In this paper, I will try to explore these questions based on my professional experience together with that of the BizArt collective. I want to point out that I do not really have a formalized theory on this matter and that I hope that other participants to this symposium will be able to explain in better terms some of my suggestions.
I will divide this paper in three parts:
- An historical overview of the 1990s
- The making of display in BizArt’s practice
- A brief overview of display in today’s Shanghai
As a matter of fact, the display of contemporary art in an independent context during the late 1990′s was, from the start, challenged by the total freedom associated with the undefined and uncertain space occupied by contemporary art in Shanghai. One of the main issues that created a problematic platform for choosing and displaying contemporary art –in my experience at least- was the will to move forward from a traditionally rooted art, finding new languages and getting involved in an inspirational and independent direction. As incredible as this may sound, the problem we were facing was also connected with the question of identifying what was not traditional or not codified as “old, decorative, abstract and academic” (lao, meili, chouxiang, xueshude). These classifications, as imprecise as they may seem, were used by artists and curators at that time. The question that we at BizArt were facing was this: which parameters should we use?
In a recent conference in Shanghai speaking on the subject of Asia-based curatorship, Prof. Kim Hong-hee stated that the same problem is still topical today. She asked:
“How can global Asian discourses and aesthetics be established and visualized? What are the practical dilemmas in building such a concept and realizing it in a visual presentation? What are possible solutions?”
Later, she asks:
“The question of representation and comprehension of ‘Korea-ness’: what standard is applied when judging ‘Korea-ness’ as positive glocalism [Ed: the melding of 'global and local'] or negative Orientalism? How can Korean themes such as ‘bundles,’ ‘hanbok” (traditional Korean costume), ‘Buddha images,’ etc., escape from the trap of Orientalism and achieve the level of glocalism?”(1)
Prof. Kim’s questions, articulated in a very precise way, were at that time not clearly formulated by the practitioners in Shanghai. A sense of inadequateness was present but not yet faced or considered as a glocal problem. I still remember the great turning point that happened in the process of choosing “parameters to move on from” in 1997. As an aspiring artist myself, I got involved in a well-known group of abstract painters based in Shanghai.
The group was unified around the concept of yishu shalong (art saloon) whereby exhibitions were curated within an academic environment: they were excuses to create the opportunity of displaying works (most times there would be the same work over and over). At the same time, some curators/artists were trying to create awareness about contemporary art: they were trying to reach a wider audience, find investors and money to produce exhibitions and catalogues. Of course these efforts were based on PERSONAL INVOLVEMENT and exhibited in un-decoded places. There were not public places to display big exhibitions and negotiate “openly” with public audiences and institutions. The only available venues were underground places left empty by recent developers (underground car parking lots, office buildings, warehouses of bars and restaurants), occasionally some art saloons connected to universities –such as Shanghai University- or recreational “art centers” (Changning district), just to mention two.
In these temporary spaces, most of the time dusty and badly lit, if not actually left in darkness, unexpected gatherings with artists and artworks were finding their way. Everything was done without a budget, money or cleaning. Spaces were used as they were, art was put in the space to show it, without a real interaction between artwork-space and artwork-artwork. Neither was there a real hope to sell the work: artists would personally install their own artworks in the exhibition spaces, like a sort of ritual to stress their identity and to affirm their “productivity” more than anything else. Most of the works were bi-dimensional and most of the time paintings. Space/ three-dimensional works were rare.
In this phase, I clearly remember the anxiety we often experienced about our own artworks: is it protected enough? Very often the works were ruined after a few days, or works disappeared or were broken during transportation. Museum exhibitions were not much different: gloomy spaces with art hanging on walls, exhibitions named with enigmatic titles, no real audiences. I think that during these years (from the early 1990s until 1997) we experienced a sort of pause before the “great leap forward”. It was in the years 1998-1999 that major changes took place: a new “renaissance” was about to start, a sort of response to the aggressive period of the late 1980s – early 1990s and the dormant period that spanned half of the 1990s. The years from 1998 to 2003 were incredibly dynamic and set the basis for the final globalization of the last five years.
In this context, what happened next was accidental, but at the same time, as often happens, the encounter with the right people at the right time may generate new visions and possibilities. Shanghai was awakening at an incredible speed: in the period from 1998 to 2000, the city’s cultural scene was to be shaken from the foundations from both the independent, or as we say in China, minjiande (private/civil) point of view, up to the official institutions. Optimism was in the air. BizArt, Eastlink and ShanghArt were all born out of this kind of optimism. The directions of the three organizations were slightly different from the start and they took radically different directions thereafter.
It is important to note, though, that in order to build a long-term platform, long-term commitment is required. Most importantly, BizArt decided to be a public space and a physical presence in the city. This required skills that were not easily available in Shanghai in 1998: an art place needs finances and management. This is indeed the peculiar difference between the pre-1998 era and the recent history of Shanghai: the creation of an art space to negotiate an alternative existence. We created a context for displaying the way in which the display of art was created: we used BizArt as a container for the CONTENT, a tentative content and an uncertain one. We did it the hard way, learning from our mistakes.
BIzArt was a constant laboratory: we worked on the process, looking for what we thought was “real” art-maybe naïve but that’s what it was, driven by the enthusiasm of being in one’s 20s! All actions needed to be low cost and everything was self-supported. A significant step was the realization that we wanted to make a living space to PRODUCE art more than just displaying it. So we focused on a few things: trying to make the space clean and flexible; partitions and displaying elements and how to divide the space; and working on lighting and the relationship between the art and spectators. The other big issue was the construction: how to educate the workers? How to keep the workers? And how to work with the workers: the problem of communication.
In this period there was a sort of parallel development in display techniques: independent artists and organizations on one side, working on limited conditions but trying to look up to professionalism that, to certain extents, was coming from Western examples (we collected books from Europe not easily imported to China and we were visiting museums abroad and checking materials and display techniques) and on the other, institutional presentations in museums where exhibitions were juxtaposed and where quality of presentation and content were often in conflict.
The history of display in Shanghai over the last ten years is related to one of the main disputes in the contemporary Chinese art world: the dichotomy between China and the rest of the world, and by miming the rest of the world and adding a so-called “Chinese” value to that. This fluctuating relationship was and is still part of the displaying-of-art game: content, aesthetics and standards on display are justified based on the “Chinese-ness” of it. What “Chinese-ness” was and still is remains nonetheless a blurred concept most of the time.
New institutions like Zendai Art Museum, Duolun Museum and Shanghai MoCA are playing the same game and making it even worst. In recent years, we have seen a huge fall in the presentation quality at these art institutions. One can find very good exhibitions badly displayed (back to the concept of “no cleaning required”) or overcrowded (the more the better) or, in an unexpected way, beautiful exhibitions completely outsourced (the museum/space is an empty container used by international professionals/organizations).
To display a good exhibition for the audience does not seem important: this is an ephemeral thing – it will be lost in the collective memory. The only important thing, the only REAL thing that needs to be considered, is the catalogue. So, where is the art, how is it displayed now? In my experience, we can see art displayed in various categories: architectural display; the disappearance of the art; ephemeral exhibitions in museums (including Biennales); the gallery display; power (I have it bigger) and products in display (I sell it to whom I decide)
I want to conclude by asking the final question: what is the situation now? My view of the situation in Shanghai, and many to whom I have spoken in the field seem to agree, is not that positive. Shanghai is becoming a kind of showcase of Chinese and Asian culture, but, paradoxically, the enhancement of what the government calls “creative clusters”, is killing the spontaneity of an “organic” cultural development that, after almost 30 years, is still at the start. Making money and looking ‘international’ (becoming a guoji wenhua shoudu, an international capital of culture) are now the credo, and this, it is believed, does not require any specific technique of display.
