURN: 30 Years of Contemporary Art in China

Watch out ! Terrific compilation in the making.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Chinese copy-painters come to Zurich

http://www.artworldsalon.com/blog/2007/07/16/chinese-copy-painters-

come-to-zurich/

Chinese copy-painters come to Zurich
Monday July 16, 2007 | 13:10 by Marc Spiegler | permalink

The art scene is slow in Zurich this time of year, like everywhere
else. But there's always room for a little controversy. Last weekend's
concerned the newly established Splügen-Gallery (all text in German),
where the business model runs thus: You give them an image of an
artwork, and they have it painted for you in Shenzhen Dafen, China, at
whatever dimensions you like. The cost? Roughly $450-$900, frame
included.

The eclectic first show features works "by" Gustav Klimt, Roy
Lichtenstein and Tamara de Lempicka. Naturally, Pro Litteris, the Swiss
artists-rights association, objects strongly, arguing that "to
reproduce an image you need permission from the artist or their
representative." The gallery's owner, Chris Rüegg, counters that he's
checked with his lawyers and it's all perfectly legal.

One thing's sure: Given the predicted vector of the Chinese
contemporary-art scene, Splügen customers might do well to inquire
precisely who painted their duped Picasso, Prince, Weischer, or Wool,
and keep that name in their bank vault. After all, Western art history
is full of people who went from doing commercial art to being canonized
artists. Just look at the recent prices for Warhol sketches from his
illustrator days.

The problem with a collector-driven market

The problem with a collector-driven market
链接
By Jane Kallir |
Posted 12 July 2007

For the past century or so, the art world has been supported by four principal pillars: artists, collectors, dealers and the art-historical establishment (critics, academics, and curators). From a wider historical perspective, the latter two entities are relative newcomers. The development of art history as an academic discipline, and of public museums, dates back only to the 19th century. Only in the 20th century did dealers evolve from passive shopkeepers to pro-active impresarios, promoting the often difficult efforts of the pioneering modernists with missionary zeal. Public resistance to modernism, coupled with the pressures of international capitalism, gave new importance to dealers and museums, both of which played key roles by superintending the distribution of new art and ratifying its seriousness. At varying points in the course of the past 100 years, the weight of the art world has shifted from one of the four pillars to another. Artists made the modernist revolution; dealers recognised and supported it before academia did; in the post-war period, critics became so dominant that Tom Wolfe lampooned their influence in his 1975 book The Painted Word. And now, it seems, collectors have taken charge.

Over the long term, art-historical value is determined by consensus among all four art-world pillars. When any one of the four entities assume disproportionate power, there is a danger that this entity’s personal preferences will cloud everyone’s short-term judgement. Put bluntly, the danger of a collector-driven art world is that money will trump knowledge. Great collectors should ideally become nearly as knowledgeable as the curators and dealers who help them build their collections. But not all of today’s collectors have the passion or the time necessary to develop this depth of knowledge. Collecting, once the pursuit of a relatively small number of driven individuals, has become far more common among far more people.

This expansion of the art market, made possible by the broader dissemination of concentrated pockets of wealth and by the globalisation of art and related information, has drawn in players who do not have the focused commitment of the traditional collector. The exponential growth of the market, and the genuine gains realised by those who got in early, inevitably fuel the tendency, justifiable or not, to view art as an asset class comparable to stocks or real estate.

Art has also become the greatest common denominator in the new global social order. Today’s rich are an international elite whose members can measure their cachet by the level of VIP services given them at Art Basel and Art Basel/Miami Beach. Anointed by the glamour that today attends the public display of great wealth, the art world has acquired the patina of trendiness that was formerly exclusive to the entertainment and fashion industries. The contemporary focus on trendiness and investment potential, each of which operates on a relatively short timeline, obscures the fact that lasting value in art accrues in the course of generations.

The corollary to a collector-driven art world is that the canon of ostensibly great artists is being largely determined by market forces. The huge prices that have been achieved lately at the top of the market are the result not only of new concentrations of wealth, but of the fact that many people are pursuing the same handful of artists and works of art. Therefore the drop-off from the peak can be steep, becalming the middle market and consigning lesser works and lesser artists to also-ran status.

This is a market with a voracious appetite for alleged masterpieces, and little patience for historical or developmental nuances. It encourages superficiality: rather than collecting a single artist or group of artists in depth, collectors now often prefer to amass scattered masterworks: here a Matisse, there a Picasso, and then perhaps a Schiele. In an overheated environment, the art-historical establishment often finds itself chasing rather than guiding the market. The press must keep up with the latest trends, and coverage of social events and record prices often takes precedence over quiet critical reflection. Museums need the support of trustees, but the most powerful collectors no longer need the imprimatur of an existing museum; they can simply open their own.

If it sometimes seems that the art-historical establishment is missing in action, this is in part because, while the market has been aggressively constructing a new canon, academia has been busy deconstructing the old one. For several decades now, scholars have generally agreed that the white, male, Eurocentric canon that traditionally dominated Western art evolved from historical biases that are no longer morally or intellectually justifiable. Although this change in orientation has literally opened up a whole new world of aesthetic possibilities, it has discouraged academics from making qualitative judgements. Scholarship in areas that are useful to the marketplace, such as provenance and authenticity, has flourished, but overall connoisseurship has declined. Similarly, market pressures push dealers to become generalists, showcasing a hodge-podge of high-ticket items instead of specialising as they formerly did. Auctioneers, operating within a timeframe that seldom extends much beyond the next sale date, focus most of their energies on the highest priced lots. Novice collectors, justifiably wary and insecure, engage consultants who often know far less than the dealers and auctioneers. At every level of the art world, deeper knowledge and principled guidance seem to be in short supply.

The writer is co-director of Galerie St Etienne in New York

Friday, June 15, 2007

made in china



sorry for the lack of format.

made in china
In terms of product design, there are two options that China (and the rest of the world for that matter) can turn towards:
industrial design- dealing mainly with functionality, and what designer Pearl Lam calls ‘hyper design’- which deals with a
combination of artistic design/design for daily life/social design. In choosing the topic of design, I had the opportunity to intern with XYZ design, as well as speak with product designers and professors at the Industrial Design unit of Shanghai University of Technology. In having the chance to visit these locations and extensively speak with the individuals within these fields, I was able to learn production methods and ideas of social idealism based on artists’ personal visions.

Chinese design is emphasized mainly by the context of contemporary China itself. By saying this, I mean that China is a place of industrial manufacturing, making certain aspects the process of designing more accessible to current design practitioners in China. In turn, just based on the premise that an object is ‘made in china,’ the act accessing certain materials and going through with the process of designing becomes more easily graspable. Designers are further prompted to explore different outlets, or ‘traditions’ as a medium to integrate art into design.
Industrial design can be defined as an applied art, where creating and developing concepts and specifications both
aesthetically and functionally improve a products marketability and production. In turn, this benefits both the user and the
manufacturer. At the College of Art and Design at the University of Shanghai for Science and Technology, I was given the
opportunity to interview faculty members as well as product designers-Teddy Zheng, Grant, and Chen Tao. The discourse
mainly focused on the educational system within this field. As with most things in China, they explained how the industrial
design industry began developing in the 1980s. At that time there were only thirteen Universities offering design courses as
opposed to the 220 that contain programs presently. The vast increase of design universities is a direct product of China’s
developing economy. Prior to 1980, products were designed in foreign countries and manufactured in China. Rather than
producing individual ideas and independent design, workers took to the factories, copying the shapes that they were given and paying attention to technical and aesthetic renderings.
The causes of industrial design education are products of Qing Hua and Zhong Nan University. Both set a standard
curriculum which all other Industrial design schools in China imitate. This is the reason why each University’s curriculum is at the same level. However, some have distinct characteristics- such as offering more of an art background or offering more of a science/technology background.
The industrial design unit at the University of Shanghai offers students a four-year program composed entirely of a set of
standard classes. These classes force students to explore a practical concern in technical processes and requirements for
manufacturing products. The goal for the University is to assist students in fulfilling requirements by introducing them to
materials/forms, exploring design outlets and furthering technological design. Within the first year, students are required to
study politics, master English, and explore math, mechanical technology, as well as sketching. From there, the second year
offers more professional classes, exploring costs, graphic design, aesthetics in design, sketches on design, and form fabrication. These classes train the students to use simple materials in order to get a general idea of form making. The next two years offer more specific classes that cater to the students future goals within the design world. This is the time where “real product design” happens. Students are introduced to the process of creating simple structures such as perfume bottles and then move to more complex structures such as mobile phones and vehicles. At this time students are required to take classes in the concept of forms, model making, economics, structural construction, material selection, as well as take part in social contests.All students are required to complete the three levels of the program. So, even if a student is more interested in designing microwaves, he must go through the process of learning technicalities in washing machines, vehicles, etc. At the end of their four years, the teachers introduce the ‘good students’ to independent designers and international companies. The careers of an industrial designer can range from graphic design, to furniture design, to companies such as Shanghai GM, Whirlpool, or Electrolux.After graduation, students are often times encouraged to take a year abroad to gain a higher degree and acquire further skills in the design process. Currently, most students are being outsourced to Japan and Germany. Reason being is that Chinese Industrial Design is based off of Japanese and German influence, (they hate France, they find it too Romantic). In terms of Japanese influence, China mimics their take on details, whereas in terms of German influence, China respects the functionality and durability of products. The resulting product yields no absolute difference between the two influences- both working in conjunction to create products with optimal function, value, and appearance. Today, Industrial Design enterprises in China, as in anywhere, are dictated by the consumer market, thus this is what the design curriculum is based on. Products coming out of China are based on a client’s experience with a product- a synthesized combination of functionality and trends of consumer aesthetic. Concepts and specifications are based off of human characteristic, needs, and interests. Designers must explore and understand visual and tactile.
Where the industrial design units of the Universities deal primarily with functionality, the fine art departments at the same
Universities offer technically run studio courses, which aid designers who want to concentrate more on the aesthetics of design.
From what I gather, it seems as if those who go into ‘hyper design’ tend to have more of a fine arts background- particularly in sculpture. In another one of my interviews I met with artist/designer Hang Feng, who attended Shanghai University as a fine art major, concentrating in Graphic Design. Upon visiting Hang Feng’s studio in Moganshanlu, located in the back area of Art Sea- an upstairs gallery in building 9, I was able to interview him about his schooling in the fine arts field. As a graduate from the system before art and graphics had really become a particularly popular outlet, Hang Feng had nothing but negative things to say about the art programs in China. In his perspective, the Chinese educational system is disastrous and impractical based on the premise that everything the institution teaches stems from rote memorization and exact duplication- there is no freedom of thought. The curriculum in which he was enrolled offered mostly drawing and painting classes, which he deemed as ‘not very interesting.’ To broaden his range of experience and to enhance his artistic skills, he took up a printmaking course on the side, as well as did quite a bit of independent self-study on anything that interested him. Because his graphic design course was actually taught without the use of computers, his semester consisted of classes devoted to drawing exact technical sketches of a pen, or an arrow. Due to this major disappointment, he began to work for advertising companies and magazines to pick up extra knowledge within the graphic design and photography realm. Firsthand experience within these fields acted as the key, which “opens a gate to [him] as everything can be designed differently...
below is his artist.”
In the center of his studio hangs his most recent design endeavor- a circular oriental carpet. As you approach this object
you begin to notice something peculiar going on, the shapes and patterns within the design are composed of nothing but
commercial symbols. Dissection leads to internationally recognizable trademarks of Puma, NIKE, Louis Vutton, and Channel.
As I will mention a little later, this carpet, themed ‘Fake Market’ encompasses one of the more popular themes and trends
within the contemporary Chinese Design scene. The production of this piece called for Heng Fang to oversee the entire project from start to finish. He explained that because workers in China are careless about detail, he found no other choice but to opted to live in a carpet factory for four months in order to direct workers every step of the way. Production of this one of a kind, handmade carpet took approximately a month and a half.
Heng Fang’s studio also displays a series of plastic/paper laser cut outs of the similar Branding-Logos symbols. He has
worked on furniture design as well as other popular culturally Western products, such as a geometrical plastic Christmas tree
sporting logo cutouts.
In my travels I inadvertently had another studio visit. This time with a student/employee at XYZ Design Company named Toni. Similar to Heng Fang, he studies at Shanghai University and has a similar educational background in fine arts- concentrating in sculpture. I was sent by my internship to his studio located at the University. The task at hand was the completion of the beginning stages of a project for design team Julie Mathias and Wolfgang Kaeppner. Through XYZ, this French and German duo presented us with a photo of a vase in the shape of a robot standing about a foot and a half high in length. We were also given a miniature tin robot in addition to this photo. From these two sources, we were expected to produce an exact rendering of a combination of these sources, keeping in mind precise measurements/requirements. A pristine porcelain robotic vase would be the result—partially produced in Toni’s cluttered and congested studio at Shanghai University. The procedure goes as follows:
start with basic wire structure, build up basic figure in clay-body legs, arms head- built out of basic square and rectangular
structures, add slightly more detailed accouchements- a backpack, clamped had, earphones, etc, make sure everything is in
proportion and that there are no flaws. When the clay mold is completed, it will be cast in fiberglass at Toni’s studio, inspected by Wolfgang, Julie, and XYZ design, and then sent to another factory, where it would be produced in porcelain. When this is completed it would yet again be sent to an alternate location for details to be painted on the finished product—the example photo we rendered from sported a series of blue vines crawling up the lower portion of the robot. This is the way things go in China, once the sketch leaves the designer’s hands, their idea is outsourced to manufacturers in order for their work to achieve a perfect industrial finish.
As one can probably gather from previous mentions, the company XYZ Design/Contrast Gallery relates more to the
aesthetics of design. This company was founded in 1992, and the first to focus solely on contemporary design in China. Pearl
Lam, head of XYZ Design/Contrast Gallery, defines art as “a combination of fashion, product design, graphics, painting,
sculpture, furniture design, and architecture, and considers it anachronistic to separate these disciplines into strictly autonomous fields.” Although a purely Chinese based-with locations in Shanghai, Beijing, and Hong Kong- XYZ Design commissions mainly western artists. Most recently, projects are based off the idea of exploring the influence of the West on the East. Because the designers supported by this company are from diverse countries and cultures, the products created can be considered as ‘intercultural’ art, which Pearl translates to as “respecting and understanding cultural heterogeneity.” She likes to imagine that each designer her company supports draws from China’s 5,000-year-old civilization in order to create a new means of communication, in turn forming a new visual language within their work. However, in my perspective, the result is Western art (design) and Western ideas. I may be wrong, but the only Asian spin that I’ve seen from designers in her company is their utilization of quick and cheap labor and production. Which I guess is a pretty precise reflection of what China is all about. In my short time exploring this field and interviewing the limited contacts whom I’ve met here, the only real first hand Chinese product design I’ve come in contact with – and by Chinese I mean that the designers themselves were Chinese-- yielded peculiarly similar products. In meeting with artist/designer Hang Feng, in addition to seeing and working on designer Pearl Lam’s most recent work I began to notice a trend. Both individuals produce items that are highly saturated with signs of commercialism, which surprise surprise, is what the contemporary art scene here seems to be presently about as well. Where Pearl designs Ming Dynasty style chairs upholstered in knock-off Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Prada, and every other pretentious high fashion handbag, Hang Feng creates rugs, plastic Christmas trees, plastic sheet hangings, etc inscribed with NIKE, Puma, Louis Vutton, and Channel symbols. The use of these symbols is of course descriptive of China’s new commercial and cultural openness, the rapid urbanization and transformation of cities, the relentless bombardment of consumer culture, and the influences of mass media.The result of this cross-cultural design concept also results in cross-disciplinary aspects of contemporary art and design. In this way, emerging designers with origins in fine art are reinventing traditions as well as creating new forms. This new breed of Chinese designer is linking the past with the future through present day practices. This takes into account the traditional Chinese concept of ‘art,’ which defined any form of creativity as artistic expression, and which made no hierarchical distinction between ‘fine art’ and design.’
So where is the history? In researching both industrial and aesthetic design in comparison to early Chinese design, one can
revert to the ren wen tradition. Both industrial design and aesthetic design can stem from this type of ideology. In the past,
when referring to the concept of art, the Chinese defined it with ‘ji shu’ meaning skill and craftsmanship, and ‘sue shu’ meaning scholarly knowledge (Li Xu, Wen Ren). Art and design stood on an even playing field, and there was no segregation between the two due in part to the extensive academic curriculum for Chinese scholars, also known as ‘wen ren.’ The traditional ‘wen ren’ was deemed as a true polymath- “a complex mix of multiple identities, with a great range of skills at their disposal”(Li Xu, Wen Ren). This meant that aside from primarily being a literary scholar and artist skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, etc. he should also be a philosopher, scientist, military strategist or statesman. They were expected to compose music, design houses, landscapes, objects such as teapots, brush pots, vases, and furniture with the assistance of craftsmen, in order to share his scholarly sentiments (Li Xu, Wen Ren).For a long time after the wen ren, China experienced quite a long period with no design at all. Individual expression was suppressed to the extreme, and design existed merely as practical function. The severe visual impression cast on Chinese living was: a white porcelain bowl, a porcelain enamel cup, an aluminum lunch box, a bag for military use, a blue and greyinsh Sun Yat Sen’s unifim, military coat, a bamboo thermos, a bare light bulb and cut-and-dry cement dormitory, as well a s a coarsely built classroom, an auditorim, a dining room, and a bathhouse. (Li Xu-wen Ren and Design- Loss of the Wen Ren Tradition.) Due to China’s rapid modernization and suppression of national values due to incidents such as the Reform Movement, 1911 Revolution, May Fourth Movement, and Cultural Revolution, it seems as if ancient lifestyle has nearly vanished, and national pride is on the downfall. As a result, when design once again emerged as an accessible idea, Eastern thought imitated western reference.
Modern Chinese product design is “projected through the context of information, globalization, economic integration and
increasingly homogeneous entertainment; that embracing the uniqueness of our national culture is not only important, but has a response with the broad population as well” (Li Xu, Wen Ren). The tough thing about design, particularly product design, is that it is expected to reflect current trends, and must constantly move with the times, if not ahead of it. Although contemporary China is about rapid transformation, often times traditional culture can be exploited in order to make use of a more advanced ideology. The common conception of Chinese design is that it must reflect a sense of “Chineseness” and obvious “Chineseness.” This means it must show hints of obvious traditional design—as Ming Dynasty furniture as displayed in Pearl Lam’s work, or at least contain a Chinese character or two.
Today, it seems that traditional culture is not being embraced and instead individuals look towards developing the economy by turning to Western ideology. This can be reflected in the fact that it is extremely difficult to find a product with specific
relevance to modern Chinese culture, other than the criteria which I had previously mentioned. This makes it questionable
whether or not the aesthetic system in ancient China can be applied extensively to current life. However, at this present time in history, design has become more of an international market than reflective of a specific marketable culture. Thus, is it possible to manufacture contemporary furniture, vases, washing machines, cars, etc with a particular Chinese quality and without referring to ancient aesthetic? From what I gather, in attempts to create a national language and integrate into the western world, Chinese modern design remains lingering between modernization and internationalization.

Thursday, June 07, 2007

Digging up the Graveyard

I've been itching to dish out a spoonful of constructive criticism ever since Barbara Pollack came in to share her, err, knowledge with us mere mortal students. My takeaway message from her is actually useful - even though she merely stumbled onto this particular piece of wisdom. It definitely wasn't uncovered by deep and serious study. After all, Ms. Pollack prides herself on being completely ignorant of contemporary Chinese history. My cynical side always knew deep down that it would be a Starbucks wielding westerner that would know the most about a culture and language she can't even speak. And an art series that she can't even begin to place in a historical context.

Oops, did that come out too harsh? It's probably just interference from my 'lazy American work ethic'. *ahem*

So what is that takeaway message? Derivative work can have a life and value of its own. I think this is important because it should remind everyone that all work is inherently derivative of other work to some extent. The aesthetic imperative of art in general will necessitate some degree of originality so as to claim your attention even if the work is largely derivative. At least that's how I see it.

What I think Ms. Pollack completely failed to comprehend is a way to place Chinese derivation in a historical context and I will gladly attempt to do so now. Confucius' Analects essentially say (and I'm paraphrasing here) that any work done by a master in the past should be considered to be perfect and can only change in reinterpretation. Hmm, lets put our thinking caps on. This isn't exactly a radical concept. Respect the masters of the past and attempt to append their works rather than replace them altogether. That is the key and that is what I believe that Ms. Pollack completely and utterly failed to realize in her shallow assessment of why Chinese works are inherently derivative. She made a poor attempt to prove that contemporary Chinese artists have transcended their past influences into new categorization altogether. Personally I have yet to decide, but I do know that the culturally dominant voice in Chinese society would encourage a Chinese artist to continually refer to works from the past not as a way of copying, but as a way of studying in its own way. And in this fashion I don't see how they are any better or worse than any other nationality of artist. Everyone emulates their influences, this phenomenon is nothing new and nor will it ever be new.

I guess it must be refreshing to get out of Long Island once in a while. Even if it's only to go to a very distant Starbucks.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

The Task of the Translator

An Introduction to Benjamin’s Translation of Baudelaire’s Tableaux Parisiens

In the appreciation of a work of art or an art form, consideration of the receiver never proves fruitful. Not only is any reference to a certain public or its representatives misleading, but even the concept of an “ideal” receiver is detrimental in the theoretical consideration of art, since all it posits is the existence and nature of man as such. Art, in the same way, posits man’s physical and spiritual existence, but in one of its works is it concerned with his response. No poem is intended for the reader, no picture for the beholder, no symphony for the listener.

Is a translation meant for readers who do not understand the original? This would seem to explain adequately the divergence of their standing in the realm of art. Moreover, it seems to be the only conceivable reason for saying “the same thing” repeatedly. For what does a literary work “say”? What does it communicate? It “tells” very little to those who understand it. Its essential quality is not statement or the imparting of information. Yet any translation which intends to perform a transmitting function cannot transmit anything but information – hence, something inessential. This is the hallmark of bad translations. But do we not generally regard as the essential substance of a literary work what it contains in addition to information – as even a poor translator will admit – the unfathomable, the mysterious, the “poetic,” something that a translator can reproduce only if he is also a poet? This, actually, is the cause of another characteristic of inferior translation, which consequently we may define as the inaccurate transmission of an inessential content. This will be true whenever a translation undertakes to serve the reader. However, if it were intended for the reader, the same would have to apply to the original. If the original does not exist for the reader’s sake, how could the translation be understood on the basis of this premise?

Translation is a mode. To comprehend it as mode one must go back to the original, for that contains the law governing the translation: its translatability. The question of whether a work is translatable has a dual meaning. Either: Will an adequate translator ever be found among the totality of its readers? Or, more pertinently: Does its nature lend itself to translation and, therefore, in view of the significance of the mode, call for it? In principle, the first question can be decided only contingently; the second, however, apodictically. Only superficial thinking will deny the independent meaning of the latter and declare both questions to be of equal significance… It should be pointed out that certain correlative concepts retain their meaning, and possibly their foremost significance, if they are referred exclusively to man. One might, for example, speak of an unforgettable life or moment even if all men had forgotten it. If the nature of such a life or moment required that it be unforgotten but merely a claim not fulfilled by men, and probably also a reference to a realm in which it is fulfilled: God’s remembrance. Analogously, the translatability of linguistic creations ought to be considered even if men should prove unable to translate them. Given a strict concept of translation, would they not really be translatable to some degree? The question as to whether the translation of certain linguistic creation is called for ought to be posed in this sense. For this thought is valid here: If translation is a mode, translatability must be an essential feature of certain works.

Translatability is an essential quality of certain works, which is not to say that it is essential that they be translated; it means rather that a specific significance inherent in the original manifests itself in its translatability. It is plausible that no translation, however good it may be, can have any significance as regards the original. Yet, by virtue of its translatability the original is closely connected with the translation; in fact, this connection is all the closer since it is no longer of importance to the original. We may call this connection a natural one, or, more specifically, a vital connection. Just as the manifestations of life are intimately connected with the phenomenon of life without being of importance to it, a translation issues from the original – not so much from its life as from its afterlife. For a translation comes later than the original, and since the important works of world literature never find their chosen translators at the time of their origin, their translation marks their stage of continued life. The idea of life and afterlife in works of art should be regarded with an entirely unmetaphorical objectivity. Even in times of narrowly prejudiced thought there was an inkling that life was not limited to organic corporeality. But it cannot be a matter of extending its dominion under the feeble scepter of the soul, as Fechner tried to do, or, conversely, of basing its definition on the even less conclusive factors of animality, such as sensation, which characterize life only occasionally. The concept of life is given its due only if everything that has a history of its own, and is not merely the setting for history, is credited with life. In the final analysis, the range of life must be determined by history rather than by nature, least of all by such tenuous factors as sensation and soul. The philosopher’s task consists in comprehending all of natural life through the more encompassing life of history. And indeed, is not the continued life of works of art far easier to recognize than the continual life of animal species? The history of the great works of art tells us about their antecedents, their realization in the age of the artist, their potentially eternal afterlife in succeeding generations. Where this last manifests itself, it is called fame. Translations that are more than transmission of subject matter come into being when in the course of its survival a work has reached the age of its fame. Contrary, therefore, to the claims of bad translators, such translations do not so much serve the work as owe their existence to it. The life of the originals attains in them to its ever-renewed latest and most abundant flowering.

Being a special and high form of life, this flowering is governed by a special, high purposiveness. The relationship between life and purposefulness, seemingly obvious yet almost beyond the grasp of the intellect, reveals itself only if the ultimate purpose toward which all single functions tend is sought not in its own sphere but in a higher one. All purposeful manifestations of life, including their very purposiveness, in the final analysis have their end not in life, but in the expression of its nature, in the representation of its significance. Translation thus ultimately serves the purpose of expressing the central reciprocal relationship between languages. It cannot possibly reveal or establish this hidden relationship itself; but it can represent it by realizing it in embryonic or intensive form. This representation of hidden significance through an embryonic attempt at making it visible is of so singular a nature that it is rarely met with in the sphere of nonlinguistic life. This, in its analogies and symbols, can draw on other ways of suggesting meaning than intensive – that in, anticipative, intimating – realization. As for the posited central kinship of languages, it is marked by a distinctive convergence. Languages are not strangers to one another, but are, a priori and apart from all historical relationships, interrelated in what they want to express.

With this attempt at an explication our study appears to rejoin, after futile detours, the traditional theory of translation. If the kinship of languages is to be demonstrated by translations, how else can this be done but by conveying the form and meaning of the original as accurately as possible? To be sure, that theory would be hard put to define the nature of this accuracy and therefore could shed no light on what is important in a translation. Actually, however, the kinship of languages is brought out by translation far more profoundly and clearly than in the superficial and indefinable similarity of two works of literature. To grasp the genuine relationship between an original and a translation requires an investigation analogous to the argumentation by which a critique of cognition would have to prove the impossibility of an image theory. There it is a matter of showing that in cognition there could be no objectivity, not even a claim to it, if it dealt with images of reality; here it can be demonstrated that no translation would be possible if in its ultimate essence it strove for likeness to the original. For in its afterlife – which could not be called that if it were not a transformation and a renewal of something living – the original undergoes a change. Even words with fixed meaning can undergo a maturing process. The obvious tendency of a writer’s literary style may in time wither away, only to give rise to immanent tendencies in the literary creation. What sounded fresh once may sound hackneyed later; what was once current may someday sound quaint. To seek the essence of such changes, as well as the equally constant changes in meaning, in the subjectivity of posterity rather than in the very life of language and its works, would mean – even allowing for the crudest psychologism – to confuse the root cause of a thing with its essence. More pertinently, it would mean denying, by an impotence of thought, on e of the most powerful and fruitful historical processes. And even if one tried to turn an author’s last stroke of the pen in to the coup de grâce of his work, this still would not save that dead theory of translation. For just as the tenor and the significance of the great works of literature undergo a complete transformation over the centuries, the mother tongue of the translator is transformed as well. While a poet’s words endure in his own language, even the greatest translation is destined to become part of the growth of its won language and eventually to be absorbed by its renewal. Translation is so far removed from being the sterile equation of two dead languages that of all literary forms it is the one charged with the special mission of watching over the maturing process of the original language and the birth pangs of its own.

If the kinship of languages manifests itself in translations, this is not accomplished through a vague alikeness between adaptation and original. It stands to reason that kinship does not necessarily involve likeness. The concept of kinship as used here is in accord with its more restricted common usage: in both cases, it cannot be defined adequately by identity of origin, although in defining the more restricted usage the concept of origin remains indispensable. Wherein resides the relatedness of two languages, apart from historical considerations? Certainly not the similarity between works of literature or words. Rather, all suprahistorical kinship of languages rests in the intention underlying each language as a whole – an intention, however, which no single language can attain by itself but which is realized only by the totality of their intentions supplementing each other: pure language. While all individual elements of foreign languages – words, sentences, structure – are mutually exclusive, these languages supplement one another in their intentions. Without distinguishing the intended object from the mode of intention, no firm grasp of this basic law of a philosophy of language can be achieved. The words Brot and pain “intend” the same object, but the modes of this intention are not the same. It is owing to these modes that the word Brot means something different to a German than the word pain to a Frenchman, that these words are not interchangeable for them, that, in fact, they strive to exclude each other. As for the intended object, however, the two words mean the very same thing. While the modes of intention in these two words are in conflict, intention and object of intention complement each of the two languages from which they are derived; there the object is complementary to the intention. In the individual, unsupplemented languages, meaning is never found in relative independence, as in individual words or sentences; rather, it is in a constant state of flux – until it is able to emerge as pure language from the harmony of all various modes of intention. Until then, it remains hidden in the languages. If, however, these languages continue to grow in this manner until the end of their time, it is translation which catches fire on the eternal life of the works and the perpetual renewal of language. Translation keeps putting the hallowed growth of languages to the test: How far removed is their hidden meaning from revelation, how close can it be brought by the knowledge of this remoteness?

This, to be sure, is to admit that all translation is only a somewhat provisional way of coming to terms with the foreignness of languages. An instant and final rather than a temporary and provisional solution of this foreignness remains out of the reach of mankind; at any rate, it eludes any direct attempt. Indirectly, however, the growth of religions ripens the hidden seed into a higher development of language. Although translation, unlike art, cannot claim permanence for its products, its goal is undeniably a final, conclusive, decisive stage of all linguistic creation. In translation the original rises into a higher and purer linguistic air, as it were. It cannot live there permanently, to be sure, and it certainly does not reach it in its entirety. Yet, in a singularly impressive manner, at least it points the way to this region: the predestined, hitherto inaccessible realm of reconciliation and fulfillment of languages. The transfer can never be total, but what reaches this region is that element in a translation which goes beyond transmittal of subject matter. This nucleus is best defined as the element that does not lend itself to translation. Even when all the surface content has been extracted and transmitted, the primary concern of the genuine translator remains elusive. Unlike the words of the original, it is not translatable, because the relationship between content and language is quite different in the original and the translation. While content and language form a certain unity in the original, like a fruit and its skin, the language of the translation envelops its content like a royal robe with ample folds. For it signifies a more exalted language than its own and thus remains unsuited to its content, over-powering and alien. This disjunction prevents translation and at the same time makes it superfluous. For any translation of a work originating in a specific stage of linguistic history represents, in regard to a specific aspect of its content, translation into all other languages. Thus translation, ironically, transplants the original into a more definitive linguistic realm since it can no longer be displaced by a secondary rendering. The original can only be raised there anew and at other points of time. It is no mere coincidence that the word “ironic” here brings the Romanticists to mind. They, more than any others, were gifted with an insight into the life of literary works which has its highest testimony in translation. To be sure, they hardly recognized translation in this sense, but devoted their entire attention to criticism, another, if a lesser, factor in the continued life of literary works. But even though the Romanticists virtually ignored translation in their theoretical writings, their own great translations testify t their sense of the essential nature and the dignity of this literary mode. There is abundant evidence that this sense is not necessarily most pronounced in a poet; in fact, he may be least open to it. Not even literary history suggests the traditional notion that great poets have been eminent translators and lesser poets have been indifferent translators. A number of the most eminent ones, such as Luther, Voss, and Schlegel, are incomparably more important as translators than as creative writers; some of the great among them, such as Hölderlin and Stefan George, cannot be simply subsumed as poets, and quite particularly not if we consider them as translators. As translation is a mode of its own, the task of the translator, too, may be regarded as distinct and clearly differentiated from the task of the poet.

The task of the translator consists in finding that intended effect [Intention] upon the language into which he is translating which produces in it the echo of the original. This is a feature of translation which basically differentiates it from the poet’s work, because the effort of the latter is never directed at the language as such, at its totality, but solely and immediately at specific linguistic contextual aspects. Unlike a work of literature, translation does not find itself in the center of the language forest but on the outside facing the wooded ridge; it calls into it without entering, aiming at that single spot where the echo is able to give, in its own language, the reverberation fo the work in the alien one. Not only does the aim of translation differ from that of a literary work it intends language as a whole, taking an individual work in an alien language as a point of departure – but it is a different effort altogether. The intention of the poet is spontaneous, primary, graphic; that of the translator is derivative, ultimate, ideational. For the great motif of integrating many tongues into one true language is at work. This language is one in which the independent sentences, works of literature, critical judgments, will never communicate – for they remain dependent on translation; but in it the languages themselves, supplemented and reconciled in their mode of signification, harmonize. If there is such a thing as a language of truth, the tensionless and even silent depository of the ultimate truth which all thought strives for, then this language of truth is – the true language. And this very language, whose divination and description is the only perfection a philosopher can hope for, is concealed in concentrated fashion in translation. But despite the claims of sentimental artists, these two are not banausic. For there is a philosophical genius that is characterized by a yearning for the language which manifests itself in translations. “Les langues imparfaites en cela que plusieurs, manque la suprême: penser étant écrire sans accessoires, ni chuchotement mais tacite encore l’immortelle parole, la diversité, sur terre, des idiomes empêche personne de proférer les mots qui, sinon se trouveraient, par un frappe unique, elle-même matériellement la vérité ”*. (“The imperfection of languages consists in their plurality, the supreme one is lacking: thinking is writing without accessories or even whispering, the immortal word still remains silent; the diversity of idioms on earth prevents everybody from uttering the words which otherwise, at one single stroke, would materialize as truth.”)

If what Mallarmé evokes here is fully fathomable to a philosopher, translation, with its rudiments of such a language, is midway between poetry and doctrine. Its products are less sharply defined, but it leaves no less of a mark on history.

If the task of the translator is viewed in this light, the roads toward a solution seem to be all the more obscure and impenetrable. Indeed, the problem of ripening the seed of pure language in a translation seems to be insoluble, determinable in no solution. For is not the ground cut from under such a solution if the reproduction of the sense ceases to be decisive? Viewed negatively, this is actually the meaning of all the foregoing. The traditional

Concepts in any discussion of translations are fidelity and license – the freedom of faithful reproduction and, in its service, fidelity to the word. These ideas seem to be no longer serviceable to a theory that looks for other things in a translation than reproduction of meaning. To be sure, traditional usage makes these terms appear as if in constant conflict with each other. What can fidelity really do for the rendering of meaning? Fidelity in the translation of individual words can almost never fully reproduce the meaning they have in the original. For sense in its poetic significance is not limited to meaning, but derives from the connotations conveyed by the word chosen to express it. We say of words that they have emotional connotations. A literal rendering of the syntax completely demolishes the theory of reproduction of meaning and is a direct threat to comprehensibility. The nineteenth century considered Hölderlin’s translations of Sophocles as monstrous examples of such literalness. Finally, it is self-evident how great fidelity in reproducing the form impedes the rendering of the sense. Thus no case for literalness can be based on a desire to retain the meaning. Meaning is served far better – and literature and language far worse – by the unrestrained license of bad translators. Of necessity, therefore, the demand for literalness, whose justification is obvious, whose legitimate ground is quite obscure, must be understood in a more meaningful context. Fragments of a vessel which are to be glued together must match one another in the smallest details, although they need not be like one another. In the same way a translation, instead of resembling the meaning of the original, must lovingly and in detail incorporate the original’s mode of signification, thus making both the original and the translation recognizable as fragments of a greater language, just as fragments are part of a vessel. For this very reason translation must in large measure refrain from wanting to communicate something, from rendering the sense, and in this the original is important to it only insofar as it has already relieved the translator and his translation of the effort of assembling and expressing what is to be conveyed. In the realm of translation, too, the words έν άρχή ήν ό λόγος [in the beginning was the word] apply. On the other hand, as regards the meaning, the language of a translation can – in fact, must – let itself go, so that it gives voice to the intention of the original not as reproduction but as harmony, as a supplement to the language in which it expresses itself, as its own kind of intention. Therefore it is not the highest praise of a translation, particularly in the age of its origin, to say that it reads as if it had originally been written in that language. Rather, the significance of fidelity as ensured by literalness is that the work reflects the great longing for linguistic complementation. A real translation is transparent; it does not cover the original, does not block its light, but allows the pure language, as though reinforced by its own medium, to shine upon the original all the more fully. This may be achieved, above all, by a literal rendering of the syntax which proves words rather than sentences to be the primary element of the translator. For if the sentence is the wall before the language of the original, literalness is the arcade.

Fidelity and freedom in translation have traditionally been regarded as conflicting tendencies. This deeper interpretation of the one apparently does not serve to reconcile the two; in fact, it seems to deny the other all justification. For what is meant by freedom but that the rendering of the sense is no longer to be regarded as all-important? Only if the sense of a linguistic creation may be equated with the information it conveys does some ultimate, decisive element remain beyond all communication – quite close and yet infinitely remote, concealed or distinguishable, fragmented or powerful. In all language and linguistic creations there remains in addition to what can be conveyed something that cannot be communicated; depending on the context in which it appears, it is something that symbolizes or something symbolized. It is the former only in the finite products of language, the latter in the evolving of the languages themselves. And that which seeks to represent, to produce itself in the evolving of languages, is that very nucleus of pure language. Though concealed and fragmentary, it is an active force in life as the symbolized thing itself, whereas it inhabits linguistic creations only in the symbolized form. While that ultimate essence, pure language, in the various tongues is tied only to linguistic elements and their changes, in linguistic creations it is weighted with a heavy, alien meaning. To retrieve it of this, to turn the symbolizing into the symbolized, to regain pure language fully formed in the linguistic flux, is the tremendous and only capacity of translation. In this pure language – which no longer means or expresses anything but is, as expressionless and creative Word, that which is meant in all languages – all information, all sense, and all intention finally encounter a stratum in which they are destined to be extinguished. This very stratum furnishes a new and higher justification for free translation; this justification does not derive from the sense of what is to be conveyed, for the emancipation from this sense is the task of fidelity. Rather, for the sake of pure language, a free translation bases the test on its own language. It is the task of the translator to release in his own language that pure language which is under the spell of another, to liberate the language imprisoned in a work in his re-creation of that work. For the sake of pure language he breaks through decayed barriers of his own language. Luther, Voss, Hölderlin, and George have extended the boundaries of the German language. – And what of the sense in its importance for the relationship between translation and original? A simile may help here. Just as a tangent touches a circle lightly and at but one point, with this touch rather than with the point setting the law according to which it is to continue on its straight path to infinity, a translation touches the original lightly and only at the indefinitely small point of the sense, thereupon pursuing its own course according to the laws of fidelity in freedom of linguistic flux. Without explicitly naming or substantiating it, Rudolf Pannwitz has characterized the true significance of this freedom. His observations are contained in Die Krisis der europäischen Kultur and rank with Goethe’s Notes to the Westölicher Divan as the best comment on theory of translation that has been published in Germany. Pannwitz writes: “Our translations, even the best ones, proceed from a wrong premise. They want to turn Hindi, Greek, English into German instead of turning German into Hindi, Greek, English. Our translators have a far greater reverence for the usage of their own language than for the spirit of the foreign works… The basic error of the translator is that he preserves the state in which his own language happens to be instead of allowing his language to be powerfully affected by the foreign tongue. Particularly when translating from a language very remote from his own he must go back to the primal elements of language itself and penetrate to the point where work, image, and tone converge. He must expand and deepen his language by means of the foreign language. It is not generally realized to what extent this is possible, to what extent any language can be transformed, how language differs from language almost the way dialect differs from dialect; however, this last is true only if one takes language seriously enough, not if one takes it lightly.”

The extent to which a translation manages to be in keeping with the nature of this mode is determined objectively by the translatability of the original. The lower the quality and distinction of its language, the larger the extent to which it is information, the less fertile a field it is for translation, until the utter preponderance of content, far from being the lever for a translation of distinctive mode, renders it impossible. The higher the level of a work, the more does it remain translatable even if its meaning is touched upon fleetingly. This, of course, applies to originals only. Translations, on the other hand, prove to be untranslatable not because of any inherent difficulty, but because of the looseness with which meaning attaches to them. Confirmation of this as well as of every other important aspect is supplied by Hölderlin’s translations, particularly those of the two tragedies by Sophocles. In them the harmony of the languages is so profound that sense is touched by language only the way an Aeolian harp is touched by the wind. Hölderlin’s translations are prototypes of their kind; they are to even the most perfect renderings of their texts as a prototype is to a model. This can be demonstrated by comparing Hölderlin’s and Rudolf Borchardt’s translations of Pindar’s Third Pythian Ode. For this very reason Hölderlin’s translations in particular are subject to the enormous danger inherent in all translations: the gates of a language thus expanded and modified may slam shut and enclose the translator with silence. Hölderlin’s translations from Sophocles were his last work; in them meaning plunges from abyss to abyss until it threatens to become lost in the bottomless depths of language. There is, however, a stop. It is vouchsafed to Holy Writ alone, in which meaning has ceased to be the watershed for the flow of language and the flow of revelation. Where at text is identical with truth or dogma, where it supposed to be “the true language” in all its literalness and without the mediation of meaning, this text is unconditionally translatable. In such case translation are called for only because of the plurality of languages. Just as, in the original, language and revelation are one without any tension, so the translation must be one with the original in the form of the interlinear version, in which literalness and freedom are united. For to some degree all great texts contain their potential translation between the lines; this is true to the highest degree of sacred writings. The interlinear version of the Scriptures is the prototype or ideal of all translation. 

Walter Benjamin

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Once hated, now feted - Chinese artists come out from behind the wall

Once hated, now feted - Chinese artists come out from behind the wall

Charles Saatchi joins the swell of collectors beating a path to the east

Jonathan Watts in Beijing
Wednesday April 11, 2007
The Guardian


Zhang Dali's Chinese Offspring
Art world turned upside down ... Charles Saatchi has bought 15 of Zhang Dali's Chinese Offspring. Photograph: courtesy Saatchi Gallery


The naked Chinese migrant workers were dangling on hooks and ropes from a ceiling in north-east Beijing until a few months ago, when they were bundled up in bubble wrap, crammed into a container and shipped off to London.

They are not desperate Chinese peasants seeking illegal entry into the UK. Far from it. Their arrival in Britain is part of a cultural invasion, paid for by the UK's most famous art collector, and signalling a surge of interest in Chinese sculpture, painting and photography.

The life-sized resin figures are the work of Zhang Dali, one of China's leading artists. To highlight the role played by countryside labourers in his country's rapid urbanisation, Zhang took casts of 100 of them, substituted numbers for their names, signed the figures and offered them for sale like pieces of meat hung in a window.

Except, of course, they are a lot more expensive. Thanks to the booming market in Chinese art, the price for a single figure has doubled in the past two years to £10,000. That value is likely to increase further if they are shown at the opening of Charles Saatchi's new gallery in the King's Road this year.

Saatchi snapped up 15 of Zhang's Chinese Offspring in a shopping spree that has also seen him spend more than a million dollars each on two huge paintings by Zhang Xiaogang, the hottest property in the Chinese contemporary art scene, as well as works from at least 18 of his compatriots.

The UK buyer, whose patronage helped to establish the careers of Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin in the 1990s, is now paying increasing attention to the east. This year he launched a Mandarin version of his website, which gets more than 4m hits a day.

"I have been looking at lots of contemporary Chinese art in the past few years and find that a small percentage of it is world class and as good as the best contemporary art anywhere else," he told the Guardian. "There is a huge gulf, though, between the small amount that is world class and the majority, which is derivative and kitsch."

Saatchi is a late but influential arrival. Thanks to a near eightfold increase in the market in only two years, Sotheby's in Hong Kong recorded Chinese contemporary art sales of $21.9m (£11m) in 2006. It is a similar story at auction houses from London to New York, many of which started only recently to offer modern Chinese work but now find it their biggest driver of growth.

It has bordered on a frenzy. During the first auction of Chinese contemporary art in New York last April, so many bidders were calling in that Sotheby's ran out of telephones.

Among the most sought-after works was Lions, the roaring, guffawing multiple self-portrait by Yue Minjun, which eventually sold for more than half a million dollars. Yue's paintings and sculptures of garishly coloured laughing men are seen as symbols of China's consumer culture. This is one of the central themes for contemporary artists, along with reflections on materialism, the loss of traditional values, environmental destruction and the political legacy of Mao Zedong and Tiananmen Square.

Most of the headlines have been made by Zhang Xiaogang, whose giant family portraits and split-focus images from the Cultural Revolution era have generated the biggest interest among buyers. Last April, his Bloodline Series: Comrade No 120 sold for $979,200, almost three times Sotheby's high estimate. It was a record for Chinese contemporary art, but one that lasted only until October, when Saatchi paid £769,600 for another work by Zhang Xiaogang at a London auction.

With auction sales of $23.6m last year, Zhang Xiaogang was narrowly second to Jean-Michel Basquiat in the ArtPrice ranking of the 100 top-selling artists. But he was far from alone on the chart. There were 24 Chinese names last year, up from almost none five years ago.

This represents a huge change in attitudes and lifestyles. Ten years ago, avant-garde artists were on the fringe of Chinese society. Their works were often banned, exhibitions were shut down and, for most, the sales of their work were barely enough to make ends meet. Today, however, a growing number of artists own villas, foreign cars and apartments. "Cynical realist" Fang Lijun is said to own six restaurants in Beijing and a hotel in Yunnan province.

Among the newcomers to the top-seller list is Su Xinping, an artist from Inner Mongolia. Su said the price of his work had tripled in the past three years. "My life has changed a little. I still eat simple food and lead a simple life, but I have a more convenient house and a more convenient car. I have several homes, and I bought a studio in the city last year."

Su is one of many artists who struggled after their participation in the Tiananmen Square protests. But now he sees greater opportunities to do the work he wants to do, and to get paid for what it is worth. He received a call from New York recently to say several of his works had just sold for almost $400,000. "I won't get any of that money," he grinned. "I sold those pieces years ago." But he will benefit from now on. "The price for Chinese art was too low before. Even now some fine pieces have not reached their true value."

Zhang Dali agrees. "I expect the price will keep rising for at least five years because more and more people want to buy Chinese art, but there are not that many Chinese artists. The demand is increasing, but the supply is limited so the price will keep rising."

The reasons for the boom are manifold. The establishment of the Dashanzi art district in Beijing three years ago attracted many foreign buyers, who account for about 80% of sales. A government crackdown on property speculation and unease about stock market prices have also pushed many investors to consider art. But many overseas purchasers are motivated by a desire to grab a piece of history.

"I think the rise of the art market is highly related to the rising interest in China," said Jonathan Wong of Sotheby's in Hong Kong. "We observe money comes from all over the world and new buyers keep emerging in every auction."

Amid concerns about a speculative bubble, insiders say the boom is a mixed blessing. "For big-name artists, the price of works has gone up dramatically - by 10 to 20 times in some cases," said Brian Wallace, whose Red Gate Gallery was the first to show contemporary works in Beijing. "If you were in it for the money 10 years ago, you would be very well off today. But it is not easy. With all the new entrants into the market, more galleries are taking up more artists. So the overall quality is not as high as before. There are many good artists out there, but a lot of them are now painting for the market - even some of the big names."