A Window Suddenly Opened: New Photography in China

Chu Haina, 隐秘的风景1号 (Hidden Landscape No.1) 2006

 43cm x 30cm*3. Photograph| Digital printing

Image reproduced with permission of the artist

To coin a phrase: "What is it about contemporary photography in China that makes it so different, so revealing?"

 I have been reading a fascinating article in 'Glass' (the Autumn 2012 Asian edition about all things stylish, arty and Chinese) about the genesis of contemporary photographic practice in China. And musing over my meeting at Three Shadows Photography Art Centre in Beijing this month where I asked some hard questions of  International Programs Director, Jillian Schultz, about how female photographers are positioned in the Chinese artworld, and about how collectors and serious art buyers see photography in an art market still very much dominated by painting (more on this meeting later.) 

Photographic practice now in China is a vital, continually evolving and often a sensational and provocative art form. Since the emergence of contemporary Chinese art as we know it in the 1990s, in the experimental art communities such as Beijing's 'East Village', painting, sculpture, performance, installation and photography have merged and blurred, often in the practice of individual artists such as Hu Jieming or Wang Jianwei. Younger artists such as Huang Xu and Chen Hangfeng also exhibit this willingness to blend photographic practice with a range of other expressive forms in order to communicate particular ideas. 

Huang Xu, 'Fragment: Plastic Bag No 31',

 image reproduced with the permission of the artist and China Art Projects

Chen Hangfeng, 'Where the Wind Comes From' 
image reproduced with permission of the artist
See the link to the video by clicking on the title above

In 1996 photographer Rong Rong (who established Three Shadows with his Japanese artist/photographer wife, Inri) wrote an introduction to the third issue of avant-garde journal 'New Photo': "When CONCEPT enters Chinese photography, it is as if a window suddenly opens in a room which has been sealed for years. We can now breathe comfortably, and we now reach a new meaning of 'new photography.' " The metaphor of the window suddenly opening could be applied to all avant-garde art, blossoming after years of repression, but most particularly applies to photography.

Some historical background

Contemporary photography in China emerged from the tight control of its use as a propaganda tool between 1949 and Mao's death in 1976, and achieved a dramatic Renaissance in the 90s which culminated in the important 2004 exhibition at the International Center for Photography in New York, "Between Past and Future"

An interesting historical perspective is revealed in Peter Yeoh's 'Glass' article. William Henry Fox Talbot and Louis Daguerre developed the photographic process in the same year that the First Opium War erupted, which led to the British control of Hong Kong. The first British Governor of Hong Kong presented a photographic portrait of himself and his family to the Guangdong Governor General, Qi Ying, who then requested a reciprocal photographic portrait from the Emperor. This is the earliest evidence of official Chinese contact with photography. By 1846 foreigners had set up photographic studios in Hong Kong and in the 1870s Chinese owned and operated studios opened in treaty ports such as Shanghai, but were suppressed by the Qing government who saw them as spreading Western culture. Later, in Shanghai, there were photographic studios owned by European Jewish refugees. In fact one was recently rediscovered in the lead-up to the Shanghai Biennale, with a stock of old photographs and negatives intact. The story of one such studio (the most successful in Shanghai in the 1920s, with 4 branches, run by a Jewish immigrant who gave himself the new name and identity 'Sam Sanzetti') can be read on 'American Photomag'. When 'Sanzetti'  left China in the 1950s he took with him 20,000 photographs. I recently met a woman in Sydney whose father, a White Russian, owned a photographic studio in Harbin in the 30s and 40s, photographing local identities both Chinese and European. 

1920s Studio Portrait from the Shanghai studio of Sam Sanzetti

And now?

Yeoh says that "contemporary Chinese photography can be confounding to viewers in the West." Certainly it is necessary to know the points of reference, whether that be a reinterpretation of the tropes of literati painting, historical events from the Imperial or revolutionary past, references to the Cultural Revolution or to more recent events in Chinese history. Staged photographs such as Wang Qingsong's iconic tableaux are popular with artists intending to comment on the extraordinarily rapid pace of change in Chinese society.

Wang Qingsong Can I cooperate with you, 120x200cm, 2000
(http://www.wangqingsong.com/)

 Sometimes the reference points are elusive. I recently saw works by Birdhead, the Shanghai duo who document their city and its inhabitants in black and white images, in the 2012 MOMA New Photography show as well as the Shanghai Biennale, and found the works difficult to engage with. Works by Liu Xiaofang, on the other hand, with her dreamy and evocative 'I Remember' series featuring a small girl in a white dress with a red Pioneer scarf are much easier to like. Yao Lu makes works that initially look like traditional misty ink paintings featuring mountains, lakes and waterfalls, which on closer inspection reveal themselves to be constructions entirely made up of garbage such as discarded plastic bags. He is working in a well-mined idiom very popular in Chinese art. 

Yao Lu, New landscape part I – Ancient Spring Time Fey, 2006
Courtesy of 798 Photo Gallery, Beijing

The artist photographs mounds of garbage covered in green protective nets which he reworks and digitally manipulates to create images of mountain landscapes shrouded in the mist inspired by traditional Chinese paintings. "Lying somewhere between painting and photography, between the past and the present, Yao Lu’s work speaks of the radical mutations affecting nature in China as is it subjected to rampant urbanization and the ecological threats that endanger the environment." (eflux)

Another photographic artist who has used the 'moon window' as a device to suggest links to the classical past and to the iconography of the garden in all its complex layering of meanings, as well as to traditions of ink painting, is Han Lei. Other aspects of this artist's practice, such as the photographs of large fleshy naked women wearing bunny ears and furry bunny rabbit slippers, are another matter entirely!

Han Lei, Yellow Mountain 15, Lambda Colour Photograph

Huang Xu, Fragment, Plastic Bag No. 30

Image reproduced courtesy of the artist and China Art Projects

Likewise Huang Xu's photographs of plastic bags, arranged and lit so they become objects of great beauty, taking on the appearance of the 'scholar rocks' found in Chinese classical gardens.He has exhibited his photographic work (he also works as a sculptor and a painter) in Beijing, London and in Australia, presenting ethereal large scale C-prints exploring "the fragile nature of the contemporary global economy." (http://www.octobergallery.co.uk)  Tattered plastic bags, seen everywhere floating in the air and lying on the ground in Chinese cities, towns and villages, were collected and digitally remodelled, sometimes by using 3D scanners. They evoke the sublime, but they are also suggestive of the decay and destruction inherent in the transformation of today's China. Luminous and beautiful, dramatically lit to recall the chiaroscuro and billowing drapery of Baroque paintings, it has been said that they also resemble the fine silks of imperial China, recalling trade links between East and West. 

Huang Xu, Fragment No 26, C-Print, shown October Gallery London 2009,
reproduced courtesy of the artist and China Art Projects

"Using artifice to reconfigure traditional paintings of landscapes into hyper-modern expressions is also a central approach in contemporary Chinese photography" says Yeoh. And not only in photography - Chen Hangfeng has done something similar in video, with his 'Where the wind comes from', as has Taiwanese artist Chen Chun- Hao with his “Imitating Fan Kuan’s ‘Travelled Among Mountain and Streams’ from the Song Dynasty” which appears at first to be a lyrical, misty landscape painted in ink. On closer inspection, however, one sees it is made entirely with headless steel pins punched through the work with a nail gun - 750,000 of them. In reviewing this and other works shown in 'Down the Rabbit Hole' at the White Rabbit Gallery for 'The Art Life' I wrote, "Beauty and tranquillity on the surface, but with an underlying reminder of mechanical ‘fakery’. In Chinese tradition, the copying of historical paintings is an act required of the scholar. This artist, however, reinvents and subverts the act in a similar manner to Xu Bing’s ‘Background Story’ series, where apparent ink paintings, re-creating old masters from the Song Dynasty, are constructed with rubbish and debris, back lit behind a screen."

Xu Bing, 'Background Story', shown in 'Dead and Alive' at the Museum of Arts and Design, New York, 2010

One of my favourite Chinese photographers is Chen Jiagang, whose work I first encountered at 'Contemporary by Angela Li' Gallery in Hong Kong in 2009. It was a revelation to me. Melancholy, beautiful, elegiac, romantic yet cynical - the works have so many of the features that I associate with contemporary China and its art and literature. Chen uses specially created negatives and a large format film camera to create these staged images.

http://500photographers.blogspot.com.au/2012/01/photographer-416-chen-jiagang.html

The Great Third Front-66, Chen Jiagang, 2008

Power Station, Galeries Paris-Beijing

Chen Jiagang, Wharf in Old Chongqing, from the 'Smog City' series
Artist's web site: http://www.chenjiagang.com/EnWorks.aspx

Emerging Beijing photographer Chu Haina lives and works in Caochangdi and uses her camera to record images which have the fleeting and melancholic beauty that she seeks, as well as a puzzling and intriguing ambiguity. She principally  uses black and white film, and works with minimal digital manipulation. We met in early December at a gallery and at her tiny one-room apartment in Caochangdi, and spoke at length about her practice. At Egg Gallery her work was showing in a group exhibition called 'Light Sensation', which had the somewhat bizarre tag line,"The classical aesthetics give the feeling of being more familiar and friendly" which gives you some idea of the generally mystifying and appalling quality of the art writing found in many Chinese gallery publications, catalogue essays and wall texts. In conversation she revealed that her favourite photographers are Diane Arbus, (no suprises there - how many young photographers have been inspired to take up a camera after seeing her work for the first time?) Bernard Faucon and the Taiwanese Juan I-Jong, whose photographic theory books had a profound impact on her and "touched the road I started as a photographer".

 Influential Chinese practitioners of the pioneering generation include Han Lei and Wang Ningde well as Wang Qingsong. More and more young artists are choosing photography as their medium, she believes, because it is both more "mobile and more direct". There are many 'salon photographers' and mutually supportive photographers' groups in Beijing. and the support and recognition from institutions such as Three Shadows Gallery (and, in particular, 'Caochangdi Photospring' each year) encourages more Chinese artists to work in this medium.

Wang Ningde, image from the 'Some Days' series

Wang Ningde, image from the 'Some Days' series

Wang Ningde, image from the 'Some Days' series

The lyrical black and white melancholy found in Wang Ningde's works finds its echo in Chu Haina's approach to her work - she believes it is what she can see through her viewfinder, rather than how she can manipulate it later, that is the important thing. Chu tells me that she found Hiroshi Sugimoto's, exhibition at Pace Beijing in July of 2012 hugely influential. The work of this artist, which she had admired since first seeing it in 2002, made her realise to what extent photographic works can contain within them layers of meaning and a deep philosophical intent. She is careful to avoid explaining too much about her works - and even adroitly evades my direct questions about the subjects of some of the more ambiguous images. "I want my photographs to trigger a feeling, or maybe a memory", she says.

Chu Haina, 隐秘的风景3号, Hidden Landscape No.3, 80cm x 50cm

Photograph| Digital printing,  2004

Chu Haina with her work at Egg Gallery, photograph Luise Guest, reproduced with the permission of the artist

Chu Haina, Extension, Digital C Print, 80 x 120, 2003, image reproduced courtesy of the artist and Redgate Gallery

In my conversation with Jillian Schultz at Three Shadows Gallery, she is rueful about the fact that there is as yet no national photography collection, and still as yet little strong scholarship or connoisseurship in China regarding photomedia. But local interest and awareness is growing, in large part due to the work of Rong Rong and Inri at Three Shadows, with its clearly stated mission to promote and discuss contemporary Chinese photography. "What makes Chinese photography different?" I ask her. She tells me that there is now a strong interest in alternative processing, 'low-fi' techniques such as i-phone photography, and the production of independent artists' photo-books,as well as a shift away from digital manipulation of images. When I say that it seems to me that those are aspects of photographic practice which are engaging artists internationally, she thinks for a  moment and then tells me that the newest and most interesting aspect of current practice in China is that it is becoming far more nuanced and subtle "capable of saying lots without saying much at all", by which she means that meanings are layered and artists are representing and critiquing aspects of their changing society in much less obvious ways than in the past. 

As an example, she introduces me to the work of Wang Lin, who won the Shiseido Prize in Caochangdi Photospring this year. Formerly a flight attendant on a regional airline, she documented the life of her peers in documentary black and white images which together form a compelling narrative. She was dismissed from the airline after someone anonymously posted her photographs on the internet. In 'Dreams of a Stewardess' she shows us not the supposedly glamorous life of these independent women, but the tedium and loneliness, the hectic schedules, as well as the intimacy of a life shared with other women crammed into dormitories not unlike those of the much despised migrant workers in southern China. "Her subjects can surrender totally in her presence, oblivious to the presence of her camera. This fusion of the photographer with her subjects gives us a unique window into an un-suspected micro-universe." (Jean Loh, Trans Asia Photography Review)

Wang Lin, “From the window of the dormitory at Tianjin airport”,
 from Heaven & Earth series, 2009, 50x40cm.

Wang Lin, “Resting and reading papers on board flight Changsha-Kunming”,
from Heaven & Earth series, 2007, 50x40cm.

Wang Lin, “Waiting for passengers to board the flight from Tianjin-Changsha”,
from Heaven & Earthseries, 2008, 40x50cm.

Wang has been compared to Nan Goldin in her use of unsentimental, everyday imagery. Like many young photographers (and artists) in China today she is unencumbered by memories of the Cultural Revolution or the 'June 4th' Tiananmen movement and its aftermath of cynicism and wariness. Both materially and conceptually there are significant changes occurring in the practice, and the identity, of a younger generation of emerging artists. Schultz told me that the change she would most like to see (apart from a willingness on the part of collectors to buy photographic works) is a shift in thinking to embrace scholarly research and criticality. This, she believes, would give the work of many young photographers a greater conceptual depth. It is beginning to happen now.

And finally?

Photographic practice in China, as with artists working in every other medium you can think of, is vital, energetic and dynamic. There may be opportunities for young artists (and for women artists) in photography that are harder to come by in other forms. It is not so long ago that a gallery director infamously told Liang Yuanwei that she should try photography as "there are already too many female painters"! As Peter Yeoh concludes in his 'Glass' article, the reinvention of photography in China continues, but now many artists are taking the time to reflect more deeply on their practice and consider how it can develop in new and unexpected directions. He is a bit gloomy about what he sees as the loss of a willingness to experiment and combine genres and influences in 'mash-ups' creating bizarrely wonderful hybrid forms. However I am sure that Chinese photography will continue to possess the inventiveness, the playfulness and the imaginative freedom that has distinguished it to this point.

Chu Haina自然世界4号 Hidden Landscape No. 4, 80cm x 50cm

Photograph| digital printing, 2006

Image reproduced with permission of the artist

Zhe Shi Beijing: 4 artist studios and a private villa

4 Signs seen from a Beijing taxi:

• The Dongxinghua Bilingual Art Kindergarten (everything seems to have the word 'art' attached as a sales pitch, I have also seen an 'art' Polo Club)
• The Soluxe Winterless Hotel ( at a temperature of minus 3 degrees I was tempted)
• The Sparkle Glitter World Shopping Mall (build it and they will come)
• and, finally, the Beijing Stomatological Hospital (possibly what I needed after eating sea cucumber)

 3 Items from the China Daily:

• 14 dead in fire caused by gasleak in hotpot restaurant
• high speed trains forced to slow down as people insist on smoking in the carriages
• Men's groups welcome the election of an all-male Politbureau Standing Committee as a 'step in the right direction'

Beijing continues to fascinate, delight and appall in equal measures.

Intersection in what was until recently a small village

I spent this morning with the artist Lin Tianmiao, whose work I had seen recently in a big retrospective show at the Asia Society Museum in New York. We drove for over an hour through a post-apocalyptic wasteland of cleared farmland, fields of grey rubble, construction sites and brand spanking new apartment blocks in row upon row as far as the eye can see. Finally, down a private tree lined street in Songzhuang Artist Village, to a fortress-like villa, the home of Lin Tianmiao and her husband the video artist Wang Gongxin. Five huge dogs in the garden of the villa across the street leapt at the fence, snarling and barking in a most disconcerting manner.

Living space in studio of Lin Tianmiao and Wang Gongxin

Once inside, the private spaces and light filled studio are extraordinary and wonderful. As we sat and waited for Lin Tianmiao and her assistant, we listened to the finches in a huge birdcage and the splashing of goldfish in a pool. Two large dogs roamed the garden outside the windows, with trees covered for the winter. Finally I realised that the strange shuffling noise I was hearing was a large tortoise in the corner of the room, emerging briefly and moving towards us, then retreating into its shell. I had time to look at the contents of the floor to ceiling bookshelves. DVDs ranging from Dr Doolittle 3 to Zhang Yimou revealed a broad and eclectic taste. Books on the coffee table with beautiful tea cups and bowls included Susan Sontag, a Foto Folio collection of potraits of New York artists in the 1980s and 1990s, and a book on Georgia O' Keeffe's houses.

Living space in studio of Lin Tianmiao and Wang Gongxin

So strange to sit for half an hour in someone else's space, a space which revealed so much of the life lived therein. Artworks were everywhere, from Wang Gongxin's new digital animations to works by Lin Tianmiao herself and many other artists both Chinese and Western. A shelf of photographs includes recent snapshots and family photographs from the Cultural Revolution period.

The studio is a revelation - a white calm space filled with works in progress, and a staff of maybe 20 studio assistants working silently - winding colourful silk thread around synthetic bones or stitching the 'badges' similar to those currently showing at Galerie Lelong New York. Other workers  assemble the sculptures of bones connected to tools, bound with thread. Lin Tianmiao walks quietly through and makes adjustments. I asked her if, in the years she worked as a graphic designer in New York before her return to China and emergence as an artist to be reckoned with, she could have imagined all this. She shakes her head. The New York years, were hard, she says, although she loved the energy of that city she herself was not left with the energy to think about becoming an artist. Returning to China was also hard, but she thinks China now has the creative energy that New York may have lost.

Works in progress, Lin Tianmiao

Assistant working on 'badges', Lin Tianmiao studio

Studio View, Lin Tianmiao studio

Studio View, Lin Tianmiao's studio

We talk over tiny, delicate cups of tea about the use of thread, hair, felt and other textiles in her work. She tells me that in her childhood, her mother was 'sent to the countryside' (read into that what you will) for three years, and it was there that she remembers her mother learning how to spin and sew. The basic, physical nature of the materials which connect us to the natural world and to bodily realities are what interests her. I am fascinated but not surprised that she nominates Louise Bourgeois as an artist she admires.

Lin Tianmiao in her studio, December 6 2013,
photograph Luise Guest reproduced with the permission of the artist

She rejects the feminist label with which she is often identified, believing that feminism is a western thing and that China is not yet at that point. So many other pressing problems, she says: food safety, pollution, corruption, politics....She also rejects the idea that she may be a role model or inspiration for younger female artists, stating bluntly that every artist must forge their own path. Art is a personal and spontaneous thing, she tells me. However, she does acknowledge that when women have children they change, become stronger and yet also more vulnerable. It is this paradox that her work most beautifully explores.

I think of some of the other women I have met in the last few days:

• Gao Ping whose work ranges from tiny, delicate fragile ink drawings of lonely toys, furniture and household appliances to the most wonderful, strong paintings in a palette of subtle grisaille.

Gao Ping in her studio, December 5 2012,
photograph Luise Guest reproduced with permission of the artist

• Dai Dan Dan who I found applying sequins and sparkly beads to 'scholar rocks' sourced in the Beijing fish and bird market. With her husband, Huang Xu, she created an exhibition installation shown in Shanghai and Hong Kong with the enviably fabulous title of 'Mr and Mrs Huang in the Humble Administrator's Garden'.

Dai Dandan and Huang Xu (Mr and Mrs Huang) in their shared studio
December 5 2012,
Photograph Luise Guest reproduced with permission of the artists

• Li Tingting who works quietly to reinvent the traditions of ink painting and develop her own visual language of line, mark and drip, reflecting on her immediate domestic and feminine world.

Li Tingting with her work at 798, December 2 2012,
Photograph Luise Guest reproduced with the permission of the artist

• Chu Haina who takes her camera on lonely walks around the streets and parks of northern Beijing, seeking images that echo her feelings.

Chu Haina at Egg Gallery Beijing, December 4,
Photograph Luise Guest reproduced with permission of the artist

Chu Haina, Hidden Landscape No 1, Digital Print

All these women are both strong and vulnerable. The thing I have most loved about talking to them is their absolute lack of self conscious 'cool' or the adopting of personae. They talk with evident sincerity, seriousness and thoughtfulness about their work. There is no posturing. That is something very refreshing!


See my review of the Lin Tianmiao show at the Asia Society Museum in New York here: The Art Life: masculinity and femininity in new york

See my review of Gao Ping's Australian show at Stella Downer Fine Art here: http://theartlife.com.au/2012/still-life-girls/

Lost in Caochangdi

Inside Dashanzi Art District, Beijing - relics of the industrial past

This relic of a socialist past is at the back of the 798 Art District, on a narrow road where steam hisses unexpectedly out of strange pipes and from cracks in the path. Hard to believe that the city planners intend to replace all of this with a 'water park' complete with fountains and pools.  In one of the driest cities on the planet, and in a district which is well and truly on the tourist map, for good and ill, this is strange decision making.

I write this at the end of my third day in Beijing. A day as exhausting, exhilarating, frustrating and wonderful as this one has been could only happen in China. I had arranged an interview with a young artist, a meeting at the Three Shadows Photography Art Centre and visits to four galleries, all in Caochangdi, which sounds like a manageable schedule but didn't really take into account the particular difficulties of getting around. Caochangdi (an outlying place, part city, part old town, part ugly suburb) is notoriously difficult to navigate and tends to involve many, many phone calls in Chinese to the various parties asking how the hell to find them. Taxi drivers patiently drive in circles, sometimes stopping in the middle of the road and turning off the engine while the phone calls are made.

With Stanley, my trusty translator, I caught the bus. He assured me he knew where we were going. After leading me up onto a railway track, where we were followed by mangy and quite possibly rabid dogs, I decided the hell with his 'face' and said, 'Oh really, I don't think so - call the gallery now!' Many phone calls ensued, and we walked first one way, still followed by the dogs, then another, down dusty windswept streets. Past an elementary school with military marching music blaring from loudspeakers and little children in blue tracksuits exercising in the yard, past street markets with underpants and running shoes laid out on the trays of rusty old tricycles and vendors selling what appear to be grilled intestines on sticks, past factories, construction sites and military barracks. I wonder, as I do so often in China, why villages in the countryside and many parts of Beijing look as if they have somehow survived the apocalypse.

Eventually, many shouted Chinese phone calls later, it transpired that we had passed the entrance to the street several times in our wanderings.To get to it we had to duck underneath an advertising hoarding and wend our way past an enormous and hideous KTV karaoke parlour set in a kind of wasteland with Egyptian statuary and what looked like a sculpture of the four horsemen of the apocalypse out the front. Quite appropriate. Then suddenly we are in a tiny narrow walled lane and emerge into the series of beautiful galleries designed by Ai Weiwei some years ago, before his current troubles.

Urs Meile Gallery, Caochangdi, Beijing

Eventually we found our way to Urs Meile and Platform China and saw exhibitions both interesting and not so interesting. Paintings by Shao Fan at Urs Meile revealed an interesting adaptation of highly academic realist painting. At Platform China I saw a show of installation works by Zhou Yilun. The title of the show 'As there is Paradise in Heaven' is apparently taken from an old proverb "Up Above there is paradise, down below there are Suzhou and Hangzhou" the relevance of which I confess entirely eludes me, except for the fact that the artist lives and works in Hangzhou. The exhibition of paintings and installation works is raw and crude and slightly disturbing, drawing inspiration from pornography, political advertising, cartoons and sci-fi. The show struck me as the less than coherent outpourings of a young artist whose practice is yet to mature, but which has the potential to be extremely interesting.

Zhou Yilun, 'Beijing Hao Gan A' (Beijing is very dry)
installation view at Platform China

Shao Fan, Chicken Wing Bone, 2010, oil on canvas

 I met young photographer Chu Haina at Egg Gallery where she is currently showing her work in a group exhibition, and we spoke at length about her practice. She creates blurry, soft and very ambiguous images shot with film and printed digitally. Her work reminded me of early photographs by Niepce or Daguerre, or experiments with alternative processing. She is self taught, and very dedicated, living in a space in Caochangdi tinier than any I have ever seen. Having shown her work in an exhibition of emerging artists at Redgate Gallery, and now at Egg Gallery, she is hoping for a solo show. This seems to be the right time for young photomedia artists in China, with increased interest in its possibilities for making images which reflect contemporary life. Haina takes her camera everywhere she goes and looks for images which will evoke a particular kind of feeling in the viewer. She herself loves an eclectic range of artists, from Diane Arbus to Taiwanese photographer Ruan Yizhong to the Japanese Hiroshi Sugimoto, who was shown at Pace Beijing earlier this year. Her work has an elegiac and subtle quality, especially the larger more abstract prints shown at Redgate.

Chu Haina with her work at Egg Gallery, Beijing.
Photograph Luise Guest, reproduced with permission of the artist

The current state of photomedia in China is an interesting one - at once very exciting and cutting edge yet at the same time often still seen as the poor cousin to painting and sculpture. In a wide ranging chat at Three Shadows with their director of international programs we discussed what it is that characterises current photographic practice here. She told me that there is a resurgence of interest in alternative processing, especially from younger photographers who have perhaps never seen a darkroom in their training, and have never used film. Jurassic technologies are returning in every field it seems! Chinese photographers, working in a medium which is still at the margins of artworld acceptance, can say a lot with very little, layering meanings which skirt the boundaries of what is permitted. And not just in photography: artists in China are adept at developing techniques which reveal much, with a great economy of means.

Three Shadows Photography Art Centre, Caochangdi

In this vein, I later discovered a fascinating exhibition at Boers-Li, of works created by Kang Wanhua whilst imprisoned for almost three years during the Cultural Revolution. Tiny works, some the size of postage stamps, made clandestinely on whatever surfaces the artist could find (playing cards, precious scraps of paper) with scratchy oil crayons, they represent scenes from the artist's imagination. Creating expressionistic portraits and Arcadian landscapes became his way to survive. That they were made at all is extraordinary: that they found their way out of the prison is nothing short of miraculous. Boers-Li Gallery is conducting a research project investigating the roots of contemporary art in China. These years of oppression gave way to a frenzied outpouring of creativity, despite tight control and censorship, at a time before the art market existed in China. Some see that time as creativity in its purest form. Before he was sent to prison Kang was an art teacher, but was later assigned to Beijing Shuguang Electrical Machinery Factory as a worker. When I looked at his CV I was moved to see that his imprisonment coincided almost exactly with my own years at art school in the mid 1970s, a time for me of great freedom, excitement and the sense that anything was possible if I wanted it enough. A time also when we were unforgivably ignorant of what was happening to artists in other places in the world.

Works by Kang Wanhua shown at Boers-Li Gallery Beijing

Other interesting work seen today:
An installation created from spent fire crackers by Jiang Zhi:

Jiang Zhi, The Quiet Bodies

A series of portrait heads that turn out on closer inspection to be carved from stacked books:

Variations on the tradition of papercutting, 'Strange Flowers' by Hoyun Shin:

Elegant meditations by Shen Kelun on traditions of Chinese furniture and lacquer ware:

A series of fabulously expressionist paintings by Cui Guotai that are like a lost lament to the heroic workers and heavy industry of the Communist past: