Across the street from the Art Café the gallery featuring the work of Liu Jun was preparing the opening reception for his new show, 10,000 Arrows Penetrating the Heart. Flowers, food & an entrourage of modern Chinese men wearing long hair, pencil thin mustaches, hip blue suits and polished shoes were subtly vying for good position amongst the energy of the gathering crowds and delivery people. I noticed a bit of anxiety as I sipped my cappuccino and watched the scene develop. Earlier that day meandering through the maze of streets & warehouses that is the 798 Art Zone of Beijing, I stepped into this gallery. For some reason, amongst all the provocative sculptures and Art Spaces showing the new Voice of the Chinese artist, I spent the most time here, barely breathing as I took in Liu Jun’s images. When I set to purchase the book of the show, the young man at the door told me today was the Artist’s reception and if I came back at 3, the Artist could sign my book. After walking around some more, I decided to have a cappuccino where I could keep an eye on the gallery. I left the café shortly before three and folded my way into the crowd worried I would miss my chance.
I had already spent several hours in the district. I woke that morning planning on going to the Parks or downtown but I decided I didn't want to do the same thing I always do in Beijing. I remembered Joyce & Linnie visited here a couple years ago and thought I might like it too. I was actually stunned by my expereince. Perhaps because all my prior trips to China focused exclusively on the old history of this compelling land and culture, perhaps because my own art itself roots back in time, I found myself simply awed by the district that focuses exclusively on New China.
The artists are young, under 50, and there is art everywhere: galleries, art spaces, outdoor musicians, outdoor sculpture, fashion design, leather making shops, and lots and lots of amazing graffiti. Amongst it all, street vendors sell sweet potatoes and skewers of candied fruit and café’s bustle. Of course there are a lot of shops, wares spanning the spectrum from junk to the ultra designed high-end clothing & jewelry. The whole district, many acres, is devoted to art of any shape, style or form. The layout reminds me in a way of what Paul Allen is trying to do in the Eastlake area.
Much of the visual art appears whimsical at first, portraying in watercolor, oil & bronze, myriad child-like faces with full red lips and fat rosy cheeks. But as one spends more time with them, these images become increasingly more disturbing. The child faces are atop huge, naked bodies or thin, distorted ones, heads and necks twisted in aggressive and unsustainable angles. Whereas some of the bodies of the women are sexual and elegant, most have full, tightly pursed lips,eyes either closed or sharply gazing over the vast landscape of the gallery goers. The Buddha-like sculptures lining the streets exude not peaceful attainment but modern detachment. Lots of the art is revolutionary-themed. Brutal Red Guard clad ballet dancers flit within a mushroom cloud that, upon close look, is actually billowing layers of so many Big Macs. From the top, Mao is looking down on the scene, smiling. There are sculptures of bound men, muscles bulging from thick ropes, suffering faces looking up to the sky, fists clenched in angry resignation. The gallery that is completely devoted to bestiality with a tremendous bronzed man, four times a normal man’s size, at least, and his equally large Bull sits right next to the Peaceful World Gallery devoted to the photography of Tibet.
Most of the goers on this day at least were young and Chinese. There were a few tourists and a couple of ex-pats on Harleys but primarily it felt simply a day out for the youth of Beijing. This sandy haired foreigner with faded red highlights amidst them blended in perfectly, each of cultures not made distinct by our skin color or language but instead bound together invisibly by our Arcteryx jackets and Iphones. The art walkers took lots of pictures of themselves amidst the myriad sculptures, laughing and giggling and crawling all around these poignant images of the struggle of the emerging soul of China. I could not help but wonder if they were laughing because they were uncomfortable or if they were simply not present to it all. Or, more likely the case, this art expressed struggle is simply so much a part of their psyche at this time in history that it does not read as anything shocking or breathtaking.
Once back in Liu Jun's Gallery my mind became quiet as I looked for the last time at his new body of work. I noticed that no one was giggling at his paintings or crawling around on his sculpture, instead the many were also quietly contemplating. The young man who told me to come back later saw me and gestured to Liu Jun that I wanted his autograph for the book I was buying. I was so happy to meet, just for a moment, this artist. I put my hand on my heart and said xie, xie, thank you. As he signed, he looked at his friends who nodded. He seemed surprised that any one, much less a foreigner would ask for his autograph.
If I had more language I would have said, I think sir, you have really struck a nerve here, with your subjects and their rounded faces, closed eyes, almost dreamlike amidst images of war, bondage and faith. They seem, like we all seem, unsure of rebirth. They seem, like we all seem, at once terrified and attracted to anything that pricks the illusion that we are so sure. You have lifted that veil. You have asked us, do we, as they do, simply live our life closed eyed and dreaming or do they as we do, dream of the time the dreams change? I would have told him how much I appreciated coming 5,000 miles to see this veil lifted, not just of China, but of the one we all share in common.
Wishing you well from across the great water.
Kim
Beijing 2011
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