Prologue
Beijing, 2003. After seven months of terror,
SARS has passed as yesterday's nightmare, and life was back
to normal. One day my friend Su Bin and I went in the StarBuck
on the corner of my street. StartBuck has become the favorite
place for the bourgeois class in China. Inside the coffee
shop, the natives and the foreigners alike sat in small groups
talking animatedly. Their voice was accompanied by the background
music. There were plenty of seats inside but we chose to sit
outside. There were certainly no secrets in our conversation,
we were afraid that the endless songs from the loudspeaker
would cover our voice completely.
Outside, the heat was intense. The parasol
over our table could only shelter part of us. I suggested
changing to a different place, but Su Bin thought it would
be a waste of time and energy. So we stayed where we were,
tape recorder on the table and conversation flowed forth.
The topic of that conversation eventually became
the embryo of this book.
Zhang Nia, Su Bin Beijing, July, 2003
Zhang Nian free artist.
Su Bin art critic, Ph. D in Chinese
Art History
I
Thoughts/Journey
Su Bin (as Su in the following):
I know that you have received a professional training in art.
What is it that made you abandon the traditional and academic
style?
Zhang Nian (as Zhang in the following):
It's a long story. I began learning painting at the age of
twelve. At 14 I entered the preparatory school of Si Chun
Academy of fine Art. Life there was simple, almost dull. We
had drawing, painting and reading and nothing else. Studying
art was boring at that time. The school adopted Soviet's method.
It was generally required to spend at least one hundred hours
to complete a drawing from the plaster. The training was focused
on technique other than creativity. Fortunately I enjoyed
reading. I read all the books that were available on aesthetics.
Because my ideas were often differ from my schoolmates, I
was perceived as a strange fellow. The usual comment on me
was, "he reads a lot, but his drawing technique is poor."
Back then it was common that talent was judged based on skill
instead of ideas and creativity. Among my schoolmates were
Chen Conglin, He Doulin and Luo Zhongli. They acquired good
skills and produced works reflect their life experiences.
I didn't have a life experience like theirs thus unwilling
to paint like them. But in order to graduate I had to follow
the the school's instructions. 1982 I traveled to Beijing
to see the exhibition of paintings from the permanent collection
of the Louvre. The experience widened my horizon. I wanted
to move to Beijing. Subsequently I passed the entrance exam
for the Central Academy of Arts and Crafts and entered the
academy as a design major. But after the school started I
was obsessed with my artistic search and had no interest in
design. It was the second year in my college life the movement
of Trend of Thoughts- 85 dropped a bombshell in the art world,
and my artistic understanding was changing with the movement.
The denial of traditional Chinese painting initiated by Li
Xiao Shan created chaos in the art community. Obviously art
works depend on galleries and museums. But since we were trying
to break away from conventions, why still exhibit in galleries?
Actually my paintings were exhibited in the National Museum
of Art as early as 1985. But afterwards I didn't feel much
about it, although my dream at the preparatory school was
one day to exhibit in the nation's most prestigious museum.
Shortly after that I began to ponder on questions of whether
it is necessary for art to be rendered on paper and canvas;
whether art has to serve aesthetic purpose; whether passion
could only be expressed by lines and colors; and whether art
works must be still objects.
Su: Then came the transformation in your
art.
Zhang: Yes. After a long period of contemplation,
I had the idea of making a picture scroll of 46 meters long.
I started the project in 1986 and finished it in 1987. It
took me more than half a year to complete the painting. In
my plan, finish the painting was only the first step. The
second step was to cut it up into 150 pieces and mail the
segments to the presidents and governor-generals of 150 nations
and regions for their signature. The thought behind this project
was that art did not have to go into galleries and museums!
It was also a strong denial to the individualism that dominated
the art world during the Trend of Thoughts movement. I believe
that art should be free from museums and galleries; it should
have the participation of the mass. I chose presidents and
governor-generals to sign my work because I thought their
influential position was better suited to promote the new
meaning of art in different language, cultural and political
environment. I was touched that many presidents singed and
returned my work, among them were the president of Germany,
Ireland and Austria. The process of this project showed our
wish for world peace. It invited the mass participating in
art.
Su: Is it that from here on you walked
out of the 2D surface of pictures?
Zhang: Yes. But it is not easy. When
I was at the Academy I was obsessed with Van Gogh, Matisse
and Picasso. Later I came to realize that their work had already
become some kind of concept and symbol, which could not merge
with my own reality. Naturally I must search for a new language
that could express the change of ideas.
Su: Is the change of your artistic belief
caused by specific factors in life or influenced by certain
schools in contemporary art world of the West?
Zhang: I am not exactly sure. To be honest,
the first time I learned about Joseph Beuys was 1989. Artists
are not always conscious of what kind of result their works
were aiming at. Kangmu's wrapping was influenced by Christo.
Christo wrapped nature and Kanngmu wrapped human body. Some
critics explained the wrapped body as the reflection of the
imprisoned mind. It's nonsense. What Kangmu did was just some
experiment under the influence of Christo.
Su: Which work is the most important
to you in the early stage of your exploration in art?
Zhang: Hatching remains one of my most
important works. That was my entry to The Grand Exhibition
of Contemporary Art in 1989. It was a tens period in our life.
My friend Kangmu's application was denied by the jury. I thought
I might not even apply then. But I went anyway. And after
the exhibition had opened, by chance my entry was confirmed.
So my hatching was only half official. In this sense Hatching
can be understood as either the choice of history or pure
coincidence.
Su: So from Signatures from Presidents
for Peace in 1986 to Hatching in 1989 you have kept on looking
for new directions?
Zhang: I also painted during that period,
commercial stuff, so that I could make a living. Although
my work sold well, it was not what I was seeking.
Su: And later on?
Zhang: After 1989 I was in low spirit.
It was not just me, the whole society was like that. After
the political riot, everything quieted down. I took a teaching
position in Shan Tou University, but two years later I moved
back to Beijing. The city and art were deserted. I started
painting again and held on to it for three years. In 1993
I thought about giving it up. It had become meaningless. You
think you can save others but you are in pain yourself, and
others think you are laughable. You think what you are pondering
is significant, but others think of it as having no value
at all. Friends around me were also changing. Those who once
fervently talked about film, drama and aesthetics by now had
gone into business. There was no more concern about the humanities.
One day a friend of mine invited me to have dinner in the
restaurant of the Great Wall Hotel. The dinner cost a few
thousand yuan, an astronomical number at the time. I was still
living in the art and for the art. I could still be obsessively
hanging on a piece of work for a long time. I did not know
what to talk about with my old friends. Their conversation
was around either business or vulgar city life. When meeting
together the greeting was to ask who had steel to sell. By
the end of 1993 I finally gave up art and went along opened
a business with a friend of mine.
Su: An individual is fragile standing
before the temptation or the pressure from society. The early
1990s happened to be the greatest transforming period in China.
Young artists went into business one after another. The new
term to describe this phenomenon was "diving into the sea."
They justified their decision by saying, "making money is
for living; only when a good living is secured art can be
undertaken as a free cause." I remember this vividly. But
to this day no many of them swam back. But you swam back.
Zhang: Yes, finally! A few years after
I jumped into the sea, one day I looked in the mirror and
could not recognize the image in it. The person wore nice
business suits and gold-rimed glasses. His hair sleekly combed
back with expensive hair product. He met his customer everyday.
And the fragrance of brand-name cologne floated as he walked
by. He found amusement in movies from Hong Kong and Taiwan.
His only longing in life was having dinner with friends every
night to gossip about other people's love affairs. At the
very moment I could not face my true self, I suddenly realized
how meaningless it was to unceasingly making money. In the
following day I shaved my head bold. I decided to stay far
away from the life of a businessman. In 1998 I started making
art again. In 1999 I published China New Art. It was the first
book on Chinese contemporary art with a unique point of view.
The publication of the book made me feel once again the vitality
and potentiality of contemporary art in China.
II
Perplexity/Self/Dream
Su: Your art has always showed your independent
criticism, especially in your recent works, they have a strong
element of social criticism, which is valuable for Chinese
art in its transforming stage.
Zhang: Yes. But I also had works that
expressed my own mental and spiritual state, such as my Net
series done in 1997. My spiritual state was in chaos at the
time. I often felt that even though my head was on my shoulder,
my inner life was a mess like a tangled net. All kinds of
problems mixed together forcing on me every day, the customer
and their overdue payment to my company, mistakes in our work,
domestic disputes with my wife, and an auto accident. It was
all too much. I often sat at my desk feeling completely surrounded
by an impenetrable force that had swallowed the "self" in
me. It was more of a mental and spiritual exhaustion than
a physical one. So I produced the Net series. The nets were
made with metal. Inside the net there were all kinds of images,
the lying body, a broken arm, and even hearts. In life we
are forced to adjust ourselves to meet the demand of survival.
I often ask how life could be so chaotic sometimes. I think
it happens when we lost our dreams. Without dreams we have
no spiritual support. If you have spiritual support, however
busy, however difficult life is, you would not feel lose control,
because you have a direction and you see the light at the
end of the tunnel. But many people have lost their directions
in life. The only light shines in front of them is money.
But the spiritual crisis cannot be solved with money. Although
I have reached my forties, an age that the Chinese believe
you should have no more doubts to life, but I am still perplexed,
because I have no dreams any more, all it's left to me is
the reality, and I don't see a way out in reality. I think
that spiritual belief is the utmost important part of our
lives.
Su: In a sense to reflect on one's own
life is a form of criticism. It seems that people who were
born in the sixties have all gone through the struggle in
examining the state of one's own being.
Zhang: Yes. My generation experienced
the end of Cultural Revolution and the beginning of market
economy. It is hard for us to find the true value in our existence.
The generation before us has terrible spiritual wounds but
they have their ideals. But us, we had neither. What we had
was perplexity and bewilderment. That's why in 1999 I did
?Egg in my performance project. I used egg as the dream of
my generation. Having crushed the eggs means the crush of
our dream. We can either start anew or die like that, because
an era has passed.
III
Life/Death/Experience
Zhang: In 1999 I did another performance
project entitled Drops/Blood. The project took place at the
last night of 1999 on the Great Wall in Mu Tian Yu. The content
of this performance was to congeal drops of my blood at this
cold wintry night. In this performance I switched my focus
on life of the individuals. I recorded the process in the
following passage. "Congeal my blood before the dawn of the
new millennium shoots its first ray in the sky. Freeze my
lost time, the passed century, and another thousand-years.
What happened here today will freeze in the river of history."
Su: On New Year's Eve of 2000 many young
people drank and danced themselves to oblivion, but you climbed
up on the Great Wall to experience the blood from your finger
congealing in the bitterly cold weather. It's such contrast.
As far as I am concerned the acute criticism is a vital element
in contemporary art of China today, for which art has a value
to exist. It includes self-criticism and reflection on life
of the individuals. Self-criticism is the premise for respecting
art as an end. It is also the anchor of spiritual independence.
To reflect on the life of individuals means an awareness of
individual spirit, which is the basis for the progress of
mankind.
Zhang: As an individual whenever the
"unusual time" hits us I am always terribly affected. It arouses
all kinds of emotions in me. For example, when SARS unexpectedly
arrived I saw the roaring cars and the streams of people on
the street swept away before my eyes, a lively city fell desolate
in an instant. I was terrified. It even made me doubt whether
the existence of the world was real. I walked on Chang An
Avenue in the silence of the night. Neon lights glittered
projecting the sweetness of dream, and suddenly you saw the
white masks moving to and fro, it reminded you the impalpable
terror and the death in the shadow. This experience prompted
me to produce a work of video and image entitled White Terror.
Su: SARS, a nightmare´
Zhang: A nightmare. A few years ago,
around 1997, my work Sunny Side Up also reflected such experience,
the conflict of the internal and the external.
IV
The Imperial Tombs of Song Dynasty/History/Wound
Su: From your video work The Imperial
Tombs of Song Dynasty I saw the decay of the imperial tombs
and realized the vicissitude of history. I have not visited
the tombs, but I have read that all of the eight emperors
of the Northern Song Dynasty were buried there with the exception
of Zhao Ji. Since Zhao Kuangyin's parents were also buried
there this group of tombs was famously called "Eight Emperors
and Nine Tombs." There are numerous stone sculptures in and
around the tombs. It is one of the most outstanding group-sculptures
in ancient China and the finest example of the art of Song
Dynasty. But throughout history thieves have dogged the tombs
open from time to time. It's reported that even in 1995 the
head of a statue in the Yong Tai tomb was stolen. Can you
talk about what prompted you to produce this series?
Zhang: I completed the video series
The Imperial Tombs of Song Dynasty in 2003. I read an article
in the Reading magazine about the current state of the Song
tombs and was inspired. The thought of making a video work
immediately grabbed me. I went there right after the Chinese
New Year. It was February. The earth was still barren. I paid
a peasant fifty yuan for taking me to see all of the tombs.
The imperial tombs of the Northern Song are located south
of a town called Gong Yi in Henan province. Within the vicinity
of the site the statues and ruins are scattered everywhere
in the desolate field. The statues include generals, ministers,
emissaries, lions, elephants, mythical animals and giant pillars.
They are incredible works either in design or craftsmanship.
We can only marvel before such wonderful art without ever
finding out the names of its creator. And now the statues
are deserted. Some of them are half buried in the ground and
some are blackened by the smoke from the brick pits. It doesn't
make sense to destroy ancient treasure just for people to
have a few pieces of brick today. It's ridiculous! It's sad.
The priceless treasure that handed down to us by the ancients
has withstood nature's adversity but is destroyed by the ignorance
of the modern man. We are just like the lion that's buried
by the sand up to the neck.
Su: I thought that the State Council
has named the Song tombs as one of the nation's most important
cultural preservation site.
Zhang: But the reality is still the reality.
Su: So your The Imperial Tombs of Song
Dynasty series is not only for showing the reminiscence of
history?
Zhang: No. It's also about the wound
that still hurts and the broken pieces of memory. It's something
cannot be expressed with words. V Being/Attitude/Autonomy
Su: Forgive me for saying this, but it
is evident that we see a mix of quality in contemporary art.
There are works that really don't belong. Some individuals
are trying to fake the pearl with fish eyes. No wonder the
public thinks that performance artists are either lunatics
or idiots.
Zhang: It is sad, but we can't do anything
about it. A person should decide for him or her self in what
he or she does. We haven't completely formed a standard of
quality in Chinese contemporary art. But if a society stays
closed, it is difficult for art to move forward. For the development
of art we need to surpass the old value system. Artists need
to break the old rules and to continuously search for new
languages. There is no need for artists to exist if there
aren't new things coming out, for then art would have become
meaningless.
Su: Today in the art community we see
artists who haven't made it are living in tough conditions;
on the other hand we see those who have acquired fame and
fortune are living in luxury. We all know about the "power
of example," thus the budding artists are doing anything they
can to attract attention. Like the hunter in the fable who
awaits a running hare to knock itself to death on the tree,
these artists are waiting for miracle to befall on them one
day. What do you think of this phenomenon?
Zhang: To use the example of the group
of artists that first set an art colony in Yuan Ming Yuan,
waiting had two kinds of results. For me, the tiger came instead
of the hare, but for Fang Li Jun the hare did come, such good
luck is a rare case. Waiting, however, is not a solution.
In the beginning of 1980s contemporary artists did not have
anything to do with the official establishments, such as Chinese
Artists Association, Central Academy of Fine Art or the National
Institute of Art. We did not have government salary and benefits.
It was not until the 1990s the West started noticing contemporary
art in China. They made a few artists popular according to
their taste. The majority of artists did not benefit from
this. Only recently we started receiving financial support
from some private businesses in China. But many artists have
nothing, whether it is government subsidy, the recognition
of the West, or the support of private Chinese businesses.
They are living a difficult life. Longing for success, some
artists became acquiescent to foreign collectors, how would
such art make a significant influence in Chinese society?
The artists came to the city only to be pushed out to the
outer skirt. They live in self-imposed isolation waiting for
the miracle from the West. They are not witnessing the change
in the city and society. This kind of existence is not any
different from living in exile. The language of art should
have a direct contact with the age, the culture and the society
that we live in, otherwise it will become nonsense or only
a form of self-indulgence.
Su: And what is the state of your being?
Zhang: I have lived though the life of
starving artist. It's tough. That's one of the reason I started
my own company. Financial stability allows me to be in a position
free to produce art. Not many artists are like me, doing both
art and business simultaneously. Some people might think that
I am impure. But we all have our own way of life. My current
state of being is good. I can produce works that express my
thoughts and my beliefs. Having the right attitude is crucial
to artists. You cannot make art if you envy other people's
success or become restless when you hear about so-and-so is
going abroad. It's important for artists to be concerned with
social issues. If you are numb with what's surround you, you
will not have the will to be engaged in the unconventional
artistic endeavor.
Su: The path of Chinese contemporary
art has to be walked by Chinese artists themselves. It's not
an easy journey. Like that is said by the ancients, "those
who constructs new roads wear shabby cloths and driving twigs-woven
buggy carts." What's your opinion on the autonomy in the transforming
period of Chinese contemporary art?
Zhang: Chinese contemporary art should
have its own characteristics. It should reflect what's uniquely
Chinese. It should affect the Chinese people whether spiritually
or psychologically and provide certain kind of outlet and
comfort. Regrettably works like that are few. Time is moving
forward. Society is changing. China has become more tolerant
to the existence of different art forms. This is drastically
different from before. Contemporary artists are obliged to
give the public a reason for the necessary existence of modern
art. If you cannot provide a sound reason, you should not
be upset for being perceived as mere goofballs. I feel that
my generation is here to pave the road, and we are trying
our best.
VI
City/Change/Rural Workers
Su: You have devoted yourself to the
development of contemporary art for more than ten years, through
which time you experienced the overall change from rebelling
against existing art forms to reflecting on the significance
of criticism in contemporary art. We see this changing process
in your work clearly. In recent years art in China is heavily
under the Western influence, the so-called Eastern symbols
induced by the West are totally divorced from problems of
contemporary Chinese life. But you have done some work with
topics concerning our city life. Can you talk about it?
Zhang: For the past twenty years although
there have been significant developments in art, overall,
art hasn't become part of the society. The art theory and
production alike have remained in the realm of concept and
form. It seems art is still confined in the narrow space of
"fine art," which have become unrelated to the entire development
of Chinese society. We have forgot that art carries a responsibility
to the conscience of society and age. I have witnessed the
transformation of Beijing in the past ten years. After having
contemplated on this issue I came to realize that my art should
be directly related to the city that I live in, it's like
flesh and blood or a type of psychological connection. My
work Planting produced in 2001 reflected the speed-building
of the city. So many high-rises were built in such a speed
that it was like planting trees. For the project I constructed
many model houses and placed them on a construction site.
After having made myself up as a rural worker I started watering
the model houses. Obviously all the model houses were ruined.
The site was a mess. As an artist this was my way of criticizing
the speed-oriented city construction policy. In 2002 I completed
my video Drops/ Tears, which recorded the personal sufferings
of rural workers. I went on location and interviewed fifty-four
rural workers. They each told their story in tears.
Su: The tide of rural workers. We cannot
ignore this phenomenon in the process of urban modernization.
Beginning mid-1980s rural workers pored into the city. They
became an army of cheap labor. It has been for twenty years,
but rural workers remained at the bottom of society. How long
have you been concerned with this problem?
Zhang: For a few years.
Su: Besides Drops/ Tears you have other
similar works as well. Can you talk about your thoughts behind
these works?
Zhang: Yes, I have quite a few similar
works, for example the series of Station of Changing Connection.
The plight of rural workers is a social problem. We live in
an age of migration. City dwellers are moving to the suburbs,
and country people are swarming into the city for the "gold
rush." They live a harsh life here. They take the worst kind
of jobs with the lowest pay. Many rural workers gave their
youth to the city only to return home when their health deteriorates.
When they are unemployed they have no social security and
no health insurance. It seems the city that has the highest
number of rural worker population gets developed the fastest.
The unequal exchange in value between the city and the rural
area created huge economic gaps among people. Rural workers
have no permanent abode in the city. They migrate from job
to job. None of the high-rises they built belongs to them.
They save the little money that they made hoping one day to
go back home and build a small house as their resting place.
Su: Rural worker is also called peasant
worker. So are they peasants or workers? How should we define
their social identity? Britannica Encyclopedia defines a peasant
as someone who owns no property, thus who is self-insufficient
and has to submit to an external authority. In peasant society
laborers are not in control of the exchange of value between
their labor and their products. This is in the control of
a third party, the owner of the means of production. And the
production surplus goes to rulers or as a commodity in other
exchanges.
Zhang: Peasant workers, in essence,
are peasants that came to work in the city. Up until the government
withdrew the regulation on controlling city population, in
order to work in the city, peasants had to pay four types
of fees, a fee for a work permit outside of their village,
a fee for a work permit in cities and towns, a fee for temporary
residence in the city, and a fee for city service and administration.
Peasant workers get unequal treatment with regular workers
in pay, in work load and in rights. Although peasant workers
do the jobs of regular workers, their status remains temporary
because they must go back home at harvest time. Their home
is in the countryside, and their resident-registration stays
in the countryside. They will never have a chance to become
a city resident. I am concerned about them, and that's why
I made a series of video work to express the plight of their
life.
Su: What have you done to reflect on
the metamorphosis of the city?
Zhang: There has been a continuous demolishing
and constructing of buildings in Beijing. You will not recognize
a place if you haven't been there for two months. You will
find a hutong disappeared here and there. For a while I was
thinking about how to record the hutongs that were breathing
their last breath. I chose the video. Generally I shot from
the beginning till the end of a long hutong, one side facing
south, and the other north. I chose most of the locations
in Fu Xing Men and Dong Si. The moment I pressed the shutter,
the change of a city was recorded. Before long I was unable
to find the residents that once lived there. Perhaps they
moved to far away places. They will never be able to return
to their old hutong. We will never again hear the authentic
Beijing accent coming out from those places; and we will never
again see old men with bare chest waving a big fan made of
cattail leaf, chatting and enjoying the nightly cool breeze.
The old Beijing is disappearing before our eyes, and no one
knows what the new Beijing would be like.
Su: Video has a special power in the
critical functioning of art, but we have not used it to its
maximum capacity. Actually showing the images of reality and
certain phenomenon alone already serves to inspire us in using
our critical faculties. This depends on the an artist's insight.
Zhang: In this day of age, the form
itself is unimportant. The important question is that to what
an artist devotes his or her attention.