The Art of Hong Kong Eye, Saatchi Gallery

Inside Amy Cheung's 'Toy Tank' at 'Hong Kong Eye'

Saatchi’s 'Hong Kong Eye' is an 18-course amuse-bouche of the region's brewing contemporary art scene. If there was any doubt, just look at renowned Swiss fair Art Basel's debut in Hong Kong last month – which attracted plenty of customers  (including Kate Moss and Roman Abramovich apparently) eager for a slice of the massively lucrative market.  

Sponsored by Prudential, Asia's leading corporate UK owned insurance company (the hint is in it's name), I was keen to discover how the show would, as its official introduction claims, “draw on (artists) specific cultural backgrounds to expose the city’s nuances” convincingly to new audiences.

Known as " The Pearl of the Orient", it’s easy to be seduced by the city's glossy patina: a teeming hyper-networked metropolis, breathtaking skyline boasting most Rolls-Royces per capita. But at what social/psychological price? This is unadulterated HK in the eyes of its own artists; where unspoken anxiety simmers headily throughout the exhibition. 

Amy Cheung's life-sized wooden 'Toy Tank' 

Standing in the first room is Amy Cheung's full-size wooden ‘Toy Tank’, a loaded choice of material for a symbol so potent. Visitors are invited play combat; crawling inside the vehicle, submerged in darkness. Video screens and joysticks let one navigate and unleash gunfire within a simulated Saatchi Gallery. Complete with realistic sound effects, the haunting atmosphere and unmistakable echoes of Tiananmen are inescapable. Curiously lying in its path is Adrian Wong's five-foot animatronic peanut soft toy, convulsing like dying road-kill. Novel child's play aside, these examples show how local artists are incorporating the cutting-edge technology in their work. Compared to the west, its apparent lack of established arts infrastructure and rules appears to work in its favour. 

Justin Wong’s 'Difficult Life Decision' encompasses two works. The first is a giant periodic table of stickered symbols across an entire wall. Parodying a typical gruelling cycle of work, stress and digitally-prompted demands, the day starts with "Email” and ends in “Blank”, contrasting with signs of human woes like “Why Me”, “Mortgage” and “Day Off”. It’s the blueprint of the kind of living mode Londoners are frighteningly catching up with.

Justin Wong 's 'Difficult Life Decision''

The second part is a kiosk that asks rhetorically “How Are U Today?” Conceived, explains the helpful touch screen, to “help overworked white-collar employees contemplate life or even create a new one”, by anonymously sharing their secrets, worries and pent-up frustrations. If Wong’s works visually encapsulate HK’s insanely-paced work ethic, the definitive soundtrack belongs to Joao Vasco Paiva's installation of MTR (HK’s underground) turnstiles. A clanging-metal racket so ingrained as a Hong Konger; I barely noticed how irritatingly loud it was it until now. 

On more contentious ground, questions about China’s cultural identity are painted in Chow Chun Fai's iconic movie scenes of Chinese capitalist dreams. Everyone wants a piece of China now, but there is less concern for its own people, let alone those who speak openly about it. Issues like corruption seem to be subtly implied in subtitled actors' quotes − “China is not ruled by Chinese anyway”. Unlike the 'Korean Eye' or 'Indonesian Eye', unsurprisingly this is as controversial as it gets. 

Chow Chun Fai, 'Legend of the Fist: China is not Ruled by Chinese Anyway'

That being said, I don’t think 'Hong Kong Eye' was ever intended to expose its dark side. Intensity has always been the way of life; China didn't prosper by luck. 

The most unique aspect shown is HK’s mongrel culture, owed to its rich history as a former British colony and international trading port. An incongruous collage of old meets new, east meets west under constant urban renewal. Ho Sin Tung’s 'LOVE HOTEL: Please pretend we’ve been to a lot of places' includes a collage of cards from locally-endangered seedy motels named after glamorous holiday destinations. “Venice Inn”, “Hawaii Guest House” and the delightfully misspelt “Romb Hotel” are kitschy delights you'd never find in a tourist map. 

This is an show where somewhat frustratingly, no message or agenda is explicit. Contemplative effort, imagination and open-mindedness are needed to appreciate HK’s cultural fabric – which is complex, idiosyncratic and contradictory. However its mystic allure is a promising sign of big things yet to come.

Images from top:  pbs.org, aesthetica.com, guardian.co.uk, ocula.com

London's Top 5 Treasure Hunts

Treasures old, treasures new, treasures worth the pilgrimage to...Inspired by Channel 4’s ‘Four Rooms’* and my Blom & Blom recycled lighting piece for Phoenix Magazine, trawling for treasure has never been more fashionable. Here are 5 fantastic events where you just might get lucky

Reminiscing...V&A Postmodernism: Style and Subversion

Any self-respecting writer will have a library of rejected manuscripts (I remember how I cried on my first), buried inside cobweb gathering tombs of laptop hard drives, never to see the light of day and usually for a good reason.

I am not one of those self-respecting writers.

So here's an attempt at Art Review-worthy critcism from the 2011 archives. Frank feedback in the the comments box below the post would be most welcomed. The sharing icons are in grey above each post, which I still haven't figured out how to change...

I've written my fair share of embrassing, self-indulgent, juvenile rubbish, but reflection's the only way to learn right?

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Postmodernism: Style and Subversion, 1970-1990 at the V&A

(24^th September 2011- 8^th January 2012)

i-D, no 28. The Art Issue, August 1985, photograph by Nick Knight, featuring Lizzy Tear.V&A

Postmodernism: Style and Subversion is one of the VA’s most exciting projects to date. Divided into 3 sections- Architecture, Style and Money, it examines radical ideas that defined the movement between 1970- 1990. Its proliferation is chronicled through stimulating exhibits- from Architecture, Art and Design to Film, Music and Fashion. It’s ambitious to showcase a hotly contested movement, one which we are arguably still living in. I fell slept through Postmodernism lectures at university, so I was curious to understand what the fuss was about.

To some, it might be synonymous with Andy Warhol soup cans and Madonna’s fashion choices- but few are aware of its anti-modernist roots in architecture. Postmodernism is portrayed as a phoenix rising from the ashes of modernism in the 1970s, a liberation from its restrictive orthodoxies of function, clarity and purity. A full-scale replica of Hans Hollein’s façade (1980) from the Venice Biennale is one of the most theatrical exhibits. Each pillar samples a period in the history of architecture, from the Garden of Eden, classical Greek ruins to industrialist Art Deco. The pastiche is deliberate and unabashedly artificial (think Las Vegas novelty hotels); playfully cutting-up-and-pasting memorable fragments from the past.

The bricologe, cut-and-paste ethos was not limited to styles and ideas. It brought unconventional materials and different processes together to create a new synergy. This is evident in Paul Astbury’s ceramic sculpture, Box(1980). At first glance it’s an unremarkable, tatty white box hastily assembled with discarded scraps. The broken fragments are actually fired ceramic tiles, individually fixed with screws to the cardboard box, an unconventional mosaic tessellation. These are accented with strokes of custom blue and brown tinted araldite, sellotape, paint and felt tip markers. The complex layers and strategic placement of colours makes one wonder how much of its appearance is coincidental or deliberate. Personally, excavated remnants of demolished Modernist architecture come to mind, eschewing progress; suggesting the present is merely an amalgam of antiquity. It’s an intriguing, tactile synthesis of everyday materials; refreshingly contemporary even for today. 

Box, 'Untitled', Paul Astbury, 1980. V&A

The music and performance (style) section is not to be missed. The set (known as ‘The Club’) recreates the electric atmosphere of an underground fetish night club from 1980s, complete with coloured spotlights, elevated stages and wire fences. The kind your parents would not approve of. David Bowie, Grace Jones and other 80s pop videos repeat (annoyingly) on huge screens- charting MTV’s pivotal role of channelling postmodernism to the mainstream audience of style conscious youths.  David Byrne of Talking Heads’ Big Suit(1983) and Grace Jones’ cubist sculptural maternity dress (made of cardboard and felt in 1979) are just some of the zany outfits on display. Colourful, exaggerated appearances conveyed dissident, self-referential personas critical to these artists’ successes.

The most extreme style statements are perhaps the male and female ballet costumes designed by Leigh Bowery for the Michael Clark Company’s production, Because We Must(1987).  Beige balaclava-attached corset bodices are covered in exquisite crewelwork, depicting pink, orange, gold and green sequined flowers- reinterpreting an embroidery technique historically used for curtains. Complete with pink lycra sequinned leggings, I imagine it would make Lady Gaga blush. The mysteriously covered faces (with just 3 holes for sight and respiration) and sexually provocative corset-bodies fetishize domination and submission. Epitomising fluid postmodern gender identities, they bring a body-conscious, androgynous ‘otherness’ Bowery’s work was famous for. 

Dance costumes for performance 'Because We Must', designed by Leigh Bowery, 1987. V&A

The last section explores the impact of money on postmodernism during the economic and consumer excesses of the 1980s to its demise in 1990. The luxury products of ‘design editing’ are enticing, a precursor to the current trend for artist/designer/high street collaborations. It marks the change when designers happily merchandised their services to mass market brands like Disney and Alessi. An iconic example is architect Michael Graves’ Mickey Mouse Gourmet Collection(1991). A tea-set with mouse-shaped handles and whistling Mickey spout cover reflect a humorous, ironic self regard that defined pop culture. One can’t help but lament a ‘selling out’ for fame and profit, relinquishing the creative freedom postmodernists fought for in the first place. Money was power, but it also tainted postmodernism with a ‘vulgar decadence’ that still niggles, whether we admit or not.

For visitors unfamiliar with postmodernism, this is a dynamic introduction to its many ‘broken facets’. The ideas radical at the time shaped and continue to influence the world we live in today – from parody, pluralism, bricolage to a return to kitsch and nostalgia. There are too many objects for one to thoroughly evaluate; leaving many questions not fully answered (Is Postmodernism dead? Does it even matter?). However, like a time-travelling rollercoaster of unsettling, sensory thrills, it’s more fun to do a David Byrne and ‘Stop talking sense’.

The Discus Thrower’s New Clothes

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/

1. Quote by Carol Yinghua Lu, Frieze, 22nd May 2012, http://www.frieze.com/issue/print_back/sui-jianguo/

Christina Reviews- Collect, 11-14th May 2012, Saatchi Gallery

Shigekazu Nagae, Slipcast and glazed porcelain, Yufuku Gallery (Japan)

Since its controversial move to its Chelsea Duke of York Square premises in 2008, it’s fair to say the Saatchi gallery in London is better known for its cutting edge art and photography, rather than showcasing ‘craft’. Don’t let that put you off. Any doubts on whether contemporary craft is serious business (worth over £800 million in the UK alone) were readily eradicated after visiting this year’s Collect.

Supported by the Crafts Council, Collect is the most prestigious international contemporary craft fair in the UK. This year saw 31 gallery exhibitors, from UK, Europe to Asia, including China for the first time. This is where international collectors, major buyers, gallery directors and museum curators hunt down the finest pieces to add to their prized public collections. To indicate how serious it is- there’s even a Collect Art Fund of £70,000 where curators pitch in front of a Dragon’s Den-style committee why they should acquire their chosen item.

This year ceramics and jewellery were impressive, with works that left me speechless (in good and bad ways). In terms of pushing the boundaries of concepts, materials and techniques, the Northern European scene are evidently more fearless than its British counterparts. The contemporary jewellery scene in the Netherlands, Germany, Norway and Belgium have been well established here for a number of years now, fronted by galleries like Galerie Marzee. Jewellery is not just concerned with adornment- it can be avant-garde, wearable (or unwearable), sculptural, which seek their own identity beyond the wearer.

One must applaud the anything-goes spirit of shocking items like German jeweller Stefan Heuser’s giant beaded necklace, made from human breast milk (Galerie Rob Koudijs). Animal lovers beware- from Idiots’ dissected taxidermy bird necklace (to Märta Mattsson’s electroformed, crystal studded spiders (both represented by Galerie Marzee), nothing is too bizarre for bling.

The ancient oriental technique of laquerware saw an unexpected return this year; the refreshing interpretations by Chinese (Hanart TZ Gallery, Hong Kong) and Japanese galleries (Yufuku Gallery and Exhibition Space) leading the way. The bar was set exceptionally high- the enamelled metal, ceramic, bronze, glass, woven metal and bamboo artists from Yufuku Gallery showing unparalleled craftsmanship and innovation. What surprised me was how radically modern the works were- nothing of dated impression of Japanese porcelain and Chinese Ming vases I embarrassedly had before. It was like discovering the unseen wonders of a foreign world.

What a pity one has to wait another year to see such amazing objects!

Collect 2012 highlights

Christina Schou Christensen, Galerie Sofie Lachaer & Caroline Van Hoek (Belgium)

Sidsel Hanum, stained Limoges porcelain, Galleri Format (Norway)

Felicity Aylieff, Clare Beck at Adrian Sassoon (UK)

Emmeline Hastings, perspex and titanium bangle, Lesley Craze Gallery (UK)

Jamie Bennett, enamelled necklace, Antonella Villanova (Italy)

Michihiro Sato, paper brooch, Lesley Craze Gallery (UK)

Tang Ming Xiu , laquer and 18th century porcelain, Hanart TZ Gallery (HK)

Idiot's taxidermy bird and pearl necklace, Galerie Marzee (The Netherlands)

The Rhizome Chair, Crook and Jones in Collect's Project Space (UK)

 

All photographs taken by Christina Lai with permission from gallery/artist.

Review on Grayson Perry- The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman (6th October 2011- 15th February 2012)

Grayson Perry ceramic vase,You Are Here, 2011 (Detail)
Image: Bengedig.com

‘This is a memorial to all the anonymous craftsmen that over the centuries have fashioned the manmade wonders of the world…The craftsman’s anonymity I find especially resonant in an age of the celebrity artist.’ 

Grayson Perry

The British Museum’s The Tomb of the Unknown Craftsman is Grayson Perry’s most ambitious project to date, a major installation of his own work and museum objects by unknown craft makers.

Grayson Perry is an anomaly, respected (debatably) in both the contemporary art and craft world, circles which are always in dispute with one another. Perry’s pots came to fame for depicting controversial scenes of graphic violence and child abuse; making powerful satirical statements on history and contemporary society. But to the wider public he will always be better known for his flamboyant alter ego Claire, who he dressed up as and immortalised on his 2003 Turner win. With his celebrity ‘mad potter’ status and reputation for ‘winding up people with pots’, his exhibition at the British Museum was bound to kick up a fuss. It is highly unorthodox for a museum known for its ancient artefacts (made mostly by the deceased) to feature the work of a living modern artist, let alone grant the reins to curate an entire exhibition. The show was highly anticipated for months prior to its opening, reiterated by video interviews and no less than two BBC TV specials.

The exhibition can best be summed up as a journey through a fantasy civilisation- with Alan Measles, his much loved childhood teddy bear as the benign dictator, war hero, shaman and pope. Every aspect has been designed and curated to feel like a religious pilgrimage, illustrated by around 26 of Perry’s work (ceramics, tapestries, drawings cast iron amongst others) plus 190 objects he selected from the museum’s collection. These are divided into themes such as Magick, Shrines, Sex, Death, and Craftsmanship. The former four ideas appear fitting, given the grim, witty nature of Perry’s pieces. The latter is relevant if you consider the technical skill, fluency with diverse materials and labour that goes into them. There is, of course Perry’s much publicized outspokenness championing the merits of craft in the higher status world of modern art.

Grayson Perry on his customized Kenilworth AM1 and motorbike gear, 2011

Perry sees museums and galleries as churches of cultural pilgrimage, where pilgrims flock to see precious, holy objects (=modern art) of gods and saints (=modern artists). By placing his work and historical artefacts of inspiration directly beside each other, the connections become tangibly clear.  One is compelled to inquisitively look closer at the objects, as narrative conversations are brought to life.

The ceramicist’s pots are the highlights of the show. They are richly alluring visual tableaux- intricately decorated with sgraffito drawings, handwritten and stencilled texts, sprigged motifs, transfers and glossy glazes. To some modern art can be overly aloof and abstract, making one feel less intelligent than the artist. This is never the case here. Perry ties historical ideas with contemporary culture effectively, using recognisable imagery and text in a dark yet light-hearted fashion.  This provoking visual buffet keeps viewers guessing and entertained. The frivolous now is a classic example, a pot chronicling the media buzzwords of February 2011. From ‘Botox’, ‘Big Society’ to ‘Diabetes’, seeing the banalities of modern society right in front of you is an uneasy experience- forcing us to confront worrying concerns and superficial obsessions.  Pushing the psychological boundaries of comfort (having a psychotherapist wife must help) is something Perry achieves masterfully, allowing him to get away with pretty much any taboo.

Ion Tutuianu and  Gheorghe Prescura, 'Doctor' New Year celebration mask, 1993
Image: The Trustees of the British Museum

Although Alan Measles has taken centre stage as the Alpha male, Claire gleefully crops up to mark his feminine side. Shrine to Alan and Claire depicts the marriage between them, while a blacksmith forges over the anvil in the background. (Blacksmiths have been symbolic of 'anvil priests' who conducted ‘irregular marriages in Gretna Green). The union of the two addresses Perry’s belief that all social problems are a result between the imbalances of the sexes of our psyche. Maybe this is the reason why he chooses to cross-dress, though Claire is semi-retired these days. (On BBC’s Hardtalk he admitted having ‘integrated his inner transvestite into his personality’ as he’d gotten older)

The fluid states of gender are perhaps the most fascinating themes of the show; with ranging tributes to 18^th French century cross dressing spy Chevalier D'Eon de Beaumont, to paraphernalia of modern day Japan transvestites. Amongst Perry’s creations is a white silk ‘High priestess cape’, beautifully embroidered with oriental birds perched on blossom branches. Look closer and you’re in for a shock-the ‘birds’ are in fact winged penises spewing juices from flower shaped lips. Perry justifies his choice of imagery and challenges any prudishness, by juxtaposing ancient artefacts with explicit sexual imagery, or shaped as phalluses.

An example of this the Sheela-na-gig, a small carved stone statue of a woman opening her vulva with her hands, dating back to 12^th century Ireland.  This image may seem pornographic today, but sexual imagery and nudity was part of everyday life for our ancestors, used prominently on ancient Greek and Roman jewellery, amulets, paintings and furniture for example. Sheela-na-gigs weren’t sleazy sex toys to be kept hidden, but were venerated to ward off lust and evil spirits, found on public buildings, castles and churches.In this context sexual imagery seems harmless. It is as though Perry is trying to convince us that we are the ‘perverts’; contemporary society having regressed to a state of sexual conservatism.

At times Perry’s interpretations come across as over-laboured, contrived caricatures. Several of his ceramic and cast metal objects unabashedly simulate the original artefacts’ appearance, technique and materials. In small doses it is tolerable, even brilliant, but when they are this blatant and copious (like the show's supposed climax- a five foot wide cast iron ship coffin, complete with bottled blood, sweat and tear offerings, and a 250000 old flint), the theatricality makes it hard to take seriously. Not that this matters to Perry anyway.

Grayson Perry cast iron pilgrim,  'Our Mother', 2009
Image: Stephen White

Given the curatorial objectives, the notion of the anonymous, penniless but honourable craftsman sits uneasily with Perry’s work, since his name is undeniably the most lucrative draw of the exhibition and its shop merchandise. Nevertheless, a great exhibition is one that gets people thinking and talking- whether you like his art or not. Judging by the amount of press coverage, reviews and public interest it has gathered, as far as he and the British Museum are concerned, the show has been a remarkable success.  Upon first glance his work seems completely bonkers; Perry warns visitors not to ‘search too hard for meaning’ from the outset. However, it is precisely when you inspect his work closely, making your own links, grasping the underlying ideas that strangely make sense in Perry’s world, do you discover there is more to this ‘celebrity charlatan’ than he would like you to believe.