intro, day 1, day 2, day 3, day 4, day 5, last word
The film has a soft black border as if it is mere torchlight - and it could be, as the screen is simply white. Then beautiful, mournful African music begins, and a procession of animated silhouettes begins to pass across the screen. Made from torn scraps of paper, these figures are carrying spades, carrying the dead, hobbling on crutches, pulling others who are chained and handcuffed. All manner of life passes by. Then the solemn march is interrupted by a massive, Punch-like figure: a rotund tribal leader or witch doctor gesturing wildly in an extravagant ceremonial dance. A richly decorated cat also postures, standing on its hind legs and thrusting its belly forward with its spear-like tail pointing between its legs. The music changes, becoming less sorrowful, and the procession livens up with a kind of joyful cavorting: figures ride back and forth on bicycles, teapots have become people, an old lady whizzes about on a stapler. The cares of the world have not gone - the crutches aren't thrown away - but there is a creative spirit that suggests a defiant optimism. Hope, even.
This is Shadow Procession, by the South African artist William Kentridge. It is a long, beautiful video and one of the highlights of the biennale. It seems that many of the strongest works in this show are video-based, as they were in the various off-biennale projects. There is the South Korean artist Lee Bul's karaoke installation, with lyrics superimposed over a frenetically accelerated car journey through the city at night; and Japanese artist Mariko Mori's enigmatic installation, Link, that projects videos onto the outside of a circular, opaque plexiglass structure - viewers watch the images from within. The videos document Mori's 'Beginning of the End' performances, which involve her lying in a clear plastic capsule in famous locations around the world, like a time-traveler caught in stasis.
Another Japanese artist, Tatsuo Miyajima, presents Floating Time. Passing through a heavy curtain into a black space, viewers encounter a shockingly bright yellow table surface. This color is projected from above, as are the drifting numbers that animate the surface, counting as they randomly bounce and spin their way across the indefinite space. Less metaphysical is Dutch artist Fiona Tan's beautifully poetic video, Linnaeus' Flower Clock. Linnaeus was a famous botanist, and his clock divided up the day in terms of which flowers were opening or closing at each hour. The clock - which reads like a poem - is presented on screen, regimenting nature into set times, while Tan sets off on what could be described as a visual love letter. This encompasses natural cycles - like turtles laying their eggs on beaches - and lost moments, as represented by sepia-toned found footage of young men leaping off diving boards. It's a compelling piece, and regularly has an enthralled crowd gathered in the gloom for 17 minutes.
So this is my final day, and my final look at the exhibition. In the end, what can we say about the 2000 Shanghai Biennale? The most obvious point is that this is a deeply fractured exhibition. The fact that four different curators were involved in selecting the artworks is all too apparent, and there are obviously many different agendas - often mutually exclusive - running through the exhibition. It is certainly not a comprehensive, cohesive statement, but then it was never intended to be. The number of hurdles the event had to clear, and hoops the curators had to jump through, could only ever have produced such an eclectic mix of polite works.
Most of the works are not new - only around ten pieces have been made specifically for the biennale - and several of the artists are represented by works that are not their strongest. But again, this comes down to financial and political restrictions (the Matthew Barney film was shown in the museum's auditorium and not the local cinema, and On Kawara's paintings were only hung in the kindergarten long enough to be photographed - and these are only the problems encountered when the work had already been passed by the committees and arrived in Shanghai). What was deeply positive about the event, though, was that it really felt like the beginning of something: many cards were placed on the table, and many contrary positions were adopted, and this is exactly how things begin. At this point, things look good for the future art scene here.
The reason why there is so much potential is because of the level of discussion going on. The very fact that it is a disjointed exhibition, with works from different schools that don't sit comfortably with each other, is extremely important. If there had been less Chinese artists and just the big-name international artists, we may have seen a more cohesive show, but it would have been a straightforward import; of less interest locally and certainly less useful. The broad mix of artists means that all practices have to be justified, which is a perfect place to start. And what's really important here is that the different camps are not just ignoring each other; on the contrary, they're engaging with each other, and the importance of the artist-organized off-biennale projects cannot be overstated. The heat these other events are generating will drive the debates onwards. There is certainly the potential for the local art scene to grow into something that is neither backward-looking nor imposed from outside, but truly an expression of contemporary Shanghai.
But the question is, will the art scene ever have the chance to develop? An interesting point to note is that, while many of the international artists participating have been funded by organizations within their own countries, the Chinese artists have received virtually no financial help. This really makes it clear that State officials see the whole event as a cautious experiment, rather than as a blockbuster showcase of Chinese talent organized for the world to see.
Many of the younger Chinese and international artists seem to be assuming that this really is a true beginning, and that things can only go forward from here. But the older generation is more cautious, aware of the event's experimental nature: Party officials are simply dipping their toes in the water - they could just as easily pull their toes out again as put their whole foot in. China is at a crossroads, and if the political climate tightens up and hard-line attitudes return, the 2002 biennale will not be building on the achievements of this one but returning to the inward-looking dogma of past events. At this point things look optimistic, but the Communist Party will decide for itself which way it wishes to turn.
The Shanghai Biennale 2000 may not be remembered in years to come as the best exhibition in the world, but it will be remembered as one of the most important. The numerous political minefields that needed negotiating clipped its wings from the outset, but just the fact that it ever happened is a matter of utmost significance. That it did actually exhibit a fair number of brilliant works, spark the beginnings of a real debate, and provoke a response from local artists, must make this biennale an unimagined success.
Hou Hanru, who is widely regarded as the driving force behind the event - one of the conference speakers referred to this as 'Hou Hanru's Biennale' - deserves the thanks of many. I think perhaps we'll be thanking him for it for many years to come.
The 2000 Shanghai Biennale takes place in and around the Shanghai Art Museum from 6 November 2000 until 6 January 2001.
Hou Hanru (France); Toshio Shimizu (Japan); Zhang Qing (China); Li Xu (China)
Tadao Ando (Japan); Matthew Barney (US); Montien Boonma (Thailand); Gordon Bennet (Australia); Ci Guoqiang (US); Yung Ho Chang (US); Chen Peiqiu (China); Chen Ping (China); Chen Yanyin (China); Philip-Lorca Dicorcia (US); Heri Dono (Indonesia); Cuan Zhengqu (China); Marlene Dumas (Holland); Fang Lijun (China); Fang Shaohua (China); Bernard Frize (France); Funakoshi Katsura (Japan); Guan Ce (China); Hai Bo (China); Huang Buqing (Taiwan, China); Huang Yongping (France); Ji Dachun (China); Jiang Dahai (France); Anish Kapoor (UK); On Kawara (US); William Kentridge (South Africa); Anselm Keifer (Germany); Bodys Isek Kingelez (Congo); Emily Kame Kngwarreye (Australia); Aglaia Konrad (Holland); Lee Bul (South Korea); Lee U Fan (South Korea); Li Huasheng (China); Liang Shaoji (China); Liang Shuo (China); Liang Zhihe (Hong Kong, China); Liu Xiaodong (China); Lu Fusheng (China); Ken Lum (Canada); Lani Maestro (Canada); Mariko Mori (Japan); Georges Lilanga Di Nyama (Tanzania); Chatchai Puipia (Thailand); Qu Fengguo (China); Ren Chuanwen (China); Sarkis (France); Shi Chong (China); Shi Hui (China); Sui Jianguo (China); Fiona Tan (Holland); Tatsuo Miyajima (Japan); Tian Liming (China); Wang Chunjie (Hong Kong, China); Wang Huaiqing (China); Wang Jianwei (China); Wang Qiang (China); Wang Yuping (China); Xie Nanxing (China); Yan Peiming (France); Yu Peng (Taiwan, China); Zhan Wang (China); Zhang Donfeng (China); Zhang Hao (China); Zhang Peili (China); Zhao Bandi (China); Zhou Xiaohu (China)
intro, day 1, day 2, day 3, day 4, day 5, last word— End —