Xi Hu Salon

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I’ve had a vision for some years about creating a ‘salon’ in my home, a place where interesting people can come discuss interesting subjects. But for years, it remained only an idea. Then last weekend, I finally made it happen.

It’s not a big leap, really, I gotta believe it is a very old idea, something only a little newer than cave men gathering to compare the tastes of deer versus bison.
“Stringy,” says Og.
“Gamey,” says Thak.

With the Xi Hu Salon I hoped to get past the modern caveman conversation, the one I often find being shouted on the rare occasion when I go out to a local bar.
“Check her out,” says Bob.
“Gamey and stringy,” says Thad.

I really didn’t know how to create the salon I envision, so I just invited 15 interesting people to a potluck dinner. I told them we’d be talking about contemporary Chinese art.

Besides Sean and I, there was a front man for Otis Elevator company, a publicist, a music teacher, a Chinese practicing western medicine, an American practicing Chinese medicine and an immigration advocate who owns a middle eastern themed bar. We had an American who teaches Chinese and a Chinese who teaches English. One woman who makes films, a Chinese journalist from Shanghai, a guy who makes automation systems, and two artists, one Chinese, one American, who make contemporary art, the subject of our conversation. And I can’t forget 80-year-old He Yin who while he lost the thread on introductions kindly brought along four paper cups, five pairs of disposable chopsticks, some breaded and fried beef, a box of stinky tofu (rank!), a hand of bananas, three apples of different varieties and a bottle of herb wine.

After making a complete mess of the table, we moved upstairs to our cushy living room with the leather couches and 3-foot TV. Ann and Li Gong connected their computer and brought up some images.

It wasn’t clear how to start this conversation but we just jumped in, attempting to define contemporary art. Bad idea. That was leading down a dark and theoretical alley so luckily, the edgy journalist and impatient host pushed the conversation ahead. “Show us the pictures,” Eva and I urged.

To help us understand where modern art has come from, Li gave us a little history. After the Cultural Revolution that lasted till 1976 and nearly destroyed any form of creative thought, the first art show wasn’t mounted until 1985. (Before that there was only one artist, some one mentioned, Chairman Mao himself. Aside from being a masterful calligrapher, if you can set aside the result of his ferocious rule, he did transform the lives of hundreds of millions of people.)

This first show was in a Beijing park and someone had acquired a magazine and posted the torn out pages. The Impressionists that many of us know so well, paintings by van Gogh and Cezanne and such, hadn’t been seen in public before.

“China has its history,” Li said, “then it was given a whole new language.” There was a huge vacuum that has only recently begun being filled. And its not like there is a huge torrent of art, either. Li says there are maybe 10,000 modern artists in the country. Perhaps only 3,000. “We all know each other,” he said.

Li showed a variety of works. My favorites included one image of a guy who had driven dozens of stakes into a mountain peak, connected them to ropes, connected the ropes to a harness and for 30 minutes, he leaned into the load. Based on the earth’s rotation, the artist shifted the planet 835 kilometers. “There’s a helpless feeling to it,” someone suggested.

That helplessness was also conveyed by the artist who poured an 8- foot column of concrete, what looked like two cubic yards, inserted his hand and let it set. His friends had to chisel his hand out of the block. His encore consisted of wrapping himself in a blanket, creating a breathe way and encasing himself in the pour. He stayed there for another 24 hours. Consider the commitment that takes, not only enduring the heat given off by the curing concrete, but being stuck nearly motionless for a whole day.

“That guy must have a heck of a reputation,” Aaron suggested wondering about the ensuing market value garnered from such an installation.

“He doesn’t make any money at this,” Li said. Alas, most of them don’t. Li still scrapes by on his $100 a month teaching salary. Others, though, have turned their talents to wealth creation. “Our biggest battle is in the commercial context,” Li said. Most students have little appreciation for fine art, or art for art’s sake, opting instead to gravitate toward graphic design, something that can earn a steady paycheck.

And then there is the tendency toward just making cheap shit to sell. Like the way cities are rebuilding ‘historic’ streets and filling them with shops selling the same tired stuff.

“Chinese have 5000 years of history,” Li said. “But if you don’t live in it, you don’t have it. The Cultural Revolution destroyed it.”

Still, the artists we toured have a solid understanding of the environment they are working in. “There are so many unspeakable rules that are invisible,” Li explained. “That is what makes this art so powerful.” There are a lot of layers in much of the work that is being noticed.

And amid this blossoming of expression remain the Chinese government and its not so invisible hand which everyone feels. It doesn’t so much interfere with creativity because the Cultural Revolution largely eliminated it. “They’re not stopping the teaching of creativity,” Li said. “There’s no context to teach it.”

Artists who have broken free have responded, often to the superfast modernization of China. Xu Bing is one artist among many who’s addressing this. His New English Calligraphy fuses the two languages, making pictographs that English speakers can ‘read’. Check this description from his website www.xubing.com.

“When people try to recognize and write these words, some of the thinking patterns that have been ingrained in them since they learned to read are challenged. It is the artists' belief that people must have their routine thinking attacked in this way. While undergoing this process of estrangement and re-familiarizing with one's written language, one can be reminded that the sensation of distance between other systems is self-induced.”

Xu Bing lives full time in New York, perhaps as a consequence of his work. To say that all the separation between “us and them” is self-induced questions the strings that government leaders use to gain our consent, whether it is in electing a party or launching a war.

But much of that was lost on the Salon audience, myself included. That’s the way it is around here. So much goes unsaid. But the conversation got people thinking. It was a start.

“Art should make people think of something beautiful,” Jessie the Chinese teacher said a few days later. “Sometimes I feel contemporary art is messing with things. Humans have to have some high-class things to aspire to.”

Admittedly, the evening challenged her thinking, leaving her with a headache and feeling more confused than clarified. “Maybe I don’t have good tolerance,” she said. “Maybe I am too practical as a Chinese.”

Ah, Art, the instigator of ‘maybe.’

Of course, art is all about impressing people, and having a headache is certainly an impression. By the end of the evening people were getting creative. In part because I turned up the pressure and asked each person to consider presenting something of their own interest.

“This is your group,” I said. “It’s up to each of us to make it what we want.” The filmmaker volunteered a presentation on Chinese film. I wheedled the journalist to talk about her profession amid the censorship apparatus. The music teacher was drawing a blank, unimpressed by the banality of Chinese pop music but was persuaded by the filmmaker to address that very subject. I personally want to hear from the gynecologist who was introduced to me later as the Women’s Hospital’s “No. 1 Knife” that is, the most requested physician. I agreed to talk about dog mushing in Alaska if we ever get that far. First though, we’ll be hearing about Traditional Chinese Medicine.

The Xi Hu Salon proved to be all I could have asked for: Good conversation, good atmosphere and a demonstration that given half a chance, a group of people can create their own fun.

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Comments

[DeAnne]

where was I?
Was I there, or does it just feel like I spent an interesting evening with you and your friends? Thanks, I enjoyed it, either way.

[Serene Li (INTOUCH)]

Cool idea
How nice it would be if we have more salons here in Hangzhou like this.