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| Sui Jianguo's Discus thrower. Image: British Museum |
The official fever of the London 2012 Olympics may have passed
its watershed moment, but its Cultural Olympiad is set to become its most enduring
legacy. Since 2008, 18 million have participated in 12000 projects across the
country thus far. That’s not including the farm animals in Danny Boyle’s Opening
Ceremony. From The World Shakespeare Festival (performing plays in 37 different
languages) to Turner Prize winning-artist Jeremy Deller’s life-size Stonehenge
bouncy castle, there’s been something for everyone.
If it’s an authentic piece of ancient Olympic history you’re
after however, the British Museum is a no-brainer. Envied by museums worldwide for its stunning collection
of Greek artefacts, to celebrate the Olympics it has curated Winning at the ancient Games, a free gallery
trail of 12 sports -related objects. The tour includes of course, the prized Townley
Discobolus, the Roman copy of Myron’s anatomically perfect discus thrower. However,
inconspicuously tucked away from the Great Court’s flocks of tourists is
Chinese contemporary artist Sui Jianguo’s interpretation of the Discobolus,
which comes with an unexpected twist. He
is dressed in a traditional Chinese ‘Mao Suit’.
As one of
China’s foremost practitioners of modern sculpture, Sui Jianguo rose to
international fame in the late 1990s, for his bold Legacy Mantle cast-aluminium sculptures of ‘Mao suits’ (zhongshan jackets).
A survivor of Mao’s Cultural Revolution, later witnessing the June 4th Movement, his experimental practice reflects China’s tumultuous cultural,
social and political transition in the last half century. He now presides as
head of sculpture at the prestigious China Central Academy of Fine Arts, Beijing.
The Townly Discobolus is undoubtedly one of the most famous
images from the ancient world. Despite its popularity, it’s actually an
incorrectly (albeit skilfully) restored forgery. The head is supposed to turn
back at the discus, instead of facing the ground. Having starred in Leni Riefenstahl’s acclaimed
film Olympia (1938), to the London Transport poster of Britain’s 1948 Olympic
Games, it’s been a universal symbol of freedom and democracy.
One might presume Sui’s version to be carved in marble, like
the museum’s resident discus thrower. In fact, it has been cast in bronze then
painted white, using the same painstaking technique as Myron did 2500 years
ago.
But how did Sui become interested in Western sculpture in
the first place? Is it merely a frivolous but timely statement of Chinese-Western
cultural exchange? For the artist, the seeds of classical inspiration were
planted during the formative years as a sculpture student at Beijing’s Central
Academy of Fine Arts in the late 1980s, when he first came across a plaster
cast of a discus thrower. Contemporary sculpture in China was in its infantile development
until the early 1990s. Studying the timeless figures by Michelangelo, Rodin alongside
the icons of Chinese Buddhism-it was a time when the Western ideas were
inevitably shaping China’s cultural map, a metamorphosis that is ongoing in Sui’s
opinion.
In 1998, he made his first Mao-suit clad sculptures in painted
fibreglass, a series titled Drapery Study.
Despite the name, the collection was more suggestive of China’s long history of
artistic censorship than analysing folds of fabric. This dates back to infamous
burning of books by its First Emperor Qin
Shi Huang in 246 BC.
In an earlier Frieze magazine review this year of his show at
Pace Gallery (Beijing), a critic described Dying Slave (1998),
part of the Drapery Study series, as “a deliberate appropriation of the realist
sculptural technique, a reference to his own educational background, but with a
biting critique of the political mechanism behind a nationwide aesthetic
preference”1. Indeed, if you ever get to see it, it’s one of the most haunting
images you’ll never forget.
Of course
the talking point, be it the early Drapery
Series or the featured Discobolus, is its choice of attire. To the Western
imagination, the ‘Mao suit’ is an iconic image synonymous with China’s Communist
three-decade reign under Mao Zedong. To the Chinese people however, the
connotations are far more ambivalent. The clothing’s restrained design seems to
mirror the government’s tight control over its people, emphasising unwavering unity,
respect and patriotism. Until as recently as 1990, it was a mandatory business
suit worn by officials, as well as most of the male population. Like the unravelling
of its traditions, its popularity amongst the younger generation fell as
western influences sparked a fashion revolution.
But how does the work fit into today’s
context? In terms of accepted styles, concepts and education systems, the liberalisation
of art in China has come a long way since Mao’s death, along with rapid modernisation
and globalization. Yet there is still progress to be made, international dialogues
to be opened and Sui believes adapting Western thinking may be the answer.
Personally, the suit’s symbolism of conformity resonates (unwittingly
or not), with the curious fact that the Discobolus formed the basis of the Nazis’
‘Master Race Ideology’ in 1938. As strange as it sounds, I was subconsciously hesitant
to touch the clothed, contemporary version.
For the sake of enjoyment, I prefer
to take a light-hearted view of Sui’s Discobolus. It still bears the thought-provoking
ambiguity of Myron’s original. Nevertheless, to some it’s a poignant reminder of
the liberties the Western societies so often take for granted.
Sui Jianguo’s discus thrower (1 June – 9 September 2012)
British Museum
http://www.britishmuseum.org/
