6 very serious Chinese artists at Klein Sun (co-written by Jackie Zhu): Simple Life Is Interesting!

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By calling the show she curated “Simple Life Is Interesting!” Janet Fong hints at the thread running through the work of all 6 Chinese artists at this Klein Sun show.  Implicitly and explicitly each artist expresses reservations about traditional methods of representation and expression and often aims for a more direct engagement with the viewer based on personal experience. My intrepid art buddy, Jackie Zhu, and I saw that within the burgeoning and lucrative “Chinese art market” you’ve got truly reflective folks who are not buying into the commercialism, greed and exploitation, but who are legitimately pursuing means by which they can live and work meaningfully while interacting on a deeper level with others.

Li Liao, for instance, uses a smartphone in his two pieces here. So he’s not using any specialized art stuff/equipment and he only began with a vague plan for both of his pieces in the show – he’s letting stuff happen and hoping for the best. The implication seems to be that traditional methods and concepts have failed or are now boring or trite to us, and we have to stretch the field of art by being open to unexpected possibilities that life itself gives us.

In one piece he secretly records a heated conversation between his girlfriend’s father and himself.  We hear this conversation and see the dialogue projected onto a screen in a dark room.  The dad simply doesn’t want his daughter to marry an artist – not a real artist anyway. The dad is a publicist living the good life and openly rejects his potential son in law.  The artist could just as readily be attacking the dad for choosing a safe, comfortable life, but the dad uses his high status position to attack a guy who, apparently, refused to make commercial compromises and has suffered in practical terms for doing so.  The dad is in the position of power and reproach because he dominates his daughter’s life and consequently now has some element of control over the artist’s life.  The dad sits smugly beyond reproach and berates Li for not having any ‘real’ skills or even a studio. 

When the artist points out he has been reviewed in a couple periodicals, the father denigrates the periodicals for their lack of respectability.  To make matters worse, the families are acquainted with each other and that dad openly despises the poor family that Li comes from, mocking them repeatedly.   The girlfriend has also been selling clothes on Taobao (the Chinese ebay) just to obtain funds for the both of them, which is also used as fodder against the artist.  My favorite line of the dialogue: Father: “You have no morality, no ability and no job!”  Artist: “What do morality and ability have to do with having a job?”

In another piece, Li travels from his apartment to the Windows of the World in Shenzhen – a popular tourist attraction that few locals bother going to.  The piece is called “Retreated to the Windows of the World” because Li points his iPhone 4 at his face as he walks, so as he walks forward he sees what’s ahead of him through his own eyes, but he also sees what he is leaving behind through the viewer of the iPhone at the same time (this is also what we see).  We see the stuff he passes, but we never see the stuff he’s heading toward.  The piece is over 2 hours long, and the chunks that I saw did not reveal anything overly dramatic, which was probably the point.  This was a safe pilgrimage to a safe place where all risk has been removed and you do not get any semblance of cultural authenticity.  He was journeying to a tourist trap – what kind of drama can you get from that? Does Windows of the World stand in for the current ‘safe’ and ‘respectable’ art market?  Possibly.

Liu Chuang, like Liao, refuses to use artistic stuff either.  He literally stops people on the street and tries to buy everything the person has on him/her at the time. He then takes everything from the person and displays it on a special platform on the floor.  So we look at the presentation and it’s kind of presented as if it’s art, and it’s in a gallery, but it’s not art, it’s real.  You get a real sense of the guy he bought these items from.  First of all, as Elizabeth Misitano from Klein Sun pointed out to us, you have to consider the type of person who would be willing to say yes to this proposal.   In this case, you see a cheap cotton/poly blend shirt and very cheap polyester pants (which do not even match the shirt).  You see the gentleman’s cell phone, which is a cheap, overly used probably 10 year old relic.  There is a letter the man has hand written about a need to obtain an ID card due to some type of problem he has had with the police.  His white socks are filthy from excessive walking in inexpensive gym shoes and he has very very old photos of himself with his children, from when they were all younger.  You feel a connection and a divorce from this person at the same time.  You feel his daily struggle in your guts and you are moved.  You compare your own daily struggle to his and wonder what your stuff would look like on this white board in this art gallery.

No Survivors is a duo of guys named Zong Ning and Wang Yang) and they seem a bit more openly cynical about the art world.  They provide a quite clever and amusing art board game.  You roll the dice and move forward.  You might land on a spot where your scooter gets stolen and now you have no inexpensive way to travel around the city on your limited budget (move back 3 spaces). 

Or, you might land on a space that allows you to work for peanuts as an apprentice to an established artist who has been churning out the same product for 20 years (move forward 5 spaces).  As you get deeper and deeper into the game, questions of what you are expressing or shooting for as an artist become replaced by purely commercial concerns and if you are not careful you might land on a space where your entire studio gets dismantled by the police in the middle of the night (do you move forward or back from this? When it happened to Ai WeiWei he gained international stature).  

The implication is that stepping into the commercial art world can actively vitiate the process of self-discovery and engagement that should be the basis of art. It is replaced by concerns about fame and comfort.

Pak Sheung Chuen carries around a notebook and jots down little observations or ideas for future works of art.  Statements he jotted down for a complete 7 days are recorded in English translation on some of the walls of Klein Sun. Some statements I randomly jotted down were: “Lyrics don’t make me cry, the voice does.” Top floors of buildings are temples, bottom floors are churches.” “The moon in the daytime is like the sun.” “Put yourself in someone’s eyes” “Turn a logo into a seal of Buddha.” 

These statements are, interestingly, placed on the wall in a box format, as if the artist is literally ‘trying to think outside of the box’ but finds a limitation in his own thoughts. His thoughts ultimately form right angles and descend or ascend into a prescribed pattern.  They take this boxlike form showing empty space within and a huge outward expanse of space without, implying the limits of language and inviting movement into broader spaces provided by real transformative experience. 

Finally, Yang Xinguang takes traditional Chinese rice paper, seems to coat a bull whip with black ink or paint and then he literally whips the paper.  You see the black imprints of the twined whip on the rice paper itself.  The obvious interpretation is that this is process art in which he is expressing scorn for this traditional means by which to represent something, but given the principle of yin and yang (active and receptive) that permeates Chinese culture, the white rice paper is the yang (receptive) element being subjected to a type of force and abuse by the not just active but violently active (yin) principle, represented by the ink applied through a whip. Art is no longer a harmonious combination of yin and yang but an abusive relationship between these principles. 

He also presents a large gold panel with scratches and indentations.  This is gold which is usually valued and hoarded, here it is violently attacked.  He presents his own little Wagnerian Ring Cycle in which he cautions against the pursuit of money and fame, indeed, he seems quite angered by the presence of the gold panel.  He also presents little dioramas of what might be called a broken forest.  He has big chunks of individual rocks on which evergreen trees have been bent through some type of force.  The implication seems to be somewhat like Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle - in the process of viewing nature and representing nature, we destroy nature.  The process of art, in this case, does not serve to represent and convey something meaningful, in the very process of trying to represent and convey meaning, we can garble and wreck that which is valuable and meaningful.

The Harmfully Active and The Helplessly Receptive: Paperweight by Lin Yan at Gallery Fou (review co-written by Jackie Zhu)

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“Fou” is the Chinese term for “denial.”  In their press literature Echo He and Jessie Yang mention that they created Gallery Fou, and chose the name of the gallery, as a ‘denial’ of the mainstream gallery format or formula.  Both are NYU Arts Administration grads who have taken a Brooklyn apartment and converted part of it to a gallery space where they have been exhibiting small but meaningful and engaging one-person shows since last year. Last weekend we (Dan Gauss and Jackie Zhu) attended a tea party at the gallery, where we met the artist and various supporters of this venture.

So what is the greater meaning behind using an apartment as a gallery?  It’s like a Quaker approach – you don’t need a church to experience God.  You don’t need a traditional space or to be in Chelsea or Williamsburg to experience great art.  Furthermore, the folks who curate the shows are not forced to focus on attractive, glitzy or ‘saleable’ work, obviously.  There is no real pressure to attempt to sell pieces and the work can be as experimental as possible.

There is, consequently, a real shift away from the gallery geared to the art buyer toward the gallery for the art creator and lover. It’s like having a non-profit gallery without the hassle of grant proposals.  Going to a ‘home’ instead of a gallery is also a completely different feeling and creates a greater sense of community and familiarity among those who experience the art. At a traditional gallery I don’t shake people’s hands and introduce myself – at Fou we all got to know each other, sometimes pretty well.  Obviously folks who create this type of gallery need to really know the art community, to be discerning about art and they need to create amazing shows to draw people.  Creating such a non-traditional gallery probably requires more effort and discernment than running an ‘established ’ gallery and it probably requires greater people skills as well in that you don’t just have folks drifting in and out of your gallery space – you become a host and not an owner.  Gallery Fou has been meeting these challenges nicely and putting up some excellent work.

In the show we recently saw (Paperweight), Lin Yan created many pieces made of Xuan paper. This is a type of paper made from the paper mulberry plant (a tall plant used for a number of purposes in Asia) and stretching back to about 100AD. This paper is softer and more translucent compared to other types of paper. It is made from the mixture of tree bark, grass stems and other natural plant fibers, so the paper surface retains traces of these materials, and thus gives an organic character to the finished product.

According to traditional Chinese philosophy the world is the result of the energy of Yin (negative) and Yang (positive).  Thus Chinese painting on paper often is only done in black to deliver this idea in the most simple and pure way. You see white space and black strokes. Sometimes the strokes are clearly delineated and sometimes they are blurred into the paper, showing interactions of the Yin energy and Yang energy as meaningful aspects of the art. Painting on this type of paper, therefore, has a process art aspect – you are not just representing something but expressing inner states as well through the manner in which the strokes are made.

Yan, however, uses this type of paper and ink in an even more unique way.  As mentioned before, black ink often represents something active while the paper represents something receptive.  But in her pieces the ‘positive’ energy does not interact harmoniously with the paper – it vitiates or pollutes the paper. As Yan explained at the gallery, the Xuan paper is the result of an achievement during the time when China was an agricultural country. The paper – to a great extent – represents the natural environment.  The ink, which clouds and darkens and stains the paper, seems to represent the current industrial phase of China’s history.  “Yin” is, effectively, the long history of the civilization of China existing within the natural realm while “Yang” becomes the recent history of modernization, industrialization and massive pollution of the air and rivers.  We do not see a harmony of black and white but a transgression of black ink on and into white paper.  The paper is not being used, it is being damaged. This is most clearly seen in an installation piece which looks like a dark grey cloud hanging from a pipe toward the ceiling of the apartment.   Yan has made a large rolling mass of paper which has been deeply tainted by black ink.

Yan adds another dimension to her art by layering pieces of the paper in black, grey and white. Indeed, there is one piece where you see the outward impressions of steel rivets down the middle of one piece while you see layers of paper on each side as if they are waves created by the construction process.   

“Breath” actually looks like the inner structure of a lung. It has absorbed or filtered more than its capacity, like an air conditioner’s filter after a long summer of scorching days in a crowded city.  The blackness represents the harsh chemical interaction between industry and the human organism.  A little white space on the left corner and a white spot on the right reminds us how the lung should be before being subjected to the aftereffects of industrial production. The title “Breath” suggests a sense of the passive or helpless. The lungs are forced to breathe even under horrible circumstances because life depends on breathing. We just keep our fingers crossed hoping that although severely and noticeably impacted, some effective functioning of the respiratory system can still occur – so that we can continue producing and consuming industrial products.

On the other hand, “Breeze” seems a more relaxed piece.  Surrounded by open white space, an engraved fan is in the middle. It is reminiscent of a summer afternoon in the far past, sitting in the backyard breathing in the soft and cool wind. However the fan relief is glued within a painted grey paper, as if the fan merely represents the memory of better times and is now an unreachable dream. Taken together, “Breath” and “Breeze” also form the Yin and Yang contrast – although in the Yin/Yang symbol we are supposed to have a unity of active and receptive, not a contrast of the harmfully active and the helplessly receptive.

The Secret Life of Walter Kitty - A Napping Tale by Jackie Zhu and Sanpo Matsumoto

There is a famous American short story from the 1930s called "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty."  In this story a very ordinary guy leads a very active fantasy life.  Throughout the day, during his various boring activities, he imagines himself as a brave and daring soldier, a spy, a fireman etc.  His fantasy life seems to make his ordinary life bearable.  In fact, this story was recently made into a Hollywood movie (I remember seeing ads for it back in December).

There was a show recently at a gallery in New York (Resobox Gallery) that was based on the theme of 'monsters'.  It was actually called the Kaiju Exhibition. Kaiju means 'monster' in Japanese but the kaiju monster is meant to be a huge Godzilla-like creature.  

A couple New York based artists - Jackie Zhu and Sanpo Matsumoto - created a little humorous video for this show.  I mentioned Walter Mitty before because another title for the brief video could have been "Walter Kitty" - if you watch the video you'll see what I mean.

I think Jackie and Sanpo did a wonderful job of creating such a whimsical contribution to the kaiju tradition! I mean, what makes the life of a domesticated cat bearable?  Do you think that when they sleep all day their minds are inactive?  No! Cats evolved from ferocious feral creatures, so perhaps their fantasy lives can be just as fertile as Walter Mitty's.  While they are sleeping, epic battles determining the courses of civilizations are occurring.

Or, within every Walter Mitty maybe there resides the making of a true hero.  At the end of this video we see that the little kitty still may have an opportunity to put his morphing and fighting skills to use.

Or, did you ever hear that infamous quote: "Only a good guy with a gun can protect us from a bad guy with a gun?"  I have a feeling the kitty in this video would agree somewhat with this sentiment but change the quote to: "Only a transformed and beefed up kitty can protect New York City from a giant evil bi-pedal fish set on destruction!"

But, when you think of it, are the motives of this cat so altruistic?  It looks to me as if this kitty just likes adventure and is eager to wrestle with any big challenger.  Maybe this kitty gives us an insight into all super-hero monster-killers.  Do we need a cadre of adrenaline-junkie monster-fighters at the ready for possible gigantic threats to our society?  What are the true motives of giant killers?  Maybe St. George wasn't so interested in saving the innocent maiden as he was in tackling the impossible. 

By the way, in the interests of full disclosure, Jackie happens to be a buddy of mine, as well as a first rate illustrator and artist.

Justin Allen at The Robert Miller Gallery

Justin Allen's paintings present a strange and simple combination of images.

Very clearly and precisely painted on the left side of the small canvas you'll see the skull of a dead animal (maybe a squirrel or rat).  On the other side you'll see some type of plastic container.

To me we see two examples of permanence. Skeletons never disintegrate. Plastic never disintegrates.

So my interpretation was that the left side of the canvas represents a "dying" of something, which leaves permanent evidence of that life, while the right side represents a permanent "capacity" - the possibility for the preservation of some type of nutrient to sustain life. 

So if we want to think allegorically here, we could say the painting represents a death to an animal nature revealing the possibility for a capacity to sustain a new type, or higher type of life.  This would be a clear interpretation of the skull next to a water container - the container being an obvious reference to providing a basis for the growth of new life.

However, the artist was there and my friend Jackie Zhu (who was kind enough to take these photos) and I chatted with him.  He didn't want to give us his interpretation of the paintings, but he said he thought our interpretation was interesting.

He also told us that he created this type of painting, or the concept crystalized, after the death of his dog.  This was meaningful to me - as a guy who, as a kid, at one time had 5 dogs in my parents' house (I used to try to save strays in my neighborhood and we had a large backyard). 

Also, talking to someone else at the gallery, we learned that the plastic containers might have belonged to the artist's grandmother.

So this personal information about the artist could change the interpretation significantly.  Perhaps the piece is about absence, loss and grief.  The piece could be about the quiet, lingering, sometimes gnawing grief many of us carry with us after experiencing the deaths of those we loved.  So the objects might not signify a 'presence' but an 'absence' and the emotional pain that comes with it. Many years after my own father's death, I see things that remind me of him, and the first emotion I feel comes from my sense of loss. 

The artist could also, conceivably, be comparing the sense of loss he feels for a deceased animal and the sense of loss for a family member.  I think many of us know how painful and unforgettable the death of a pet animal can be.  The artist may be examining this phenomenon as well.

Jackie had something interesting to say about this in email she sent to me:

"Now I’m looking at the guy’s plastic container paintings. His delicate technique reminds me of the Renaissance masters. Together with the dog story, it provides the story of the artist himself. His art pieces and his story make the artist a human being for me instead of a creator of art. I feel that this humanity attracts me more than the images."

Gombrich once said, "There is no such thing as art - there are only artists."  Jackie's statement reminded me of this quote.

A brief shot of the Miller Gallery yesterday.

Now I have a bone to pick with the Robert Miller Gallery!

Thankfully I brought along a couple cans of beer in my laptop case - just in case there was no alcohol at the opening.  No alcohol at an opening!  How uncouth!

Actually, there was alcohol (red wine) in nice wine glasses, but only a few people were hand served by the staff.  Folks sitting behind a counter literally walked out and gave some people nice glasses of red wine. 

So there was an apparent hierarchy at the gallery - on top: those with fancy wine, in the middle: those with no wine, on the bottom: me with my own beer.  That's not right.  We had a 'have' and 'have not' situation yesterday.  I mean, make your openings private if you don't want to give the general public free wine.  The opening was on a Wednesday night anyway, so it's not like the throng of 'Thursday-nighters' was there just to get booze.  You had ART LOVERS there. This was the only opening in Chelsea last night.

One of the things that really makes the art galleries here amazing is that, generally, the gallery owners have always seemed to embrace a dual mission. Of course, they want to sell art but, importantly, most Chelsea gallery owners want to share art.  How many times have I wandered (poor as I am) into a Chelsea gallery on a Saturday afternoon only to have an owner chat with me about the artist's work (knowing damn well I wasn't going to buy anything)?  These are really fine people.  I have to call a spade a spade and say I didn't get that ambiance last night.  I got a "we like some people and will give them wine and we have to tolerate other people" attitude.  Folks at Miller ---> that sucks. That's nasty.  There was a nasty attitude at your gallery last night - period.

To me, free wine is a part of the gallery experience.  It is part of the celebration of the artist's achievement.  I thought it was quite unfair that only a few people were served.  Indeed, there wasn't a huge throng of people - and the wine doesn't have to be great wine.  Buy a jug.  Buy three or four of those giant bottles of wine at a local liquor store and offer plastic cups.  It's just an integral part of the experience.

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By the way, don't confuse the Robert Miller Gallery with Roger Miller - a very funny singer from the 50s and 60s:

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Yes, I'm also the guy who created the (Wonder) scandal in Asia awhile ago. :P

Links:

http://www.shoutcastblog.com/2010/05/11/wondergirls-were-mistreated-by-jyp-entertainment/

http://nwww.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20100511000742

http://nwww.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20100512000682

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And, I'm the guy who wrote the ESL book: New York City Sucks, But You'll Wanna Live Here Anyway.  

http://www.amazon.com/Sucks-Youll-Wanna-Anyway-ebook/dp/B004TSPAQS

If you don't have an e-reader, drop me a line at djg51qu@gmail.com and I'll send you a free copy via Word file. Let me know whether you have Word 2010 or an earlier version. The book was designed for English-learners, but it seems native speakers like it too for its insights into the Big Apple. 
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