Die Welt, Sa, 27. November 2004
Zum siebten Mal: Erfolgreiche Asien-Woche in London

Wieder machte London in seiner "asiatischen Woche" deutlich, daß Hongkong und New York die höchsten Summen erzielen, die größte Bandbreite aber an der Themse geboten wird. Darauf weisen auch die Ausstellungen in rund 40 Galerien hin, und das unterstreicht auch das derzeitige Thema "Encounters" im Victoria und Albert Museum, das den künstlerischen Austausch zwischen Ost und West beleuchtet.

Unter den Händlern hat die führende Galerie Eskenazi bereits in den ersten Tagen das meiste verkauft: Bei der wohldokumentierten "Crème de la crème" greift man eben schnell zu, so die zur Zeit kräftig hofierten Chinesen, aber auch Amerikaner wie Europäer. Eskenazis exquisite Ming und Qing-Keramik appellierte ab ca. 60 000 Pfund an alle Geschmäcker, am teuersten die türkis leuchtende doppelte Kürbisvase mit kaiserlicher Marke, die eine "sechsstellige Summe" - wohl um die halbe Million Pfund - verlangte. Ein roter Punkt auch für eine feinbemalte blau-weiße Ming-Schale um 1430 (390 000 Pfund). Bei dem Tibet-Spezialisten Rossi und Rossi konnte man wiederum mit kleineren Schecks bei Malerei auf Seide zugreifen. Eine "europäische Institution" tat das bei einem segnenden Lama mit 13 000 Pfund.

In den Auktionen hatten Christie's die attraktivsten Köder zu bieten: Daß sie aus bekannten Privatsammlungen stammten, beruhigte und animierte zugleich. So konnte man am 9. November mit chinesischem Porzellan und Email aus der Alfred Morrison-Collection 5,3 Mio. Pfund bei 96 Prozent Erfolg nach Losen und 99 Prozent nach Wert zusammenklopfen. Vor allem der asiatische und Londoner Handel buhlten um die meist aus kaiserlichen Werkstätten stammenden 60 dekorativen Objekte aus dem 18. Jahrhundert Ein in Juwelenfarben leuchtendes emailliertes Weihrauchgefäß heizte dabei bis zu 720 000 (70-100 000) Pfund an und unterstrich dabei die bereits in New York erprobte Faszination für Cloisonné. Überhaupt wurden die eher vorsichtigen Taxen oft um ein Vielfaches überrundet.

Bei der folgenden Auktion von Allerweltskeramik griff man allerdings mit spitzen Fingern nur bei 48 Prozent nach Losen und 36 Prozent nach Wert zu. Bei japanischer Kunst konnten Christie's dann wiederum den Trumpf der Provenienz ausspielen: Bedeutende Exempel des 13. bis 19. Jahrhundert aus dem von einem Sammler gestifteten "Museum für japanische Schwertklingen" riefen neben japanischen Fans auch Europäer, Amerikaner und Russen zum Bietgefecht. Fazit: 100 prozentiger Erfolg mit insgesamt 1,6 Mio. Pfund. Am höchsten beeindruckte dabei eine vom Meister Kotetsu signierte Klinge aus dem 17. Jahrhundert mit 100 000 (30-40 000) Pfund.

Bei Sotheby's jagten am 10. November bei den "fine chinese ceramics" durchweg Bieter aus Hongkong und China selektiv nach den besten Trophäen. 50 Prozent nur wurden bei den Losen akzeptiert, 71 Prozent nach Wert. Eine dem Meister Guanpeng nur zugeschriebene Papierrolle mit zwei Gelehrten beim Würfelspiel wurde verbissen bis zu 265 000 (8-12 000) Pfund verfolgt: Zwei chinesische Bieter spekulierten hier. Eine leuchtend rot auf weiß bemalte Kürbisvase wurde bis zu 255 000 (60-80 000) Pfund begehrt. Und bei Jade ließ man von einer "Drachenschale" erst bei 135 000 (15-20 000) Pfund ab.
Heidi Bürklin

http://www.welt.de/data/2004/11/27/366093.html

******************

The Korea Times 11-26-2004 16:34
Young East Asian Art Gains Momentum
By Bridget O’Brien Contributing Writer

Never has there been a better time for contemporary East Asian art. The convergence and proliferation of media blur boundaries while international art events and alternative, public and privately owned gallery spaces are eager to snap up the essence of youth in order to glimpse visions of the future.

There are no more borders in art forms and national artistic exchanges. South Korean artists are active internationally, their works reflecting transitory influences of exchange programs, art events and institutions, while East Asian artists as a whole are enjoying a technological and traditional freeing up; challenging art genres themselves.

Since 1981, Korea's National Museum of Contemporary Art has biennially held an exhibition titled ``Young Artists'' as a platform used to launch young artists, specifically South Korean artists under the age of 40. This year, however, the museum decided to branch out to include China and Japan. Age limitations no longer apply either, with some ``young'' artists older than 40 years of age.

The show's curator Jienne Liu has called it ``a collision of spirit'' as 19 selected artists from South Korea, China and Japan are set in a thoroughly absorbing show in the museum situated in the mountainous area of Kwachon, south of Seoul.

Previous shows demonstrated the urge to represent a sense of South Korean identity. This year that identity is situated next to representations from neighbors who share a Confucian ethical history and common language roots.

While popular animation culture and technology are widely known to influence Japanese styles, social commentary on communism, revolution and realism are emerging signifiers of the Chinese art sense, with a large dose of humor thrown in. Korean art is still emerging, as artist's works simmer with a psychological intensity that reflects a more austere, personal approach than any broad social critique apart from that of commercialism.

Ultimately though, this exhibition is not trying to paint identities with large brushstrokes but seeks to describe the identifiable separate characteristics of the three countries through the subtle individuality of artists who work independently, patiently and sincerely.

``Most works show a unique ability to express both their reality and dream and fictional world,'' Liu emphasizes.

``Because every artist knows well that visual revelation of absurdity or contradiction of confused reality is his unique privilege, he establishes his own world haunting the world of reality and imagination.''

Liu says that the push for these kinds of comparative regional shows was heightened when China came out of the shadows in 1990. Chinese art is now probably the biggest international hit.

Zhao Bandi's famous toy Panda works represents the joking social commentary of China alongside tourist snap shot send ups by Hong Hao. Images of western canonical paintings and investigations of the nude tradition are added on Chinese political and social reality in paintings by Wei Dong and panoramic photographs by Weng Qingsong.

Korean Cheon Seong-myoung takes a children's view of fear and angst with installations of small people and ghosts, while ``helmut-man'' Lee Hyung-koo has a cartoon-like skeleton suspended in a running animation pose.

The remaining Korean contingent is represented by cosmetics collages by Gwon O-sang, magician's tools by Park Hye-sung, a discussion on the Internet shopping interface by Yangachi, a white wall installation with silica gel by Hwang Haesun and Jo Seub's tale of the Korean war.

Japanese painter Hideaki Kawashima makes portraits of his impressions of the people he meets. Flat Tokyo-pop pastels named after popular food items such as ``Tempura,'' beautifully suggest surreal crossovers of the appreciation for people, animation and gastronomy. Yanobe Kenj discusses nuclear dangers with his ``Atom Suite Project,'' while Tetsuya Nakamura extends the polyurethane painted car shell into ``Dragon.'' Above all the bravura, the technology and tradition, the artists' aims are clear, as Manavu Muragishi suggests with his small gray toned paintings questioning the western canon; it is now time for Asia to lead the way.

http://times.hankooki.com/lpage/culture/200411/kt2004112616323711690.htm

********************

North County Times, November 24, 2004
Contemporary Asian art exhibit teems with diversity
By: BILL FARK

Art tastes vary widely within any group, be it cultural, national, ethnic or political. Thus, while the pieces in "Past in Reverse: Contemporary Art of East Asia" at San Diego Museum of Art does not represent the populations of that vast area, it does offer a glimpse of how artists are responding to conditions within their individual environments.

The exhibition, curated by the museum's Betti-Sue Hertz, features work by artists from China, Japan, South Korea, Hong Kong and Taiwan. Although they work in different media ---- painting, sculpture, photography, video, installation and digital ---- each approaches his or her art in a contemporary way, with strong connections to the past.

The most obvious example is the work of Chinese artist Cai Guo-Qiang, whose medium is gunpowder. The Chinese invented gunpowder in the 11th century as a weapon. Cai lays out patterns in gunpowder on paper, then while suppressing the amount of oxygen, fires the piece. In a matter of milliseconds, accompanied by a great flash of fire, the gunpowder is gone, leaving behind a charred design on the paper. (He demonstrated this technique for a video that is part of the exhibition.) Cai also works in unusually large-scale gunpowder displays, as shown on a 17-minute video. The fireworks are so sophisticated they make our Fourth of July exhibitions look amateurish.

Last month, Cai worked with the U.S. Marine Corps to entertain thousands at the Miramar Air Show in San Diego. Six propeller-driven planes performed his design for "Painting Chinese Landscape Painting," which can be seen in a digital rendering in the exhibition.

Another who relates art to the past is South Korean Hee-Jeong Jang, who studied art at New York University. Jang's medium is cheap cloth printed with floral patterns. She cuts the cloth and stitches it back together to form pictures of the flowers. In some pieces she has painted blossoms and butterflies in such a manner that the viewer is not sure which is printed and which is added by the artist.

Several of the artists are photographers, but their work goes far beyond traditional imagery on paper.

One of the first pieces in the exhibition is a giant (4 feet by 13 feet) photo "Knickknack Peddler" by Wang Qingsong from Beijing. The photo of 16 children surrounding a toy seller, in the same way neighborhood kids run to an ice cream truck, was inspired by Li Song's 13th-century painting of a similar scene.

Wang also shot the blown-up images of flowers that face the giant painting. In one image, delicate roses in various stages of bloom grow from what looks like a chunk of lava. And in another, snow lies on a plant as though it had been applied like frosting on a cake.

Other outstanding photographs from China are the work of Cao Fei, whose "Game Series" images are modern interpretations of ancient Chinese entertainments. "Finger-Guessing Game," involving men, is similar to what we know as paper, rock and scissors. Another pastime inspired "Wine Vessels Floating in the Meandering River," a drinking game wherein players had to drink from whatever vessel stopped before them. Although this was originally played by men, Wang's version features women. Also for women, there's "Plant Contest," in which participants are required to compose a poem to flowers.

Also from China are Shao Yinong and Muchen's "Assembly Hall Series," which recalls the sites of events related to the Cultural Revolution of the late 1960s. The deserted rooms, one of which has a discarded photo of Mao, show the movement in failure.

Japanese photographer Shizuka Yokomizo manipulates images to create feelings of isolation. She also incorporated photos in a short video that captures the near-panic of waking from a sound sleep and not yet being aware of where you are.

Several of the artists work in video, in some cases extending the scope of the medium. Tadasu Takamine from Japan uses video in an installation in a darkened room. From a raised platform, viewers follow a ghostly spotlight as it traces a text about common sense inscribed on the soil-covered floor.

In "I, My Me," Kim Young Jin projects separate images on a single screen at the same time. One projection shows a woman methodically examining a skull. In the overlapping image, the skull gradually takes over the head of the woman until it is impossible to tell which is flesh and bone and which is just bone.

Japan's Hiroshi Fuji recycles materials to make a statement about waste as well as entertain. Dominating the gallery is a giant dragonlike creature with a passing resemblance to Godzilla made entirely from recycled plastic bottles. Fuji also shows small sculptures made from cast-off objects, as in "Kaekko Shop" (kaekko means bartering), featuring toys made by children under his guidance. Included are toys made at the San Diego Museum of Art earlier this season.

Another interesting installation is Leung Mee Ping's "In Search of Insomnious Sleep." The piece is a video projection with the sound of a man battling the oceanic elements in a mirrored boat. Wang Jianwei's "Theater" is similar to the propaganda presentations from China in the early 1970s. The two-channel video intercuts street and crowd scenes with fragments of a female ballet dancer performing and a Red Army soldier rallying his troops, all with subtitles in English.

One of the most unassuming and accessible works is an untitled sculpture by the truly international artist Michael Lin. He was born in Tokyo, grew up in California (he studied at the Art Center College of Design in Pasadena) and divides his time between Paris and Taipei, Taiwan.

His medium for the single painting in the exhibition is emulsion on wood. Displayed on a slightly raised floor platform, the piece (about 25 feet by 19 feet) has a floral motif in primary colors. There are also pillows in a similar design that invite viewers to relax.

The San Diego Museum of Art augments the contemporary offerings with works from its permanent collection that enable viewers to compare old and new. One can relate Yang Fudong's 14-minute video "Liu Lan," with its scene of life on riverboats, to the scroll "Life of Fishermen Along the River" which dates from the 17th or 18th century.

Other pieces in the show are by the Yangjiang Calligraphy Group (China), drawings by Wilson Shieh of Hong Kong and installations by Ryoko Aoki and Mitsushima Takayuki of Japan. Other installations are the work of Flyingcity Urbanism Research Group, Yiso Bahc and Soun-gui Kim of South Korea and G8 Public Relations and Consultants Collaborative from Taipei. Also on view are sculptures and drawings by Hung Yi of Taiwan.

http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2004/11/24/entertainment/art/11_23_0411_12_03.txt
"Past in Reverse: Contemporary Art of East Asia", through March 6, San Diego Museum of Art

*******************

International Herald Tribune, Thursday, November 25, 2004
Tibetan artists remake their culture
By Craig Simons The New York Times

LHASA, Tibet Judging from their work, the Gedun Choephel Artists' Guild might be just another garden-variety group of painters struggling to make names for themselves in any city you can think of.

Their artwork, displayed in a small gallery owned by the group, shows the hallmarks of contemporary art everywhere: abstract symbolism, veiled social commentary, mixed-media expressions of postmodernism. But in Lhasa, the capital of Tibet, this co-op of 10 Tibetan and two longtime-resident Chinese painters is the beginning of something bigger: a bold attempt to remake a culture bound by centuries of tradition and hemmed in by narrow stereotypes.

The group opened the gallery, which they call Tibet's first "semiprofessional art space," last year both to show their art and to advance their heady goal of reinterpreting modern Tibetan culture. "Many people simplify Tibet," says Gade (many Tibetans use single names), a 33-year-old Tibetan painter who also teaches fine arts at Tibet University. "They ask, 'How can Tibet have things like Christmas trees or fast food or Nikes?' But young Tibetans have already accepted these things."

Like the work of many of the guild members, Gade's art deals with the interplay between tradition and modernity that is shaking Lhasa. One of his paintings, "Group Photo," combines Western icons with traditional Tibetan figures that he grew up admiring: a few of the dozens of characters pictured include Mickey Mouse, Superman, Karl Marx and Ludongzan, a Tibetan famous for escorting a Chinese princess to Tibet, where she married a Tibetan king in the seventh century.

Another Gade work is a series of five paintings examining how trees are used symbolically around the world. One painting in the series shows a Christmas tree full of gifts, a comment, he says, on Western material culture. Another shows the Bodhi tree, under which the Buddha found enlightenment in the sixth century, a third is a coin-laden traditional Chinese "money tree," yet another is a futuristic vision.

For Westerners used to thinking of Tibet as a spiritual Shangri-La removed from the fast-paced changes of the international marketplace, such images are shockingly modern. But for Tibetans living amid the rapid globalization that has gripped Lhasa during the last two decades, they are simply a natural response. "We aren't deliberately revolutionizing our art," says Tsering Nyandak, a 30-year-old artist. "We are just being ourselves."

That is not to deny that their art is clearly Tibetan. Several of the artists in the group create realistic portraits of Tibetan life. Tserang Dhundrup's "Old Alley," for example, an oil painting of photographic veracity, shows a woman carrying her child through a Tibetan lane. Other artists incorporate traditional Buddhist imagery to comment on international politics. "Wrong Position," by Jhamsang, 32, is a fragmented representation of the Buddha set over the artist's rendition of Picasso's "Guernica," a comment on how war conflicts with the harmony that Buddhist doctrines encourage. "2004," an oil painting by the guild member Penpa Tsering, 30, shows a Buddhist saint against a backdrop of Chinese newspaper clippings on the Iraq war. "Buddhism stresses acceptance and forgiving," Penpa says. "And right now people need those ideals."

Still other guild artists focus on a drive to regain their own Tibetan artistic voice. Ever since the Chinese army occupied the formerly self-governing region in 1950, Gade and other artists say, outsiders have been speaking for Tibetans. During the first 30 years under Communist rule, the Chinese image of Tibet was of a backward people that needed to be reformed.

"In the '50s," Gade says, "Tibetan artists only painted religious art, and the Chinese artists that the army sent created political propaganda showing Tibet as a feudal society and arguing that we should believe in socialism."

In the '80s, after Deng Xiaoping's policies opened Tibet to the outside world, Chinese artists began to travel freely in Tibet and often represented the land as mysterious, holy and pure. That helped create a hippie aesthetic that attracted other Chinese artists.

The problem was that Tibetans, unschooled in modern artistic techniques, were excluded from commenting artistically on their own culture.

For Tibet, the lack of a voice created real problems. The Tibetan author Tashi Tsering remembers how in the 1950s Chinese movies depicted a "glorious liberation" of Tibet by a paternalistic Chinese Red Army. Such propaganda helped to justify China's taking Tibet, Tashi says.

Today the most constraining stereotypes of Tibet, Gade and other guild artists say, may come from the West. "Foreigners think that Tibet is only religious," he says. "But this culture is more complicated. We also like to eat fast food and watch American movies."

Certainly the art that guild members create is far from simple. "Untitled No. 2," a large oil painting by Tsewang Tashi, shows a young Tibetan man dressed in a green jacket and red sweater staring out defiantly, a stereotype-breaking image in a place where paintings of local people, often made by outsiders, tend to romanticize and simplify their lives.

The surge in Tibetan creativity is sure to grow. Increasing numbers of Tibetan students are studying at art universities like the prestigious Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing, where several guild artists trained. Many more Tibetans are being introduced to fine arts as primary school students in Chinese-managed schools.

Increasing intellectual freedom has also prompted growth. While some topics - especially Tibetan independence, the Dalai Lama (who has lived in exile in northern India since 1959) and open attacks on the Chinese government - are still banned, the influx of tourism, economic growth and a proliferation of Internet bars has created a more international and intellectual culture.

Still, getting by as an artist in Tibet is not easy. The artists pooled their money to open the gallery, which has 18.6 square meters, or 200 square feet, of exhibition space, and they run it as a co-op, with 10 percent of each sale going toward costs and supporting struggling members.

Exhibiting outside of Lhasa has been difficult. Several of the artists have shown in Beijing, Shanghai and overseas, including at the Snug Harbor Cultural Center on Staten Island, New York, and a gallery in London, but exhibitions have been small and their impact minimal. "Big gallery owners aren't interested in our works because they don't fit the stereotype," Gade says.

But that isn't stopping him from creating more iconoclastic art. Now he is busy with another work in his "Group Photo" series that brings together Tibetan, Chinese and Western images. He hopes to show younger Tibetans that art can explore more than religion and that there are, as he says, "many ways to think about the world."

He also hopes to encourage a more introspective Tibetan culture. "We need to represent real life and ask real questions," he says. "If we just paint pretty pictures and hang them on the walls, what value do they have?"

http://www.iht.com/articles/2004/11/24/travel/trtibet.html

*******************

Aargauer Zeitung, 24.11.2004
Mit 60 Puppen in die Schweiz
[image] Die Stäbchen verraten, dass Schauspieler hinter der Leinwand agieren: Das Fu-Hsing-Ko-Schattentheater-Ensemble. (pd/mz)

«Was bedeutet es Ihnen, dass Sie Ihr Schattenspiel in anderen Ländern aufführen können?» Gelächter im Raum. Fwu Juh Hsu, Chef und Hauptspieler der taiwanesischen Schattenspiel-Truppe Fu-Hsing-Ko, spricht, gestikuliert und lacht. Seine zwei Goldzähne blitzen. Die Runde beruhigt sich; Lucia Chen übersetzt die Antwort ins Deutsche. «Herr Hsu sagt, dass es eine grosse Ehre für die Truppe sei, die traditionelle Kultur Taiwans anderen Menschen auf der Welt zeigen zu können. Und persönlich ist er froh, dass er die Welt sehen kann.»

Die Schattenspiel-Gruppe Fu-Hsing-Ko ist ein taiwanesischer Exportschlager: Gastspiele haben sie nach Hongkong, Japan, Singapur, Frankreich, Belgien, Luxemburg, Kanada und in die USA geführt. Hansueli Trüb vom Fabrik-Palast hat die Taiwanesen nun extra in die Schweiz geholt, um das fünfjährige Bestehen seines Aarauer Figurentheaters zu feiern. Nach Auftritten in Kreuzlingen, Winterthur und Bern ist die Truppe heute und morgen im Fabrik-Palast zu sehen.

1000-Jährige Tradition

In der Dynastie Song, vor rund 1000 Jahren, erlebte das Schattentheater seine Blütezeit. Das Schattenspiel, wie es die heute verbleibenden fünf Truppen in Taiwan spielen, ist der Tradition verpflichtet. Die Stücke, die die Spieler aufführen, basieren auf alten Sagen. Diese sind jedoch nicht schriftlich festgehalten: Deshalb schreibt Fwu Juh Hsu die Texte für die Figuren, entscheidet, welche Tiertypen vorkommen und wie die Puppen gekleidet sein sollen.

Pro Saison spielt sein Ensemble hauptsächlich ein Stück, doch kann es auch auf andere zurückgreifen. «Für die Tournee in der Schweiz hat die Gruppe zwei Stücke vorbereitet», erläutert die Übersetzerin. Diese sind «Chen Wi bezwingt den Dämon» (heute Donnerstag) und «Lee Nuozha randaliert in der Östlichen See» (morgen Freitag).

Obwohl die Gruppe als bestes Schattentheater-Ensemble Taiwans gilt, müssen die Spieler alle einem regulären Beruf nachgehen. Sie sind Bauern oder Geschäftsleute. «Mit dem Schattentheater verdient man fast nichts.» Fwu Juh Hsu glaubt, dass das Theater deshalb bei jungen Menschen nur auf geringes Interesse stösst. «Das Schattentheater hat zurzeit einen schweren Stand», sagt er. «Es gibt viele westliche Einflüsse in Taiwan.»

Unterstützung erhält die Fu-Hsing-Ko-Gruppe vom Ethnologie-Museum des Landkreises Kaohsiung: Dort soll das taiwanesische Schattentheater geboren worden sein, dort wird nun die traditionelle Kunst aufbewahrt und dokumentiert.

Traditionelle Männer-Domäne

Die Fu-Hsing-Ko-Gruppe besteht fast ausschliesslich aus Mitgliedern der Familie Hsu. Sie wohnen in Mituo, einem kleinen Dorf im Landkreis Kaohsiung, im Südwesten Taiwans. Laut Fwu Juh Hsu wurde das Ensemble vor rund 100 Jahren gegründet. Im Hsu-Ensemble findet sich keine Frau. Das Schattenspiel ist traditionell eine Männerdomäne. «Wenn eine Frau mich fragen würde, ob sie bei mir lernen dürfe, würde ich sie nicht wegweisen», sagt der 66-jährige Hsu. In der Familie Hsu hätten die Frauen meist Söhne geboren, deshalb seien gar keine Töchter als Mitglieder infrage gekommen.

Um Schattenspieler oder Schattenspielerin zu werden, muss man bei einer Truppe in die Lehre gehen. «Am besten wäre es, die jungen Leute würden in die Familie leben kommen», sagt Fwu Juh Hsu. So könnten sie nicht nur intensiver üben, sondern auch die Mentalität des Schattenspielers erlernen und übernehmen. Hsu bedauert, dass «die jungen Leute heute nicht mehr mit anderen Familien zusammenleben möchten.»

Hsu selbst übernimmt in den Stücken jeweils die Rolle des Hauptspielers. Hinzu kommen zwei Nebenspieler, ein Lichttechniker und vier Musiker. Die Musik spielt im Schattentheater eine wichtige Rolle: Gong, Becken und Klöppel signalisieren und untermalen Kampfszenen; Zwei-Saiten- und Drei-Saiten-Instrumente sind eher «dekorative Elemente», wie Lucia Chen erläutert: Sie kommen zum Einsatz, wenn die Puppen sprechen oder singen. Auf dieser Tournee hat die Truppe rund 60 Puppen im Gepäck. Sie sind aus Kuhleder gefertigt und sind ungefähr 30 Jahre alt. Lucia Chen sagt: «Herr Hsu betont, dass er zu Hause Puppen habe, die über 100 Jahre alt seien.»

Als Sänger im Scheinwerferlicht

Schattenspieler arbeiten mit ihren Händen und ihrer Stimme. Trotzdem sehen sie sich als Schauspieler. Möchte Fwu Juh Hsu nicht lieber im Scheinwerferlicht spielen, als aus dem Schatten heraus zu agieren? Die Antwort auf diese Frage lässt wieder auf sich warten: Fwu Juh Hsu spricht, Lucia Chen antwortet, sie diskutieren, dann: «Doch, er wäre gerne auf der Bühne, aber leider ist es ein Schattenspiel.» Gelächter. Fwu Juh Hsu spricht weiter. Chen: «Er sagt, dass er als Sänger mehr als 70 Preise gewonnen habe.» Als Sänger? Was singt er? «Alles: Karaoke, Traditionelles, Pop.» (mz/ksa/mlu)

http://www.aargauerzeitung.ch/pages/index.cfm?dom=2&rub=100004716&nrub=0&sda=1&Artikel_ID=100588006

*******************

China Daily
Ballet in search of Chinese identity
By Chen Jie (China Daily)
Updated: 2004-11-24 10:03

Pas de deux from "Raise the Red Lantern" between the third concubine starring Zhu Yan and her Peking Opera actor lover by Sun Jie. [File photo]
The National Ballet of China is entering a busy and productive end of year, celebrating the 45th anniversary of its founding.

While its dancers are touring southward with 29 shows to Shanghai, Nanjing, Shenzhen, Hong Kong and Macao, Zhao Ruheng, president and artistic director of the company, is preparing to host an international seminar on the development of Chinese ballet on December 27 and 28, before she heads to Hertfordshire, England to attend the Rural Retreat from January 7 to 9.

In its second year, the Rural Retreat, a think-tank for dancers and directors, attracts 27 dance company heads from North America, Australia, Scandinavia and Russia. Concerning the fast growing fame of the National Ballet of China, director Zhao is also invited to share her views on ballet in 21st century.

She will then move to London for the Fifth Critics' Circle National Dance Awards ceremony hosted by the Royal Opera House on January 20, as the National Ballet of China has been nominated the Best Foreign Dance Company, together with the prestigious Bolshoi Ballet and Merce Cunningham Dance Company.

"It is very surprising but pleasing to know we are nominated," Zhao told China Daily. "It might be the result of our show 'Raise the Red Lantern' in London last November. It was our first visit to London in 17 years and we were unexpectedly well received by audiences and critics there," she said.

Aside from the unexpected nomination at the end of this year, Zhao and her company are celebrating the 45th anniversary of its founding, giving nearly 100 shows all year around in Beijing and other cities.

After performing "Sylvia," the latest co-production with the Opera de Paris, at the Shanghai Grand Theatre on November 16 and 17 to close the 2004 Shanghai International Arts Festival, the National Ballet of China gave two shows of the "Red Detachment of Women" in Nanjing last weekend.

Beginning tonight they will perform "Sylvia" and Balanchine works at the Hong Kong Culture Centre and Macao Culture Centre and "Raise the Red Lantern" and the "Red Detachment of Women" in Shenzhen.

Then they will come back with "Sylvia" and "Raise the Red Lantern" for the 2004 Beijing Dance Festival at the end of December. Concluding its 45th anniversary will be a gala show at the Great Hall of the People on December 29.

From Western to Chinese

In an old and inconspicuous four-storey building of red-brick in southern Beijing, generations of Chinese ballerinas have sweated and strived to perfect this art.

In 1959, the National Ballet of China (originally called the Central Ballet of China) was established on the basis of the Beijing Dance School, the first professional training centre for ballet founded in 1954.

Ballet experts from the former Soviet Union were the school's first artistic directors, and trained the first group of Chinese ballet students including Zhao.

The year 1957 saw "swans" dancing on a Chinese stage: the performance of the classic "Swan Lake" indicated that ballet had formally entered the stage in this country.

The company first focused on introducing traditional Western repertoire. In the 1960s, Chinese artists began to explore the idea of combining Western ballet technique with Chinese themes. The results, one "red" ("Red Detachment of Women") and one "white" ("White-haired Girl") are among the company's typical repertoire.

The "Red Detachment of Women" was the first and most successful full-length Chinese ballet, with both the theme and content reflecting a very unique Chinese style. The dancers even lived for months in military camps to learn swordplay in order to portray the soldiers vividly on stage.

It is said that the "Red Detachment of Women" was a prelude to the exertions of Chinese ballet artists trying to establish a Chinese identity using an essentially foreign art form. The piece has been hailed as a model of the successful combination of Western ballet technique with Chinese folk dancing.

Although the storyline of this ballet seems a bit out-dated, it still possesses its charm and draws enthusiastic audiences to the theatre.

Today the National Ballet of China has caught people's attention by its brand-new productions such as "Raise the Red Lantern" and its rapid rise in fame throughout the world. But few people know of their rough times when for years the company was under-funded and out of date. The only reward then for the dancers seemed to be the art itself.

Despite difficulties, the artists did not fail in devoting their bodies and souls to their career.

Over the last 10 years since Zhao was appointed director in 1993, the company has initiated a series of reforms, especially in administration.

Every year, the National Ballet of China auditions and recruits top dancers from around the country. Most of them are graduates of the Beijing Dance Academy with six to eight years of professional training already completed. The average age of the dancers is a lithe and lively 22.

The ballerinas of the National Ballet of China are now internationally acclaimed for their solid classical ballet training, all-round artistic sensitivity and a delicate style.

While restaging classical works such as "Swan Lake," "Le Corsaire," "Giselle," "Don Quixote" and "Sylvia" every year, Zhao spends much effort in producing new repertoire.

"The classical pieces lay a solid foundation in classical ballet for the dancers and help them mature in their skill and artistic style, but we need new works to broaden the repertoire as well as to guide Chinese audience to taste something more than 'Swan Lake'," Zhao said.

Zhao attaches great importance to international communication, regularly inviting world-famous masters to work with the troupe, training the dancers and rehearsing new pieces, the pursuit of a unique Chinese identity still her goal.

Glaring lanterns

Zhao believes "Raise the Red Lantern," an adaptation by Zhang Yimou from his 1991 movie of the same title, is a milestone in the development of the company and a real test of China's desire for cultural change.

This crossover of genres is part of her search for a Chinese identity more versatile than the regimented heroics in the repertoires produced in the 1950s and 1960s.

Since its Beijing premiere in May 2001, "Raise the Red Lantern" has raised questions about what Chinese ballet is. "Yes, 'Raise the Red Lantern' is controversial. It's an experiment and the experiment continues. Audiences have to learn to broaden their horizons," said Zhao.

Choreographed by Germany-based Wang Xinpeng and Beijing-based Wang Yuanyuan, the mix of dance styles, from Peking Opera, acrobatics to pointe work, may seem too exotic for Eastern and Western palates.

As Zhao says, the experiment continues. The company has produced a Chinese version of "The Nutcracker" which reworks a traditional Christmas ballet into a Chinese plot that connects with a Chinese audience.

Her steps in exploring ballet with a Chinese identity will not stop. Chinese identity is one of the main topics the attendants will discuss at a seminar hosted by the National Ballet of China at the end of December. Meanwhile, a Chinese work which she does not reveal is written into her plan for 2005.

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004-11/24/content_394329.htm

******************

The Guardian - Tuesday November 9, 2004
Is Chinese art kicking butt ... or kissing it?
Collectors are queueing up to buy work by China's bright young artists. But while the scene is certainly buzzing, some worry that the domestic art world is selling out to the west, says Charlotte Higgins

Picture gallery: Chinese art at the Shanghai Biennale
Charlotte Higgins

[images-link] http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/gallery/0,8542,1346913,00.html
At 50 Moganshan Street in Shanghai is a clump of dusty warehouses and small-scale factories, hedged around by a tall, encroaching thicket of tower blocks. Inside the compound can be glimpsed the busy activity of small-scale industry. A door lies ajar to reveal a dingy shoebox of a room, closely packed with bunk beds to accommodate migrant workers.

The building next door, by contrast, fronts the world with a sparkling plate-glass window; behind it is a minimalist office interior, Mies van der Rohe chairs set at neat angles. For 50 Moganshan Street is where, alongside the low-rent workshops, Shanghai's high-end contemporary art world has come to roost. Round every corner you'll find an artist's studio, or an exclusive dealer selling Chinese art for thousands of dollars out of some glamorously dilapidated warehouse. It's like a wet dream of SoHo in the early days.

People talk of an "explosion" of Chinese art. For a country that has virtually no contemporary art history, where artists' training is dominated by an ultra-traditional grounding in Chinese painting techniques, where the first clues as to what was happening in the postmodern western art world trickled through as recently as the late 1980s, the scene has mushroomed and transmuted with staggering velocity, artists running through mini-movements (political pop art, the much discussed trend for body art in the mid-1990s, through to a strong focus today on installation, film and video) with alarming speed. In Europe and the US, Chinese art is, as they say, hot. Of the art sold at Moganshan Street, the vast majority is to collectors from abroad. "Kissing foreigners' arses" is how one young art graduate dismissively describes it.

"China keeps being discovered," says Davide Quadrio, a touch wearily. An Italian long-term resident of the city, he is a curator who, for the past five years, has run a not-for-profit art centre, his current space accessible via a juddering goods lift up in a Moganshan Street warehouse.

"Chinese art is overexposed to foreign journalists, curators, dealers. And for some young artists it's difficult to deal with the expectations. People seem to have an overwhelming need for China at the moment - ideas from China, novelty from China. But you can't find 10 or 15 new young artists each year."

Quadrio has been one of the chief actors in the drama that has seen artistic activity in Shanghai transmute over the past decade "from an era of guerrillas to the era of a regular army", as artist Qiu Zhijie has put it. He recalls how, from a low-profile underground, with artists showing avant-garde work mainly to each other in their studios, a more public scene took shape. In 1996, Lorenz Hebling, a Swiss art dealer, set up the first private commercial gallery focused purely on contemporary Chinese work. A turning point came in 1999, when Quadrio's outfit, Bizart, put on an exhibition called Art For Sale. It was Shanghai's first large-scale show of avant-garde art outside the nascent commercial gallery circuit. "It was closed down after two days for pornography," says Quadrio, "but it was illegal anyway - we had squatted a mall." Despite its short life and a furious denunciation in the press, it was a huge success, ambitious in scale and intent, a call to arms for Shanghai artists.

Quadrio was now determined to set up a permanent, not-for-profit exhibition space. It wasn't as easy as it might sound. A cultural organisation in the city has no legal status unless affiliated to the government, thus coming under the power of the Shanghai Cultural Bureau. Such control, from a conservative, bureaucratic and extremely circumspect body, was never going to be viable for Quadrio. The way round it was to create a wholly owned Chinese company, becoming a "commercial enterprise in the eyes of the Chinese authorities". The numerous events and exhibitions he has held since then fly, mostly, below the radar of officialdom. It is one of many subtle accommodations Quadrio has come to with the authorities. "You play with the limits, and the government lets you play," he says. Money, rather than censorship, he stresses, is the biggest headache: Quadrio hires out his curatorial and technical skills to help pay for the programme, and works with foreign funders and foundations, including Arts Council England.

In one neighbouring warehouse, Li Liang, an artist and dealer, runs a gallery called Eastlink. He is an urbane, sleek figure, his office cluttered with artworks: 2ft-long rat sculptures by Jin Le, vulgarly entertaining multicoloured resin figures by Li Zhan Yang. "I'm doing two things," he says. "I have to have something to sell. And then there are exhibitions, where we can show more experimental work."

He is profoundly reluctant to talk about it ("that is in the past now"), but he was responsible for one of the most notorious events of the Shanghai art scene. In 2000, he ran a show on the unofficial "fringe" of the city's first Biennale, which operates from the government-run Shanghai Art Museum. Li Liang's show was, uncompromisingly enough, called Fuck Off, and it featured a photograph of a man eating a baby, by Zhu Yu. The work was one of the manifestations of the Chinese body art movement, in which, in a manner that makes the most violent excesses of the YBAs seem tame, human body parts, corpses, and leavings from medical operations were deployed as artistic materials. One artist reputedly even committed suicide as a performance work.

Li Liang's show, unsurprisingly, was shut down, and became an international scandal. He didn't do the cause of his own gallery any favours, but that first Biennale did make an impact, he says. "People began to see art in a different way. They started to understand that contemporary art won't harm society, particularly since it was coming out of the Art Museum. The atmosphere became more open."

Through Li Liang's windows I count eight cranes without turning my head. The drilling, hammering, thud and clang of construction is constant. He gestures towards the tower blocks: "These have all gone up in the past eight months." The onward march of the towers daily threatens the artists and curators at Moganshan Street. They have been here a matter of months - an earlier base nearby at West Suzhou Road, in a handsome 1930s British-designed granary, was demolished. It was the sort of building that in the west would have been preserved as a crucial piece of industrial heritage. "Maybe next year the government will make this place permanent as an artists' compound," says Li Liang, more in hope than expectation. "The Shanghai government is pushing for culture at the moment. In their eyes, there are good economic and touristic reasons for culture to be a part of the city ... at the same time, if they get their hands on this place, they will fuck it up with framing shops and Starbucks. There's a complete lack of imagination."

The Shanghai Biennale is the most obvious manifestation of the city's recognition that, as Lorenz Hebling puts it, "a big modern city doesn't just have highways, but also culture". Set in the magnificent 1930s racecourse club on the edge of Renmin Park, it's an extensive, ramblingly curated show with a focus on Chinese and South American work. Young Shanghai artists Xu Zhen and Yang Fudong are in evidence, the former with a playful installation for the museum's clock tower that sets the clock hands spinning wildly out of control, Yang Fudong with a haunting evocation on film of the disorientation of urban existence.

Victoria Liu, a chic, energetic Taiwanese curator whose parents left Shanghai just before the war, has now returned to the city of her roots. Over the past instalments of the Biennale she has seen "tremendous improvements from the team's hard work and persistence. It gives me great hope. The government - what's the government? It's the people who work in it. There's a younger generation in charge now, many with international educational backgrounds. The director of the art museum has travelled a lot, and he has clear ideas about how the Biennale can improve."

With her geometric-cut, scarlet-dyed hair and Issey Miyake trousers, she seems the epitome of jetset art-world glamour. We meet at her high-rise apartment block, the exotically named Sea of Clouds, and she whisks me off into a taxi to visit the huge new space she is about to embark on curating, called Bund 18. Housed in the marbled and pillared halls of the 1920s Bank of India, Australia and China, it is a splendid setting in which, when the builders move out, she is planning art and design shows, performance, film and concerts. "We want to generate people's interest in participating in art life. This isn't about selling," she says. "We'll also do things like print an art map of Shanghai - the sort of thing the gov ernment should be doing, to bring more interest to the city."

In a few weeks the rest of the building will fill with restaurants and boutiques: "Shanghai's most intriguing and beautiful retail, dining and entertainment experience" is how the publicity puts it. It's all magnificent, but will anyone who's not part of the Shanghainese or international super-rich dare venture past Cartier to find the exhibition space beyond?

Liu brushes the question away and puts her mind to finding a restaurant for lunch. But later, over the Shanghainese version of nouvelle cuisine, something seems to drop away. "You won't want to hear this," she says. "I teach western art at university, from the Eygptians to Damien Hirst. But western curators come here with limited knowledge of our art history, and don't bother to ask curators like me what's going on. Everything is judged by their own standards. For years we were grateful and humble. Now we want to do our own thing. My Korean, Taiwanese, Japanese, Chinese colleagues think the same." She believes that Chinese artists are in danger of becoming "copycats" of their western colleagues, and wants to find ways for them to reconnect with their own art history: to find an authentic Chinese voice. "Young artists have no idea of art for art's sake - it's art for the market."

It will take years, she says, for interest in contemporary art to spread beyond the elite few. Even then, "the divide "is not going to be about east and west, but about economics, about massive disparity in earnings among Chinese." Less about kissing foreigners' arses, then, than kissing the arses of the rich.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/features/story/0,11710,1346573,00.html

 

******************

ChinaDaily
Peking Man's digs gets archaeological redo
By Li Jing (China Daily)
Updated: 2004-11-23 00:37

The first phase of work to reinforce caves where the 500,000-year-old Peking Man was found has been completed, with six relic sites threatened by collapse successfully saved.

The project at the Zhoukoudian area, a World Heritage site 50 kilometres southwest from downtown Beijing, started in July after archaeologists reported 21 areas at the site inn danger of geological calamity.

The second work phase will be carried out next year,protecting a further group of seven ruin sites, according to the Zhoukoudian management.

The project, which is the most complete effort since the 1920s when the first complete Peking Man skull was unearthed, is expected to last until 2007.

Qi Guoqin, a researcher with the Institute of Vertebrate Paleontology and Paleoanthropology at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, said the effort appears to have been taken in time after worrying signs at the site were spotted. A series of caves located in rolling hills had begun to disintegrate, with small stones falling from the ceiling at several spots.

"I'm glad to see the six relic spots, including the Pigeon Hall where Peking Man's parietal bone, collarbone and lower jawbone were discovered, have become safer, and their outward appearance did not change a lot after consolidation," said Qi.

Since Peking Man was first unearthed in 1929, archaeologists have found fossils belonging to 40 different individuals and more than 100,000 stone implements and other objects.

The discovery of Peking Man was one of the most decisive steps in the scientific quest to trace man's prehistorical development from apes.

Mou Huichong, a professor with the Institute of Geology and Geophysics Research at the Chinese Academy of Sciences, said the second phase of work will be more difficult than the first because the coming work will be done on areas near the cultural stratum that may contain valuable fossils.

"If the sites are reinforced by cement, further archaeological excavation will be severely impacted," said Mou.

"It is a complicated preservation project and related to many other aspects such as geological structure and relic protection issues.

"We are discussing this with experts from different fields of study and trying to find the best solutions to the problem," said Mou.

Du Xiaofan, a member of the United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization's Beijing Office, hailed the protection work at Zhoukoudian.

He said it is a good example of finding potential hazards and taking immediate measures before possible geological disaster occurs.

"Heritage protection authorities should strengthen daily supervision and maintenance on cultural relics in order to avoid any damage -- such as the collapse of the city wall of Pingyao," said Du.

A section of Pingyao's ancient city wall, a world cultural heritage site in North China's Shanxi Province, collapsed last month due to lack of maintenance.

The first phase of reinforce work at Zhoukoudian, lasting more than three months, cost more than 2.5 million yuan (US$302,000). And the second phase is expected to cost at least 3 million yuan (US$363,000), according to the management office of the site.

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004-11/23/content_394137.htm

*********************************

China daily, 2004-11-10
Grand exhibition devoted to cultural exchange
By Yang Yingshi and Wang Shanshan

China is hot, especially on this autumn's New York art scene.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art is presenting a landmark exhibition of ancient Chinese art and culture - one of the largest ever held in the United States - with eye-opening treasures on loan from across the Chinese mainland.

Attracting tens of thousands of visitors to the world's leading museum, the China exhibition, which opened on October 12 and runs through January 23, 2005, makes a sensation among the general public as well as the New York artistic community.

Its indisputable success has also aroused complicated feelings, besides appreciation, among Chinese museum professionals and spurred their thinking.

"China: Dawn of a Golden Age, 200-750 AD" brings together more than 300 works of extreme rarity and historical importance, some of which have never before been exhibited outside China, and tells the story of Chinese art and culture from late Han (206 BC-AD 220) to Tang (AD 618-907) dynasties.

"It is indeed a great privilege for the Metropolitan Museum to present this breathtaking assemblage of treasures from China, and particularly now, as new scholarship and recent archaeological finds warrant a full-scale cultural reassessment of the late Han to high Tang periods," said Philippe de Montebello, director of the museum.

Most of the objects in the exhibition have been excavated in the past 30 years, according to the director.

"The recent finds on view lead us to consider this period not as a 'dark age' following the collapse of the Han empire, but rather as a time of massive influx of foreign ideas that invigorated Chinese culture and laid the foundation for glorious artistic achievements during the Tang dynasty," he added.

Assemblage of treasures

The exhibits are in an astounding variety of media, including jade, bronze, gold, silver, metal, stone and wood, as well as textiles, works on paper and wall paintings. They range in size from an enormous sculpture of a fantastic animal to a small gold coin.

The exhibition is chronologically and geographically organized into seven sections. Highlights include a set of 14 bronze cavalry and charioteer figures arranged in the formation of an official procession; some of the most famous early Chinese Buddhist sculptures; and luxury articles of glass and precious metals imported from Western and Central Asia during the 4th to the 6th centuries.

The imports, often combining Hellenistic and Persian motifs and forms, represent an early international style in the arts, remarked James C Y Watt, chairman of the Department of Asian Art at the Met and curator of the exhibition. Examples of such pieces - including a tall, 5th- or 6th-century gilt silver ewer in a Persian form that is decorated with Hellenistic motifs - are among the treasures on show.

While almost every section of the exhibition represents a climax in one way or another, the final section centres on the Tang Dynasty, when the new multi-ethnic artistic tradition flowered.

The final section includes a large stone sculpture of a seated Buddha, an earthenware sculpture of a girl resting on a camel, a silver six-lobed plate decorated with a mythical winged animal, a spectacular tomb guardian animal with a human head and a small female figurine of wood and pigmented clay.

The statuette, titled "Female Figure" and dressed in silks with patterns woven to scale, represents high fashion in both dress and makeup of the early Tang Dynasty. The work is printed as the cover image of the exhibition's catalogue and audio tour guide, attracting a lot of visitors.

"It reminds me of my ancestors," said Jun Yoshimatsu, a Japanese-American student from Columbia University's Teachers College. Yoshimatsu was referring to the period when the Japanese were tremendously influenced by the culture of Tang Dynasty, even in fashion.

John Barell, a local resident who said he is fascinated with the "simplicity" of traditional Chinese landscape painting, was resting on a step at the main entrance of the museum, where a red banner with the huge white word "China" was waving high over him in the air.

Barell said he felt "a little disappointed" for not seeing many ink paintings this time. But, the fact is, he saw "the painting" - the only ink painting on display was a six-panel picture of a groom and horses, which was unearthed in a Tang Dynasty tomb and is reportedly one of the earliest Chinese ink paintings discovered.

"I also loved the bronze horses and chariots displayed at the beginning of the show. I was surprised to see the crowds of visitors in the gallery, which is great. People from all walks of life come to see this show," Barell said.

Cultural exchange

Rather than the "dawn of a golden age," the period after Han had often been interpreted in some Chinese historical files as a time of continuous wars, social turbulence and state division. In official Tang documents and following dynasties, part of this period was even denounced as "wuhu luanhua" (the time when the central empire was disturbed or ruled by ethnic minority groups).

But curator Watt saw things differently.

"Seven or eight years ago, the director of the Met asked me: 'There hasn't been a major exhibition of Chinese relics for almost 20 years, do you have any good ideas?'" recalled Watt, a Chinese-born art historian. "I immediately thought of this period, a period of openness that represents a highlight of China - especially during the Tang Dynasty when almost all aspects of arts and culture flourished," he said.

In Watt's view, the works selected for this exhibition illuminate a new interpretation of the 3rd through the 8th centuries in China as "a time of active and fruitful cultural exchange between East and West."

"Since few people have curated a similar exhibition of this period, especially in an encyclopaedic and comprehensive manner. Even in China, it's impossible since the works are very difficult to be seen together," he said as another reason for the exhibition.

Chen Jianming, director of the Hunan Provincial Museum, agreed with Watt.

"I think many museums will envy The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Even in China, I have never seen so many first-class relics put in a single exhibition," said Chen, who visited the exhibition in New York.

According to the standards of the Chinese cultural heritage authorities, a "first-class" relic is an extremely precious and rare piece that is usually restricted from export.

Chen Yu, a curator with the National Museum of China in Beijing, said: "We rarely curate exhibitions in such an encyclopaedic way in China. Most of our exhibitions include relics in the collection of only one museum, or museums in one province."

He accepted that the national museum might well have the capacity to present a comprehensive exhibition like the one at the Met. The National museum did exhibit "Archaeological Finds in China over the Past 50 Years" about four years ago, which also included many first-class relics.

Encyclopaedic nature

But, he pointed out the difficult part of the story is "to present such an encyclopaedic exhibition, a museum needs much time, money and, especially, strong co-ordination to make sure the loans can be obtained from so many museums around China."

"We usually don't have seven or eight years to prepare for an exhibition, or that much money to travel around the country to choose pieces. And, it can be really hard to bargain with so many museums - sometimes a museum simply will not lend you what you want most - which is indeed a frustrating experience," he said.

Watt said he wanted to thank the Chinese State Administration of Cultural Heritage for their full support that helped make this exhibition possible.

"Most of the pieces come from China. Among the 350 or so works, only four pieces are from the collections of American museums," he said.

The exhibits were assembled from 46 Chinese museums and cultural institutions in 14 provinces and municipalities, according to Shan Jixiang, director general of the State Administration of Cultural Heritage of China.

Among the lenders are such leading museums as the Palace Museum and National Museum of China as well as local museums and institutions with outstanding collections.

Besides its encyclopaedic nature, The Met's spectacular exhibition has much more to be appreciated by Chinese museum professionals.

"I like the way the masterpieces are installed in the exhibition hall, which create a tranquil, oriental atmosphere," said director Chen of the Hunan Provincial Museum.

"I also wish our audiences in China would show such enormous interest in the cultural heritage of their own country, as the American audiences admire the exhibits in this show," he said.

"I think the multi-ethnic and multi-cultural nature of the Chinese works in this exhibition fits the cosmopolitan context of New York perfectly," said Watt.

http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/english/doc/2004-11/10/content_390119.htm

***************************

The Art Newspaper, October 25, 2004
New museum is breaking down Japanese resistance to contemporary art
The 21st-century Museum of Contemporary Art was seen by 60,000 visitors in its first six days
By Fiona Wilson

The 21st-century Museum of Contemporary Art has opened in Kanazawa, northwest of Tokyo. The stunning new museum, which will focus on art created since 1980, was shown to press, critics and curators a day before its opening last month. Built at a cost of ¥11.3 billion ($103 million) and designed by the Tokyo architecture firm SANAA, the museum has set itself the task of challenging the Japanese public’s reticence towards contemporary art.

The museum was eight years in the planning, four of which included close collaboration between the curators and the architects Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa. Their radical design is intended to make the building as accessible to the public as possible. The museum is housed in a giant circular building, 112.5 metres in diameter, with neither front nor back, but multiple points of entry. The building is low and transparent with glass walls and four internal courtyards. Community spaces including a library, lecture hall and children’s workshop sit alongside a series of randomly scattered galleries of different shapes and sizes.

Museum director Yutaka Mino knows that he could have an uphill struggle to make the museum the success it deserves to be. “Most museums in Japan showing contemporary art are having a hard time; everyone gets nervous when contemporary art is mentioned and attendances for shows are often low”.

His role is doubly challenging since he is combining his position in Kanazawa with his other job as director of the Municipal Museum of Art in Osaka. Dr Mino returned to Japan in 1996 after 26 years in the US where he worked in several institutions, including the Art Institute of Chicago where he was curator of Asian Art.

The Kanazawa project, which is funded entirely by public money, was initiated by the city’s dynamic mayor, Tamotsu Yamade. Impressed by his track record in Osaka, Mr Yamade approached Dr Mino 18 months ago and offered him the job as director in Kanazawa. “When I first arrived it was difficult”, Dr Mino says. “People asked: ‘Why are you buying this junk?’. The mayor was having a hard time. I gave 100 lectures in different communities explaining that this museum could really change the city”.

The central location of the museum should help. “Contemporary art museums in Japan are often built away from the action”, says Dr Mino, “or they’re hidden in commercial buildings where people can’t find them”.

The museum has so far spent $10 million buying 200 works of art for its permanent collection. They were lucky enough to be among the first buyers of Takashi Murakami —well before he designed handbags for Louis Vuitton, a project which sent prices for his work soaring. They have also acquired works by Carsten Nicolai, Olafur Eliasson, Doug Aitken and Kenji Yanobe, among others.

Eight specially commissioned installations have been incorporated into the building itself, including Leandro Erlich’s mock swimming pool inside the entrance, Anish Kapoor’s elliptical hole in the wall, “The origin of the world” and James Turrell’s “Blue planet sky”, a square opening in the ceiling through which natural light pours. But perhaps most startling of all is Patrick Blanc’s “Green bridge”, a 13-metre long, five-metre high wall covered in 3,000 plants, all personally collected by the artist.
The museum’s chief curator is Yuko Hasegawa, who was the commissioner of the Japanese pavilion at last year’s Venice Biennale; there is also an international advisory panel of three: Neil Benezra, director of San Francisco MoMA, Lars Nittve, director of the Moderna Museet in Stockholm and Alfred Pacquement, director of the Pompidou Centre, Paris.

Dr Mino hopes to attract 340,000 people to the museum in the first year. He will no doubt take heart from the fact that 60,000 visited in the first six days after the opening. “I would like people to see how powerful contemporary art can be,” he says “and, one hopes, also how much fun”. Next year’s shows include a solo exhibition devoted to Matthew Barney and a Gerhard Richter retrospective

http://www.theartnewspaper.com/news/article.asp?idart=11636

************
Note:
There is an online archive of the [achtung! kunst] newsletter available at:
http://fluktor.de/study/office/newsletter.htm
************

************
How to subscribe/unsubscribe:
http://www.sino.uni-heidelberg.de/edv/maillists.htm
************

____________________

Matthias Arnold M.A.
Digital Resources
Institute of Chinese Studies
University of Heidelberg
Akademiestr. 4-8
69117 Heidelberg
Germany

Phone: ++ 49 - (0) 62 21 - 54 76 75
Fax: ++ 49 - (0) 62 21 - 54 76 39

http://www.chinaresource.org
http://www.sino.uni-heidelberg.de

www.fluktor.de
www.zhaomo.de.vu