Art in Shanghai

Censorship is, undoubtedly, a big issue here in China. I've learned this firsthand from my work with Shanghai Repertory Theater, from my classes, from every Westerner I speak to about China.

However, I've found that most censorship regarding art here is performance-based. Visual art, while monitored, is much more open and creative and is a burgeoning source of creativity and business here in Shanghai.

A couple of weeks ago, I went with my photography class to the Shanghai Biennale, or biennial art show. For me, the Shanghai Biennial was a jumble of a few too many artists and styles but with a couple of moments of brilliance. The entire first floor of the exhibit was poorly planned and did not use the space effectively, while the second floor made good use of the space offered and had more interesting work.

The first floor was filled with a lot of paintings, canvasses mounted on plywood which stood freely about the room. They were a series of work but the way they were scattered about did not help their association or bring any new light to the images than mounting them on a wall. There were also some structural pieces built of plywood and class which also stood freely in the room. One interesting thing about the first floor’s exhibition was a large-scale installation based on Zhang Huan’s production of Handel’s Semele. It involved a full-scale temple and home objects, photographs and a video. It engaged the viewer by inviting them to walk through the space and explore.

On the second floor, the work was of more consistent interest. I was particularly drawn to Maleonn’s studio, an installation which was simultaneously grotesque and beautiful. It was created by Shanghai-based artist Maleonn. The aesthetic reminded me strongly of a Richard Foreman play I’d seen in New York two years ago.

I also was captivated with Tsai Ming-Liang’s installation and video, which involved cramped movie-style seating and a film based on one of his dreams. The video was awkward and long but somehow I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Every moment seemed carefully crafted, and its presentation (the asymmetrical seating, the dark warm room) seemed to foster a sense of nostalgia.

I also loved Mou Boyan’s lifelike sculptures and Delphine Balley’s creepy photographs, which were both displayed in a dramatic fashion that heightened the art present. They lined the walls of a single square-shaped room, and in the middle was a mannequin wearing a Victorian style dress, wax dripping across the bodice and train and landing in a colorful pool on the floor.

All in all, the Biennale seemed to me to be a sign that Shanghai's visual arts are alive and well, contrary to what I believed before I came to China.