Light As Fuck

Shanghai Assemblage (2000-2004

(group exhibition 2004, National Museum for Contemporary Art, Oslo, Norway)

The huge opening photograph depicting a tromp l'oile shot of Shanghai's waterfront skyscrapers upside down, seemingly balancing on the tip of a smiling man's finger shows both the strength and weakness of this almost ambitious slice of contemporary Shanghai art. The photo is a critique of the intellectual lightness in today's global metropoli, but it also fits comfortably within this stereotype itself. Although there should be diversity and depth in an exhibition of 39 artists, I saw strict uniformity to their works. Nearly every artist presented video. Aside from the landscapes and language issues, most of the pieces could have come from anywhere: formally and materially, there is very little to distinguish this show of Shanghai art to one from New York or Brussels.

As could be expected many works made references to chinese history, far and near, in play with contemporary reality. Thankfully, there were very few images of Mao or Confucius, but there were several mentions of historical events such as The Long March. Curators Lu Jie and Qiu Zhijie organized a large-scale event where artists and curators follow Mao's Long March while making and setting up art for the same "agrarian" society converted to communism earlier in the century. Although idealistic and fun, the idea seems claustrophobic and contrived. Anything mimicking a large scale conversion such as what happened in 20th century China comes from a mistaken motive, however ideal. The documentation is lovely as landscape can be, but the theme is too large for anything really touching to happen.

A much more successful piece is Yang Fudong's video Seven Intellectuals In the Bamboo Forest. The title sounds like the punch line to a lowbrow joke, but the film is visually beautiful, its semblance layered. Mountains and tree branches hanging lightly in a dense fog, the video is a moving chinese screen painting. Seven supposed intellectuals appear in sections, we listen to the thoughts of a new generation amidst the mountains of the ancients.

The performance piece by Xu Zhen became apparent after a few minutes: an expressionless chinese woman in her mid 40s wearing a striped pajama had been following us since the beginning of the exhibition. She shadowed our every movement. When I turned to speak to her, she moved gracefully out of distance and averted her eyes. She continued to follow us until we reached the end, and she stood at the top of the staircase as we descended. She did not look at us, speak or make any motion or gestures at all. Although this description does not sound very ominous, the sensation of being followed by a mute, deadly serious anonymous woman was chilling. I knew it was an art prank, but still, it opened the door a crack to view how state-sponsored paranoia and mental illness must feel. In fact, it felt a little like crossing the border into the United States of America while customs officials silently violate your intimacy.

Which brings up my first point: that this exhibition is about artists from Shanghai, but they could be from anywhere. The same issues grapple by artists around the world are here: old and new clash, technology and nature mix, west and east mirror each other, and video and the internet still have a sweaty grip over curators everywhere.

A. Bergman