In his lecture “What is the Museum of Contemporary Art?”, co-curator of the 9th Shanghai Biennale Boris Groys brought up the following scenario: “We are immersed in a virtual world surrounding life, and in order to get away, to escape the glow of our computer screens, what do I do? I go to the Biennale!” Yes, that is exactly how I ended up in the audience, half a world away, with no previous knowledge of the Chinese contemporary art scene or the Shanghai Biennale (reassuringly — perhaps? — another co-curator, Jens Hoffmann, admitted that he didn’t either). And what better way to visit an extraordinarily sci-fi city than as an invited student to a workshop for art writers and journalists within the pompously named “Academy of Reciprocal Enlightenment” under the aegis of the Shanghai Biennale.
Alighting in Shanghai, I honestly had no preconceptions of the Biennale but had specific expectations for the Academy. The premise of the workshop was this: due to the rapidly changing global environment, the media needs to rethink its important position and responsibility as a mediator between contemporary art and the public, especially because of the abundance of online voices. Art criticism and art making should have a symbiotic relationship for the optimal development and sustainability of both fields. The Academy claimed to offer a series of lectures, workshops, visits to artists’ studios, and site visits in which a crew of young international journalists would have a chance to learn more in a “Platonic-style community of wisdom and criticism” — with instruction given in or translated into English in order to appeal to foreigners. The call for applications popped into my inbox thanks to Art&Education; the combination of the mentioned Groys scenario, my curiosity about China’s contemporary artists (especially since they are either overlooked or pigeonholed from the Euro-American-centric point of view), the potential to see familiar artists in an unfamiliar context, and the desire to gain insight into my journalistic practice prompted me to apply. My first foretaste of the overall organizational troubles of the Biennale was the notification of acceptance into the program just 22 days before the check-in day — a time-frame not especially friendly to foreigners who need visas to enter the country. Not wanting to regret a missed opportunity, I pushed ahead nevertheless.
Upon arrival, a modified curriculum emerged, omitting the promised studio visits, and revealing the Academy to be a glorified series of lectures rather than an interactive writer’s workshop. In the workshop opening speech, the chief curator, Qiu Zhijie, admitted that the hardware was easy but the software was difficult; erecting a building in China was no problem — the challenge lies in assembling a professional team to sustain an institution. We were then given a tour of the exhibition site, which one week before the opening still resembled a construction site, not a museum. I was baffled by how much work was left before the artworks could even be installed (and plastic still covered the carpet in our greenhouse-looking classroom). My Chinese peers reassured me that this was China; it would get done. In the time between walking through the soon-to-be restaurant on the way to lectures and leaving in the afternoon, an impeccable gold-leafing job was magically completed on a massive wall in the dining room. Unfortunately, this level of patience and attention did not carry through to arguably more pressing organizational and installation issues. For one thing, established Shanghai gallerists were furious they didn’t receive invitations to the opening, while a massive iron ball was on the loose in the gallery posing a threat to visitors (it took six people and one red-faced, sweaty curator to get it under control). And then a rumor was circulating about a crying curator because works didn’t arrive according to schedule; many artists were stressed and unhappy, and even Qiu Zhijie said, “I want to cry” when discussing the show’s financial situation.
Our speakers ran the gamut: from informative, engaging, and inspirational to blatantly self-promotional. Heinz-Norbert Jocks of Kunstforum International conducted one of the few true workshops — meaning that the instructor and students were engaged in dialog throughout the session instead of a lecture followed by questions. We were given a unique opportunity to watch him conduct an interview with Jens Hoffmann, which showed us first hand many of the techniques discussed the day before. This level of Platonic interaction was much more useful and engaging than, for instance, the photographer Liu Heung Shing’s approach to a dialog, where he asked us to individually share our frustrations of being an art journalist. There were over twenty journalists in the room and everyone had something new to add. It was slightly discouraging to hear all of the problems peers face in the field, one after another, with no interruptions, and we all were eager to hear how Liu was going to address our concerns. Once the microphone had made its rounds, however, we were out of time. His final words to the group were optimistic — if we are really good at what we do, success will come — but this obviously neglected all of our numerous questions and concerns, and most of us were left unconvinced that simply doing good work will solve the problems, especially when the problems are what prevent us from optimal performance.
Participants were encouraged to conduct interviews with the artists, and the hardworking organizers of our workshop kept us informed as to the dates the artists were in Shanghai and their coordinators’ contact information. Excited by the prospect of meeting artists I admire and the chance to try out some of Jocks’ interviewing techniques, I frantically tried to set up interviews. I understood that artists were stressed about their installations, so not wanting to inconvenience anyone, I decided to focus on Rashid Johnson who was staying in Shanghai after the opening and with whom I would not have a language barrier to work through. After a reassuring email from his coordinator to arrange a meeting, I finally got a second reply from the coordinator a week later, one day before the artist’s departure: “I don’t really understand it…with best regards!” It turned out that a language barrier (either genuine or feigned, I’m not sure) still managed to result in miscommunication.
One week into the art writers and journalist workshop, the second phase of the Academy began with the start of the Curatorial and Art & Technology programs. Our original curriculum claimed to have one afternoon dedicated to “interaction with the students in Curatorial Workshop” but this was dropped from the final schedule. It turned out that our conflicting timetables, unfortunately, prevented any interaction. Their presence was keenly felt, however, when our table surface shrunk by a third during the valuable panel discussion between Liu Heung Shing, Boris Groys, Rasheed Araeen, Holland Cotter, and Madeleine O’Dea because the other workshops needed more furniture.
In the end, my expectations for the workshop were actually fulfilled by a friend and peer who organized an informal dialog between workshop participants first as part of Shi Qing’s installation “Shanghai Electricity Shopping Mall” and which later continued at a party that evening. We started off by sharing our motivations for attending the workshop, our favorite speakers, and our impressions of the Academy as a whole, and then drifting towards more general concerns about art writing, during which we traded notes about different writing processes and research methods. Honestly, this conversation among peers that occurred independently of the Academy was probably the most valuable experience for a lot of us. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened at all if we weren’t all brought together by the workshop and had the common experience of attending the lectures and exhibitions. One supposes the fact that the Biennale did make this attempt at an education program is a positive step and one can hope that the bumps will be smoothed out next time.
