China’s prestigious tradition of political art coalesced in the late 20th century with the rise of the Cult of Mao and a state-instituted wave of ‘social realism’ that was often turned to propaganda purposes.
Regime Change or Dynastic Cycle?
China’s prestigious tradition of political art coalesced in the late 20th century with the rise of the Cult of Mao and a state-instituted wave of ‘social realism’ that was often turned to propaganda purposes. However, following Chairman Mao’s death, Deng Xiaoping’s eventual succession and the tacit acceptance of capitalistic policies, the Chinese people, and artists in particular, began to negotiate increasingly ironic modes of expression, balancing communist ideology with a free-trading existence. Now, at the tale-end of 2004, China has gone through two more effective successions of leadership (Hu Jintao took full control of the government in September of this year), meanwhile gaining acceptance into the World Trade Organization in 2001 and the right to host the 2008 Olympics, amongst other recent achievements. All this to suggest that in a nation where the state has always shaped culture, there is an incredibly complex mix of influences acting upon a rapidly developing nationwide art scene that, not surprisingly, has captured the imagination of a worldwide audience for its vitality and innovation.
"Democracy Forever: Chinese Artists Perceptions of Global Politics," curated by George Chang and currently on view at Plum Blossoms Gallery, is timed to coincide with the United States Presidential Elections and attempts to show how Chinese artists are responding to uncertainties about regime change, both in China and worldwide. Curator Chang presents art that looks reflexively upon the past era of high-Communism as well as art that responds directly to impressions of American military actions overseas.
The show’s installation is grounded by Zhu Wei’s bold, cinematically scaled Comrade Captain #3 (ink and mixed media on paper), originally done in 1993, and an even larger ‘sketch’ of the same figure that the artist completed for the Guangzhou Triennial in 2002 hung on an opposite wall. Depicting a languidly smoking military officer, the pair suggest an experience of corruption and regret, but also a process of remembrance that poetically confuses critique and empathy.
Young Beijing collective UNMASK, based in the hotbed 798 artists’ space and making their New York debut, take up the center of the gallery with their multi-part sculpture, The Shadowless, comprised of four free-standing steel bases with neon lights supporting hemispherical dioramas made from molded plastic. In three of the bases, each of UNMASK’s three members stands presiding, god-like, over scenes of carnage and chaos lifted from media coverage of the Iraq war, while in the fourth all three are assembled for a self-portrait that oozes androgynous chic. UNMASK are a magnificent generational counterpoint to Zhu Wei: too young to remember the trials of the Cultural Revolution, they instead affect diffidence, alienation, over-stimulation and unease with new commercialism.
Another standout is gallery artist Wei Dong, a painterly virtuoso whose New World (acrylic on canvas, 2004) is a satirical mise-en-scène where sassy beauties both assume and undermine the trappings of historical empire, vogueing in Uncle Sam outfits, a Napoleon suit, Bismarckian regalia, and a Mao uniform. He is complemented by new painter Li Songsong, also based in 798, who appropriates Chinese academic photo-realist painting to revise historical memory, depicting a vast assembly hall in monochrome tones and from a vista-like perspective.
Wei Dong channels absurd sexual energy into a critique of ideological posturing; Li Songsong–working from found archival photographs–is like UNMASK attempting to communicate across a generational rift. Instead of running away from the past, his attempts to reconnect with an already departed moment are sutured together by blurred, oily washes and a distinctive grid pattern that betray his inherent ‘presentness.’ For him, history is a construction, and a beautifully failed one at that.
While refraining from outright pronouncements on current American politics, "Democracy Forever" does illustrate that Chinese artists are reacting critically to global events, with multimedia artist Qing Qing providing two sculptural vitrines incorporating eerie, backlit photos of the World Trade Center into a vision that is part childish fantasy and part T.V. live-feed. The show also suggests, through Li Tianyuan’s photo-triptych capturing his position viewed from satellite, ground level, and microscopic blow-up, that Chinese artists are thinking philosophically about their role in an ever-evolving ‘new world order.’ Though certainly not a comprehensive overview of contemporary Chinese political art, the show is an inventive, energetic opening to further discussion about the ways that artists engage with their world and their communities. And "Democracy Forever," given its timing, subtly insinuates that these days, perhaps, one ruling party is not so different from the next.
Democracy Forever: Chinese Artists Perceptions of Global Politics
Ji Dachun, Li Songsong, Li Tianyuan, Qing Qing, UNMASK, Wei Dong, Wei Qingji, Wu Shaoxiang, and Zhu Wei
Plum Blossoms Gallery
555 w25 St, Ground Floor
New York, NY 10001
www.plumblossoms.com
October 22–November 27, 2004
