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| The life and art of Ai Weiwei. Between justice, truth and reality Maija Veide, Cultural Researcher | |
| With China taking a more significant place on the world economic map, greater attention is also being focussed on China’s contemporary culture. The traditional cultural heritage of the Chinese, including art, calligraphy and other knowledge, is already well-established in the world, but opinions about China’s contemporary cultural achievements are much more divided. The language barrier, China’s isolation in the relatively recent past, its political situation and the non-existence of a cultural dialogue created the situation where, for a long time, China’s contemporary literature and art was not accessible outside the country and its direct sphere of influence. In discussing China’s contemporary culture, mention of the political aspect, it seems, cannot be avoided. A good example here would be last year’s winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Mo Yan. The main discussion which arose was not about the nature of his literary work, but rather about the fact that he comes from inside the structures of the Chinese political system and whether such a writer, who supports an openly undemocratic regime and actively participates in its official establishment, should even be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. One of the loudest voices of criticism on the Chinese side came from the artist, architect and well-known dissident Ai Weiwei, who, shortly after the Nobel Prize Committee announcement, stated that awarding the prize to Mo Yan was “an insult to humanity and literature”, and that this decision by the committee was “shameful”.(1) In recent years, Ai Weiwei’s comments are sought every time anything connected with restrictions on the freedom of speech or related to dissidents in China emerges. He has thus become the most prominent voice of protest from China in the West. He is an artist who is convinced that art is capable of changing the world and has transformed his life into a work of art, striving to make this work accessible to as many people as possible. In Riga, too, Alison Klayman’s (USA) documentary Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry was showing for a number of months at the KinoBize cinema. | |
 Ai Weiwei. Sunflower Seeds. Installation. Fragment Publicity photos | |
| The artist was born in Beijing in 1957. His father Ai Qing was a famous poet, Communist and revolutionary who was denounced and exiled to the countryside for “re-education through labour” during Mao’s regime. In the early 1980s, Ai Weiwei abandoned his studies in China, departed for the USA and lived in New York for 12 years, where he became an artist. These two very conflicting realities – the China of Mao’s era and 1980s New York – also became the source and stimulus for the artist’s ideas. Ai Weiwei gained wide recognition through his participation in the Bird’s Nest stadium project, conceived for Beijing’s Olympic Games in collaboration with the architecture firm Herzog & de Meuron. It was specifically at this time that his voice of protest became one of the most strident and widely heard. He documented the forced relocation of migrant workers and protested against it, as well as the compulsory demolition of homes for the requirements of the Beijing Olympic Games. He protested against the Olympic Games as the face of the Chinese government, who simply wiped the common people out of the way for official purposes. Skilfully using the social networks provided by the internet, he broadcast his opinions on his blog, on Twitter and also on the Chinese version of Twitter called weibo, and in this way his voice travelled far beyond China’s borders. However, Ai Weiwei’s activities and art projects received far more attention in relation to a different event, this being the earthquake in the Sichuan province on 12 May 2008, where, with the collapse of state school buildings, many thousands of children lost their lives. Residents blamed the government for poorly constructed school buildings, calling them “tofu buildings”, and it was clear that these were the direct cause of the needlessly high number of victims. Fuel was thrown on the fire and even greater outrage was caused when governmental institutions refused to disclose the actual number of children who had been injured or killed. Then Ai Weiwei embarked on a new project. Together with volunteers and others sharing his views, he travelled to the region affected by the earthquake, and collected and collated data about the children who had been killed. The result of this project can be seen on the walls of the office at Ai Weiwei’s studio: pages and pages stuck next to each other with names, birth dates, ages and the names of schools. Ai Weiwei transformed the memorial of the children into art, and later, the work She lived happily in this world for seven years was exhibited in Munich’s Haus der Kunst museum. Children’s school bags covered the wall and created an inscription in yellow, red and blue writing in Chinese on a blue background. As an artist, Ai Weiwei reflects on China, and his source of inspiration is China and the state today, as he sees it. The conflict between the culture of the past and today’s reality leaves a lot of space for artistic expression. They are works in the “Chinese style” which blend in well in the Western world. In many of his works one can see references to, and a toying with, conceptualism and minimalism, yet in others he manipulates with China’s antique art, for example, ceramics or traditional design, as well as with everyday objects, questioning cultural values and political power. Ai Weiwei’s art is social and it has the ability to influence society and the world. Art is an instrument, the only language in which an individual can feel free. China’s ancient culture and rich history provide the works with multilayered subtext and referencing possibilities. Simple things become a symbol of the conflict, difference and divergence between the modern and the ancient. The artist smashes a Han Dynasty (206 BC – 220 AD) vase and paints over other vases from this dynasty, in this way effectively destroying the ancient artefacts. Yet at the same time it is a reflection on modern-day China’s (and, of course, not only China’s) attitude to its past. Beijing’s hutongs(2) are being demolished, giving way to skyscrapers, wide roads and metro lines. Throughout the country, ancient cultural monuments are being rebuilt and “renewed”, transformed into attractions for the tourist masses, quite often constructing and creating a new history where there may not have been one before. Ai Weiwei’s works are of one scale; the Great Wall of China’s “restoration” to suit the demands of tourism takes on a completely different scope. These processes balance on the borderline between reality and falsification, where the latter could well serve as another symbol of the reality of today’s China. Another large-scale work, exhibited in 2010–2011 at London’s Tate Modern, is Sunflower Seeds. This is an installation which took about two and a half years to complete and consists of approximately 100 million traditionally created porcelain sunflower seeds, each seed being hand painted. The installation is accompanied by a video about the making of the work. The exhibition also presented an opportunity for interactive participation – to pose a question which was recorded on video and which the artist later answered.(3) Sunflower seeds are the most widespread item in China – so Ai Weiwei says in the film Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry. They are munched on in trains, in restaurants and at home. Millions of the little seeds made by hand: it seems that such a work of art could only be created by the Chinese. And at the same time, it’s so simple – many, many sunflower seeds. And still, this simple object – a seed – encompasses a broad context and provides a variety of possibilities for interpretation. The place where the work was created, Jingdezhen, used to be the capital of porcelain, where the best porcelain was once made. Porcelain was used at the Emperor’s court, and with it China became renowned in the West. Porcelain is such a significant symbol of China that the name of the country in English – China – comes from the word for “porcelain”. Nowadays, however, Jingdezhen reverted into a little village, needed by no-one, abandoned in the rush for economic development. Its name was not familiar to the Director of the Tate Modern, and this fact, too, is evidence of the passing of its earlier stature. Symbolically, Jingdezhen has represents Ancient China and its culture which has attracted the West so much, and which the new China, with its consumer society, in its drive for comfort, civilization and material goods, has excluded from its daily life. The sunflower as a symbol is from modern-day China. Ai Weiwei points out that sunflowers featured in all of the political posters and drawings in which Mao Zedong was portrayed. One could assume that during the artist’s childhood such posters could be seen all around the place. In them Mao symbolized the sun, and the sunflower seeds, which follow the sun – the Party faithful. You wouldn’t pay particular attention to a little sunflower seed, as a far too common everyday object. But fake seeds, copies of the little sunflower seeds, make people stop and think for a moment, before they can accept and understand them as a work of art. Ai Weiwei is a Chinese artist in the broadest sense of the notion. The source of inspiration for his work is the everyday life of China, where he lives and which he wants to change. The conflict between the historic past and today’s reality which is characteristic of many Asian countries has become even more acute in today’s China, and extends into many areas – the relationship between the morality of society, those in power and the “common person”, as well as the conflict between money and humanity and other values. What should take priority – the preservation of one’s historical past, or economic development and progress with the times? The wide sweep of conflict provides a lot of room for thinking in art. Thus Mo Yan, last year’s winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature expressed his opinion that censorship is a stimulus for literature and creative thinking.(4) Similar thoughts have been expressed here, in Latvia, too, when discussing the creation of art during the Soviet era and nowadays. Ai Weiwei, however, contrary to Mo Yan, protests openly against China’s political system, and at the same time this system and this protest is at the core of his works of art. His works emanate from life, and one can draw an equals sign between his life and his art. It may be paradoxical, yet it is obvious that the artist really loves his country. And to love one’s country, to wish it well and to fight for what you believe in – that earns respect everywhere. Ai Weiwei’s voice of protest comes from China’s intellectuals, but as opposed to the “tired” intellectuals who are only able to sadly watch what’s happening from the sides, and live with the consciousness of absurdity and their impotence, he actively continues to work, creating new works, films, giving interviews and writing on the social networks. His art is his deed, and often contains a profound humour. With its assistance, Ai Weiwei in his art brings together China’s ancient and contemporary social context and creates a bridge between East and West, addressing the Western world directly and becoming the voice from China that is listened to and heard. Ai Weiwei transforms his life into art right down to the smallest detail. When closed circuit cameras were set up outside the artist’s house for surveillance, in response to that, Ai Weiwei also set up cameras – inside the house, and one could follow the video footage directly on the internet. If the police can watch what’s happening outside the artist’s home, observing who goes in and out, then obviously everyone should have the right to see what is going on within his home. Ai Weiwei values the great power of social networks and information very highly. This approach is also explained in the film, Ai Weiwei: Never Sorry : “They (the police) film, and we film. The only difference is that nobody will ever get to see what they film. But we will show the material that we film to the wider public and will make it accessible to anyone who wants it. And they (the police) don’t understand this difference, although it is the most significant.” After watching the film, I came to the conclusion that Ai Weiwei is a thinking patriot. He criticises official China about concrete things and actions in specific cases, saying that what’s been done is not good enough, but without denying that a lot has been achieved. The fact that Ai Weiwei works, creates films, writes, talks to journalists and exhibits overseas is already proof of the transformations taking place in China and a movement towards greater openness. In any process one can see the bright and dark side, the pluses and the minuses. Official China tells us mostly about the pluses, and someone who tells us also about the other side – what happens in the shadows – is needed, too. Translation into English: Uldis Brūns (1) See: www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/news/ai-weiwei-brands-nobel-prize-for-literature-decision-an-insult-to-humanity-as-chinas-mo-yan-named-winner-8207109.html. (2) Hutong – traditional residential neighbourhoods in Beijing. (3) The film and video materials can be seen on: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PueYywpkJW8; www.youtube.com/watch?v=4sy1AFYxDmo. (4) “Many approaches to literature have political bearings, for example in our real life there might be some sharp or sensitive issues that they do not wish to touch upon. At such a juncture a writer can inject their own imagination to isolate them from the real world or maybe they can exaggerate the situation – making sure it is bold, vivid and has the signature of our real world. So, actually I believe these limitations or censorship is great for literature creation.” www.granta.com/New-Writing/Granta-Audio-Mo-Yan | |
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