Over at the city pavilions, security was not as tight, but again the installation was poor and the building was in a very rough condition. The space which formerly housed such landmarks as the East Sea Coffee house and the German Grand Hotel — a hotspot for celebrities and dignitaries at the turn of the century — had been recently disemboweled and presented a patchwork of different floor and wall coverings, jagged openings, tiles and cement, criss-crossed with dark, dank staircases. In defense of his space, Qiu Zhijie mentioned the Venice Biennale and the Istanbul Biennale’s use of old warehouses, but this space was lacking the basic amenities of an art space — proper lighting, for example. One ground-floor space didn’t even have a glass door, but rather a metal gate which exposed art works to the elements.
Granted, the budget for the city pavilions wasn’t huge. 150,000 RMB (approx. 24077 USD) per pavilion had to cover everything from freight to flights to production budgets. More savvy teams found their own sponsorship and had people on the ground to fight for precious resources. Those who were less organized showed up during the week of installation and complained loudly about the space and the lack of support from the biennale team.
Online and offline the biennale was widely criticized for its lack of organization, Mian Mian, an author of racy, chick-lit novels (and very briefly the director of Bund 18 Gallery) being one of the most vocal critics, calling the biennale “a gigantic loss of face” on Weibo (China’s twitter equivalent).[1] Curators complained of having been put up in the budget chain of Hanting Hotels with no English speaking staff, but Qiu Zhijie retorted in an informal press conference that he had bigger priorities:
“We are artists, not collectors. We don’t need to stay in five-star hotels. I want to spend the money on buying better lights. I don’t like to be criticized for this. And in this area you look around and what do you find? There are no hotels, just motels, so they had to stay at the Hanting.”
Qiu himself claimed a number of hardships; for instance, the Biennale Office asked him to share a room with co-curator Jens Hoffman while visiting this year’s ARTHK. He also claimed to have paid many of the Biennale’s expenses out of his own pocket due to the byzantine financial processes of the museum, which was not expedient enough to deal with the deadlines of the project. [2]
[1] Writing under the name Mianmian Vegetarian her remarks caused one netizen to retort that she “wasn’t a vegetarian.” I.e. implying that she seemed to have a thirst for blood.
[2] Qiu Zhijie, “Qiu Zhijie Rants about the Shanghai Biennale: Do Not Let the Rumors Runneth Over,” (邱志杰吐槽上海双年展：不要让谣言泛滥), http://www.qiuzhijie.com/blog/, September 27, 2012
