Art in Beijing has fallen prey to the market

Ian Charles Stewart | 6.8.08 | Issue 193

It has been an interesting two years in this would-be modern metropolis. Skyscrapers have risen from green fields, a new airport terminal has risen from bare tarmac and traffic has sprouted from nowhere to severely challenge ring road systems where exits and entrances are often the same stretch of bitumen. Welcome to Beijing 2008, where new hotels open monthly, new restaurants open daily and young Chinese commuters text incessantly on shiny new Korean phones. The local population is bursting with pride and optimism. The foreign population is partying as if they are worried it will all end. And the government gives the impression that everything is under control. All things go according to a five-year plan here; more or less.

The sad events in Sichuan have made people more aware of variable construction standards, even in the nation’s capital. But most observers have been quite impressed with the government’s swift and seemingly effective response to the natural disaster. Of course there has been some media orchestration of public heartstrings to further national interests, but all in all it has been in stark contrast to Burma’s handling of its own tragic event earlier this year.

There are still grumbles from quarters both local and foreign about the concentration of economic benefit, from these boom years, in the prosperous Eastern third of the country. Development in the wild West of China still lags in spite of the best efforts of government and would-be entrepreneurs. But economic development never takes place according to the rules of political correctness, so that hot potato cannot be solely attributed to bad planning. The truth is that, all things considered, the government is doing rather well with what is an enormously complex set of regional issues within a single enormous nation.

The biggest cultural driver of all things in Beijing these days is, of course, the Olympics. One sees it on television channels dedicated to carrying eulogistic programmes on all the major athletes (and many of the minor ones). On street corners banners exhort the public to stop spitting, be less corrupt and welcome foreign guests with set-phrase English and perfectly practised smiles. And with new rules for traffic control, rain cloud control and visa controls, the government hopes to, well, control as many aspects of this summer’s games as is humanly, or inhumanly, possible. The interesting thing is, of course, the way the central government has used the Olympics to drive development programmes throughout the country and, particularly, in the capital: transport systems and infrastructure, of course, but also education campaigns, hygiene programmes and anti-corruption crusades. The Olympics has also, most obviously, been a tool for promoting social cohesion throughout the middle kingdom. A means of trying to keep everyone pointed the same way whilst they charge off with capitalistic enthusiasm in all directions. The recent fuss over Tibet has actually helped the government promote a heightened sense of, sometimes defensive, nationalism amongst the local population. It will be interesting to see what Beijing, and China, is like once the Games are over.

In all this foment, the contemporary art scene is somewhat at a standstill. Yes, new records are being set for contemporary Chinese works at every successive Sotheby’s and Christie’s auction. And every foreign visitor to Beijing, art aware or not, now has to walk around “798”, the chic factory café and gallery area, formerly a wonderfully anarchic artist community. And it seems that “millions” are being made by all concerned within this bustling, over-heated art market. But the art itself isn’t moving. The big five names are all producing exactly the same cartoonish works they have done for years, because that is what sells. Every new artist who arrives on the scene produces not-so-subtle variants of that same work because that is what sells. And even reproduction specialists have switched from copying Degas, Monet and Rembrandt, to producing “genuine” Wang Guangyi, Zhang Xiaogang and Yue Minjun knockoffs, because…

However money isn’t the only constraint on development in art here; it is “thought”, or the lack thereof. Pretty or otherwise, most work here exhibits little content or attitude beyond, perhaps, comments on conspicuous consumption, and the occasional one liner visual gag. The lack of inventiveness, or creativity, is often blamed on the “learn by rote” education system, within which all Chinese youth are formed. But the lack of a truly socially perceptive, self-analytical and self-critical art movement is also evidence of an unwillingness to rock the boat when “things are going so well”. When everyone can make money, buy a car and travel, why complain? When foreigners are willing to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for barely known artists with little track record nor tangible content, why worry? Compared to the China of a very recent past, life is good. And few wish to bite the hand that feeds…

There are exceptions. A few hardy souls are willing to point fingers at government or societal excess or transgressions. But such direct commentary is rare. My guess is that we will have to wait for a serious economic downturn before discontent feeds more expressive work. There is some light in an area generally ignored by foreigners: traditional Chinese ink and brush paintings. I have seen more and more contemporary takes on what is, at least to the Chinese, a more familiar and relevant artistic tradition. Perhaps more prosaic as a form, it nonetheless has stronger roots in traditional Chinese culture and therefore may have longer legs for local buyers, when other markets soften. I await the post-Olympics Beijing art scene with interest.

The writer is an entrepreneur, collector and co-founder of artworld salon (www.artworldsalon.com). He moved to Beijing in 2006