| Creativity and art-making always have dry spells. Over the last few years, as Zhang Pengye left Harbin for Beijing, and Beijing for New York, his artistic experiments have been quite diverse, and the various periods of his work suggest that the more troubled he is, the more productive. I myself like the prints he made in China, which possess an extremely Chinese quality and use a short, choppy line quality that is fine, meticulous and clean. His woodcuts caused me to break through appearances, to appreciate the aura and interest of printmaking for the first time. |  |
How Many People Are on the Street? – Li Heini
Creativity and art-making always have dry spells. Over the last few years, as Zhang Pengye left Harbin for Beijing, and Beijing for New York, his artistic experiments have been quite diverse, and the various periods of his work suggest that the more troubled he is, the more productive.
I myself like the prints he made in China, which possess an extremely Chinese quality and use a short, choppy line quality that is fine, meticulous and clean. His woodcuts caused me to break through appearances, to appreciate the aura and interest of printmaking for the first time. In memory, those fish starting to fly all seem to have names you don’t want to forget.
In pictures of his exhibition at NYU, the first thing you see is Zhang Pengye stripped naked, his neck and arms bound by chains made of American dollars. This performance uses an obvious symbolism; it is entirely a joke. It draws close to a metaphor but in the end does not provoke a strong emotional response. People cannot fully grasp the seductive power of money.
In another work, he is depicted naked, pressed under an American coin the size of a manhole cover, with a helpless look—a hero overpowered by a penny. Seeing this work, one can’t help but laugh. From the time he emigrated to America, he has consistently focused his artistic creation on expressing sympathy with a world oppressed by the American dollar.
During his five years in the United States, Zhang Pengye was not accepted, nor was he forced to integrate into American society. When he left China he was considered incredibly lucky, but, in the last two years, as the Chinese art scene exploded, he was left out. At night, he often made long-distance calls to express his homesickness and anxiety.
In September 2006, when Zhang Pengye returned home for the first time, the surging crowds of bicycles on the street awed him. In the “2005-2006 Report on World Cities’ Competitiveness,” Beijing took the 70th place, but New York stood at number one. As Zheng Pengye traveled from the first city to the 70th city, the image of the bicycle became impressed upon his mind.
Zhang Pengye’s “Bicycle” series is a picture of China’s economic development. It is an image of the Chinese grassroots, an endless part of life, with no clear beginning or end. Although “Bicycle” expresses the ambiguous relationship between man and machine, it gives viewers a very clear perspective from which to regard works on the theme of Chinese life. China is a bicycle country; in the time of the planned economy, Chinese bicycle owners were deeply satisfied, even arrogant, and never even thought of buying an Audi Q7. At the start of the reform period, there were lots of people going into business (who would later become quite powerful) who celebrated this original tool of transportation—the bicycle. The story of the relationship between the bicycle and man has been passed from person to person over the decades, and has already entered into the history of the development of private enterprise.
In this work, numberless bicycles drift apart and weave together, placed in one space but with a sublime wistfulness, a feeling of separation and loss. There is no need to specify the identities of those atop the bicycles, and this piece is in no way artificial.
Of course, “Bicycle” cannot overcome our tendency to ignore familiar sights, or give us a new visual sensibility, but this is not important. The enormous number of Chinese people on bicycles, with their two feet/30 centimeters from the ground, all take on an aggressive and virile new form of life, with unmistakable anxiety and excitement. It is as if the typical form of the bicycle that carries people, and the stories carried by each and every individual, have been taken in and blown out by Zhang Pengye—like labored breathing. It possesses the silent power of turbulent public sentiment. The artist has successfully transplanted the focal point of this work onto the human body (the self), deciphering the common sight of one bicycle and another, building to a climax.
“Bicycle” is Zhang Pengye’s heartfelt song of return after five years in America.
