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Solo show for father of video art
By Wang Jie |
July 21, 2011, Thursday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
THERE is a widely spread rumor about Zhang Peili, China's renowned video artist. It says 20 years ago, Zhang gave away a canvas to a friend. Later his friend threw it away as the canvas was rotten. But the man was shocked to find that the value of this canvas reached 200,000 yuan (US$30,921) years later, and must be heartbroken to know that the price of this canvas, if it still existed today, currently stands at more than 20 million yuan.
When verified with Zhang at his recently unveiled solo exhibition at Minsheng Art Museum, the artist gives a candid answer.
"Yes, this is a true story, and I can only say that I didn't respect my artwork as well at that time by easily giving it to someone as a gift."
Born in 1957 in Hangzhou, Zhang obtained his bachelor's degree at the Oil Painting Department of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou where he now lives and works.
"Don't call me a mainstream artist," he says. "I never enjoy being a mainstream artist including its aesthetic taste or education mode."
But the title of the father of video art in China unwittingly pushes Zhang into the mainstream, and he is currently the deputy dean of the New Media Department of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou.
When Zhang's peers such as Wang Guangyi have already become "China's most-expensive artists," perhaps it is a bit late for his first solo exhibition in the country.
The exhibition features 23 of Zhang's video and installation works created since 1988.
"I have been in a struggling status all these days preparing for this exhibition," Zhang claims. "It is a really tough job to reach the visual effect that I want in my mind."
Yet the artist has all the reason to be that pressured and picky, as this is also the first time some of his pivotal works have been shown to the public.
As one of the core members of the "New 85 Wave" in the 1980s in China, Zhang was known for both his existential bent and interest in separating art and emotion. After experimenting with oil paintings, public installations and street art, Zhang turned almost entirely to video.
Since 1995, he totally abandoned oil paintings and became "the edge of the edge."
His earliest video works experimented with an aesthetics of boredom, using themes of social and political control.
"This is an artificial reality, an imagined fact. I want to find out about this supposed gap between artificial realities and external realities. Is there really any difference between a reality produced by video and a reality captured by video?" Zhang asks.
In his pioneering 1988 video work titled "30x30," considered by many to be the first piece of video art produced in China, the viewer witnesses Zhang repeatedly smashing a mirror to pieces and then repairing it by gluing the shards back together.
"Art is the narration for something that can't be narrated. But today's artists become unable to face their mission," Zhang points out. "They are unable to make judgments including material or subject. I don't prefer that viewers would say that I am a Chinese artist, but I would be glad to hear that they say the message conveyed from my works is purely Eastern instead of Western."
His recent piece entitled "A Gust of Wind" furthers Zhang's exploration in the area.
Several huge screens on the exhibition wall reflect a living room scene of a Chinese middle-class home from different angles.
"Beginning in the last quarter of the 20th century, the Chinese government put forth a new ideal for its citizens: that of middle-class domesticity," Zhang adds.
But in the eyes of the artist, such domesticity is fragile - sometimes a gust of wind could destroy everything.
In contrast with the harmonious scene on the screen, the physical mess on the ground is daunting.
The wreckage contains a sofa, an easy chair, a coffee table, a bottle, glasses, books, some magazines, a table lamp, fruit, a vase, cut flowers, a television set, a goldfish bowl, a Chinese-style chair, plants, a floor lamp, a flowerpot, a birdcage, a bookshelf, a storage shelf, a wall, oil paintings and photographs hung on the wall, a small window, curtains and a full-length picture window.
"I don't like to directly refer to those Chinese symbols in my works, but I am not against those artists who excel at it such as Cai Guoqiang's fireworks, but his latest works are not so subtle," he says. "I always warn myself, avoiding anything on practical purpose."
Today Zhang's unique identity is widely mentioned and confirmed, as if China's art community is suddenly aware that Zhang belongs to the first group of artists that were invited to the Venice Biennale. Today his video work has been collected by MOMA in New York and Pompidou Art Center in Paris.
When asked whether Zhang tends to focus on the subject of time, the artists nods.
"Time is akin to a stirrer which we are inside," he explains. "Different from other media, video is equipped with two elements - movement and time. For example, when we are engaged in a movie, we forget about time. But when we are not, then time is torture. Time exists and really conquers everything."
Zhang says that when he was young, he preferred to wander on unfamiliar streets alone or walk besides the railways.
"I enjoy the experience of curiosity, freshness and waywardness," he recalls. "I hope that I can always maintain such conditions on my art path."
Date: through August 14, 10am-7pm
Address: F Bldg, 570 Huaihai Rd W.
When verified with Zhang at his recently unveiled solo exhibition at Minsheng Art Museum, the artist gives a candid answer.
"Yes, this is a true story, and I can only say that I didn't respect my artwork as well at that time by easily giving it to someone as a gift."
Born in 1957 in Hangzhou, Zhang obtained his bachelor's degree at the Oil Painting Department of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou where he now lives and works.
"Don't call me a mainstream artist," he says. "I never enjoy being a mainstream artist including its aesthetic taste or education mode."
But the title of the father of video art in China unwittingly pushes Zhang into the mainstream, and he is currently the deputy dean of the New Media Department of the China Academy of Art in Hangzhou.
When Zhang's peers such as Wang Guangyi have already become "China's most-expensive artists," perhaps it is a bit late for his first solo exhibition in the country.
The exhibition features 23 of Zhang's video and installation works created since 1988.
"I have been in a struggling status all these days preparing for this exhibition," Zhang claims. "It is a really tough job to reach the visual effect that I want in my mind."
Yet the artist has all the reason to be that pressured and picky, as this is also the first time some of his pivotal works have been shown to the public.
As one of the core members of the "New 85 Wave" in the 1980s in China, Zhang was known for both his existential bent and interest in separating art and emotion. After experimenting with oil paintings, public installations and street art, Zhang turned almost entirely to video.
Since 1995, he totally abandoned oil paintings and became "the edge of the edge."
His earliest video works experimented with an aesthetics of boredom, using themes of social and political control.
"This is an artificial reality, an imagined fact. I want to find out about this supposed gap between artificial realities and external realities. Is there really any difference between a reality produced by video and a reality captured by video?" Zhang asks.
In his pioneering 1988 video work titled "30x30," considered by many to be the first piece of video art produced in China, the viewer witnesses Zhang repeatedly smashing a mirror to pieces and then repairing it by gluing the shards back together.
"Art is the narration for something that can't be narrated. But today's artists become unable to face their mission," Zhang points out. "They are unable to make judgments including material or subject. I don't prefer that viewers would say that I am a Chinese artist, but I would be glad to hear that they say the message conveyed from my works is purely Eastern instead of Western."
His recent piece entitled "A Gust of Wind" furthers Zhang's exploration in the area.
Several huge screens on the exhibition wall reflect a living room scene of a Chinese middle-class home from different angles.
"Beginning in the last quarter of the 20th century, the Chinese government put forth a new ideal for its citizens: that of middle-class domesticity," Zhang adds.
But in the eyes of the artist, such domesticity is fragile - sometimes a gust of wind could destroy everything.
In contrast with the harmonious scene on the screen, the physical mess on the ground is daunting.
The wreckage contains a sofa, an easy chair, a coffee table, a bottle, glasses, books, some magazines, a table lamp, fruit, a vase, cut flowers, a television set, a goldfish bowl, a Chinese-style chair, plants, a floor lamp, a flowerpot, a birdcage, a bookshelf, a storage shelf, a wall, oil paintings and photographs hung on the wall, a small window, curtains and a full-length picture window.
"I don't like to directly refer to those Chinese symbols in my works, but I am not against those artists who excel at it such as Cai Guoqiang's fireworks, but his latest works are not so subtle," he says. "I always warn myself, avoiding anything on practical purpose."
Today Zhang's unique identity is widely mentioned and confirmed, as if China's art community is suddenly aware that Zhang belongs to the first group of artists that were invited to the Venice Biennale. Today his video work has been collected by MOMA in New York and Pompidou Art Center in Paris.
When asked whether Zhang tends to focus on the subject of time, the artists nods.
"Time is akin to a stirrer which we are inside," he explains. "Different from other media, video is equipped with two elements - movement and time. For example, when we are engaged in a movie, we forget about time. But when we are not, then time is torture. Time exists and really conquers everything."
Zhang says that when he was young, he preferred to wander on unfamiliar streets alone or walk besides the railways.
"I enjoy the experience of curiosity, freshness and waywardness," he recalls. "I hope that I can always maintain such conditions on my art path."
Date: through August 14, 10am-7pm
Address: F Bldg, 570 Huaihai Rd W.
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