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So I came to Beijing night before last on a flight that cost an astonishing 300 kuai = 37.97 USD (by the current, plummeting dollar exchange rate). Yes, an exceptional deal. I arrived at 12.15am (part of the deal) and had to wake up video artist Kan Xuan (who I never met but had curated into a "Personal Space" at Thomas Erben’s last year) to get the key to Rania Ho and Wangwei’s who are away.
I have stayed at these two amazing artists, super friendly hospitable, laid back, old and bold friend’s sooo many times and somehow they don’t seem tired of me. It used to be an equal exchange: I come to Beijing I stay with them when they come to NYC they stay with me but over the years the scale has tilted way down - they have won in the exchange game and now I’m just one of their many regular visitors.
Wang Wei (also in the Thomas Erben show) is participating in the Liverpool Tate show- "The Real Thing" (as opossed to the copyright infringed fake version) He does these poignant architectural installations, spatial manipulations that reorder the hierarchy of the physical environment- outside becomes in, inside out, facade become structure and vice versa. He’s been using traditional Chinese motifs as of recent where bridges and pagodas fashioned out of scaffolding material extend around the space like untamed ivy ... he’s also not a bad photographer for which last year he went all over Italy photographing on a commissioned project for Deutsch Bank and brought home this very fancy espresso machine that Im now tending to quite intimately.Strange – to be sitting a house or visiting when the host is away the remnants of their life aroundRania Ho I know from way back when we were both big TV producer types NOT slaving away for a magazine show about the world of film that was continually censored by both the boss’ bad taste and by the ethics committee of CCTVRania is a renegade conceptualist tinkerer who besides making: interactive robots out of household objects such as toasters, inflatable fatso suits and miniature golf installations, she’s the main brain behind the art rock / anti-band “The Contractors” which satirize the ubiquitous and notoriously corrupt Chinese building contractor. The contractor – usually a nouveau rich farmer with aspirations to be a gangster- spends most of his time cutting costs that are then spent on alcohol soaked meetings in shabby-chic restaurants. Remember China has an urbanization rate of 40% where all sorts of crazy and dangerous shit goes down- e.g., horrific working conditions and workers that never get paid for months and even year’s worth of work. Anyway Rania is not “really” Chinese. She’s an ABC (American Born Chinese) so she’s not really accepted in the (male dominated) artist club here and almost always overlooked by the constant stream of international curators who come to town even though her work stands firmly on it’s own. This is one of the reasons I left in ‘98 because there’s still not much of a place here for non-“real” Chinese artists. People come here not so much for the art but for reassurance of some sort of, arguably and infinitely elusive, Chinese authenticity.Anyway the coffee has run its course and now I have to find out where they keep the TP in this place. Thank You Rania and Wang Wei for the pleasant stay!
Catching up here.Last weekend saw the tremendous opening of Yang Fudong- Parkett wonder boy, Marian Goodman sweetheart, international art star- who is Finally having his first solo show at Shangart, his first and only mainland China gallery. “No Snow on Broken Bridge” is a dazzling 8 channel 35mm film>video transfer depicting a bunch of beautiful, some slightly androgynous, youth in turn-of-the-Chinese century costume (a sexy mix of traditional east and debonair west). The group wander aimlessly around stunning landscapes (shot along Hanzgou’s West Lake), sometimes arm in arm, sometimes in rowboats, some tend sheep it’s all very hypnotic as it unfolds across the eight panels, like a scroll, some 40+meters long. (for those that are following Stateside it was the same piece shown at Marian Goodman's and in London- see article)
Outside the opening crowd sipping wine from glasses (you know it’s a fancy event when there’s actual wine glasses) is very jovial, international, celebratory. Yang, the shy guy that he is, gravitates to his buddies and crew but a collector and gallerist from Holland tug him into a group photo because hey, they just bought this photo here for quite a bit of Euro, YA… The gallerist, Rob Malasch, I find out later once kidnapped a bunch of Fang Lijun pieces from a solo show at Amsterdam’s Stedelijk museum that took a great deal of surveillance and perseverance on the part of Shangart’s mastermind, Lorenz Helbling to safely rescue. Zhang Peili, China’s father of video art- a title which he is very tired of because it doesn’t really sound all that hip and exciting, and PiLi, Universal Studio partner recently pictured and profiled in a NYTimes magazine article from which his ego is still reeling, compare each others fattening waist lines in front of one Yang Fudong’s very nice, very large production stills. Amidst the art going public Sally (fashion designer and curatorial partner of Christopher Phillips in the Shanghai exhibition in Toronto- see Christopher a few days ago) and Garth (sweet and fashionable fashion laborer) look for a model to use in a Helmut Lange Shoot happening the next day for which there is no budget (editorial thing- it’s a labor of love) and which the premiere Shanghai modeling agent, Mr. Dao will charge more than most NYC rates for his overflowing stable of “super models”. China's premiere abstract painter Dingyi, who runs a very cool Shanghaiese period Art deco furniture store in M50 shines a smile our way. I run into Gao Jiasuo (Chinese for Picasso) a guy I knew from ‘95, whom I haven’t seen in ages. He’s one of the tallest and skinniest Chinese people I know. He is someone everyone knows but doesn’t really pay attention to.
The after after party was on at Valor, another Philippe Starck designed showcase (the man runs wild in China) that juxtaposes Victorian kitsch with a virtual Hiphop street dive-ification thematic (there’s something that loosely resembles NYC graffiti painted carefully in select areas of the club). Huang Liaoyuan and Zhou Tiehai had been warming up the seats since they had already eaten at the MoCA opening (Zhang Jian opened at the neighboring Shanghai Art Museum for which a tribe of Beijing art folk came to town: Liu Ye, Qi Zhilong, etc.) and skipped the after party dinner. By the time we arrived a bottle of Johnny Walker mixed with green tea (drink of the month here- used to be Chivas with Green tea now JW) had been consumed. Even though just me and my baby were the only ones who danced … A good time was had by all.
So as I sit here listening to PS1 radio, briefly depressed and perplexed by the fact that my blog has somehow offended someone in this country to the point that it’s been censored (as has my own art website www.mabz.net for the same unknown reason or algorithmic formula that has left us high and dry in webland), and hearing a forum conducted at PS1 on something to the effect of :”The crisis in art criticism” where on the one side there was the argument that there is indeed no “true” criticism left (which is as much the critics fault as it is the audiences and the publication’s in their tendency to cater to an increasingly dumbed down, market driven art world) while on the other side Arthur Danto and a bunch of headies bantered back that there is the lack of a crisis, that criticism still exists (at least for him- who is of a generation that can publish virtually anything he wants at this point and still be consumed OR as one panel member noted “seen” as in, “Oh I saw your article in Art in America or I saw your catalog essay … like Oh I saw your exhibition as I drove by the gallery”. In the end everyone basically agreed that not many people read art criticism for fun except maybe other critics or the artists that are being written about and even then, it’s not fun. Either way it was reassuring to have WPS1 and it’s entropic discourse blaring through my iTunes in a small attic flat1000000 miles away in a country that will censor me but not PS1MoMA. Another notable point of the above mentioned discussion was that one of the anonymous panelists (I tuned in late – after everyone was introduced) pontificated, everytime the mic landed in his hands, about the dynamic, exciting, vanguard art world in Asia, in particular China. He lauded the efforts by ArtAsia Pacific magazine (for which I have written for many times in an age when no one noticed what was going on in Asia – very much like this blog now) and their devoted attention to an increasingly commendable scene which all seemed a bit ironic sitting here in the pinko land that has censored me and my attention to the same scene while tuned in to an elitist NY discussion about crisis in arts publication… Go figure.
(BTW- ArtAsia Pacific is available at some specialized bookstores here as is the rest of the lot: Art Forum, Art in America, Flash Art, Parkett, Penthouse, etc. though they are usually a month or two late)
So it seems Im able to write edit etc but in this great country tis of theee PRC I cant onto my own blog. But what about blogs anyway. This self publishing thing seems a little like a mastabatory story in which the author always wins yeah but ohhh so good If anybody can see this helloooooo please write to me mabz@bestweb.net
pics of curly and larry
IKEA in the rainy morning, looking for, among other things, a toilet seat that fits the toilet... seems impossible
IKEA -same shit, same building-different street name
Lunch with
James BrearleyB A U I N T E R N A T I O N A LBREARLEY ARCHITECTS + URBANISTSwww.bau.com.auat Whisk which sells itself as a chocolate bar but you can get a mighty tuna salad with that pink salad dressing striped over the top as well. The large "shot" of thick, but not Jacques Torres thick, hot chocolate, all for a mere ... James picked up the tab, wasn't so bad either
James is a displaced Australian Urbanist Architect who has been in Shanghai long enough to build a glass boxed cafe atop an already impressive square 4 story building in the middle of the French quarter. He, and his modest staff including his sweet wife/partner, designs cities and buildings and then the designs get thrown out or fudged by the corrupt contractors or egotistical greedy city officials but in the end some slight variant of the original plan gets built, no time for being precious here.I gave him the Learning from Hangzhou Powerpoint presentation (www.mabz.net has a small section under Imaging for those that read this stinking blog) and he scheduled me a lecture in his cafe sometime soon. It's nice to know some nice art.achiUrban minded people in Shanghai
Christopher Phillips, ICP curator, all the way from ice stormy New York or Newark, as planes for the middle kingdom sometimes depart from these days, was suffering the 13hr flight and time difference jet lag that had me down for weeks, but still made his way through a Tuesday full of museum openings in Pudong to dinner with me in Puxi at Lost Heaven, a heavenly under-lit Yunnanese restaurant. Yunnan is one of China's southwestern provinces bordering Laos, Burma and full of minority color. China has 56 ethnic minorities all with their own language, food, customs etc A good portion of these ethnicities are matriarchally structured
Christopher talked about the evolution of a museum culture in China and the currently backward, but quickly changing conditions; and the pet project cultural investments by the same, above mentioned, corrupt officials. We talked about art stars and the peripheral but very eclectic characters that dot the small but growing art world here, we talked about the market, the millions that the artists are sitting on, about Zhou Tiehai's new villa in some antiseptic corner of Pudong- a city that was a horizontal piece of farm land when I first visited in 1994 and then we talked about Daniel Libeskind's new museum wing in Toronto where Chritopher is curating an exhibition about Shanghai, and for which I will film some interviews... maybe.
It's all maybes here... until you build some museums, cities, etc.
BOONA CAFE 4pm the place is alive with laptops, informal business meetings and book worms.
Met with Wang Lang who together with Liu Xinhua have archived about a zillion propaganda images from the last 40 years and have categorized them into subsets depending on posture, themes, and component parts. It's an endeavor that truly illuminates the semiotics of state administered mind fucking and image construction in general. My favorite pictured here is the counting money- economic reform era attempt at showing the masses that the Masses are indeed benefiting from the governments various urban campaigns I am writing a catalog essay for their next exhibition at DDM . DDM big boss Zheng Weimin at dinner talks about his online archive of all the Chinese contemporary artists in the world that will be able to be cross referenced by generation, thematics, exhibition history, etc. Information... When is it just too much? Three bottles of Huang Jiu later (kinda tastes like sherry- served warm and often with shredded ginger very good for digestion and insomnia) I have to go meet yet another web designer who is attempting to face lift another lost cause of webbery
along the way
Shanghai night, composition in blue
In China store owners live in the store, sometimes literally, otherwise it is place where one hosts company, hangs out, eats, sleeps and occasionally takes care of business. At night the store slowly converts to the living room
40 minutes into the outskirts and when, down in the deep warehouse alley, I open the cab door I crack a bicyclist- my worst fear as a bicyclist- no one hurt but the door doesn't close anymore I walk off quietly thinking that 6am thing's no good for no one
Xiang Jing, sculptress extraordinaire, who does these increasingly humongous naked female figures in fiberglass- almost Ron Muek ish but gentler and more mannered- many, like many other Chinese artists, seem to be modeled off herself (but hey they must be good- Charlie Saatchi's got one had a party to celebrate the opening of her new studio which she shares with her husband and fellow sculptor Qu Guangci. Qu, who for the longest time was doing these annoyingly cute port bellied little red guard figurines, has finally found a way with stainless steel and the ever giving myth of Mao.
He also has these fiberglass almost abstract expressionist Mao's as well that are pretty ugly in a good way.
The place was packed with mostly the couples students from the Shanghai Normal University, a few fellow artists Wang Xingwei, Lu Chunsheng, (the Shanghai scene infinitely getting more finite as time goes on) Qiu Anxiong who does these nice (excuse the endless referents to non Chinese artists) William Kentridge like animations from ink wash drawings that depict imaginary utopia dystopia Disney meets Qi Baishi little 8 min films that were showing before the band started.
There were a bunch of Germans who have been in China doing business [like cigarette paper production (very competitive here) and super large molds for things like buses, and then of course the architect, and something that has Kay on the road for 240 days of the year] for 15 plus years and wearing quite well... well, sort of damaged but altogether nice folks as they stood around munching on spicy lamb skewers, art farting, and speculating on the WC location.
Who said that big museum people are scary? Not true. Sarah Suzuki and Deborah Wye, curators from the MoMA prints and books dept. are the lovliest people in the world not mention to their acute attention to the most important meal of the day. Meeting them for a steak and eggs breakfast after waking up and running around my congested hood at 6am was a pleasant treat. Not only where we perched way up at nose bleed heights above People's Square with Shanghai strecthing out as far as the eye could see and the imagination can muster, but we actually had a fine conversation about, what else?, China Contemporary Art. They are here on an acquistions and basic R&D tour because they feel that the MoMA, as prestigious and super significant it is, has lagged behind in their dealings with the Chinese. One might say that the MoMA is a modern art museum and shouldn't take on the tasks of what a host of other contemporary venues are responsible for... but it just shows you that everywhere, everyone, even that seemingly secure bastion of the canon is anxious about the Chinese art world.. feeling that they've been observing from way too far and that China, in art like economics, etc. may be turning the tides gently gently away from Western shores.. or at least making some new rules.New Rules- Haunch of Venison (gallery in London who represents Zhang Huan- the only Chinese artist making prints worth mentioning to these two print curators- monumental, phenomenal, unique and masterly works www.zhanghuan.com/) is now owned by Christies Auction house and this too puts the art world's age old tiered gallery>museum struture in slight jeopardy.
Zhou Wenqi The Zhang Studio Driver waits downstairs with a piece of paper clutched between his hands "Zhang Huan Studio"
And off they go for their tour of Zhang Huan's sprawling Art Factory.I go to The MoCA across the street at the above mentioned People's Square which is a fine example of how museum standards vary considerably in and out of China. "Remote Control" An interactive media show that brings together Western and Chinese artists is better than a graduate show but not (my western centric notion of what is) museum quality. There are some fine works and many fun works which is the nature of the genre, a lot of cell phone, flashlight, and movement induced interactivity. The piece that stands out is Alexander Brandt's (aka FeiPinguo) 13 monitor video installation not only for his ability to procure 13 large flat screen monitors but by his acute observation (and probably personal experience) of fatalistic young couples in China. Dramatic scenes of distress, arguing, fights, suicide attempts and love making loop in silent, black and white video until the viewer stands in front of it and it changes to color accompanied by an audio track. InteractiveSo then there was the evening that began with the promise of Shark Paella made by a group of Valencians tucked away in this tremendous apartment complex not far from M50. Shark, not to be found at the Carrefour, was substituted by salmon and octopus as the concotion steamed away on a 24" diameter paella pan imported as checked in luggage from Jose's most recent trip. Wine and olive importers, hash smokers, the hosts kept everybody satisfied until> we go to Suzhou Rd to Peter Sellers Party - a scene that looked like a Versaci double page advertising spread in Vogue- beautiful multiculti people in designer drab slinking way on Phillip Starkesque furniture eating little Italian cheesecakes, drinking champagne and googling ever soo cooly at the exquisite views of Pudong in the distance. a breath of beautiful decadence before> Glamour club with bumbumbum music and sloppy expats falling onto overly made up Asian beauties, a few hundred yuan gin and tonic, some booty shaking, yelling introductions into evertyone's ear and then> Attica, not unlike the NY State prison, is a starker darker danceteria. more sloppiness, yelling booty bumping, champagne, gin, club closesc> After hours at the Dragon Club packed beyond maximum capacity and still people keep coming as the sun keeps rising, offers for blow, Russians falling down in the bathroom, Jose bleary eyed inebriated but still hanging on for dear life but I break away and go home. 6am
Phil Tanari and LuLu Huang, came to town today sporting their bohemian chic best and a grab bag of Art Forums. On a brief east coast tour, Phil over coffee, broods about art criticizing in an age of ballet shoe oblivion. (I don't mean the shoes that he was wearing though they were especially special - albeit a little wet from the rain- but the idea that we tip toe around on padded soles as to not disturb the flow.. maybe even at the expense of critical integrity? but then again who reads the stuff anyway) The review was of a politically corrected convulsion of a show with apparently no mojo or, in the end, politic at the Moscow Biennial. What's a writer/ reviewer to do? Especially without a wireless connection? Sell some ART Forum Ad space... which goes like steamed dumplings in Shanghai, and as I find out later that day, for at least a grand less than Art in America .And the rain poured down as we stood in the palatial mess of ShangArt's warehouse space, FINALLY getting a face lift and plugging in them roof leaks.. never good for art preservation. Shanghart the biggest and best gallery in Shanghai has garnered solid relations with all the artists in the Yangtze River Delta in case you haven't heard- Next week Yang Fudong opens at their project space H -This week the remains of a Li Shan show - his very gay but somehow magical paintings and his photographic works that graph human testicals and insects together.Wrapped in plastic, a 100,000 some odd dollar Zhou Tie hai tripdych beckons on the way out.and then all of a sudden...
Hugo and Juan come tripping out of the Shangart construction on a mission to find a day light studio here in (raining till Sunday) Moganshan ArtopolisWe go see to Wang Xingwei, in his recently renovated and paintingless studio. His Urs Meile show showed the world that there is still hope for (or at least someone who has an active imagination in his) paintingThe studio won't work because the subject, aforementioned Li Shan, will be hanging with wings and there's no way to hang the man here...Wang Xingwei will be being chased by a fighter plane as he runs across a ground that is a big potato (read Hugo from last week if you are lost)anywayChina Art now took off the money wallpaper ... but they should've just left it onRobert Bernell's Timezone Books, just opened in Shanghai, is sooo much slicker than his old digs in Beijing and they have both Art Forum and Art in America and Parkett where you can read about Yang FudongIt's all related I promise
The postal worker, as many workers here in China, wear these arm protectors so their sleeves don't get dirty... I think. They come in all flavors- pictured here a rose pattern on black.The Shanghai taxi driver, very debonair, wears white gloves to keep the steerng wheel clean... I think.
And the there was Lita CYA performance artist, world trekking bohemian and sometimes television producer who does this balloon on the head gag in which she pulls different objects she has stashed down her shirt out into the balloon that is engulfing her head and upper body: magazines, teddy bears, etc. It's about orphans and her own ophan identity. She is Chinese raised by Belgians and now living in Paris.So there she was at Bar Rouge, Shanghai's most overrated pretentious dump. Sitting pretty overlooking the neon oblivion of the Bund, this very red venue hosted Lita, her balloon tricks, Zhang Zongmei, her famous photographer for hire, a few just off from work expats tourists and a scratchy head staff of 20 too many.
Monday night Shanghai
China Art Now, Huang Liaoyuan's monster or monstrosity of what qualifies these days for artistic spectacle opens in Shanghai. After accumulating enough monster capital in their original digs - Beijing's Worker Stadium's parking lot, Huang decided to expand to Shanghai. The gallery is a partnership between some playboy telecommunications mogul who conceived the gallery as an attraction for his very fine restaurant which sits adjacent, a place where one can dine on fillet Mignon and mayi shangshu (ants going up the tree) in one sitting. The restaurant, a marvel in itself, is constructed from a beautiful old farmhouse that was transported from faraway Yunan province and reconstructed in the Gonti parking lot. It also hosts a bunch of questionable but nonetheless interesting sculptural works.Huang Liaoyuan, the man that makes it happen, is one of Beijing's cultural wonders- the boy has dabbled in most everything from Rock and Roll promoter (he still manages 2nd Hand Rose) to magazine editor, poet, film/stage actor, director, karoke king, yogi, and now gallerist/collector/consultant/promoter/curator/criticHe stayed with me in NY once and now I am eternally introduced with this storyANYWAYBack in Shanghai- the Beijing art world descended upon the opening of the new space located where else but Moganshu No. 50 ( Shanghai's 798/Chelsea)The A list (if you are looking from a market perspective) of Chinese (con)temporary art were all in this inaugural show which in a fare display of avant gardeness displayed all of these canvas' wrapped in wall paper prints of the world's strongest currencies: the dollar, pound, euro
So there were the name brand artists, who all stood around cleverly cool and waiting for dinner, but their works were hidden. or were there works at all?
Ma Liuming speculated that because the 2x2.5m canvas was such a popular dimension in China, there were several works that could've been his...
interrupted by an older intoxicated French man who asked in French whether or not I was a specialist? and then proceeded to explain that he was a spy for the Chinese during the 1960's, was jailed for six years after being discovered, released by Mitterand, the film MButterfly was about him and now he's paid handsome royalties so that he can travel the world and pontificate at unsuspecting art goers.
Anyway google him: Bernard Boursicot
If he is who he says he is then he's the real deal
So there was a rock and roll band crooning away when we arrived (to compensate for the lusterless conceptual nature of the event) but we came we late and missed the dancing girls according to Qiu Zhijie fresh back from his HK opening where, "nothing is selling" Because 1. everyone's coming to the mainland to shop for art and 2. Johnson Chang needn't push anything on the floor because he's sitting on a stack of vintage Zhang XiaoGang's that can pay for a lavish life for the next billion years
BUT that wasn't so surprising - what was surprising was that Qiu, guerrilla artist cum theoretician, performer cum professor, avant gardist cum idealist, all around renaissance man
was worrying about market performance in HK
Qiu has lost focus as has all of us
That's the chatter all around the world
Not art but market
A Warholian Utopia
At that evening's dinner of some 200 odd art world elite (or whomever wanted the free meal) held at Shanghai's premiere restaurant Xiao Nanguo (y'know lobster sushi and the like) the preferred means of groupie interaction was photo withing- the enamored foreigner and novice Chinese collector taking a photo with Yue Minjun, a photo with Zhang Xiaogang, a photo with Liu Ye, Zhou Tiehai, Wang Jinsong, Ma Liuming, etc.
The funny thing is that these superstars didn't feel the least bit disturbed... but why would they it's nice to be stroked.
Anyway lots of Wu Liangye (the good baijiu) and hobnobbing, table twirling, name card exchanging, one upping, and off into the night.
A good time was had by all
and China Art Now (appropriately titled) is Now in Shanghai too
Hugo Tillman has been photographing "film stills of contemporary Chinese artist's subconscious'" The images are culled from brief interviews of the artists. I had the pleasure of translating for Yang Fudong, my Pig Year hero (who showed at MoMA, Marian Goodman and is often profiled in Art Forum etc. for his series of films that remake Chinese literature classics into updated, languid 35mm black and white films usually portraying a bunch of beautiful and desperate Chinese youth mulling around idlyllic landscapes in strange clothes); and Lu Chunsheng who follows in Yang's footsteps with a similar film series called "The History of Chemistry" which has little to do with either history or chemistry but according to him makes an inquiry into these belief systems. AnywayBoth interviews were pleasurable for the fact that we talked very little about art, instead focusing on these artists childhoods. Yang Fudong whose very modest childhood (somehow giving birth to pretentious films) was defined by his father's military posting and later factory manager, whose mother was a cashier in a store, who had strange visions of horseback riders in the sky during the '76 earthquake in Beijing, and whose childhood toys were spent gun cartridges and bullets.
Lu Chunsheng also had some weaponry in his early years. Also a factory kid, though he's not certain what his father exactly did, traded two ping pong paddles for gun parts being assembled in the adjacent factory from a a bunch of other factory kids.
