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  • Contemporary Chinese art: millionaires and blood on the floor

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    Art collector Guan Yi

    Since Chinese art has become red hot in the international contemporary art market, many of the most prominent Chinese pieces are being bought by foreigners and exhibited overseas.

    Guan Yi, a Chinese ex-business man who made millions in chemical manufacturing in Qingdao, is trying to change the dynamic.

    Guan Yi has one of the largest collections of Chinese contemporary art in the world; his collection includes over 700 pieces many of which are huge installation works. He is now developing plans to build an art museum and sculpture park on a 16.5 acre plot of land in Beijing situated between the 798 art district and the airport.

    Usually media shy, Guan Yi recently agreed to be interviewed by Art Newspaper. He answered questions about his views on the history of contemporary Chinese art, the art market today, as well as his plans for building a private museum. An edited version of the interview can be found on The Art Newspaper website, while the full text can be found on Shanghai Eye.

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    Performance art at the Ullens opening

    In other art news from Shanghai Eye, the Ullens Center for Contemporary Art just previewed its new show entitled "Our Future—the Guy and Miriam Ullens Foundation Collection.” The show features 97 works by over 60 Chinese artists.

    Shanghai Eye reviews the show and describes its (rather eventful sounding) opening:

    With attendees well over the allowed gathering size of 40 people, a new rule for the Olympics period, the large crowd were privileged to get the first viewing of the 15 year collection of Guy and Miriam Ullens, an eclectic tour of recent contemporary Chinese art history. Included in the opening was a live performance by He Yunchang, especially commissioned by the Ullens.

    For the performance He was suspended upside down above the gallery floor held by mysterious tubes attached to a large alien like object. Encased in rubber claw feet and hands he was then spray painted by his assistants and left to hang unmoving for an interminable time while stressed UCCA personnel attempted to prevent the large crowd of journalists and onlookers from taking photos. Several turtles attached to the artist’s hands attempted to escape but were prevented from doing so. Other staff were steering the audience away from unhung work.

    As with many major Chinese shows there was an edge of danger, anarchy and spirit of misadventure. A fight broke out between two women and staff had to mop up blood from the gallery floor.

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    This article is from Danwei.org

  • A younger, thinner and taller president

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    On June 12, the painting Saddened earth. Rebirth (地恸.重生) was exhibited in the Guangdong Gallery. The giant 57.6-meter-long artwork took more than 140 painters 18 days to complete.

    The size is by no means the only thing remarkable about it. The painting features two important personalities (the two segments reproduced here are small parts of the whole painting) who are set against a background of earthquake rubble, together with nurses, People's Liberation Army soldiers and quake victims.

    The choice of characters has been criticized online because that the volunteers who played an important role in the relief work are nowhere to be found in the painting.

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    The oil painting was based on two news photos, though modifications were made to achieve full artistic effect. If you compare closely you could find that Hu Jintao looks taller, thinner, and younger in the painting than he does in the photo. Behind him, the original concrete building was replaced by chunks of rubble. And Wen Jiabao was surrounded by nurses who do not appear in the original photo.

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    This article is from Danwei.org

  • Modern Chinese oil painting seeks record price

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    A pricey oil painting.

    How much would you pay for a painting of Master Xu Yun (虚云大师)?

    The full-page ad at left appears on page 5 of the 25 February issue of Phoenix Weekly (凤凰周刊). Apparently, someone is trying to sell off a "modern Chinese oil painting" of the famous Zen master (also known as Empty Cloud), who died in 1959 at the age of 119. The painting, after this photo of the master in meditation, measures 1.2m by 1.68m.

    The advertisement states that the "lowest price" is US$18.4 million. Now, a recent Bloomberg article quoted a Sotheby's exec who said that "Chinese art has seen some explosive increases in price in recent years," but somehow this painting still seems overvalued.

    Prospective buyers don't have to wait for an auction: they can contact the seller at a free Netease email address.

    Links and Sources

    This article is from Danwei.org

  • Ah Cheng: I'm like a plucked chicken

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    Ah Cheng has followed an eclectic career path over the past few decades. He's best known for the fiction he wrote in the mid-1980s, as part of the "seeking roots" literary movement, particularly the novel King of Chess. In the 1990s, he turned toward the essay format and kept a regular column in the literary journal Harvest.

    More recently, he has occupied himself with screenwriting, doing two films with director Tian Zhuangzhuang and working on the mainstream historical TV series The Zhengguan Reign.

    In the meantime, he lived for a while in the United States, where he worked at a number of jobs unrelated to writing. In a delightfully wide-ranging interview with Oriental Outlook magazine (translated below), Ah Cheng discusses his financial situation and the difficulty that Chinese authors have in making a living purely from their writing.

    His comments touch on contemporary Chinese literature and film (he gets in a few digs at Jia Zhangke in the process), and in a roundabout way, he addresses the position of responsibility that authors—"real" literary authors, at least—are still expected to occupy in Chinese society.

    Ah Cheng: A Person with No Identity

    Interview by He Yingyu / OO

    "If you call me an author, you're calling me a beggar." At the Pousada de Mong-Há in Macau, Ah Cheng speaks in measured tones that do not quite mask his underlying resolve, as if he is intent on abandoning his identity as an author.

    Today, Ah Cheng doesn't really have a "proper job." Several years ago he was still writing essays; more recently, the name "Ah Cheng" has been credited as screenwriter in movies and TV shows. But even as a screenwriter, he says, "Films belong to the director, not the writer," and "Directors have the power to completely gut your script."

    Though they were both born in 1949, Ah Cheng looks much older than Bei Dao. Much of his hair, more closely-cropped than Chen Danqing's, is already white. In recent years, he's locked up his fiction in a drawer, and has paid the price: life has "become difficult." He's learned not to trust or cooperate, and he pays no attention to the vicissitudes of the world of contemporary Chinese literature. He drives a small car from place to place "taking on jobs."

    The pay is far better than script-writing, he says mysteriously, but he refuses to disclose the nature of those "jobs."

    Those who have met and talked to Ah Cheng come away with the same impression: he is a very obstinate person. It's said that of all Chinese authors, he is the best at go, but he insists that he knows nothing of the game. When this reporter said east, he would respond with west. During the course of the interview, Ah Cheng seemed to be intentionally sparring with the reporter, all the while smoking Da Qian Men brand cigarettes.

    Oriental Outlook: You did the script for the movie The Go Master (吴清源, "Wu Qingyuan"). Do you like the game go?
    Ah Cheng: Mr. Wu Qingyuan asked me to write the script, but I don't actually know how to play.

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    The Ah Cheng-scripted Go Master

    Oriental Outlook: After the premiere, some people criticized Zhang Zhen (who played the role of Wu Qingyuan), saying that he was too "removed" from the game. What do you think?
    Ah Cheng: I haven't seen the film. You don't seem to be familiar with cinema: a film belongs to the director, not the writer. You have no idea what the writer actually wrote. No director will film entirely according to the script—would he really just take orders from the writer?

    Oriental Outlook: Would you complain if a director completely gutted your script?
    Ah Cheng: Who says the film has to be shot according to the script? We all have to be responsible to the investors. The director has no responsibility to me.

    Oriental Outlook: Lots of people can't stand screenwriting. How do you do it, with your personality?
    Ah Cheng: I live a poor life. Tons of authors are writing scripts; they just don't use their real names. They're too fond of the plumage they've acquired. I don't have any plumage—I'm like a plucked chicken.

    Oriental Outlook: But we haven't seen you write any commercial films.
    Ah Cheng: The directors haven't asked me to. If they asked me, I'd do it. But would the movie sell? It's not something you can simply will to happen.

    Commercial stuff is very hard to do. It's like a cow—everyone's seen one, so if you're even a little bit off, everyone can criticize you. Art is a ghost—since no one's seen one, how do you know what I'm really thinking? Ghosts are easy to paint. Cows are not.

    Oriental Outlook: What's your opinion of "6th generation" directors?
    Ah Cheng: It's really obvious that the three big film festivals have colluded with Chinese cinema. A movie on the level of [Jia Zhangke's] Still Life was able to win the Golden Lion at Venice. Western leftists have had an wretched influence on the west and on Chinese cinema.

    What happened with Still Life? At first, an entrepreneur in Shanxi gave Liu Xiaodong some money to have him paint the Three Gorges, and to film a documentary that would record Liu Xiaodong painting the Three Gorges. Liu looked up Jia Zhangke; Jia went off and spent all the money on the feature film Still Life. Liu Xiaodong felt that wasn't really appropriate: the money was for you, Jia Zhangke, to film me painting, but you went and shot your own movie? So Jia Zhangke agreed to shoot another film, a documentary about Liu Xiaodong. But by that point, Liu had finished his paintings—how could they shoot a documentary? A documentary should be a true record, shot and then edited. This documentary ended up being staged, afterward.

    And at the Venice Film Festival, Jia Zhangke extended his thanks to the panels of the three major film festivals. How is he connected to the Berlin Film Festival? Why didn't he thank his investor?

    Oriental Outlook: Are you still writing fiction?
    Ah Cheng: Yes, but I don't publish it. Writing and publishing are two separate things. There's no rule that you have to let someone see what you've written. I'm just writing to amuse myself. Whether I'll publish things later on, that'll depend on whether the system shows any improvement.

    Oriental Outlook: Do you write essays?
    Ah Cheng: Not really. It's already been ten years since my column in Harvest, and they deleted all of the sensitive parts. Commen Sense and General Knowledge (常识与通识) [a collection of those columns] was published by Writers Publishing House, and they cut out some parts that I felt were very important. Actually, it's not a problem if they want to make cuts, but they should at least insert blanks to indicate how many characters were deleted at each point, rather than implying that I had written it that way in the first place. Harvest, too: if they were responsible, they would have inserted blanks.

    At this age, since I'm just looking for enjoyment, I'll simply not publish them. Why does Jia Pingwa get to use blanks, but I can't?

    Oriental Outlook: So is most of your time spent on writing scripts now?
    Ah Cheng: Writing scripts is just part of the work I do. I need to make a living—I can't be morally superior.

    Oriental Outlook: You once said that authors were panhandlers. Why be so extreme?
    Ah Cheng: I said that authors are beggars; I never said "panhandlers." Beggar (乞丐) is formal written language; it's different from "panhandler" (要饭的).

    Oriental Outlook: Some authors, like Jia Pingwa, sell more than 100,000 copies. They can live off of that.
    Ah Cheng: How much can you make off of 100,000 copies? Does that compare to what he makes off of selling calligraphy? If you're not a best-selling author, you're a beggar.

    Oriental Outlook: Painting might bring in more money. Do you still paint?
    Ah Cheng: No. You have to have space to paint; you can't just paint if you feel like it. Oil painters used to come from really rich families.

    Oriental Outlook: Not long ago there was a Stars Group retrospective held at the Today Art Gallery. Did you attend?
    Ah Cheng: No. That was just old stuff warmed over. I'd heard that people bought up paintings for a new exhibition. In the 1990s, the Stars Group held a 10-year retrospective exhibition in Hong Kong, where it solemnly declared that it was finished. It even burnt a few paintings. Aren't they breaking their word by holding another exhibition?

    Someone outside of the Stars Group could hold a retrospective, but the members themselves shouldn't go.

    Oriental Outlook: You could make a living within the system as a university instructor or a Writers Association member.
    Ah Cheng: Those aren't solutions. Whenever I go back to Shanghai, Sun Ganlu always plays the host. Someone who only lives off of the Writers Association couldn't take me out to that kind of restaurant. [Sun Ganlu, author of avant-garde literature like Breathe, produces for film and television.]

    Oriental Outlook: When you were in the US, did you have to work for a living?
    Ah Cheng: Of course. Do you think I held up banks? I worked a lot of jobs in the US, but I mostly did house painting. Painting doesn't require any thinking. Who says I have to find a mentally-taxing job?

    Oriental Outlook: What is your life like now in Beijing? Do you need that much money?
    Ah Cheng: I need a car in Beijing, right? And even a low-end car needs to be taken care of. That's 100,000 a year. And there are all kinds of extra costs. Do the math yourself.

    Oriental Outlook: If you're purely looking for money, then isn't running a restaurant the best solution?
    Ah Cheng: I can't handle the underworld, but I can't handle legitimate business either. Don't just look at the outside of a restaurant; can't you see the effort that goes in behind the scenes?

    Oriental Outlook: Are you interested in politics?
    Ah Cheng: Of course I'm interested in politics. Politics is our life. Who is the front-page headline targeted at? Not the intellectuals. It's for the businessmen, because politics directly affects the economy. Do academics have money? It can't harm them at all.

    Oriental Outlook: What books are you reading these days?
    Ah Cheng: I'm most concerned with primary sources, primary materials from society. Literature is not produced out of literature. If that were the case, it would be idiotic. Inbreeding always produces idiots.

    I read the local news in the newspapers. People's stories can help your thought process.

    Oriental Outlook: What sort of help?
    Ah Cheng: We normally live our lives within limits. Reading primary materials, you'll see a different side of life, one that you've never had a chance to see, and you'll discover lots of relationships that you never before imagined.

    Oriental Outlook: So what is the appropriate designation for your current identity?
    Ah Cheng: A person without an identity—you probably haven't interviewed one before. I'm just someone a little bit better-off than those disadvantaged groups.

    Oriental Outlook: You just said that you like to read the local news section of the paper to look for original stories. Are you concerned for disadvantaged groups?
    Ah Cheng: It is not I who should be concerned about disadvantaged groups—the government ought to be. I pay attention to their conditions. Why isn't there any literary journalism these days? Because the media has gotten strong: topics concerning disadvantaged groups can be covered in feature reports, so there is less and less of a need for literary journalism. You can't always expect authors to bear the responsibility for society. It's not necessary.

    Oriental Outlook: There is some literature that you like, such as Mu Xin's works. But some people have criticized his mannered writing style.
    Ah Cheng: Then just don't read them. His works aren't required reading. They're not like water or bread. Art is a luxury, and luxury goods demand a high price. That's the case with Mu Xin.

    Mu Xin's and Chen Danqing's writing seems new because their knowledge structure is different from ours. The education we have received is identical—structured the same—so when you read the first sentence you know what's going to come after.

    Oriental Outlook: Recently, a western Sinologist voiced a number of criticisms of Chinese authors. He said that contemporary Chinese authors have lost their creativity. Domestic academics and authors fiercely criticized him; what's your opinion?
    Ah Cheng: How do a few words of criticism hinder you? Should he say nothing simply because it makes you uncomfortable? Why shouldn't he say something?

    Oriental Outlook: If you suppose that there are certain problems with the voice and thinking of modern Chinese people, were those problems absent in the baihua of the May 4 Movement?
    Ah Cheng: People today have a mentality that is a result of the will to power, while in the May 4 period it was a result of free choice—like Mu Xin's work, for example: whether you read it or not, neither choice is a problem. But the language of power can create problems in your life if you refuse to accept it.

    Oriental Outlook: As an author and an intellectual, how do you perceive the invasion of high culture by commercial culture?
    Ah Cheng: First, as I've said, don't call me an author. If you call me an author, you're calling me a beggar.

    Commerce is the foundation of production and of life. Without commercial culture there'd be no high culture. We cannot escape it for even an instant; we would cease to exist if we were to do so. There is nothing blame-worthy about commerce itself; the measure is whether a commercial product is of high or low quality. Hollywood films are commercial products of the highest quality. Domestic commercial films, ***, with quality as poor as that, they aren't commercial films. They're like low-quality fakes—toothpaste that doesn't work when you brush your teeth. This is the crux of the problem.

    We're only trying to eliminate low-quality fakes right now, but we haven't truly engaged commercialism. Only in a society with full financial and credit systems can we talk about commercial issues. Does China have real credit cards? Can someone without a job get a credit card? When you use a debit card you are spending your own money. In the US, utilities are hooked into the credit system, so your credit is built up gradually. If you don't have that foundation, then you can't talk about commercial culture.

    Do you think that American beggars are all a certain sort of person? There are double PhDs all over the place, people who simply lost their credit and now are disconnected from commerce.

    Oriental Outlook: Right now, what do you think the most important areas are for China to learn from the west?
    Ah Cheng: We should move the focal point of our "grabbism" to the second world, like Japan. Japan's knowledge structures are fairly ideal. If you go to Japan, you'll find ordinary people reading books in public spaces, a book for every person. Look at their ages: if they started reading from when they were young, how many books would they have read by now?

    The experiences of the first world were assimilated into the second world, and they can be easily absorbed by the third world. China has made a big mistake in sending so many exchange students to study in the US. We really can learn much more from the second world than from the west.

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    This article is from Danwei.org

  • Who's to blame for Hamburg's fake terracotta warriors?

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    A curator adjusts one of the fake terracotta warriors in Hamburg.

    Although there's been little development in the case of the fake terracotta warriors that were on display in Hamburg's Museum of Ethnology, a story on the affair in the latest issue of China Newsweek puts an interesting spin on things.

    Few of the major players come out unscathed: the German media is a pack of tabloid sensationalists, CCTV is little better, and museum curators are either dupes, dissemblers, or outright frauds. The Chinese consulate in Hamburg and government agencies back in the country are seen as willfully ignorant if not involved in the fraud themselves. And the ironic joke that ends the piece illustrates just how little trust anyone has in how the protection of cultural heritage is handled in China.

    The Mystery of Hamburg's Fake Terracotta Warriors

    by Wang Yan / CN

    For several weeks, the German media has brought out the big guns for an "art crime" story that may involve China. The issue of real vs. fake has already been decided, but many people still believe the truth is yet to be uncovered.

    On 19 December, Hamburg, Germany, Museum of Ethnology announced that it exhibit on the terracotta warriors would be shut down for good because of the fact that it had exhibited reproductions as the genuine article.

    For the past few weeks, a storm of controversy surrounded whether the terracotta soldiers were real or fake, almost becoming a Rashomon-style affair. German interest was evidently not solely because it was "the art crime of the decade."

    "China sent over fake Qin terracotta warriors"

    From the start, the Germans took for granted that the Chinese government was one of the sponsors of the exhibit.

    According to plan, Hamburg's terracotta warrior exhibit was to start in August, but it was delayed again and again. The museum said that the first delay was due to shipping problems, while the second delay was because of "underlying problems." Although museum director Wulf Köpke never explicitly stated it outright, the German media nevertheless connected this to the darkening political climate.

    In July, Hamburg mayor Ole von Beust met the Dalai Lama at City Hall, raising protests from the Chinese government. In September, German chancellor Angela Merkel had a high-profile meeting with the Dalai Lama, testing China's limits. Sino-German relations quickly cooled. However, Beust denied any connection between the exhibit and politics.

    At the end of November, German media reported, "China finally gives the green light to Hamburg Terracotta Warrior exhibit," revealing that permission had been granted to let the artifacts out of the country. On the 25th of that month, the exhibit had its grand opening under the title "Power in Death: The Terracotta Warriors of the First Emperor of China."

    Two days later, CCTV broadcast this piece of news on its program "News List" (全球资讯榜). "The exhibit of Qin Shi Huang's terracotta warriors in Hamburg, Germany, has formally opened at the Museum of Ethnology. The more than 100 life-size terracotta figures on display include eight authentic generals and kneeling archers and two authentic ceramic horses."

    More crucially, CCTV highlighted the involvement of the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau: "This exhibition is put on in cooperation with the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau."

    On 7 December, the exhibition's difficult life ran into further problems. Hamburger Morgenpost claimed that the eight "authentic" figures on display at Hamburg's Museum of Ethnology might be reproductions. The source of this information was one Roland Freyer, an exhibition organizer. Freyer had reported the Center of Chinese Art and Culture in Leipzig to the police for fraud.

    Few people had been aware of this name before. Leipzig CCAC is actually a German exhibition organizer. Freyer claimed that he had founded this company and then left. From its founding to date, the CCAC only handles terracotta warrior exhibitions.

    The exhibition in Hamburg was hosted by the Museum of Ethnology; the objects were provided by Leipzig CCAC, and there was no direct supply from the Chinese side.

    Leipzig CCAC responded to the complainant immediately.

    "Our Chinese partners include China's State Administration of Cultural Heritage and the Shaanxi Province Bureau of Cultural Heritage. When the terracotta warriors left the country they had complete documentation before the could pass through Chinese customs," said Yolna Grim, spokesperson for the center. Grim also said that Freyer said that he had an exclusive contract with China that gave him sole authority to exhibit Chinese terracotta warriors in Europe until 2012. So Freyer was not only reporting the CCAC; he was also reporting the exhibitions that China had put on in Stuttgart, Nuremberg, and Erfurt.

    Once the seeds of suspicion sprouted they became hard to uproot, particularly in a city known as "the heart of the media."

    Doubts about the authenticity of the objects in the exhibition continued to appear in the Hamburg media. For example, when the exhibition had just opened, a seven-year-old boy saw that a few of the "authentic pieces" behind the glass were fakes; the museum's protective measures were so careless that there weren't even normal guards stationed beside the pieces.

    Though they could really only be called "guesses," these reports shared the same mentality: we have our hands on a Chinese scandal.

    Undeniably, German public opinion was affected by the political relationship between the two countries. Moreover, Chinese- and German-language media took up opposing positions. At the end of November, several dozen Chinese-Germans sent a criminal complaint to Hamburg's public prosecutor against the influential mainstream magazine Der Spiegel. The magazine had previously taken aim at 27,000 Chinese students studying in Germany, claiming that the majority of them were spies.

    Profession of innocence from China

    Deutsche Presse Agentur (DPA) was the first media agency that realized it ought to seek confirmation from the Chinese.

    "Consulting all parties involved before making a report ought to be standard practice for a journalist. The DPA reporters called the Cultural Heritage departments of both Shaanxi Province and of the whole country. Chinese officials told them that China was not conducting any terracotta warrior exhibitions in Germany at the time. Small-scale exhibits, or even showings of reproductions, would have to be authorized by the cultural departments of the Chinese government," an informed source in Germany told China Newsweek.

    This reporter also revealed that the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau had told the DPA reporter that he had been very suspicious when he heard previous reports about the exhibition.

    "We only learned of this when we watched the 2 December report on CCTV, and read news about it online," an employee of the Cultural Exchange Center at the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau confirmed China Newsweek.

    On 11 December, the day after DPA reported the Chinese response, Leipzip CCAC spokesperson Grim was invited on to appear on Das Erste's "News Today" program, one of the most well-known news programs in Germany. Grim revealed to all that the terracotta warriors on display in Hamburg were not real.

    "The Center never promised Hamburg's Museum of Ethnology that the eight terracotta warriors were genuine archeological finds. The terracotta warriors on display were made of the same materials as the originals, and their appearance and measurements are identical to the real ones. So the items on displace can be called 'authentic' terracotta warriors, but they are definitely not true 'archeological finds'," Grim quibbled.

    Director Köpke, on the other hand, could only use the contract and a dictionary to defend his reputation. He said that when he checked the dictionary, the language used in the contract indicated that the pieces were originals.

    After the three sides presented their cases, the question of ultimate responsibility remained difficult to determine. But the German newspaper Bild ran the story under a slanted headline: "Museum Scandal: China Gave Us Fake Terracotta Warriors."

    On 13 December, the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau finally issued a formal statement on its website. Aside from confirming that the pieces on display in Hamburg were reproductions, it emphasized that the Bureau was "completely ignorant" of the matter and was not one of the sponsors.

    Finally, the Bureau also declared that it would use the law to go after the persons responsible.

    Instantly, the Cultural Heritage Bureau was accused of "pursuing accountability for political ends," because previously, "Chinese officials typically turned a blind eye to exhibitions of fake terracotta warriors."

    The statement was actually intended to dispel "extremely negative effects." Chen Qianqi, director of the Cultural Exchange Center and a spokesperson for the Shaanxi Cultural Heritage Bureau, said that if he were able to contact the Leipzig CCAC, he would use the law to hold the center responsible. The problem now was that the center had an invalid telephone number listed on its web page, so it was unreachable.

    A Xinhua reporter discovered upon investigation that the Leipzig CCAC had disappeared from its listed address.

    A Baffling Delay

    An exhibition of fake terracotta warriors went on for twenty days before the Chinese cultural departments reacted, perhaps because the vast distances created unavoidable obstacles for information. But China's consulate in Hamburg should not have had that problem.

    In their reports on the Hamburg exhibition, many German media outlets quoted information that came from the Chinese consulate in Hamburg. In October, the consulate told DPA that they did not know why the shipment had been delayed, but they said that they exhibition could be extended. On 11 December, after Shaanxi had already replied, Deutsche Welle quoted Köpke's words: "China's consul general has been unable to obtain precise information from Beijing."

    Hence, someone raised the question, "Were it not for the DPA's reminder, would the fake terracotta warriors have continued to cheat people? Would the Administration of Cultural Heritage and China's foreign affairs officials have simply let it slide?" To people who already harbored hostility, this provided a perfect excuse. German media even hypothesized that in certain Chinese government agencies there were people "conducting business" in Leipzig and Hamburg and profiting privately through fraud.

    A Mr. Cheng, who works in Wolfsburg, recalled that terracotta warrior exhibitions had been held before in many cities, and he had been suspicious on several occasions.

    Reportedly, there were claims that the pieces in the first exhibition of terracotta warriors organized by Leipzig CCAC two years ago were fake.

    The young intellectual Moluo once related a story he had heard from a friend in Italy.

    Once, the Chinese sent a shipment of artifacts to an exhibition in a certain European country. The shipment included terracotta warriors. After the artifacts were shipped, the host country put them through authentication and determined that the terracotta warriors were new pieces, not ancient artifacts. So they voiced their protests to the Chinese, who did not make any explanation but simply shipped back the terracotta warriors that had been appraised as imitations. The Europeans figured that since they were given no explanation, perhaps all of the terracotta warriors in Xi'an were the work of modern hands.

    The Hamburg affair cannot be brought to an end in silence, but it might prove to be of assistance to China's efforts to strengthen administration of its cultural heritage.

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    This article is from Danwei.org

  • Louise Blouin in Beijing

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    Louise Blouin and Wang Guangyi launch artinfo.com in Beijing
    When the PR guy said that a fantastically wealthy blond divorcée philanthropist who invests in cultural media wanted to have lunch with your correspondent, my curiosity was piqued.

    Unfortunately, it turned out to be a small press conference with several Chinese and foreign journalists rather than a lunch at which which Ms Louise T Blouin MacBain proposed to give Danwei Media a million bucks, but she certainly is an interesting woman.

    Together with her then husband John MacBain, she bought Auto Hebdo, a classified car trading magazine in her home town of Montreal in 1987. As Chairman and CEO, Ms Blouin MacBain grew the company into Trader Classified Media, which acquired more than 400 classified ad and listings and 60 websites (before the dot com boom).

    She is now out of the business and running the Louise T Blouin Foundation, publishing art magazines, and organizing events like the Creative Leadership Summit which brings people as diverse as Henry Kissinger and Wikipedia founder Jimmy Wales together to discuss how culture and creativity can improve the world.

    She was recently in Beiing to promote one of her new projects, Artinfo.com, a portal about the visual arts that allows artists to upload their works and set up profiles in the manner of social networking websites like Facebook. The site has a Chinese language version, but that only loads if your computer operating system is Chinese. The site does no enable e-commerce, but during the press conference Ms Blouin said she hoped that artists who are not in big Chinese cities would be able to use the website to make connections across the country and abroad, and eventually find people to buy their works. Artist Wang Guangyi—founder of the McDonald's and Coke plus Cult Rev icons school of painting—joined Ms Blouin for the press conference, and she seems to have enlisted a small network of supporters in China to kick start the Chinese section of the site.

    In person, Ms Blouin comes off a little like an ethereal hippy, although judging from her track record of making things happen and making money, I suspect the slow left coast lyricism in her voice belies a mind like a steel trap. But will the Chinese version of her website become as popular than Charles Saatchi's online gallery which has an extensive Chinese section? Or are both websites really just online vanity publications, playthings for the rich?

    This article is from Danwei.org

  • If you can read this, you're Number One!

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    "You Are No. 1"

    Superstar Andy Lau, recently named Asia's most desirable man by professor Jiang Jiehai, signed with East Asia Music yesterday in a deal rumored to be worth HK$200 million.

    The photo at left is of Andy's frequent co-star Sammi Cheng, also an East Asia artist, presenting him with a congratulatory wall hanging that her father wrote with his left hand (he lost the use of his right hand to a stroke). The characters read "You Are No. 1!"

    That's not a translation: the Cantonese pronunciation of the characters 腰呀冧吧温! ("yiu a nam ba wan!") approximates the English sentence.

    The problem for the mainland media is that most people aren't familiar with Cantonese pronunciation, so they have no way to judge whether their interpretation is correct. The Beijing News, for example, misidentified the character 腰 as , and the character , which doesn't exist in Mandarin, doesn't show up on many newspaper websites.

    This article is from Danwei.org

  • Tibetan-style Chinese

    JDM070728hanhong.jpg
    Language Log linked to a blog post at Geek of All Trades that looks at a how lettering in one language can be made to resemble another, with Urdu-ized Devanagari as a specific example.

    In China this is most often done with Chinese characters and Tibetan script. Here are some fairly popular examples:

    The image above is from the cover of an album by Han Hong, a singer born in Tibet whose songs flavor generic Mando-pop with Tibetan influences. The 日 element in her last name 韩 and the trainling stroke of the 红 are reminiscent of Tibetan writing.

    JDM070728shuirus.jpg
    This is Fan Wen's 2004 best-seller Land of Water and Milk (水乳大地), which centers around French missionary efforts in eastern Tibet.

    The Chinese characters in the title are Tibetan-ized - certain elements have been replaced with Tibetan vowel indicators, and extra Tibetan letters and markings are strewn about randomly. It's surrounded by the familiar mantra of Avalokiteshvara (both rightside-up and upside-down).

    Dongba symbols are found elsewhere on the cover (click to enlarge) and in the book's frontspiece.

    JDM070728beimins.jpg
    In 2006, Fan published a follow-up to Land of Water and Milk called Land of Sympathy (悲悯大地). The design of the 悲 character combines a number of Tibetan print elements and ends up looking a bit less blindly-assembled than the type on the first book.

    The cover also includes a line in printed Tibetan that appears to be the book's title (please leave a translation in the comments if you can read Tibetan).

    JDM070728mastiffs.jpg
    This is the cover of Tibetan Mastiff (藏獒), written by Yang Zhijun and published in late 2005. As in Fan Wen's covers, the title incorporates various Tibetan elements; it's interesting how often Tibetan-ized Chinese makes use of elements like the circular nasal-marker that appear only when writing loan words.

    The cover (click for the full version) also contains some "real Tibetan" writing which is upside-down and backwards. The second volume, published in 2007, retains the type-design of the title but removes the extraneous Tibetan writing. And perhaps more than coincidentally, the author's name is written in the same typeface as Fan Wen's on the cover of Land of Water and Milk.

    JDM070728kekexilis.jpg
    The best example of this practice is probably the movie poster for Lu Chuan's 2004 western adventure, Kekexili: Mountain Patrol (可可西里). To my eyes, the Chinese characters do a much better job of evoking Tibetan writing than the examples given above, and the kicker is that what at first looks like a series of vowel markings on top of them turns out to be the the romanized title "Ke Ke Xi Li."

    The effect was subsequently used on a number of other Hoh Xil-related book and CD titles.

    Links and Sources

  • An Arcadian Home for Artists by Peter Micic

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    A person from Guizhou by Wang Huaxiang (王华祥).
    We have been on the road for almost and hour and a half. At this early hour of the morning, the ride has been absent of overtaking cars and coaches. We are looking for an artist village in Shangyuan. My six-sense tells me that we are in the right direction, but we stop the SUV at regular intervals to make sure we are on the right track. A small narrow bridge takes us across a rivelet. A middle-aged woman is clearing away grass around a large stone slab. On this slab is engraved: "Shangyuan Artist Willage." The spelling error provokes annoyance because such an error in Chinese would have never occurred, but the indifference to whether the spelling in English is correct is more often than not a constant source of delight to foreign travellers. My annoyance is intensified because it's etched in stone, and can't be simply rubbed.

    To this-out-of-the-way place, many painters, escaping the increasing urbanization of Beijing, and the cold and perhaps impersonal nature of human relations in the metropolis, have come here to find a haven to pursue their art. It's about sixty kilometres south of Beijing in the Taohua mountain valley, surrounded by green lush fields interlaced with rivulets, winding paths and rows of plane trees. Markets summon peasants and traders bearing in the back of small trucks, tractors and motorbikes the simple commodities necessary for life: grain, vegetables, fruit and livestock. I was soon to discover that a large number of young kids from all over China had forsaken their summer vacation to learn some of the rudimentary skills of painting from Wang Huaxiang.

    JDM070727shuangyuan.jpg
    A gallery building at Shuangyuan.
    Wang was born in Guizhou in 1962. He is a graduate of the Guizhou provincial art school and has his paintings displayed in art galleries and private collections around the world. Wang came to Shangyuan in the summer of 1995 and bought a courtyard which eventually became his studio and school. Wang tells me that before he arrived "he had drifted aimlessly in the world for some thirty-three years." This sounds like someone who feels more at home in the transient places of travel than at home. But Wang was determined to find a studio and grow firm roots. He had considered other places such as Songzhuang, Yanjiao, Shunyi and Meitougou, but Shangyuan was really an unexpected discover. Wang had already contacted a landlord in another village in Sishan to rent a place, but his mind was not yet made up. "I found myself standing by the roadside, the grey sky pouring down with rain, my mind a total blank. Suddenly, a white van pulled up and the driver asked me where I was going. 'Take me wherever,' I said. The driver probably thought I was crazy, so I explained that I was an artist and was looking for a studio surrounded by mountains and water. He suggested that I go to Shangyuan Village. Once I saw the village it brought back memories of my childhood in Guizhou: images of ducks and lots of water. I felt as though I was returning home."

    Shangyuan has taught Wang to be more like a child. Not childish, but childlike. He loves the country life, the solitude, as well as the community. He is someone who does not like to be away from home. Travel and travail, as the poet Ted Kooser reminds us, come from the same root meaning "to toil," "to labour." Wang is happy being where he is. I have the feeling that he is more intensely in contact with elements of Chinese art culture when looking at paintings in a museum or when painting his own images than when travelling through China itself.

    A stone-paved courtyard is Wang's studio, and home. His workshop Feidi Arts has attracted artists and visitors from around the world. Teachers and professors from the Central Academy of Arts and Qinghua University are now living at Shangyuan or spend a large chunk of their time here teaching and pursuing their own artistic endeavours. There a groups of students playing cards, and several large dogs barking from their kennels in the courtyard.

    A successful painter in China, as in the West, has many of the attributes of a business tycoon or magnate, spending as much time and energy wheeling and dealing as on their artistic pursuits. Wang seems far removed from all of this, walking around the courtyard with mindful, unhurried steps. Pascal's famous dictum that the sole cause of man's unhappiness is that he does not know how to stay quietly in his room does not apply to someone like Wang. It appears content and at ease in his surroundings. He is an artist, a businessman, a teacher and mentor, and from what I was able to observe with his interactions with his daughter, a loving father as well.

    Peter Micic wrote for Danwei about the Jasmine crossing in November, 2006.

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