Thoughts on the exhibition from ten years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I can still more or less recall the evening, at dusk, of November 4, 2000. I came in a taxi to a street along Suzhou Creek in the suburbs of Shanghai\u2014a river dike on one side and old factories and warehouses on the other. Immediately I recognized some arty-looking people strolling and smoking on the side of the road before I had even found the number on the door. I stopped the taxi alongside them and asked where the entrance of Eastlink Gallery was. Inside, at the most prominent position, hung a work by Ai Weiwei, \u201cGold Distribution\u201d: an enormous black and white photo of a tightly packed group of people in a queue, a reproduction of a famous photo taken by Henri Cartier-Bresson in 1949 (the year the Chinese Communist Party established the People\u2019s Republic of China). I didn\u2019t pay much attention at the time to the name of the exhibition \u201cFuck Off,\u201d or \u201cUncooperative Approach\u201d in its Chinese translation. I came mainly because of its reputation as the external exhibition for the Shanghai Biennale. Knowledge of this kind of exhibition seldom depended on formal invitations; rather, the information was passed on by insiders through word of mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In this massive and sturdy former warehouse, the exhibition space on the ground floor was dirty and crude, reeking of filth. Upstairs, on the contrary, was clean, bright and spacious. The upper floor was the gallery space; the bottom floor was rented out for the short term. As is the case for this kind of exhibition, I saw several acquaintances, some eccentrically dressed characters and many foreigners. The artist, Ding Yi, handed me a catalogue, along with an \u201cunderground\u201d rumor\u2014many young artists were being presented here, a number of whose works contained literally \u201craw material\u201d\u2014skin and flesh. Several weeks later I visited Li Liang, the owner of Eastlink Gallery. By then the exhibition was already down; some abstract paintings by Shanghainese painters were leaning against the wall in the empty gallery. In the office, in his usual nonchalant manner, Li Liang mentioned that the Cultural Inspection Bureau had come after the opening. They claimed that some of the works were inappropriate and demanded that the exhibition close. All the remaining catalogs were confiscated as they were being sold without government publication authorization.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There were forty-six artists showing in \u201cFuck Off,\u201d including the works of Zhang Shengquan who had recently committed suicide. The Cultural Inspection Bureau considered several works to be inappropriate. Photographs by Xu Tan were considered pornography and taken away. Another work of photography, by Yang Fudong, \u201cThe First Intellectual,\u201d (2000) also suffered the same fate. In this image, a young man standing in the middle of a road, in a torn suit and loosened tie, his head covered in blood, is holding a brick in his hand as if to make a counter-strike; the background was the new avenues of Pudong District of Shanghai and the newly finished tallest building in Asia, the Jinmao Tower. In this year of 2000, Yang Fudong had not yet become famous. The performance piece \u201cEating People\u201d by Zhu Yu, often referred to as \u201cEating Baby,\u201d the most controversial work of the exhibition, was in fact not displayed. On the opening night, a rumor spread that the baby-eating photos were in a black suitcase in the corner of the exhibition space. This artist had in the past used parts of corpses in his artworks. For this exhibition he traveled with the black suitcase from Beijing to Shanghai by train. The curatorial team was worried that its contents were nevertheless still too sensitive, and therefore did not display them. When the Cultural Inspection Bureau came, Zhu Yu had already returned to Beijing with the suitcase. However, the photos and their accompanying texts nonetheless were included in the catalogue. Also in the catalogue were images of the young female artist Peng Yu\u2019s \u201cOil of Human Being\u201d (2000) which, too, provoked considerable controversy, the title needing no explanation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Eastlink Gallery and some artists\u2019 studios did not stay in these warehouses for more than a couple of years before they were renovated. Destruction, relocation and renovation were common for all these types of venues in Shanghai and China over the last twenty years. They moved to the nearby (and now famous) 50 Moganshan Road and other unoccupied warehouses. The galleries and studios in this complex inevitably became self-inflated with the burgeoning art market. Today, they have been successfully transformed and incorporated into the hip yet excessively commercialized M50 Creative Park. Presumably, within this setup it is doubtful that there is any remaining interest to engage in \u201cnon-cooperation.\u201d There is a copy of a very worn \u201cFuck Off\u201d catalogue in Eastlink Gallery; the young receptionist could not give me a clear explanation of what had happened.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The 2000 Shanghai Biennale, by breaking away from its past (domestic) conservative approach and engaging global contemporary art, had indeed provided a brand new artistic environment in China. Before this, the \u201cradical\u201d art movement in China had encountered persistent obstacles. The Shanghai Biennale was the first government-organized contemporary art exhibition in a national art museum that included installation and film works. This became a turning point, as the Shanghai municipal government was determined to demonstrate their open-mindedness and desire for progress to Westerners. Consequently, as the progressive art movement in China steered towards a course promoted by the Western contemporary art world, its imported influence was positively received. Though the Jiang Zemin administration\u2019s utilitarian mindset was not ready to accommodate any radical art forms, it nonetheless was also aware of the profits that could be attained by supporting and presenting this style of contemporary culture given the potential for attention and investment by the West. Indeed, several international Chinese curators such as Hou Hanru, who co-curated the 2000 Shanghai Biennale, successfully imported new concepts, creating new excitement in the national art scene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Was \u201cFuck Off\u201d good or bad news, then, for the art scene in China? One of the two curators, Feng Boyi, revealed afterwards that Ai Weiwei, the other curator, with his sensitivity and timely perception, was able to discern even the subtlest developing mood. The setting, ambiance and openness in Shanghai at that time were unparalleled, especially with the newly modified warehouse spaces along the Suzhou Creek. Ai Weiwei was invited by Li Liang, who had recently moved into this new area, to construct an exhibition that could be contextualized by the Shanghai Biennale. Perceptibly, he had already conceived such an event and its title before collaborating with Feng Boyi. Therefore, what \u201cFuck Off\u201d tried to achieve was more a gesture, a statement, an expression of attitude, rather than quality of content. The exhibition confronted and criticized the reality of its artistic environment\u2014the emergence of Chinese official contemporary art and a cynical conformity to Western influence that had always existed and was destined inevitably to be the predominant theme of the Shanghai Biennale.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During an interview, Ai Weiwei fervently declared, \u201cWe do not cooperate with anyone, anything. This is a challenge to all the powers, authorities and the system. It is small yet not to be ignored, like a nail in the eye, a thorn in the flesh, a little grain of sand in the shoe\u2014it reflects a valuable cultural spirit\u201d (1). Feng Boyi further clarified, \u201cDo not cooperate with the contemporary mainstream trend in China, do not cooperate with the established structure of today\u2019s art world, do not cooperate with the Western standard\u201d (2).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For a long time after the opening night, there was much public discussion and media response, which directly lead to the forming of a legislative \u201cnotice\u201d in April 2001 which included \u201cforbidding performance or display of bloody, violent, and obscene subjects, as well as presentation of human reproductive organs or other pornographic acts that are harmful to the society\u201d (3). The 2002 Shanghai Biennale Committee also posted the \u201clawyer authorization declaration\u201d in major newspapers, as an attempt to suppress any \u201cexternal exhibition\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Dating back as early as the May 4th Movement in 1919, Chinese intellectuals have undertaken radical action in response to social and cultural problems. The \u201cradical\u201d art movement that began in the late 1970s, after traveling a bumpy road for two decades, finally gave its \u201clast breath\u201d before it eventually submitted to a new regime of the contemporary art world. I considered \u201cFuck Off\u201d to be this \u201clast breath.\u201d Even though the fundamental concepts of radical art are based on rationalism, it was also romantic in a political sense, with a belief in abstract liberation as well as reckless fanaticism enlivened in a tangible form.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The radical art movement may have been continually changing its form, yet it did not do so just for the sake of form. An ideology to oppose the orthodox was its main focus; they were the pioneers leading to a \u201croad of liberation.\u201d The distinctive features of these kinds of exhibitions in the 1990s included refusing to be involved in a conventional exhibiting system, risking being cut short or closed down for their radical approaches, proclaiming their status as the avant-garde with radical actions and gestures, and having difficulties with spaces and funding. The idea, the scope of \u201cFuck Off\u201d and the breadth of its effects were substantial enough to be qualified as the concluding show of this radical movement. It may not have realized its own destiny then. \u201cFuck Off\u201d appeared to have concluded a dynamic that had thrived for two decades, where artists conceived and created their own exhibitions. The time was, however, already moving into the era of the curator.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Chinese translation of the exhibition is both sensible and literal, \u201cthe way to not cooperate,\u201d as opposed to the English interpretation, which on the contrary, in an expressionist way, serves the meaning on a metaphysical level. Though the approaches vary, the two translations nonetheless agree in essence. However, the English profanity reveals much about an artistic trend of the late 1990s. Many of the exhibition\u2019s young and emerging artists were actively involved in the underground art scene then, and many artists sought maximum sensual excitement from and stimulation in their works. Additionally, \u201cFuck Off\u201d unexpectedly terminated the efflorescence of that particular group of art \u201cradicals.\u201d Other exhibitions which extensively employed human and animal cadavers were \u201cPost-Sense Sensibility: Alien Bodies & Delusion\u201d (Beijing, 1999), \u201cIndulge in Hurt\u201d (Beijing, 2000), and \u201cHuman and Animal\u201d (Nanjing, 2000). This movement lasted for about a year or two until criticism and reflection created by the controversial \u201cEating Baby\u201d artworks and its successors brought a sudden end to this shock art contest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Notes:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n (1) \u201cDialogue on the \u2018Fuck Off\u2019 Exhibition,\u201d an interview with Long Yong. The original article was published in Art World magazine in 2001; see here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n (2) Ibid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n (3) \u201cNotice by the Cultural Department to strictly prohibit performance or display of bloody, violent, and obscene subjects on behalf of \u2018art,\u2019\u201d Government Issue No. 14, April 3, 2001.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Thoughts on the exhibition from ten year … Continue reading