University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Factory 798: an everchanging microcosm of contemporary Chinese culture

(USC Thesis Other)

Factory 798: an everchanging microcosm of contemporary Chinese culture

PDF

Download a page range

Download transcript

Copy asset link

Request this asset

Transcript (if available)

Content FACTORY 798 AN EVERCHANGING MICROCOSM OF CONTEMPORARY CHINESE CULTURE by Tracy S. Chan A Thesis Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree MASTER OF ARTS (EAST ASIAN LANGUAGES AND CULTURES) August 2007 Copyright 2007 Tracy S. Chan ii Table of Contents List of Figures iii Abstract v Introduction 1 Chapter 1: 798: A Walkthrough 6 Chapter 2: 798: A Socialist Utopia 19 Chapter 3: Artists’ Communities and the 798 Renaissance 28 Chapter 4: 798: A Questionable Future 42 Conclusion 60 Bibliography 65 iii List of Figures Figure 1: View of buildings at Factory 798. 8 Figure 2: Map of Factory 798. 8 Figure 3: View of buildings at Factory 798. 8 Figure 4: Graffiti on building wall. 9 Figure 5: Rubble at Factory 798. 9 Figure 6: Parked car and graffiti at Factory 798. 9 Figure 7: Sui Jianguo’s Mao Suit at Factory 798. 12 Figure 8: Wang Guangyi’s Materialist at Factory 798. 12 Figure 9: Bleeding Venus sculpture. 12 Figure 10: Detail of bleeding Venus. 12 Figure 11: One of many Pop Zhao posters hanging in his gallery. 15 Figure 12: Robert Bernell’s Timezone 8 bookstore. 15 Figure 13: Designs from Beijing Tianzi Fashion Studio. 15 Figure 14: Sony product launch at Yan Club. 15 Figure 15: Exposed outdoor piping at Factory 798. 21 Figure 16: Exposed indoor piping inside factory building. 21 Figure 17: Saw tooth buildings at Factory 798. 21 Figure 18: Original slogans on factory walls: “Mao Zedong is the red sun in our hearts.” 25 Figure 19: Factory procession at the factory in the 1950s. 25 Figure 20: Motorcycle brigade events in the 1950s. 25 Figure 21: Fang Lijun, Series 2, No. 2, 1992, oil on canvas. 34 iv Figure 22: Yue Minjun, untitled, 1996, oil on canvas. 34 Figure 23: Beijing East Village, photograph by RongRong. 37 Figure 24: Beijing East Village, photograph by RongRong. 37 Figure 25: Zhang Huan, 12 Meters, 1994, performance, Beijing East Village. 37 Figure 26: View of Tui-Transfiguration exhibition. 50 Figure 27: RongRong, photograph from Ruins section in Tui- Transfiguration. 50 Figure 28: Wang Guangyi posing with several Great Criticism paintings. 50 Figure 29: Michael Lin, WindScape, 2006, Tang Contemporary Gallery. 56 Figure 30: Wu Shanzhuan, Water Goods and its Enemy, 2006, Tang Contemporary Gallery. 56 Figure 31: Zheng Guogu, Rusty for Another 2000 Years, 2006, Tang Contemporary Gallery. 56 Figure 32: Original Mao slogans on factory walls. 56 v Abstract The following study will be a close examination of Beijing’s 798 Factory, whose revamping from a Communist weapons factory to a chic, modern space of art has a future that is yet to be determined. Though its initial popularity ignited much interest around the world, its attention is now attracting that of seemingly profit-seeking developers who want to tear down the complex and create an ultra modern space filled with shiny skyscrapers, shopping centers, hip restaurants, and of course, the occasional art gallery. Modern China has the mentality that in order to keep up with what is new, one must first get rid of the old, and as Beijing is at the crux of becoming “something big,” speculation over what becomes of spaces like 798 has brought about much debate and anxiety amongst the people of the art world. Factory 798 of today is grounded on two different branches of history: that of the 1950s 798 and that of the artistic community. When the factory first opened in the early 1950s, it was the epitome of the socialist workplace and community, and even though the factory today is no longer a highly organized workplace, there are definite parallels between the past and present communities. In addition, by tracing the evolution and development of the artistic group and community, it will become clear that Factory 798 is an evolved artists’ community. Yet unlike its predecessors, this one should not face its pending destruction because history will also delineate that artists as well as contemporary Chinese art has definitely benefited from being part of a group. 1 Introduction Located at the center of Beijing, the capital of the People’s Republic of China, stands Tiananmen Square and the Forbidden City, two grand historical sites that are oftentimes used to define the Chinese nation to those who are unfamiliar with it. Like the Great Wall, they are timeless landmarks, almost clichés that will forever be used to identify what traditional China is. However, much further northeast of Tiananmen, en route to the Beijing Airport is a site known as Factory 798, where “after they [tourists] visit the Great Wall and Forbidden City, they often come here [798] to experience contemporary China.” 1 This one square kilometer space is filled with “galleries, an art foundation, its own publications, advertisements, fashion brands, coffee shops, restaurants and bars as well as 46 art studios;” 2 it is also “the site of raves, openings, performances, rock concerts, designer restaurants, and fashion shoots.” 3 Most importantly, it has become the hub of contemporary Chinese art and culture, “the icon of the new, urban, modern China.” 4 Today, the capital of the PRC is the headquarters for Chinese art and culture as “Beijing’s status as their premier meeting point for artists from all over China remains firmly intact.” 5 Consequently, Factory 798 has become the primary site for contemporary Chinese art: “The area, also called the Dashanzi art district, is the first cultural district in 1 Yang Baomin, “798: Beijing’s Soho Art Village,” China & the World Cultural Exchange Dec. 2005: 14- 17. 2 Chuan Zi, “A Walk in the Dashanzi,” China & the World Cultural Exchange Jun. 2004: 16-19. 3 Liane Lefaivre, “A Factory-turned-arts-community Represents the New China While Paying Homage to the Old,” Architectural Record 193.2 (2005) 55. 4 Lefaivre 55. 5 Meg Maggio, “On the Road,” Art Press 298 (2004) 69-70. 2 Beijing to have commercial galleries.” 6 During the 1950s, Factory 798 was an actual factory that produced state of the art electronics for China as well as other socialist nations; but in the late 1990s, the site was reborn into an artistic community. At that time, the emptied factory grounds was away from the city center and as Beijing was also beginning to rise economically, Factory 798 was the ideal place to begin something new: A society in need of advanced technology and consumer goods, and a new place in the global economy, must perforce accept new modes of aesthetic activity (conceptual art, performance art, installation art) alongside new music, new fashion, new cinema – and a new stock exchange. 7 The area has quickly developed into a place of contemporary culture, filled with art galleries, studios, restaurants, nightclubs, and home to an abundance of activities that attract numerous cultural tourists. Since China’s reopening, Chinese society has been ever morphing, ever changing with great celerity in an attempt to participate in the globalizing world. China’s recent history during the second half of the twentieth century already proves that it is a nation apt to change. While the quickness of change may seem apropos for the country as a whole, all the smaller facets that make up China must also face changes in response to the globalizing effort. As the majority of the public eye only witnesses Beijing’s quest for modernization, there is an aspect of the capital that remains hidden: “Beijing is also a city of sharp contrasts between rich and poor, old and new, government control and free enterprise.” 8 Even within the city itself, such rapid development has caused an anxiety amongst its inhabitants, and such pressures have definitely seeped into the field of arts 6 Andrew Yang, “The Olympics Haven’t Begun, but the Party Has,” New York Times 26 Jun. 2005, late ed.:5.7. 7 Norman Bryson, “The Post-Ideological Avant-Garde,” Inside Out: New Chinese Art, ed. Gao Minglu (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998) 51. 8 Suzanne Muchnic, “China as a gallery of contrasts,” Los Angeles Times 16 Oct. 2005: E31. 3 and culture. The art scene at Factory 798 especially reflects the contrasts and tensions felt as “China’s seething frictions and contradictions are helping spawn creative energy – and just as important, a growing market to bankroll it.” 9 Lately, artists have been producing art in response to the paradoxes caused by the growing economy, and it has been selling fast to a market that is so willing to buy. Although art in China today seems to be a hot commodity, China’s art scene has not always been so successful. The turbulent political, economical and cultural climate of China during the second half of the twentieth century has definitely affected the world of Chinese art, and has created some visible scars in her latter years. The developments in the Chinese art world definitely did not mirror that of the west, but the art world would witness manipulation of power, status and media attention, as well as a rebellion against the mainstream in order to create and demand a new mainstream. Under Mao Zedong, the creation of art was carefully dictated by the government, and originality was not a celebrated trait; in fact, creativity was forbidden and censored by the government because it was a display of dissent. Art was not a means of self expression, but rather, a convincing method of controlling and affirming the Party’s ideologies. Remainders of this propaganda art still exist on the original walls of Factory 798 today. Fortunately, Deng Xiaoping’s open door policy marked an end to this creative suppression and the beginning of creative freedom as well as exposure to the west. Art academies reopened and educated interested students on the many masters of the west – art history would show these ambitious artists the developments in western technique, style, and theory. They would learn a new language and “Western language was powerful in China because 9 Melinda Liu, Craig Simons and Jen Lin-Liu, “China’s Glasnot,” Newsweek Aug. 2004: 44. 4 it had been forbidden.” 10 Art was no longer a political service, but rather, a tool for social criticism. In less than two decades, art as it was known in China would be completely changed -- flipped Inside Out. With their newfound knowledge of western art, artists exploded onto the art scene with a pluralism of philosophies and styles. They experimented with technique, style, media, and subject matter, and some were determined to push the limits of Chinese art, ultimately stirring up controversy within a highly conservative society. From the impromptu Stars exhibit to the culmination of the ’85 Movement at the China/Avant Garde show Beijing’s National Gallery, art in China would become a means to challenge authority and question the inconsistencies of Chinese society. Finally, in the mid-1990s, Chinese avant-garde art become the new mainstream; it attracted worldwide attention, and since then, contemporary Chinese art has been high in demand in all international art markets. A handful of artists became overnight celebrities, and today, there are many more who are trying to acquire the fame and fortune of their extremely wealthy successors. As the first generation of artists was embracing their newfound wealth, Factory 798 was still an isolated area where few independent artists had gathered, but very would soon burgeon overnight into a bustling space of contemporary culture. This study will be a close examination of the 798 Factory, whose revamping from a Communist weapons factory to a chic, modern space of art has a future that is yet to be determined. Though its initial popularity ignited much interest around the world, its attention is now attracting that of seemingly profit-seeking developers who want to tear 10 Andrew Solomon, “Their Irony, Humor (and Art) Can Save China,” New York Times, 19 Dec. 1993, late ed.:6.44. 5 down the complex and create an ultra modern space filled with shiny skyscrapers, shopping centers, hip restaurants, and of course, the occasional art gallery. Modern China has the mentality that in order to keep up with what is new, one must first get rid of the old, and as Beijing is at the crux of becoming “something big,” speculation over what becomes of spaces like 798 has brought about much debate and anxiety amongst the people of the art world. After a detailed mapping of today’s Factory 798, it will be clear that a diversity of significant cultural production occurs at the site. Then, in keeping with key traditions of Chinese culture, we must also learn of the history that leads up to the present day. Factory 798 of today is grounded on two different branches of history: that of the 1950s 798 and that of the artistic community. When the factory first opened in the early 1950s, it was the epitome of the socialist workplace and community, and even though the factory today is no longer a highly organized workplace, there are definite parallels between the past and present communities. Revitalizing old landmarks into cultural spheres is not a new concept around the world: London’s Tate Modern was once a power station, Paris’ Musee D’Orsay is a renovated train station and New York constantly revamps old neighborhoods into artistic ones. In addition, by tracing the evolution and development of the artistic group and community, it will become clear that Factory 798 is an evolved artists’ community. Yet unlike its predecessors, this one should not face its pending destruction because history will also delineate that artists as well as contemporary Chinese art has definitely benefited from being part of a group. These two complementing factors will illustrate that Factory 798 is an ideal location for contemporary Chinese artists. While Chinese art of today may have great 6 demands and high selling power, there will come a time when the demand will plateau and contemporary Chinese art will start to settle in the market. When this happens, artists in China will more than ever, need a space to continue their creativity and find inspiration. Ironically, it is only the power of the State that can prevent the landlords from demolishing the site, and the art district must continually prove that it is a landmark worth preserving. With effective organization, supervision, and perhaps even some foreign guidance, Factory 798 can actually withstand the negativities of globalization and commercialization and maintain as a utopia for contemporary Chinese art and culture. 798 Today: A Walkthrough Factory 798 first witnessed its potential as an artistic community in 1995 when the Central Academy of Fine Arts was looking for large studio spaces. The abandoned units in the Dashanzi area were cheap, undisturbed and distanced from the bustling city center, and large enough to hold the art students’ large scale projects. Now, over a decade later, this location has been dubbed as Beijing’s “Soho Art Village,” and it attracts numerous tourists as well as art connoisseurs who travel from all around the world in hopes of seeing something new in the city. Through an international media buzz, the site has become quite a phenomenon with foreigners. Art critic Yin Jinan was correct in describing the growth of 798 as a “cultural petting zoo,” where travelers can learn and appreciate contemporary Chinese art and culture. 11 This former electronics factory is not just a place to see contemporary Chinese art – the site, with its multifaceted spaces – has transformed into a cultural community of its own, virtually representing the epitome of contemporary cosmopolitan Beijing culture 11 Yin Jinan, “Is 798 a Cultural Petting Zoo?” 798: A Photographic Journal, ed. Zhu Yan (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004). 7 When I ventured to the Dashanzi Art District for the first time, I had only previously heard about this unique place through my colleagues and professors. I anticipated a simple journey and thought that this site would be just as familiar to everyone as the Forbidden City. However, the local taxi drivers have no clue where the site is located and many of the local residents have never even set foot on the complex grounds. Merely traveling to the factory seemed to be an initiation of its own, as I realized that this quirky little place is not meant for anyone to find – it must be found by someone with the purpose of discovery. Factory 798 is located in the northern part of Beijing’s Chaoyang district, en route to the airport, a short way off the city’s Fourth Ring Road. As I eventually learned, the easiest and quickest way to get there is via taxi, instructing the driver to head towards the Dashanzi Circle, and pointing out the directions thereafter: head north from the circle and stop at the small street by the red apartment complex just before the second bridge. This particular entrance, of the three, is considered the main entrance, and although its obscurity is only offset by other taxis unloading foreign tourists, there are still no visible signs that direct anxious visitors to the site. At first glance, the site appears to be run down and dilapidated; the majority of the buildings are composed of a dingy red brick; the small roads that wind throughout the site have not been properly maintained, signaling a lack of government support [fig. 1]. During the daytime, if there are no scheduled events, the complex is somewhat empty; there are pockets of activity at various locations, but the small roads and alleyways are usually never crowded with people. A mixture of international and domestic tourists meander through the small streets, finding a gallery or shop to walk into in hopes of discovering an invaluable work of art. A map of the complex can be 8 Figure 1: View of buildings at Factory 798. Figure 2: Map of Factory 798. Figure 3: View of buildings at Factory 798. 9 Figure 6: Parked car and graffiti at Factory 798. Figure 5: Rubble at Factory 798. Figure 4: Graffiti on building wall. 10 purchased at almost any gallery, restaurant, bar, or shop for a mere three yuan; however, even with the map, it is still highly possible to never know where one is situated [fig. 2]. Yet it is the labyrinth-like characteristic of the art district which makes each visit unique; visitors frequently discover new areas of the complex in every successive visit: “one may sometimes find nothing in 798; other times, expect surprises.” 12 The variety that this space offers and the time required to appreciate everything, not only suggests, but demands for future revisits. Just a stroll through the complex and one can see that “798 itself is a huge artwork: gigantic chimneys emitting white steam, huge storehouses covered with green rattans, twisted rusted pipes and slogans on walls as the evidences of history” [fig. 3]. 13 The small streets and alleyways are lined with trees, aesthetically contributing to the overall serene environment of the Dashanzi Art District. The apparent oldness of the complex has a nostalgic feel; the occasional chirping of insects and the rustling of the trees makes one feel as if he had just stepped back into time. The walls are covered with graffiti art; there are random instances of the communist star spray painted on the property, and in between are a variety of posters advertising different upcoming events at 798 [fig. 4]. At major road intersections, signs direct visitors to the major galleries throughout the complex. At the peripheral areas of the factory site, one can see piles of rubble – signaling the decay of the site and perhaps its future reconstruction or renovation. Ironically, parked along these painted walls and piles of broken concrete slabs are new and shiny Mercedes and Audis, probably belonging to those who have profited from developing at this site [figs. 5 & 6]. 12 Chuan 16-19. 13 Yang Baomin 14-17. 11 Along some of the roadways, a visitor may haphazardly find large sculptural works, some which are familiar to those who have some experience with contemporary Chinese art. Gigantic sculptures of the Mao suit [fig. 7], and the bright red tall toy dinosaur made famous by Sui Jianguo are placed around the complex, while a “village chief” looms largely by one of the galleries. Wang Guangyi, a contemporary Chinese artist who is most well known for his Great Criticism series, has contributed one of his Materialist [fig. 8] pieces to the site. The figure, who stands in front of a tattoo parlor, is of a typical revolutionary soldier, and because of the site’s history during the 1950s, the 798 complex does seem like an appropriate home for this piece. Across from, Jianghu, one of the larger restaurants at the site, is the sculpture of Venus from Botticelli’s famous painting, Birth of Venus, only the one at Dashanzi is now three dimensional and standing awkwardly among a group of Chinese-looking deities. Her smooth and alabaster-like surface is disrupted by the red streams of paint, and though she maintains her usual, serene posture, her bleeding nipples cause a disturbing image of a once ideal portrait of a woman [fig. 9 & 10]. The majority of the buildings at the Dashanzi Art District are dedicated solely to the arts: inside the dingy red brick buildings are foreign and domestic art galleries and private art studios. Since the factory’s initial conception of a space for cultural production, many local and international investors have rented spaces within the complex: “The main spaces have been turned into sprawling art galleries and social clubs. Smaller adjacent houses, which were once used as a cafeteria or barracks, have now been taken 12 Figure 9 (below): Bleeding Venus sculpture. Figure 8: Wang Guangyi’s Materialist at Factory 798. Figure 7 (above): Sui Jianguo’s Mao Suit at Factory 798. Figure 10 (below): Detail of bleeding Venus. 13 over as cafes and bookstores.” 14 Some galleries, such as the Long March Space, host seasonal exhibitions, inviting artists to contribute works according to a specific theme. Others are owned by single artists, and the venue is used as a space to display and sell their art. The Pop Zhao gallery is dedicated to painter turned performance artist Pop Zhao, who is now residing in the United States. In his gallery at 798, a round building with large glass windows, hangs several of his Mao-inspired posters [fig. 11]. The workers refer to him as “our teacher” as they hand out name cards and try to sell visitors Pop Zhao t-shirts and other paraphernalia. Factory 798 is widely accepted as the site for contemporary Chinese art, a label that has been largely indefinable since its conception, and the variety of art at the complex truly reflects how diverse Chinese art has become. In terms of media, there are galleries that showcase paintings, installations, sculptures, video art, as well as performance art. These exhibitions also range from experimental art that pushes the limits of what art can be to more traditional forms of art. Professor Wang Tieniu of the Art department at Qinghua University, has a studio at 798 and considers himself “classical and conventional,” a style that is “considered alien” at 798. 15 Even though some types of art may not seem as hip or up-to-date, any and all kinds of art forms are welcomed at 798, as Professor Wang feels at home at the factory site. American Robert Bernell was the first foreigner to invest in 798 property; a former employee of Motorola, he decided to open his Timezone 8 shop here, and has supported and participated in many of the events at the site [fig. 12]. Timezone 8, publisher to numerous books on Chinese art and culture, has an office and bookstore in 14 Yang, Andrew 5.7. 15 Yang Baomin 14-17. 14 the Dashanzi Art District, and has even published several books on the factory space itself. Today, his firm has greatly expanded, and is now a leading proponent of contemporary Chinese art: “The firm’s Web site, Timezone8.com, and on-line newsletter provide a wealth of information on contemporary Chinese art events around the world. Its publishing branch produces dozens of English-language (or bi-lingual) monographs and books of art criticism.” 16 Today, Timezone 8 books are synonymous with contemporary Chinese art and culture. The contemporary arts at 798 also include the latest designs in apparel as there are also fashion designers located at the Dashanzi complex. These stores usually boast trendy fashion apparel, such as the Beijing Tianzi Fashion Art Studio, whose designs are inspired by the highly socialist/communist past infused with the chic modern fashion of today. Owner and head designer of the studio, Feng Ling, describes herself as an “alternista in the world of fashion, and a fashionista in the world of art,” and has definitely been influenced by the history embedded at this site. 17 In this fashion boutique, some of her most memorable pieces are the traditional Chinese qipao decorated with images from the socialist era: Mao Zedong, revolutionary heroes, and the communist star. Feng has also transformed the revolutionary military garb into more feminine pieces by tailoring military jackets to conform to a woman’s body or recreating dresses based on the patterns of the military uniforms [fig. 13]. Any visitor can easily spend an entire day here – while perusing through the variety of galleries, one can stop at either of the numerous bars, cafes, and restaurants for a drink, quick snack, or even a gourmet meal. The array of restaurants here serves food 16 Jonathan Napack, “Young Beijing,” Art in America 92.6 (2004) 142-145. 17 Zhu Yan, ed. 798: A Photographic Journal (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 136. 15 Figure 12 (above): Robert Bernell’s Timezone 8 bookstore. . Figure 11 (above): Pop Zhao poster hanging in his gallery. Figure 13: Beijing Tianzi Fashion Studio. Figure 14: Sony product launch at Yan Club. 16 from around the world, ranging from small noodle shops to chic foreign five-star establishments. During the night, the 798 factory site has a multitude of bars and nightclubs for its artsy patrons. One of the more well known spaces is the Vibes bar, owned by local artist Zhou Ying and her Japanese partner Kimi. Their vision for Vibes was to “expose people in China to new and different attitudes and styles of music from all over the world,” and felt that the unique environment of 798 was the perfect place to open this type of venue. 18 Their DJs spin dance music from around the world and their themed nights continuously attracts a variety of Beijing’s youth. The remaining spaces are rented out to various private companies. At the periphery of the site is a meditation school that holds classes for Zen meditation. Interested students can sign up for weekly classes to learn how to relax and clear their minds. After meditation class, an impulsive decision can lead someone to take home his own piece of 798 art as there is even a tattoo parlor located amongst the multitude of galleries. Other private businesses, both local and international, are scattered throughout the site. Hong Huang, head publisher of magazine Timeout Beijing, decided to establish her headquarters at 798 because she “wanted to create an environment which will stimulate creativity for the staff.” 19 The Los Angeles architectural office StudioWorks has recently established B.A.S.E. (Beijing Architecture Studio Enterprise) at Dashanzi. Working with architecture and planning programs from China’s major cosmopolitan cities, “B.A.S.E. will attempt to undertake work where architecture, urbanization, and related disciplines are altered and affected by emerging conditions new to buildings and 18 Zhu 60. 19 Zhu 158. 17 those who make them in twenty-first-century Chinese cities.” 20 While there are many different types of businesses, they are all working towards contributing to contemporary Chinese culture. Artistic activities are not limited to within the galleries – the Borderline Festival in June 2006 embodied the meaning of the artistic community. Using video art as their platform, a handful of galleries, publishers, and even UNESCO participated in an event that promoted emerging video artists as well as raising HIV awareness. Borderline encouraged artists to think outside the box, working with “no other framework than the boundaries of the medium itself,” and even distributed pamphlets that folded into a box to “play with perception.” 21 Activities during this festival included concerts, indoor and outdoor screenings of video art as well as HIV awareness “one minutes.” Admission to this festival, along with all the galleries scatted throughout 798 are free of charge: “visitors do not need to pay either, policies that [are] described as the ‘customs’ of the 798 art community.” 22 In order to sustain their gallery space, many of the larger venues rent their spaces out to various vendors. One of the more popular spaces at 798 is the Yan Club Arts Center, owned by Chinese socialite and writer Li Xuebing. During the day, the Yan Club functions as a typical 798 Factory gallery, inviting guest artists to contribute to their rotating exhibitions. However, when the sun sets, this space is transformed to fulfill the needs of its wealthy vendors. The Yan Club’s spacious interior is ideal for holding a large number of people; its website boasts that “the versatile space at the Yan Club 20 Robert Mangurian and Mary-Ann Ray “Beijing Diary: How a Chinese Munitions Factory Came to House a Tweny-first-century International Architecture School and Practice,” Architecture 95.6 (2006) 88-93. 21 Borderline Festival (Beijing: n.p., 2006). 22 “Bending the Mold,” Beijing Review, 47.23 (2004). 18 ensures that it is suitable to hold a whole range of events, from theatre productions and concerts, to corporate events (fashion shows, product launches, parties and meetings) and our own parties/club events.” 23 Some of their brand name clientele include Christian Dior, Sony, Nokia, and Nike, corporations that like the chic vibe of the location because “it suits the goals and personalities of these brands better than any other modern site… and [no other site in Beijing] can give quite the impression like the 798 does” [fig. 14]. 24 The diversity found throughout the site therefore attracts quite a mixture of visitors and residents: Inhabitants of 798 include liberal young rock performers and conservative painters and sculptors. There are people devoted to pure and obscure art practice as well as some others engaged in theme restaurants or selling their works. But the differences in practice and preference do not necessarily affect the mutual respect they feel. 25 In addition, there are still actual factory workers who work in the buildings that have remained as production plants: “the sound of clanking machines could be overheard in a gallery as workers in blue-collar uniform constantly crossed paths with the facility’s trendy occupants.” 26 During fashion shows and product launches, famous people such as Cindy Crawford have walked through the factory grounds. The population that enters the site come from all walks of life, have different interpretations on what 798 ought to be, but they still all share an overall respect for the possibilities of what this site can become: “It provides a free space for artists and businessmen alike to realize their concepts.” 27 23 Yan Club Arts Center 2007 <http://www.yanclub.com/wwwsite/Events_About.html>. 24 “Bending the Mold.” 25 Chuan Zi 16-19. 26 Lefaivre 55. 27 Yang Baomin 14-17. 19 Overall, this space, even with is rising rental costs, continually attracts companies and people of culture. The diversity of art, ranging from traditional to controversial, reflects how a space such as the Dashanzi Art District is ideal to all types of people. Although only encompassing a little over one square kilometer, the Factory 798 complex is home to many outlets of contemporary Chinese culture, and as the government continues to allow it to maintain that way, 798 will continue to develop into something bigger. However, while freedom may seem like an ideal concept, the community there ought to be wary of over-commercialization in the area. Inviting large corporations to hold product release parties may bring in revenue to maintain the spaces, but attracting too many businesses may eventually be detrimental to the community. Similar to the city of Beijing, the site is faced with the pressures and tensions as a result of globalization and development. 798 in the 50s: A Socialist Utopia In the early 1950s, Chairman Mao began official relations with the Soviet Union and asked Stalin for assistance in industrialization. With the vision to create a huge socialist order that would span throughout several countries, both China and the Soviet Union agreed on a plan to create a more industrialized China. The USSR trained over 20,000 Chinese workers and exported over 10,000 technicians to aid China in 156 massive building projects designed after Soviet industrial plants. 28 The Chinese had originally sought after the Soviet Union for help with their 157 th project, but the USSR could not undertake such an ambitious task and “they explained that their own components factories were imported mostly from East Germany and therefore made the 28 Patricia Ebrey, The Cambridge Illustrated History of China, (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996) 296. 20 suggestion that [China] turn to East Germany with this proposition.” 29 Because of the magnitude of such a project, Joint Factory 718, as the site was originally named, was the first project that was coordinated with the East Germans. With the guidance of several German technicians and thousands of Chinese laborers, the industrial complex known as Factory 718 was finally completed in 1957. Factory 718 would be one of the most ambitious industrial projects of its time, even rivaling those of other socialist nations such as the USSR and Germany. The Chinese and East German governments both contributed huge investments “in terms of money, knowledge faith, energy, manpower and sheer willpower” in hopes to build a factory that would both create an ideal socialist world and produce the most advanced military technology. 30 Since this complex was completed under German supervision, it is appropriate that the style of architecture was that of the German Bauhaus. Done with simple efficiency, the various buildings of Factory 718 that covered the one square kilometer property truly reflected the philosophy of “form follows function.” From the exterior, Factory 718 looks very much like an industrial plant; sleek, rectangular buildings with large windows, smokestacks, and a highly visible piping system intertwines amongst the buildings like a complex maze [fig. 15]. Inside these buildings are large spaces and high, slanted ceilings; similar to the exterior, the architects made no attempt to mask the various pipes that run along the walls [fig. 16]. The saw tooth style of the main buildings would later become a signature look for the factory [fig. 17]. 29 Luo Peilin, “Recollections on the History of 718,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 10. 30 Huang Rui “Foreword: Sublimating Time,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 3. 21 Figure 15 (above): Exposed outdoor piping at Factory 798. Figure 16: Exposed indoor piping inside factory building. Figure 17: Saw tooth buildings at Factory 798. 22 Even though Germany was enthusiastic about working and doing business with another socialist country, it was imperative that all plans were done according to the Germans. Luo Peilin, head of the initial preparation team for Factory 718 recalls how the Germans wanted their own specifications, even down to the last brick: their demand for red bricks was a load bearing of 500 pounds. Our country only demanded 200-300 pounds and therefore we ordered material through channels in Hunan. Only when all the air is sucked out of the bricks being produced under pressure, could load bearing high enough to meet the Germans’ standards. At that time, however, our technology wasn’t adequate and could only reach about 400 pounds. In addition to all this, there were other rows at the top. China’s view was that Beijing’s earthquake levels only reach 7 on the Richter Scale, but the East German specialists insisted on engineering to withstand earthquakes of 8. 31 Since the Germans were recuperating from the war, the funds coming in from China would be of immense help and relief, and perhaps their exaggerated measurements were a means to earn more money. Although there were some initial complaints from the Chinese side, the Germans ultimately had the final word on supervising the construction. They even imported some of their own tools in order to create the necessary materials to build the factory. To see the factory complex still standing today only attests to the quality of work that the Germans contributed to the project. Even with such an enormous initial investment, financial profit was not the first priority – the factory’s goal was to be able to produce the needed supplies and technology in order to create a highly advanced military. Within the walls of Factory 718 was the production of some of the most state-of-the-art technology in Beijing: Its specialty is electronic components for military applications. Many orders from various branches of the Chinese government are requested and the complex diligently fills them. It delivers when asked to provide equipment for important PRC icons such as the Great Hall of the People. 31 Luo 12. 23 It delivers on components requisitioned by Chinese allies such as North Korea. The factory complex builds a reputation for itself as an example of communist quality and know-how. 32 Not only did the factory supply to its own country, but wanted to further strengthen other socialist nations as well. The factory was able to successfully produce such high-tech equipment because it also had extremely efficient training schools that continually educated their workers on the most updated technology. During socialist China, the place where one earns a living is commonly known as a danwei. The danwei – loosely translated as “work unit” – is more than just a place for work; it is a term that encompasses a way of life for laborers in industrializing China. In general, there are many different types of danwei, and people in China refer to their workplace as a danwei, but this space also gives its members a sense of belonging and identity. It is a physical space that has been transformed into a community that “takes on a wide range of political, judicial, civil, and social functions.” 33 Factories, especially in the Mao era, were the most common types of danwei, and Factory 718 was no exception. Not only did the workers at the factory receive a regular salary, they also lived within the factory complex and were given a multitude of benefits and activities. It was the perfect space for authorities to instill Maoist ideologies upon their workers while providing for them a means to live as well as socialize: “Danwei space was designed with two central aims: (1) to symbolize, and reproduce in miniature, the order of the socialist state; and (2) 32 Eliot Kiang, “798: Five Glorious Decades,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 33. 33 David Bray, Social Space and Governance in Urban China, (Stanford: Stanford UP, 2005) 4. 24 to promote a socialist collectivized lifestyle among its resident members.” 34 Factory workers would have little reason to step outside the factory grounds. Not only did Factory 718 become a successful manufacturer of advanced technology, it was also the way of life for the workers there: To the citizens of Beijing, it [became] a coveted place to work, to live, and to contribute to the communist cause. It [became] a shining example of the communist ideal – work hard for the community and the community will take care of you. 35 Although many of the activities were planned according to the socialist agenda, the workers thoroughly enjoyed their working environment. During work hours, large red characters displaying reverence to Mao Zedong could be seen high up on the walls of the factory: Mao Zedong is the red sun in our hearts [fig. 18]. When not working in the factory, young laborers were often organized into learning sessions where they were taught the socialist ideologies. They wrote daily dazibao (large character posters) filled with revolutionary slogans, and held demonstrations and parades in order to raise awareness of the political ideology of the time. Factory-wide processions and pledge- taking rallies were often organized to further ingrain Maoist thought and national pride into the workers [fig. 19]. In addition to the political activities, the overall living and social environment for the workers was quite idealistic: “They were provided decent accommodations, social conveniences, sporting events, extra-curricular activities, educational initiatives, medical clinics, dance halls, swimming facilities, and most important, a sweeping sense that one 34 Bray 147. 35 Kiang, Eliot 33. 25 Figure 19 (left): Factory procession at the factory in the 1950s. Figure 20 (below): Motorcycle brigade events in the 1950s. Figure 18: Original slogans on factory walls: “Mao Zedong is the red sun in our hearts.” 26 was contributing to the building of a nation.” 36 Workers lived in well-furnished rooms, where rent was relatively low; working couples with families also had special living accommodations. Factory laborers with children did not have to worry about the well- being of their children as the factory provided child care and educational facilities; the new generation was expected to contribute to the factory in the future since there were vocational schools that trained newcomers for industry work. Health benefits were also provided for the workers and their entire family: “Jiuxianqiao Hospital was the workers’ hospital and was well equipped with German equipment. Its dental facilities ranked as the most advanced in China.” 37 Entertainment, social activities, and state-of-the art facilities were also provided for the workers’ enjoyment during off-hours: “Over 10,000 workers and staff held large- scale sports events, theatrical festivals, and daily collective activities.” 38 Large athletic fields were built adjacent to the dormitories; workers were able to compete in a variety of sports events, and in the winter, “workers sprayed water over the ground to make a skating rink.” 39 Sports teams, for both men and women, represented the factory and would compete against other factory and military units. Since the factory was built under German supervision, European influence can be seen in their social activities: workers formed a German-made motorcycle brigade and occasionally had races and stunt performances [fig. 20]. During theatrical festivals, staff and workers were exposed to various kinds of entertainment ranging from Western music bands to traditional Chinese 36 Karon Morono Kiang, “Introduction: A New Vocabulary,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 5. 37 Huang Rui, ed. Beijing 798, caption, 121. 38 Huang Rui, ed. Beijing 798, caption, 100. 39 Huang Rui, ed. Beijing 798, caption, 109. 27 performances. Children were given opportunities to take dance classes and performances were held during theatrical festivals. The workers felt extremely fortunate to be given the opportunity to work at this factory: Theirs was an attitude of purity and passion, selflessness and boundless good intentions. What lay behind the attitude was an outward gaze, numerous language and cultural barriers, a sense of responsibility, a desire for power and influence and above all a sense of national pride. 40 Above anything else, it was a place for the people, and the authorities made certain that their laborers were satisfied. Even during cultural festivals and important holidays, “trucks brought workers to the train station to send them to their homes outside Beijing” so that they would be able to spend time with their families during these special occasions. 41 Laborers who had earned enough money would also have the opportunity to move their entire families into the factory area. The factory was, at that time, seemingly an ideal microcosm of the Chinese city. This is also because the danwei system at times was more productive than the city itself. The factory was completely self-sufficient as it was responsible for the maintenance and construction of infrastructure and necessary facilities. 42 Moreover, the quality and standard of living was sometimes higher than that of the city: “danwei were not only financially and administratively independent of the city but also generally much better funded and thereby able to provide higher standards of facilities and services for their 40 Huang Rui “Forward,” 2. 41 Huang Rui, ed., Beijing 798, caption, 121. 42 This is including, but not limited to electricity lines, water pipes, sewer systems, roads, and even shops, hairdressers, etc. 28 employees.” 43 After the government’s initial funding, the factory was independent from the financial support of the city. After a glorious and successful decade of industrial production, Factory 718 would be split into several smaller units, one of them being 798, and each of them would bring in its own singular success for the next thirty years. Even with political chaos ensuing in the 1960s beginning with the failure of the Great Leap Forward and the onset of the Cultural Revolution, Factory 798 continued to successfully instill the doctrine of Mao into its workers. However, this short period of time was “the last glorious period in the factory’s history – a moment that is again attested by the writings on its ruined walls.” 44 Soon, the country saw a waning of interest toward this type of industrial production, and the central government’s decision to modernize and globalize basically forced all the surrounding units to shut down. While the production of goods in these factories benefited the local people, it could not compete with the global forces encroaching upon them and it was no longer efficient to run such a large scale enterprise. Thousands of workers lost their jobs and the Dashanzi area would quickly be closed and abandoned for the next couple of years. Artists’ Communities and the 798 Renaissance Modern and contemporary Chinese art was once considered dissident and unofficial, and therefore artists had to work on and exhibit their art clandestinely while not receiving any State support. At times, dissident artists used art to push the limits of societal norms and often faced dire consequences. When artists in China were finally granted some artistic freedom, they were also deluged with a wealth of new information. 43 Bray 143. 44 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri: Tui Transfiguration, (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 13. 29 Western art and theory was readily available, but at the same time, Chinese artists had very little guidance in the art scene. Since they were the first generation of “free” artists after the Cultural Revolution, the newly introduced art world would become a labyrinth of possibilities and opportunities. Although given countless new possibilities, these artists were practically alone with nobody to turn to except for each other. The outset of the contemporary Chinese art world would begin with the banding of fellow artists where the sense of a group or community gave them the encouragement to pursue their artistic visions. Throughout the decades, the artists’ group slowly evolved according to political and societal changes, until culminating into the artistic community of Factory 798. Whether as mere acquaintances or as an extremely tight-knit group, the artists’ network continually provided artists with an unofficial approval to create art as they wished. In the late 1970s, the first post-Mao artist network was the Stars, a group comprised entirely of young amateur artists with no formal training. Under the leadership of Ai Weiwei and Huang Rui, both who would later be involved with the revamping of the artistic Factory 798, the Stars formed a cohesive unit as avid participants in the democracy movement 45 and had recently survived the past decade of the horrific Cultural Revolution. Moreover, “many of them were children of high- ranking party members or renowned intellectuals of Mainland China,” and from their families, they were aware of state affairs, which further prompted them to act out against authority. 46 Although their group was short-lived, they managed to spark attention with 45 According to Maria Galikowski in Art and Politics in China: 1949-1984, “The democracy movement was a coming together in China’s main cities of people, particularly the young, to demand greater political and cultural freedom following the discrediting of ‘the Gang of Four’ and the Cultural Revolution.” (213). 46 Chen Yingde quoted in Martina Koppel-Yang, Semiotic Warfare: The Chinese Avant-Garde, 1979-1989 (Hong Kong: Timezone 8, 2003) 126. 30 their controversial impromptu exhibition in front of the Beijing National Gallery. 47 For the first time after the Cultural Revolution, a circle of artists used their work to confront authority and give attention to the politics involved in the art world. With the reopening of China also came the reopening of art academies, and after the first generation of art school students graduated, there was an explosion of experimental art in the mid-eighties, which spawned many regional networks. This movement, later dubbed as the ’85 Movement, “involved about one hundred unofficial, spontaneously formed art groups that questioned tradition, criticized authority, and negotiated western ideas and art in efforts to reform Chinese society both culturally and politically.” 48 The ’85 Movement was a way for these new artists to form a community where their ideas and goals for a new type of art would be shared, so no one artist would feel lost in the unexplored territory of contemporary Chinese art. Moreover, since this new art challenged the mainstream, having a united force encouraged artists to continue making art and “when criticism or castigation struck the group, for example, the group naturally felt an obligation to protect every member and not to let the individual artist bear his or her hardship alone.” 49 Each newfound artistic circle had its own art manifesto stating the group’s ultimate goal; however, the common thread running through each manifesto was the idea of rebellion in helping to redefine China’s new culture: “With 47 In October 1979, because they had no means to an official exhibition venue, the Stars decided to arrange their own open-air exhibition outside of the Beijing National Gallery. Not only did they defy authorities by showing art in an unofficial space without any approval, but the art they were exhibiting was completely different and even quite offensive. Subject matter such as blatant criticism on politics and society, nudity, and western-influenced paintings were just some of the tactics that the Stars Group used to stir up a rebellion against the officially sanctioned art world. 48 Gao Minglu, “From Elite to Small Man: The Many Faces of a Transnational Avant-Garde in Mainland China,” Inside Out: New Chinese Art, ed. Gao Minglu (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998) 149. 49 Julia Andrews and Gao Minglu, “The avant-garde’s challenge to official art,” Urban Spaces in Contemporary China, ed. Deborah Davis, Richard Kraus, Barry Naughton, and Elizabeth Perry (New York: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1995) 237. 31 different figurative portrayals and plans for a new culture, the desire for total cultural renewal by way of the arts was expressed.” 50 One of the most important activities for the various groups that formed during the pluralism of the ’85 Movement was setting up their own exhibitions. Because art that these groups were making were disapproved by the government, there were no means to official exhibitions. For the latter half of the 1980s, group exhibitions were self-funded, and many times, shut down within a few short hours of opening. These short lived exhibitions, however, still had an impact on the art world, and though the exhibitions themselves seem to have failed, they would slowly attract visibility: “the group identity helped, as well, by giving the artists the confidence to persist in the face of obstacles and by giving them better visibility for critics and sympathetic cultural leaders.” 51 Sympathetic art journals began to publish the images of exhibited works, which eventually led to an even wider visibility, and group visibility was better than no visibility at all. Unfortunately, the events that took place during the Tiananmen Square incident would bring a halt to the development of modern Chinese art. After June 4, 1989, because the Party concluded that “modern art is of formal, intellectual, ideological, political and ethnic impurity,” the art scene remained somewhat quiet and unsure as artists “were now left no intellectual or empirical space in which to use, say, the 50 Li Xiantang, “An introduction to the history of modern Chinese art,” China Avant-garde: Counter- currents in Art and Culture, ed. Jochen Noth, Wolfger Pohlmann and Kai Reschke (Hong Kong: Oxford UP, 1993) 43. 51 Andrews and Gao 239. 32 discourse of forms of art as a way of opening up the discourse of their interpretation.” 52 Since unofficial artists were more or less isolated, they once again began organizing themselves into informal groups and creating networks amongst themselves as a means to boost their art careers. Unlike the Stars or the ’85 Movement, these groups did not have leaders or even a name; it was a network for professional advancement: “Artists themselves call their network quanzi (the circle). Networking became the strategy to circulate influence, protect artistic expression, finance activities and create public spaces.” 53 As unofficial art remained underground during the first half of the 1990s, artists began to move away from the city center and live together in villages. One of the first artists’ village was located by the ruins of the Old Summer Palace, Yuanmingyuan. Built by the Qianlong Emperor during the Qing dynasty, the European inspired palace faced its defeat during the second Opium War when the French burned down the palace. The government purposely decided keep the site in ruins as a constant reminder to the Chinese of the dire consequences of too much foreign influence. Before artists migrated there in the 1990s, an earlier group, the Stars, held an activity there to give new meaning to the ruins. In 1981, the Stars “painted the Yuanming Yuan and held poetry readings there among the garden’s dilapidated stones,” signaling that this site of ruins has also become a reminder of “the most recent human calamity,” the Cultural Revolution. 54 The Stars Group disbanded later that year, and it would not be until 1990 when local Beijing 52 John Clark, “Official Reactions to Modern Art in China Since the Beijing Massacre,” Pacific Affairs, 65.3 (1992) 340. 53 Taru Salmenkari, “Implementing and Avoiding Control: Contemporary Art and the Chinese State,” China: An International Journal, 2.2 (2004) 240. 54 Wu Hung, “Ruins, Fragmentation, and the Chinese Modern/Postmodern (1998),” Theory in Contemporary Art since 1985, ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung (Oxford: Blackwell, 2005) 311-12. 33 artists began to gravitate towards the Yuanmingyuan ruins again. Though dilapidated, the backdrop provided by the ruins gave a romantic atmosphere and “gradually more and more artists and new-style poets gathered there because of the cheap rent and the convenient, short distance to downtown and China’s best two schools, Beijing University and Qing Hua University.” 55 The village at Yuanmingyuan was an evolved version of the quanzi: instead of a loosely organized circle, the artists were living and working together and the “togetherness encourages alternative lifestyles of unemployed and unaffiliated artists.” 56 They were located far enough from the city center where they could not be bothered, and this artists’ village became “the main site for Chinese Avant-Garde artists in the 1990s.” 57 In time, several members of this community became internationally recognized artists. Fang Lijun and Yue Minjun, two painters internationally known for their satirical Cynical Realism portraits of bald men with huge smiling faces, were once residents at Yuanmingyuan [figs. 21 & 22]. However, as the village gained momentum and popularity, and more artists decided to move to the location, several factors hindered the development of the community. First, the government had been planning to “restore” the ruins in order to create a tourist attraction, and the presence of these “bohemian Chinese” artists were seen as an “intrusion” to the site. 58 Moreover, “at that time, [the artists’] alternative lifestyles perhaps appeared youthfully romantic and artistic, but they were viewed with suspicion,” and “the authorities saw the artist village at Yuanmingyuan more 55 Tong Dian, China! New Art & Artists (Atglen: Schiffer, 2005) 31. 56 Salmenkari 241. 57 Feng Boyi, “’Under-underground’ and Others On Chinese Avant-garde Art Since the 1990s,” The Monk and the Demon, ed. Annie Van Assche (Milan: 5 Continents Editions, 2004) 61. 58 Young-Tsu Wong, epilogue, Paradise Lost: The Imperial Garden Yuanming Yuan (Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000) 194. 34 Figure 22: Yue Minjun, untitled, 1996, oil on canvas. Figure 21 (above): Fang Lijun, Series 2, No. 2, 1992, oil on canvas. 35 as signifying social disorder.” 59 Finally, in 1995, all inhabitants were forced to vacate the premises as the village was officially closed down by authorities. In 1993, while Yuanmingyuan was a thriving community, in a completely different part of the city, performance artist Zhang Huan and his circle of unofficial avant-garde artists moved to the eastern suburbs of Beijing. As a group, they rented “a peasant’s old house in the suburbs, which [Zhang] shared with a few close friends,” including photographers Rongrong and his wife Inri. 60 This space “would become home to an artistic community that produced some of the most daring works (mainly performance and photography) in contemporary Chinese art.” 61 Because performance art was a medium that was not allowed in public spaces and official art institutions, Zhang needed a private underground space to show his pieces, and his village in the suburbs provided an appropriate space and audience of other artists who were much more understanding of his art. Originally, the village, which Zhang described to be “dirty and messy, surrounded by hills of garbage from the urban area,” was named Dashan Village, but Zhang decided to replace the street sign with one that read “Beijing East Village,” “mainly for the convenience of helping friends find the location of [his] house” whenever they came to watch his performances [fig. 23]. 62 The name was also a direct reference to the East Village in New York, another space where artists lived together, and Zhang had hopes that one day, artists from all over China would move to this location as well. 59 Salmenkari 241. 60 Zhang Huan, interview with Qian Zhijian, “Performing Bodies: Zhang Huan, Ma Liuming, and Performance Art in China,” Art Journal, 58.2 (1999) 61. 61 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 244. 62 Zhang Huan, interview with Qian Zhijian, 65. 36 Unlike the romantic and poetic ruins of Yuanmingyuan, the space of Beijing East Village is described to be a wasteland, a living hell: “poisonous spaces filled with garbage; graveyards of dead objects that reject disintegration; ‘black holes’ in an urban landscape that absorb time and escape change.” 63 The artists were basically self-exiled to a derelict area, and at times, this form of masochism sparked a new creativity. RongRong shed his commercial photographic style after he moved to the village and was attracted to “its ugliness and anonymity,” and through his camera lens, began exploring the landscape and its various artist inhabitants [fig. 24]. 64 The space also inspired Zhang Huan to perform 12 Meters (1994), a piece which epitomized the environment of the East Village. After a horrifying experience in one of the communal restrooms there, Zhang covered himself with honey and fish oil and sat inside the cramped foul smelling space of the restroom while flies slowly gathered and ate off his body. He later commented that “the very concept of life was then for me the simple experience of the body.” 65 Watching this performance was Ai Weiwei and RongRong, who captured the performance on his camera [fig. 25]. Although the Yuanmingyuan village and the Beijing East Village were two completely different environments, they still functioned successfully as artists’ villages. At a time when exhibiting unofficial art was practically considered illegal, artists once again could only turn to each other for the support. However, this time, they found refuge at the fringes of the city, where for the most part, they were left alone to develop 63 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 114. 64 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 245 65 Zhang Huan, interview with Qian Zhijian, 66. 37 Figure 24 (above): Beijing East Village, photograph by RongRong. Figure 23: Beijing East Village, photograph by RongRong. Figure 25: Zhang Huan, 12 Meters, 1994, performance, Beijing East Village. 38 their artistic visions and “used their own spaces in artist villages to organize events.” 66 While many avant-garde Chinese artists left the country to advance their careers, those who remained locally in these villages “[demonstrated] their aspiration for and pursuit of a kind of freedom of individual existence,” and “the common features of their works also show a strong desire for self-expression.” 67 Similar to the regional groups of the ’85 Movement, the artists’ villages encouraged artists to experiment without the fear of facing isolation and harsh criticism, and consequently, many well known artists from China have once resided in an artists’ village. Since the artists actually lived together in a community, the sense of belonging and togetherness became embedded into their lifestyles rather than only in their artistic careers. In the early 1990s, the abandoned factory site of Dashanzi already began to attract “an increasing number of ‘independent artists’ (duli yishujia) with no institutional affiliation. Many of them have come from the provinces.” 68 At this time, the other artist communities were flourishing elsewhere, and few have heard about the available spaces at 798. One of the first noted residents of 798 was Liu Suola, a writer, musician and composer who wrote many popular books on music. 69 Then, in 1995, the Central Academy of Fine Arts stumbled upon the factory grounds and established a workspace for its students. Although this was supposed to be a temporary move, the Academy continues to work there, and “has the distinction to be the first art and culture related establishment in Dashanzi.” 70 During the latter half of the 1990s, the area remained 66 Salmenkari 246. 67 Feng 61. 68 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 15. 69 Kiang, Karon, “Introduction: A New Vocabulary,” 5-6. 70 Kiang, Eliot, “798: Five Glorious Decades,” 36. 39 relatively unnoticed and it was not until 2000 when the Academy’s head of the Sculpture Department Sui Jianguo set up his own private studio in one of the nearby factories. Sui’s reputation as Department head as well as an experimental artist of such a reputable institution as the Academy would soon attract a plethora of people. Moreover, Sui was responsible for introducing sculpture to the contemporary art world: “A learning member of China’s New Sculpture Movement, Sui Jianguo bears a large share of the responsibility for helping China’s contemporary sculpture find its own voice.” 71 Today, many of Sui’s sculptures decorate the roads and alleyways of Factory 798 [fig. 7]. Slowly, an increasing number of art-affiliated people decided to set up a space at the 798 complex; some established private studios and others even renovated theirs into living spaces. As the other artists’ communities were being demolished by the authorities, artists needed a new place to live and set up studios so many flocked to the factory grounds for a new home. As the city of Beijing was also beginning to development, this space began to see its potential: The rebirth of the industrial complex at Dashanzi as an art space owes something to all these conditions – Beijing’s general globalization and de- industrialization, the cosmopolitan culture of the Chaoyang district, and the concentration of experimental artists in the area. 72 People from home and abroad were attracted to the district’s growing potential to be China’s SoHo. In 2001, Robert Bernell opened his renowned Timezone 8 bookstore, and many famous artists such as Huang Rui began to settle in the area,almost haphazardly creating a “small but high-powered artists’ community.” 73 Bernell and Huang’s early 71 Britta Erickson, On the Edge: Contemporary Chinese Artists Encounter the West (Hong Kong: Timezone 8, 2004) 98. 72 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 15. 73 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 17. 40 involvement with the site helped attract foreign investment, which ultimately instigated the worldwide fame attached to the 798 Factory complex. Huang Rui, one of the original Stars leaders, had become an increasingly well known contemporary artist and contributed immensely to the rebirth of the Dazhanzi Art District. He is considered to be one of the most important founding fathers of the Factory 798 project, and after he recruited the Tokyo Gallery into Dashanzi, he “initiated and organized a steady stream of art-related events and exhibitions that helped to shape the Dashanzi Art District.” 74 Moreover, in 2004, Huang compiled and edited Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture, and Society in China, a bilingual book published by Bernell’s Timezone 8, which illustrates the past, present, and potential futures of Factory 798 through several essays and photographs. In this book, Huang argues for readers to discover something new in a space that on the surface, is presumed to be old, ultimately sublimating time in order to truly understand the significance of 798 as both a historical and contemporary site. With the help of Huang Rui, the Tokyo Gallery, known for its avant-garde contemporary Japanese art, rented one of the larger spaces at the 798 complex and remodeled the space into an art gallery. General manager Tabata Yukihito “feels that China’s rapid development has the potential to transform Beijing into the contemporary art capital of Asia,” and “this is one of the key reasons he chose Beijing as the location of the gallery.” 75 The Beijing Tokyo Arts Project (BTAP) became the first official gallery at the Dashanzi Art District and in October 2002, held its first successful exhibition in the Dashanzi Art District, Beijing Afloat. This exhibition was appropriate in that it asked to 74 Zhu 88. 75 Zhu 70. 41 consider the floating transition between the past and present, which clearly reflected the current state of 798 and “Beijing Afloat seamlessly announced the existence of a space alive to the exchange of art and culture, technology and enterprise: a site for public exhibitions.” 76 It marked the beginning of new opportunities for contemporary artists; since much of China’s art seemed contingent upon the past, 798 was such a fitting location for this new type of art. Moreover, “according to the majority of the exhibited artworks, contemporary Beijing moves towards a more sarcastic than nostalgic reminiscence of a past that imposed itself on one’s daily life with the absurdity of mundane practices,” and thus, juxtaposing these works of art in an area where workers worshiped their shining red sun and created weapons for the communist cause seemed even more appropriate. 77 After BTAP’s exhibition at the end of 2002, Factory 798 seemed to blossom overnight. Soon, everyone wanted a piece of the factory grounds – and in 2003, several artists, entrepreneurs and investors alike rented out a piece of the 798 complex. The spacious interiors and low priced rent were already attractive qualities of the site, but many saw the space as a potential to promote contemporary Chinese art and culture in a positive manner. Artist Ma Han was a former resident of the Yuanmingyuan village, and since the village’s demise, he had been working odd jobs until his recent move to 798, where he was able to take up painting again and feels that “it has given him many opportunities to interact with creative, interesting people.” 78 Zhang Qiang, owner of “D- Cow Design,” relocated his interior design company to 798 because he felt that it was “’a 76 Berenice Angremy, “Dashanzi Art District: Creating a Site for Public Exhibitions,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 70. 77 Angremy 72. 78 Zhu 92. 42 space that has allowed us to create and express our own identity,’ and furthermore, “he hopes that his design firm can play a role in elevating artistic tastes and increasing public awareness of the possibilities inherent in art and design.” 79 It was a space of inspiration and motivation for anyone who was interested in any facet of contemporary Chinese culture. By the end of that year, the Dashanzi Art District became the trendiest space in Beijing: “its vast warehouse-style studios are chic addresses,” and its residents fashionable and stylish. 80 798: a Questionable Future Although the danwei system is no longer in use today, there are definitely some parallels that can be drawn between the past 798 with the present. With the passage of time, ideologies have changed and evolved, but this space has remained an inspiring place of production as well as a viable community. The Dashanzi Art District is not only a trendy hot spot in Beijing, but is an important site of cultural production; however, not everybody understands or sees the significance of preserving such a space. Although the revamped Factory 798 has only had a couple years of truly being a Soho-esque site, there are already speculations over its ultimate demolition. The Seven Stars Group, the site’s landlords, see a more profitable investment if the entire area is completely bulldozed and rebuilt from the ground up. With the onslaught of globalization, and especially with the coming of the Olympic Games, Beijing is pressured to develop into an ultra modern city. Moreover, there is growing criticism on the production of contemporary Chinese art, possibly giving more reason to destroy the site. However, the history of the original Factory 718 and the evolution of the artistic community both combined into unique the 79 Zhang Qiang quoted in 798: A Photographic Journal, 82. 80 Jackie Wullschager, “No More Chinese Whispers,” Financial Times London 2 Oct. 2004: 35. 43 space at 798 is a truly extraordinary place, and illustrates why the Dashanzi Art District is such a significant space of contemporary Chinese culture. In addition, by looking at the aims and goals of several activities and exhibitions at 798, it will be clear that the Dashanzi Art District is indeed a much needed space of cultural production for the future of a quickly globalizing nation. In Beijing, there are only a few landmarks that are considered “old,” but even these sites, such as the Forbidden City and the Great Wall, are constantly being renovated and reconstructed in order to delete any signs of dilapidation. In the west, ruins are usually a site with great historical significance, and are purposely preserved in such a condition as a way to show respect for the history of that space. On the contrary, the notion of ruins is quite different in China: “in the modern era ruins acquired a dominant negative symbolism.” 81 China prefers to not be reminded of the pre-modern, backward, and colonial times, and anything old and dilapidated only speaks of a need to renew and reconstruct. In fact, the only ruins that are maintained are the ruins at Yuanmingyuan, which were only kept that way as a reminder to the Chinese to be wary of foreign influences. Factory 798 can be considered a site of ruins – the rubble everywhere are obvious marks of its decay, and the machinery there has remained unused since its glory days as an actual factory. Moreover, previous artists’ communities have also faced destruction: both the Yuanmingyuan village as well as the Beijing East village have been ruined by the ravaging forces of the bulldozers. Artists from smaller artists’ villages have seen similar consequences despite their hardworking efforts to save their communities. 82 81 Wu Hung, “Ruins,” 310. 82 see Mark Magnier’s “Wrecking Ball Casts Shadow on Arts Colony in Beijing,” Los Angeles Times, which delineates how a smaller artists’ colony, Suojiacun, has been torn down despite public protests. 44 In an interview, Ai Weiwei commented on the potential destruction of 798 as “the system’s own logical decision” because when it comes to the discussion on the future of 798, both as a physical space and as an artists’ community, it makes sense to demolish the factory grounds and reconstruct it into “something new.” 83 When 798 became a popular piece of property to invest in, the city of Beijing was also undergoing rapid change and development. Globalization often promises a growing economy and many opportunities, and thus the landlords of Factory 798, the Seven Stars, saw the Art District’s future in a profitable light: factory officials saw the opportunity, and allowed artists, graphic design companies, furniture designers, architects, bars, restaurants, galleries, and even an art book store to lease space in Factory 798, as a way to build a real estate portfolio, and one say sell the place to a high-rise apartment developer. 84 For them, tearing down the crumbling and dilapidated factories from the past and constructing completely new and modern high rises and shopping malls would attract wealthy tourists and the burgeoning nouveau riche of China. Skyscrapers would mean more spaces available for rent, and the ultra modern neighborhood would greatly raise the value of the property. The landlords have already threatened the area by building large apartment complexes around the 798 Factory grounds, while also trying to forbid other art-related establishments to invest in the properties there. As a response, the local community members of 798 have fought hard to reclaim their community. They have petitioned and written proposals to the local government to prolong the life of the site. The purpose of these proposals, as a club owner stated, was to 83 Ai Weiwei, interview with He Wenzhao, “Excerpts From Interview with Ai Weiwei,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 25. 84 Maggio 69-70. 45 “let the government understand that in order for Beijing to be an international city, they need an area for art.” 85 Although the threat of the Seven Stars still looms over the area, 798 has received support from officials: “Long Xingmin, the assistant party secretary of development and planning ministry for Beijing, visited the galleries in April [2004], and the vice mayor of Beijing has weighed in to support the artists.” 86 As a result, local officials have agreed to “preserve it as a ‘cultural zone’ in harmony with plans for the 2008 Olympics” and “a nonbinding resolution to that effect was passed in the March [2004] session of the National People’s Congress.” 87 This temporary delay on the site’s demolition has brought relief to the residents of 798, but community members since then have continued to collaborate in multiple projects in order to demonstrate to the public that the site needs to be preserved. Since 2004, the Dashanzi Art District has been hosting the Dashanzi International Art Festival, with its mission to bring together a dialogue between contemporary Chinese culture and the public, and boasting that “the festival upgrades Dashanzi to a multidisciplinary platform.” 88 The first of the annual event in 2004 was fittingly headed by Huang Rui, and the overall theme of the festival was to save Factory 798: “While hip Djs, VJs and rock performers may set tone for many visitors, DIAF organizers give special emphasis to the half-dozen exhibitions and symposia dedicated to the issue of adapting former industrial spaces to cultural use.” 89 This festival was actually supported by the State, but not by the Seven Stars Group, and is reminiscent of the socialist agenda 85 Yang, Andrew 5.7. 86 Xu Yong, “Amid Ghosts of the Red Guard, The Avant-garde Now Blooms.” New York Times, 1 Sep. 2004, late ed.: E3. 87 Napack 142-45. 88 Dashanzi International Art Festival 2007 <http://www.diaf.org/2007/en/main.htm>. 89 Richard Vine, “Beijing’s new art district holds fest,” Art in America 92.5 (2004) 184. 46 in which the landlord was deemed the greedy capitalist while the government was allowing cultural production. When this festival first took place, administrators from the Seven Stars attempted to stop the event by disapproving it through fire hazard citations, and building code violations. However, these citations were completely ignored by the residents of Dashanzi, and the government even sent out a police force to “shield the festival organizers and attendees from landlord interference.” 90 As a result, “the action- packed festival went on as scheduled and struck a number of high notes.” 91 Although the government may be supporting the contemporary arts at the moment because it is bringing in international recognition, this support is definitely halting the destruction of the site, at least until after the Beijing Olympics. During both generations of Dashanzi, site-wide activities brought together the people within each community. In the 1950s, demonstrations, parades, sporting events and festivals allowed the thousands of factory workers to interact and socialize with each other. Sports competitions between factory units allowed workers to socialize with outside factories as well build a support system for their own team. Performances and concerts were held in order to introduce the people to the arts. Today, though the styles and trends have changed, night clubs, fashion shows, rock concerts, and art festivals attract numerous visitors to the factory grounds for the very same reasons. Art dealers, critics and curators stroll through the galleries to network with artists and clientele. Art festivals such as the annual Dashanzi International Art Festivals and the Borderline Festival have brought together several galleries as a means to raise awareness for local 90 Napack 142-45. 91 Carol Lu, “A Festival with a Cause: Carol Lu reports on the first Beijing Dashanzi International Art Festival,” Flash Art 37.48 (2004). 47 artists, the factory site, as well as a worldwide cause. Though the people from the two generations are completely different, the factory has long been a space for networking and meeting people who appreciate similar things. The artistic community of Factory 798 definitely has the potential for not only the production of great contemporary Chinese art, but also other types of cultural production. It is this characteristic that makes this site unique in comparison to the other artists’ villages – 798 has become a self sustainable community, where a diversity of activities and businesses thrive together with a common goal. Although centered at the contemporary arts, unlike previous artists’ communities, 798 is not limited solely to unofficial and dissident art. The people who have established studios, galleries, and other businesses there are not considered outcasts of society, but are instead, helping to define contemporary Chinese culture through their various modes of production. Factory 798 provides a variety of art and culture that attracts different types of people to the area. The site is home to a plethora of exhibitions ranging from the commercially driven, easily sellable art to the controversial and even questionable art, all within the same one square kilometer area. Most importantly, the factory grounds is a space that provides opportunities for members of the community to experiment and try new methods in artistic expression. In September 2003, Wu Hung curated an experimental exhibition aptly named Tui-Transfiguration, which figured prominent photographers RongRong and his wife Inri, both who were once residents of Beijing East Village. This exhibition was visual proof that not only was 798 an ideal location for this type of experimental art, but also that the contemporary Chinese art world was capable of producing something new and intriguing. 48 Wu Hung rented out an abandoned workshop for this site specific exhibition and instead of remodeling the space into a pristine gallery with smooth white walls, he incorporated the ruinous environment with the photographs. The finished exhibition was a work of art as the curator took into account the entire space, carefully inspecting every room in order to fully understand the site and its potential use. Ultimately, he wanted to showcase the photographs while simultaneously amplifying the original workshop space [fig. 26]. Wu Hung also closely interacted with RongRong and Inri and collaborated with them on every aspect of the project; he felt that “such informal, ‘on-site’ relationships between independent artists and curators constitute a particular kind of comradeship” 92 The curator also worked closely with the team of construction workers, who had the difficult task of installing the various panels and lighting needed to create Wu Hung’s vision. RongRong and Inri were once inhabitants of Beijing East Village, and Tui- Transfiguration even has a series of photographs dedicated to their experience living in the decrepit environment there [fig. 24]. Thus Wu Hung could not have chosen a better pair of artists to exemplify the importance of the artists’ community. It was at the Beijing East Village that RongRong and Inri transformed from a commercial to a much more edgier style of photography. The presentation of RongRong and Inri’s photos at a new artistic community show how living and interacting in an artists’ village has helped their art careers. Their photos illustrate their growth as contemporary photographers, and the success of this exhibition at the 798 community further demonstrates their achievements as artists. By agreeing to be a part of this experimental exhibition, the couple is also 92 Wu Hung, RongRong & inri, 32. 49 showing their support for a community that can foster the development of future contemporary artists. As a result, Tui-Transfiguration was an exhibition that epitomized the 798 space as well as showcased the potential of contemporary Chinese art. The name of the exhibition makes references to growth, change, and transformation, and thus, RongRong and Inri’s photographs were arranged in specific successive themes: ruins, transformation, rebirth, and self-representation. 93 Though the photographs did not explicitly refer to 798, the themes used to direct the movement of the photographs reflected various stages of the factory as well as Chinese art and culture. The first section, ruins, spoke of ruination and death, and is a fitting first theme because both the Chinese term tui, and transfiguration allude to death. Some of the images were fragments and some were ghostly, all seemed to reflect a sense of haunting memories [fig. 27]. Both the 798 space and contemporary Chinese art had an initial moment of death and ruins: 798 was once abandoned and contemporary Chinese art witness a moment of “death” after the Tiananmen Square incident which essentially forced artists to work underground. In this particular exhibition, the theme of ruins was used to negate the previously set notion that ruins had negative connotations: after ruins and death comes transformation and rebirth, two eras that were also experienced by the Factory 798 and contemporary Chinese art and culture as well. In this truly site-specific exhibition, Wu Hung and his team were able to create a unique viewing experience that could not have been accomplished at any other time and 93 According to Wu Hung’s definition in the forward of RongRong & inri, compound phrases that use tui “all pertain to death but also convey the hope for a transcendent, albeit elusive afterlife,” while transfiguration is “has a religious significance and refers to, in the Bible, the sudden emanation of radiance from Jesus’ body after his resurrection.” 50 Figure 28: Wang Guangyi posing with several Great Criticism paintings. Figure 27: RongRong, photograph from Ruins section in Tui-Transfiguration. Figure 26 (left): View of Tui-Transfiguration exhibition. 51 place. The inherent feeling of the old and nostalgia created by the space is a one of a kind aspect of the exhibition, and is as important to the exhibition as the art itself. Wu Hung’s collaboration with the various people also attracted a diverse audience – the construction workers, people normally not involved with the art world, brought their friends and relatives to witness this unprecedented exhibition on the factory complex. Moreover, the close involvement with various people to realize the project further blurs the dominating idea that the curator is always in charge with all aspects of an exhibition. Since the beginning of contemporary Chinese art, those involved with the scene have played multiple roles in the art world: “Someone who is an artist may also be writing criticism, organizing museum exhibitions, running a commercial gallery, advising foreign collectors on a commission basis and teaching in an art academy.” 94 The multifaceted characteristics of those involved in the contemporary Chinese art world are very unique to this nation. Since this type of art was once deemed unofficial and dissident in the past, artists had no governmental or institutional support, and therefore had to learn every facet of the business on their own. Factory 798 therefore provides a space in which all these activities are allowed to take place. While Tui-Transfiguration was successful experimental art, the Dashanzi Art District is also home to more mainstream contemporary arts, which at times, faces harsh criticism. Chinese art history never went through a phase of high minded modernism such as in the west, where artists indulged in the purity of form and material. When contemporary Chinese art finally resurfaced from its underground current, it went straight 94 Richard Vine, Christopher Phillips and Barbara Pollack, “Money Talks Mandarin: China has suddenly become the world’s hottest contemporary art market. What are the effects on artists of this massive influx of cash?” Art in America 95.3 (2007) 49-53. 52 to the international art market and young artists saw foreign collectors quickly buying it up. One such artist, Wang Guangyi, widely known for his Great Criticism paintings that he began creating in the mid 1990s, is still earning large sums of money from churning out slightly modified versions of the series [fig. 28]. Foreigners were intrigued and humored by the communist socialist imagery juxtaposed to a variety of logos of everyday consumer products. Since then, images of Mao Zedong’s era, consumerism, capitalism, or any combination of the three seem to be the stereotypical themes in easily sellable contemporary Chinese art. However, this continued recycling of similar imagery has critics feeling that “the very concept of ‘contemporary Chinese art,’ which has largely ceased to be a point of pride and come to seem merely an advertising slogan, [is] bound to fade over time.” 95 Because it seems as though some artists are creating works in order to sell to a demanding market rather than as a means of artistic self expression, it is only a matter of time when the demand will cease. Unfortunately, there are some artists who see some truth in this critique because it has definitely caused an anxiety as “many artists fear that the market is now dictating their esthetic choices, just as the government once did.” 96 It is ironic to see that at one time, influence from the outside once encouraged artists to speak out and experiment with art, but now that same outside force is implicitly convincing artists to sell out and create mundane works in order to sell to the international market. Consumerism and capitalism is quickly being absorbed into Chinese culture, and many artists are creating art in response to the changing society: “When a country as important as this begins to evolve, all artistic expression that comes from within it cannot 95 Philip Tanari, “Beijing,” ArtForum 45.4 (2006) 265-268. 96 Vine, Phillips and Pollack 49-53. 53 help but refer to that evolution.” 97 Moreover, the rapid influence of the modern world has also created tensions between the various contrasting forces affecting society. Huang Rui noted that “in China there are conflicts everywhere – between capitalism and socialism, between tradition and modernization, between rural life and urbanization,” and these conflicts have also spawned a variety of artistic responses. 98 Whether or not it is seen in a cynical, accepting, or profitable light, it is an appropriate recurring theme in contemporary Chinese culture. Although images of consumerism are habitually referenced in contemporary Chinese art, the way in which the imagery is utilized differs amongst the artists. In 2006, the Tang Contemporary Art gallery found a home at the heart of the 798 complex, and in July, the gallery debuted its first exhibition, appropriately named Surplus Value. The theme of Surplus Value, a term taken from Marxist philosophy, is defined as the value added to a product that a worker is not compensated for, which ultimately benefits the “capitalist.” 99 This exhibition centers on the relationship between contemporary Chinese art and the art market, and also recognizes that contemporary Chinese art is becoming an increasing economic factor. Curator Martina Koppel-Yang asked five established Chinese artists in the exhibition to consider: what is left of art, if one eliminates all these outer factors, constituting the setting for contemporary art, such as international and official recognition, and the market? And is it not exactly this left-over element, this surplus value, that constitutes art? 100 97 Peter Aspden, “Out of the Closet,” Financial Times London 24 Sep 2005, 46. 98 Liu, Simons and Lin-liu 44. 99 Martina Koppel-Yang, “Surplus Value,” Surplus Value Wei Xing, ed. (Beijing: Artron Color Printing, 2006) 4. 100 Martina Koppel-Yang, “Surplus Value – Beijing Tang Contemporary Art Opening Exhibition,” Tang Contemporary Art, 2007 < http://www.tangcontemporary.com/en/exhibitions/list.asp?id=2>. 54 The resulting exhibition of Surplus Value was a collection of pieces that illustrated each artists’ interpretation of the term. Taiwanese artist Michael Lin’s only contribution to Surplus Value was WindScape [fig. 29], a site specific construction that took up nearly the entire space of the gallery. Made out of wood and acrylic, the resulting look of this large piece was a raised purple platform with several small bumps decorated with a yellow floral pattern, emulating a landscape with hills. WindScape is purposefully intruding and seems to invite viewers to walk across the landscape in order to get to the other side of the gallery. Although nobody actually walked on top of the piece, during the gallery’s opening party, tired visitors were seen resting their drinks and snacks and sitting on the platform. The interaction with the art goes against proper museum or gallery etiquette of looking at the piece from a respectful distance. In relation to the theme of surplus value, WindScape subtly refers to the Marxist definition; as it was illustrated in the exhibition catalogue, this piece required a team of laborers and many days of work to complete. However, the resulting piece is credited to the artist Michael Lin, and the surplus value lies in the fact that the workers are not compensated for the added “value” of the work, and ultimately, the artist benefits more so than the laborers. Other pieces in the exhibition such as Wu Shanzhuan’s Water Goods and its Enemy [fig. 30] were several canvases filled with fake brand name logos, and Zheng Guogu’s Rusty For Another 2000 Years [fig. 31] were hand made iron bottles resembling western drinks. These works also toy with the idea of contemporary art as an easy money-making venture by making obvious references to consumer products. In the west, the concept of placing mundane objects or making references to the everyday in a 55 museum or gallery is an ironic and now very clichéd gesture in questioning “high art.” In China, and especially at 798, there are several layers of irony and ambivalence involved with this type of art – while some critics may argue that this play on consumerism is out of date, others may hail it to be very fitting for the location of the exhibit. The way the idea of capitalism is utilized creates a sense of ambivalence – it is not exactly clear if the artists are displaying signs of dismay or acceptance. On one hand, the pieces are slightly humorous, but on the other, there is a sense of criticism. In Wu’s Water Goods and its Enemy, the fake logos are quite funny, but seeing so many of them repeated together on a canvas points to a slight embarrassment for China’s reputation for creating cheap imitations of brand names. Zheng’s iron bottles seemed to comment on the “heaviness” of the influence of western products. What is completely different in China though, is that Chinese artists have also equated artistic success with financial success. In the western art world, “money is seen as a corrupting influence,” but “Chinese culture is free from this guilt factor,” and successful artists do not feel embarrassed flaunting the money earned from art sales. 101 Thus, the blatant references to capitalism are further complicated with this kind of mentality. Tui-Transfiguration and Surplus Value were two completely different exhibitions at the Dashanzi Art District. Both had contrasting purposes, but both exhibitions were successful in that it attracted many intrigued visitors throughout their time at 798. Wu Hung’s Tui-Transfiguration was a purely experimental exhibition, where the way in which the art was displayed in its given space also played an important role in the entire exhibition. Koppel’s Surplus Value did not utilize the oldness of the space, but rather 101 Vine, Phillips and Pollack 49-53. 56 Figure 32 (left): Original Mao slogans on factory walls. Figure 30: Wu Shanzhuan, Water Goods and its Enemy, 2006. . Figure 29 (above): Michael Lin, WindScape, 2006. Figure 31: Zheng Guogu, Rusty for Another 2000 Years, 2006. 57 was a social commentary on the quickly capitalizing nation of China. The success of both exhibitions emphasizes how 798 was able to accommodate such differing presentations of contemporary Chinese art, and that the Dashanzi Art District provides opportunities to a wide variety of artistic activities, ranging from gallery exhibitions to site-wide festivals. One difference between the Art District and the socialist factory and the older artists’ villages is the amount of government control involved. The 1950s Joint Factory 718 was a project accomplished by the powers of the State – without government support and control, such a factory would not have been realized. The large red character slogans further emphasize how much influence the government had over its workers and how the factory was run. In addition, the older artists’ villages have faced the ravaging powers of the government as they were quickly shut down with little forewarning. No amount of protests from the villages’ residents stood in the way of the government’s decision over the villages’ ultimate destruction. However, quite surprisingly, with the demolition of the other villages, the factory units at 798 “have largely been developed without state control, and with a surprising amount of freedom from government interference.” 102 Ironically, though, the residents have now turned to government for its support, and it has been proven, for the time being, that State interference may not be as menacing. The government is quite possibly the only force strong enough to prevent the Seven Stars’ determination to demolish the area. The extent of government control, however, should only be limited to a protective power, and allow the site to develop as an artistic community. In addition, there needs to 102 Yang, Andrew 5.7. 58 be an organized supervising group or committee that oversees the activities of the site. This committee should be comprised of people of culture, those who can make sure the site remains a space of cultural production and does not over-commercialize. As China is quickly commercializing, so too has the 798 site as commercializing forces have been entering the complex: “big manufacturers such as Shell, Toyota and Omega had organized new product releases here.” 103 While these product releases reflect contemporary culture, it can also further attract unwanted foreign investments that may influence the landlords to reconsider the future possibilities of this site. Dashanzi Art District needs to be supervised by respected members of the community who want to maintain the site as a growing artistic community for China. While contemporary Chinese art may be in high demand today, there will come a time when the market will settle. Rather than being merely intrigued by the newness of the nations and its arts, art collectors, especially from abroad, will one day “be concerned with such issues as rarity, critical evaluation, institutional recognition and historic significance.” 104 When this happens, artists in China will have to rethink their approach to contemporary art. These artists will still have the talent and potential to create good, buyable art, but it will not be as easy as it is today. With a space such as 798, artists will be able to have a space to work together, and once again turn to each other for much needed support. Moreover, artists working abroad will also now have a place to return home to, and have a space to create truly local Chinese art. In terms of the physical space, Factory 798 ought to remain in tact. Factory 798 is a museum of the past – there are no other places that are such potent reminders of that era: 103 Yang Baomin 14-17. 104 Vine, Phillips and Pollack 49-53. 59 “The slogan of ‘Long Live Chairman Mao’ and ‘Construct the Factory into a Big School of Mao’s Thought’ as well as passages of Mao’s quotations are written in the same red color of the building” and “these remnants of the past half-century are difficult to find in Beijing” [fig. 32]. 105 While many have criticized the intense socialist period of the 50s- 70s, Factory 798 is one of the few reminders of what was good during that era. Joint Factory 718 was a socialist utopia that was extremely successful in production and kept their workers constantly happy. To see a monument of the past remaining and transformed into yet another inspirational and motivational site only speaks to how significant Factory 798 is to a nation like China. By maintaining the space’s connection with the past, it becomes a unique space where contemporary paintings in the galleries are hung next to old machinery, or underneath the large red characters that praise the late Chairman. No other space in China can provide this one of kind of experience for artists and viewers. When the original factory was conceived, China turned to another country for advice and support in planning and construction. Perhaps with this space, once realized in collaboration with another nation, China once again needs to seek the guidance from abroad. There are many examples in the west that have successfully transformed old industrial buildings into spaces of art and culture. The Musee d’Orsay in Paris was once a railway station built for the 1900 World Fair. By 1939, the railway was not compatible with the modernization of the transportation system and was forced to shut down. Similar to Factory 798, the abandoned station in 1975 was “threatened with destruction and replacement by a large modern hotel complex,” but the government’s interest in the 105 Chuan Zi 16-19. 60 site as a historical landmark prevented its destruction and transformation into a museum. 106 Today, the Musee d’Orsay has maintained a majority of its original architecture and houses some of the most important pieces of western art in the modern period. Similarly, in 2000, a former power station in central London was transformed into the Tate Modern: “Freed from its original purpose in 1981, the gigantic brick structure stood abandoned in the center of London, across from St. Paul's Cathedral, and was finally chosen as a building suitable to house the Collection of International Modernity of the Tate Gallery.” 107 Like the factory buildings at the Dashanzi Art District, the large interior spaces of the old power house were desirable to exhibit large scale projects. The sites in Paris and London both are embedded with a sense of history, but their ultimate revivals were able to redefine these spaces through use of the modern and contemporary arts, thus creating a landmark that is both new and unique to their respective countries. Conclusion In the 1950s, Factory 718 boasted that it produced the most advanced electronics in China. The workers were proud that “all the loudspeakers at Tiananmen Square and on Chang’An Avenue were produced during the glorious years at Factory 718.” 108 Culturally, Joint Factory 718 epitomized the socialist era of China – as Mao Zedong’s vision for the future dictated that Chinese culture would become a utopian industrial machine. Today, the Factory 798 complex imagines and accomplishes projects that reflect the ever modernizing international city of Beijing. Private studios are spaces 106 “From station to museum,” Musee d’Orsay 2007 <http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/history-of- the-museum/from-station-to-museum.html?S=0>. 107 Jens Liebchen, “Power Station for Art vs. Art for Power Station,” Art Journal 60.1 (2001) 13. 108 Luo 13. 61 where a diversity of art, ranging from traditional to controversial, are constantly produced. The various venues that have opened at this location are producing some of the most contemporary arts and fashions that are on the verge of setting international trends. Entrepreneurs purposefully choose to rent spaces in 798 because of the artistic environment. The various artists, club owners, chefs, designers, and publishers at 798 are extremely enthusiastic about their location at the site, and find the space inspiring and motivating, much like the workers and staff there over fifty years ago. While business today is thriving within the factory grounds, the site is most importantly, a community where contemporary Chinese art can flourish. As artists’ networks grew from small regional groups into actual villages where artists shared the same living space, there grew a mutual understanding that a sense of support was needed in order to survive the unofficial art world in China. The artists’ villages from the mid- 1990s have evolved into the community at Factory 798, where it is not solely poor artists trying to make a career, but a more cultural community, where many facets of contemporary Chinese culture are brought together within a shared space. Like the community there in the 1950s, it has become an ideal microcosm of the international cosmopolitan city, bustling with productive activities in a space integrated with a hint of the recent, yet very different, past. The original red Mao quotations that still exist on the walls of the factory were once a constant reminder to the factory laborers that they were working to benefit the nation, and that the nation would in return, take care of them. However, while visitors and residents of Factory 798 today can still look up at these slogans, they do not feel the same confidence in their government. Though the State has halted the bulldozers from 62 ravaging the site, it seems that this delay is only temporary and Factory 798 will one day be demolished. The Seven Stars are anxiously waiting as this thriving cultural playground continues to build up its real estate value, so that when the dingy red brick saw tooth buildings are torn down, the rent prices for the new modern complex will be exponentially higher. However, Factory 798 has massive potential for contemporary Chinese culture; it is the place where the next big artist may arise. As the economy of China progresses, as does its arts and culture: “The speed of the economy brings opportunities for artists … The artists’ success is comparable to the economic growth is China.” 109 The early twenty-first century has definitely seen a rise in demand for contemporary Chinese art, especially in the international arena, where the highest bids at art auctions are for the contemporary arts from China. Museums and galleries in the west are reexamining and revising their Asian art canon in order to accommodate the popularity of the contemporary arts and renowned art institutions are adding contemporary Chinese art into their permanent collections. 110 While some critics may predict that contemporary Chinese art will soon lose its popularity, major art institutions around the world are confirming its staying power by considering this art into their collections. Factory 798 should continue to loosely emulate the danwei – where great local products can be created, where the locals can come to see the art, and where the younger generation of artists can receive the proper training from the masters. The activity that remains in this place should be of production, not capitalism. It should remain a space 109 Muchnic E31. 110 see Barbara Pollack’s “New Works From China Command Attention,” New York Times 28 March 2007, late ed.: H30. 63 that fosters creative development that will continually intrigue the locals as well as visitors from around the world. A couple years ago, the Swiss President paid a visit to the site, “but unlike his predecessors the Swiss President did not come to the Factory to meet the workers or learn about the technology that is still produced at the site.” 111 Instead, he met the artists, attended their exhibitions, and surveyed “how a new creative class was rising.” 112 Though now a change in purpose, this site continues to attract a variety of people from all over the globe, whether for a place to produce, or a landmark to visit. The physical space of Factory 798 is extremely unique – it is both a museum of the past as well as the present. Although the architecture is German Bauhaus in style, the space is inherently Chinese, as it represents the socialist ideals of one of the most famous Chinese figures in history. The buildings at Dashanzi are tangible reminders of that era while it simultaneously houses cultural objects of the present day. Because contemporary Chinese art and culture is such an extreme difference from past tradition, it is only appropriate to find a different approach in the way it is presented to the public: “the decision to renovate and adapt former industrial buildings also mean a rejection of the traditional materials and architectural conventions used in art museum construction.” 113 Currently, there is no government supported institution in Beijing dedicated solely to the contemporary arts, and perhaps Factory 798 as an untraditional and unconventional museum space, should officially be this institution. 111 Neville Mars and Martijn de Waal, “Beijing and Beyond,” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China, ed. Huang Rui (Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004) 52. 112 Mars and de Waal 52. 113 Jonathan Harris, “Introduction: Elements Towards a Historical Sociology of Contemporary Art,” Art, Money, Parties: New Institutions in the Political Economy of Contemporary Art, ed. Jonathan Harris (Liverpool: Liverpool UP, 2004) 15. 64 Today, the future of the site is yet to be determined. Much has changed since the 1950s, and Factory 798 is still ever changing: Fashion, like time, is a fickle creature, yet it is also a powerful impetus for freedom and change. Since then, the ideals and cultural imagery associated with the changing 798 have been the subject of endless discussion, media reports and descriptive adjectives. 114 After the 2008 Olympics, the space will experience another great transformation, but exactly what it will eventually become is still in question. Until the final decision over the site’s future is made, Dashanzi Art District will continue to grow as an artistic community. Even today, the various spaces that make up the factory complex are still being rented out as studios, galleries and a diversity of businesses related to contemporary culture. This only shows that Factory 798 of today has yet to develop into a truly cultural utopia, a physically stable space filled with eternally changing ideas that continually redefines a powerful modern nation. 114 Yin Jinan 3. 65 Bibliography Andrews, Julia and Gao Minglu. “The avant-garde’s challenge to official art.” Urban Spaces in Contemporary China. Ed. Deborah Davis, Richard Kraus, Barry Naughton, and Elizabeth Perry. New York: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 1995. 221-278. Angremy, Berenice. “Dashanzi Art District: Creating a Site for Public Exhibitions.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 70-75. Aspden, Peter. “Out of the Closet.” Financial Times London 24 Sep. 2005, 46+. ProQuest. 8 May 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. “Bending the Mold.” Beijing Review 47.23 (2004) n.pag. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Borderline Festival. Beijing: n.p., 2006. Bray, David. Social Space and Governance in Urban China. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2005. Bryson, Norman. “The Post-Ideological Avant-Garde.” Inside Out: New Chinese Art. Ed. Gao Minglu. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. 51-58. Chuan Zi. “A Walk in the Dashanzi.” China & the World Cultural Exchange Jun. 2004: 16-19. Clark, John. “Official Reactions to Modern Art in China Since the Beijing Massacre.” Pacific Affairs 65.3 (1992): 334-352. ProQuest. 13 Apr. 2006. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Dashanzi International Art Festival 11 Apr. 2007 <http://www.diaf.org/2007/en/main.htm>. Ebrey, Patricia. The Cambridge Illustrated History of China. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1996. Erickson, Britta. On the Edge: Contemporary Chinese Artists Encounter the West. Hong Kong: Timezone 8, 2004. Feng Boyi. “’Under-underground’ and Others On Chinese Avant-garde Art Since the 1990s.” The Monk and the Demon. Ed. Annie Van Assche. Milan: 5 Continents Editions, 2004. 59-67. 66 “From station to museum.” Musee d’Orsay. 12 Jun. 2007 <http://www.musee- orsay.fr/en/collections/history-of-the-museum/from-station-to- museum.html?S=0>. Galikowski, Maria. Art and Politics in China: 1949-1984. Hong Kong: Chinese UP, 1998. Gao Minglu. “From Elite to Small Man: The Many Faces of a Transnational Avant-Garde in Mainland China.” Inside Out: New Chinese Art. Ed. Gao Minglu. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. 149-166. Harris, Jonathan. “Introduction: Elements Towards a Historical Sociology of Contemporary Art.” Art, Money, Parties: New Institutions in the Political Economy of Contemporary Art. Ed. Jonathan Harris. Liverpool: Liverpool UP, 2004. 11-37. He Wenzhao. “Excerpts From Interview with Ai Weiwei.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 22-25. Huang Rui. “Foreword: Sublimating Time.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 2-3. Huang Rui, ed. Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. Kiang, Eliot. “798: Five Glorious Decades.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 32-37. Kiang, Karon Morono. “Introduction: A New Vocabulary.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 4-9. Koppel-Yang, Martina. Semiotic Warfare: The Chinese Avant-Garde, 1979-1989. Hong Kong: Timezone 8, 2003. Koppel-Yang, Martina. “Surplus Value.” Surplus Value. Ed. Wei Xing. Beijing: Artron Color Printing, 2006. 4-5. Koppel-Yang, Martina. “Surplus Value – Beijing Tang Contemporary Art Opening Exhibition.” Tang Contemporary Art. < http://www.tangcontemporary.com/ en/exhibitions/list.asp?id=2>. 67 Lefaivre, Liane. “A Factory-turned-arts-community Represents the New China While Paying Homage to the Old.” Architectural Record 193.2 (2005) 55+. LexisNexis Academic. 1 May 2007. <http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe>. Li Xiantang. “An introduction to the history of modern Chinese art.” China Avant-garde: Counter-currents in Art and Culture. Ed. Jochen Noth, Wolfger Pohlmann and Kai Reschke. Hong Kong: Oxford UP, 1993. 40-45. Liebchen, Jens. “Power Station for Art vs. Art for Power Station.” Art Journal 60.1 (2001) 13+. Biography Resource Center. 13 Jul 2007. <http://www.galegroup.com/BiographyRC/>. Liu, Melinda, Craig Simons and Jen Lin-Liu. “China’s Glasnot.” Newsweek Aug. 2004: 44+. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Lu, Carol. “A Festival with a Cause: Carol Lu reports on the first Beijing Dashanzi International Art Festival.” Flash Art 37.48 (2004): n. pag. Wilson Web. 1 May 2007 <http://vnweb.hwwilsonweb.com/hww>. Luo Peilin. “Recollections on the History of 718.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 10-13. Maggio, Meg. “On the Road.” Art Press 298 (2004): 69-70. Wilson Web. 1 May 2007 <http://vnweb.hwwilsonweb.com/hww>. Magnier, Mark. “Wrecking Ball Casts Shadow on Arts Colony in Beijing.” Los Angeles Times 9 Dec. 2005: A3+. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Mangurian, Robert and Mary-Ann Ray. “Beijing Diary: How a Chinese Munitions Factory Came to House a Tweny-first-century International Architecture School and Practice.” Architecture 95.6 (2006) 88-93. Expanded Academic ASAP. 1 May 2007. < http://infotrac.galegroup.com/galenet/>. Mars, Neville and Martijn de Waal. “Beijing and Beyond.” Beijing 798: Reflections on Art, Architecture and Society in China. Ed. Huang Rui. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 38-53. Muchnic, Suzanne. “China as a gallery of contrasts.” Los Angeles Times 16 Oct. 2005: E31+. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Napack, Jonathan. “Young Beijing.” Art in America 92.6 (2004): 142-145. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. 68 Pollack, Barbara. “New Works From China Command Attention.” New York Times 28 Mar. 2007, late ed.,: H30+. ProQuest. 8 May 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Qian Zhijian. “Performing Bodies: Zhang Huan, Ma Liuming, and Performance Art in China” Art Journal 58.2 (1999): 60-81. ProQuest. 3 May 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Salmenkari, Taru. “Implementing and Avoiding Control: Contemporary Art and the Chinese State.” China: An International Journal 2.2 (2004): 235-261. Solomon, Andrew. “Their Irony, Humor (and Art) Can Save China.” New York Times 19 Dec. 1993, late ed., sec. 6:44+. LexisNexis Academic. 12 Apr. 2006. <http://web.lexis-nexis.com/universe>. Tanari, Philip. “Beijing.” ArtForum 45.4 (2006): 265-268. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Tong Dian. China! New Art & Artists. Atglen: Schiffer, 2005. Vine, Richard. “Beijing’s new art district holds fest” Art in America 92.5 (2004): 184. Biography Resource Center. 1 May 2007. <http://www.galegroup.com/BiographyRC/>. Vine, Richard, Christopher Phillips and Barbara Pollack. “Money Talks Mandarin: China has suddenly become the world’s hottest contemporary art market. What are the effects on artists of this massive influx of cash?” Art in America 95.3 (2007): 49- 53. Expanded Academic ASAP. 1 May 2007. <http://infotrac.galegroup.com/galenet/>. Wong, Young-Tsu. Paradise Lost: The Imperial Garden Yuanming Yuan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000. Wu Hung. RongRong & inri: Tui Transfiguration. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. Wu Hung. “Ruins, Fragmentation, and the Chinese Modern/Postmodern.” 1998. Theory in Contemporary Art since 1985. Ed. Zoya Kocur and Simon Leung. Oxford: Blackwell, 2005. 309-317. Wullschager, Jackie. “No More Chinese Whispers.” Financial Times London 2 Oct. 2004: 35+. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Xu Yong. “Amid Ghosts of the Red Guard, The Avant-garde Now Blooms.” New York Times 1 Sep. 2004, late ed.: E3. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. 69 Yan Club Arts Center. 14 May 2007 <http://www.yanclub.com/wwwsite/Events_About.html>. Yang, Andrew. “The Olympics Haven’t Begun, but the Party Has.” New York Times 26 Jun. 2005, late ed., sec. 5:7. ProQuest. 30 Apr. 2007. <http://proquest.umi.com>. Yang Baomin. “798: Beijing’s Soho Art Village.” China & the World Cultural Exchange Dec. 2005: 14-17. Yin Jinan. “Is 798 a Cultural Petting Zoo?” 798: A Photographic Journal. Ed. Zhu Yan. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004. 3-11. Zhu Yan, ed. 798: A Photographic Journal. Beijing: Timezone 8, 2004.

Abstract (if available)

Linked assets

University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses

Conceptually similar

PDF

Sadness after postmodernism: mood in contemporary fiction

PDF

Contemporary women's writing in South Korea: pushing the parameters of femininity in a masculinist tradition

PDF

Art into everyday life: department stores as purveyors of culture in modern Japan

PDF

Walking out of ground zero: art and the aftereffects of the atomic bombs in postwar Japan

PDF

Wong Kar-wai

PDF

Children of the anti-world: confrontations between children and adults in the fiction of Kurahashi Yumiko

PDF

Choreographing the Sinophone body: martial movements and embodied languages in Hong Kong media

PDF

The genesis of Shunkan: examining the evolution of the portrayal of the Shunkan setsuwa sequence in the Heike, nō, jōruri, and kabuki traditions

PDF

A grain of sand: Yingzao fashi and the miniaturization of Chinese architecture

PDF

Contemporary art and "post-black" identity politics

PDF

Currency reform in 1930s China and the American silver policy: a case analysis of how Chinese monetary policy was influenced by American policy and contemporary East Asian circumstances

PDF

The Buddhist world in modern Russian culture (1873-1919): Literature and visual arts

PDF

Yamashiro, imagined home and the aesthetics of Hollywood Japanism: memory contained in architectural space

PDF

Conditions of literary modernities: a conceptual history of Chinese literature, 1860-1925

PDF

The multivalent platforms of alternative art publications as agents of authentic cultural change

PDF

Tokyo visions: contemporary Japanese photography and the search for a subjective documentary

PDF

Cartographies of skin: Asian American adornment and the aesthetics of race

PDF

Dreaming of peace: an exploration of Japan's international relations and understanding of peace through superheroes

PDF

The anxiety of interrupted kinship: Transpacific cultures of Korean historical trauma

PDF

The space of Japanese science fiction: illustration, subculture, and the body in SF Magazine

Asset Metadata

Creator Chan, Tracy S. (author)

Core Title Factory 798: an everchanging microcosm of contemporary Chinese culture

School College of Letters, Arts and Sciences

Degree Master of Arts

Degree Program East Asian Languages and Cultures

Publication Date 07/26/2009

Defense Date 07/02/2007

Publisher University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag Factory 798,OAI-PMH Harvest

Place Name Beijing (city or populated place), buildings: Factory 798 (geographic subject), China (countries)

Language English

Advisor Lippit, Akira Mizuta (committee chair), Lee, Sonya S. (committee member), Tang, Xiaobing (committee member)

Creator Email tracysch@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-m691

Unique identifier UC1201347

Identifier etd-Chan-20070726 (filename),usctheses-m40 (legacy collection record id),usctheses-c127-520857 (legacy record id),usctheses-m691 (legacy record id)

Legacy Identifier etd-Chan-20070726.pdf

Dmrecord 520857

Document Type Thesis

Rights Chan, Tracy S.

Type texts

Source University of Southern California (contributing entity), University of Southern California Dissertations and Theses (collection)

Repository Name Libraries, University of Southern California

Repository Location Los Angeles, California

Repository Email cisadmin@lib.usc.edu