老外 (laowai)

So here I am in Starbucks in Beijing SOHO, of all places, which makes me such a 老外 (foreigner). Only westerners and those Chinese who wish to show off frequent this place. Apparently it’s quite expensive for locals and hence something of a status symbol to be seen here.

I’m having a great time here with my fiancée and have many photos to sort out and upload but, as was the case last time I was here, it looks like they will have to wait until I get home to the UK as computer-time here is limited.

再见! Bye-bye!

Before I go to China . . . Henry Moore

Just a quick post before I leave for Beijing in a few hours time.

I had a few hours spare yesterday morning, before I had to go to the airport to pick my parents up from their holiday, so I made a swift trip over to Kew Gardens to see the Henry Moore show.

Large Reclining Figure, 1984

Henry Moore, Large Reclining Figure, 1984

This is a great collection of 28 sculptures, placed within the landscaping of these botanical gardens. There is a real sense of these pieces working well with their surroundings. And it’s good to see them being used!

Despite the warnings, the pieces were being used as playgrounds by children who had been dragged along by their parents. I felt annoyed at first that I wasn’t able to appreciate the pieces in some kind of ‘pure’ state, without the distraction of people clambering over them, but I soon realised this was a great way to appreciate the pieces, by interacting with them, not just viewing them from afar in stately isolation.

Of course, this brings up questions about the preservation of art, questions which usually seem to be concerned with commercial value (as in “to touch a piece will reduce it’s value”), but I actually think we shouldn’t be so precious about these works where a physical relationship adds so much to the appreciation.

Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan at The British Museum, London

The Great Court at the British Museum After savouring the delights of the Terracotta Warriors in the Reading Room at The British Museum I saw that there was a smaller show of craft-work from Japan upstairs.

The show, “Crafting Beauty in Modern Japan,” concentrates on the productions of Japan’s craft artists, many of whom have been designated ‘Living National Treasures’ in recognition of their skills. I love the idea of this accolade, the place that Japanese society apparently gives to the activities the result of which were on display in this exhibition. The small brochure talks about ‘tangible’ and ‘intangible cultural properties’: ‘tangible’ being “historic architecture, sculpture, painting and calligraphy, and craft objects as well as significant sites, scenic places, and particular plants and animals.” ‘Intangible’ includes “performing skills in traditional theatre and music, and craft techniques.” Those quotes from the brochure are not really adequate to explain the differing concepts involved, but there seems to be a distinction between the object and the activity here. I believe UNESCO has a similar designation now, which perhaps stemmed from the Japanese system.

DSC03440.JPG

The show has some gorgeous pieces. What comes across very strongly in the presentation is the attention to detail and evident, intense craft involved in the works. This gives the show an almost reverential feeling in its presentation of the various pieces. The value accorded to the pieces is not unique to this show, of course that is the function and result of placing anything in a museum, it will inevitably gain that ‘aura’ from being isolated for our attention. But this particular show taps into an existing tradition and appreciation of craft which massively adds to this aura.

At the same time these appreciations are not the same. Within a museum, the object loses it’s everyday use value, whereas I get the feeling that while the Japanese craftspeople value perfection and quality, in some ways a piece must be used to be completed. I’m generalising here, and working from limited knowledge, but this is the feeling I get from the show.

So, another wonderful show at The British Museum. As my fiancée keeps telling me, we are very privileged in London to have so many cultural institution on our doorstep.

The First Emperor at The British Museum, London

It was a busy first day for the new show at The British Museum, The First Emperor: China’s Terracotta Army. It’s getting a lot of publicity, and there seems to be the expectation of a lot of interest, so I booked my ticket a few weeks ago to avoid the queues.

The Great Court at the British Museum with the queue for The First Emperor exhibition And I think it was just as well I did. As is usual for popular shows in the larger London galleries and museums, the BM are operating a timed entry system and my ticket was for 10.10am, very early, ten minutes after the doors to the exhibition had opened. When I got there there was already a small queue, but by the time I left it was beginning to snake its way round the Reading Room in the Great Court – and bear in mind that this is only the visible end of the queue, once inside the Reading Room there is a fairly long series of chicanes to manage visitor flow.

While I was standing waiting to go in, a woman came over and presented herself as a reporter for The London Paper and could she ask a few questions? Of course, I said. She was interested in why I came so early—one of the first visitors—how had I got my ticket and how far in advance. She was also interested in my reasons for visiting, what was it about the show that convinced me to book ahead and get in early. Once she had my answers she took a portrait shot of me with her mobile phone and joined her colleague at one of the tables where they were working on a laptop, presumably sending the interviews and photos to the paper.

The Terracotta Warriors in China Well, I was very interested in seeing this show because only a few months previously I had been standing in the great aircraft hangers housing the excavated pits from which these Terracotta warriors originally came from. My fiancée couldn’t understand why I would want to go to see them again, but a different context makes for a completely different experience, in my opinion. A show in England will create a different impression from that in China. And therein one can learn a lot about museum display techniques, cultural perceptions of artefacts, a country’s relation to their history (China’s) and to the history of another country (England to China’s).

Once inside, the show feels quite sparse, with various finds from the area around the first Emperor’s tomb, providing an overview of the Qin dynasty and the lead up to the building of the Emperor’s tomb from which the Warriors are taken. The circuitous route through these finds leads eventually to the main event, the grand display of a dozen or so figures, horses and chariots – the Terracotta Warriors themselves.

The entrance to the Museum of the Terracotta Army It was really quite affecting and exciting, seeing these figures again, and in London this time—my home—and not where I was a stranger. I guess it made me feel quite proud to have seen them in their original setting, on that blisteringly hot day amongst the mountains. In this context I had much more information available to me, in English, so I was able to take away a much more complete understanding of the Warriors than on my first visit.

Aside from my personal reactions to the pieces themselves, what also interested me about the show was the relative weights of meaning accorded to the various subjects of the show and how these cohabited together in a somewhat uneasy way. The title of the show is “The First Emperor” and the subtitle is “China’s Terracotta Army.” These two bits of information and the way they have been juxtaposed is very interesting, I think. Although this is ostensibly a show about a particular period of world history and a particular person, which the title makes clear, there is also the need to allow for the fame of the Terracotta Warriors to be used as a way of drawing the contemporary public’s interest. It would be inconceivable, I think, for them not to be mentioned in the title somewhere, and obviously their image is also on all the posters for the show – the point of entry, the first encounter with the show for many people even before they come to the BM. In fact it is more or less understood that this is what the show is about, the Emperor becomes a lesser subject than these clay objects, his minions.

I think the Emperor would find that ironic, given that these figures were installed there to ensure his martial success in the afterlife, his continuing and eternal presence as overlord. Of course, the Emperor’s tomb itself has not yet been excavated (and may never be according to the exhibition displays). Perhaps this is just a temporary infatuation that will shift back to the Emperor once he has been revealed.

I really enjoyed the show and would recommend it. Today it was still possible to get in front of the objects on display. However I dread to think what it will be like when it gets busy—I heard that many time-slots are already sold out—I can only hope that the number of people allowed in those slots leave space to see the displays.

Another of the shops for the First Emperor exhibition

Merchandise.

October Fairs

The pages of Art Monthly are hosting an exchange of letters between the curator Lisa Le Feuvre, Peter Suchin and Sean Ashton on the value (and values?) of the annual cluster of art fairs in London this October (Frieze, Zoo, Origin, others), and which is looking perhaps like suitable critical preparation for them.

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Adorno and art festivals

Nothing escapes the attention of radically socialized society, which further effects the culture of which it seizes control. This can be illustrated in simple fashion. Sometime ago a small publication appeared, a pamphlet, apparently written for the needs of those who undertake cultural trips through Europe – of whatever use such a brochure could possibly be. It offered a concise catalogue of artistic festivals during this particular summer and the autumn as well. The reason for such a scheme is obvious: it permits the cultural traveller to divide his time and to seek out that which he thinks will be of interest to him – in short, he can plan his trip according to the same principle which lies behind the organization of these festivals. Inherent in the idea of the festivals, however, and of the artistic festival as well, no matter how secularized and weakened it might be, is the claim to something unique, to the emphatic event which is not fungible. Festivals are to be celebrated as they come; they are not to be organized only from the perspective of avoiding overlapping. Administrative reason which takes control of them and rationalizes them banishes festivity from them. This results in an intensification into the grotesque which cannot escape the notice of the more sensitive nerves present at these so-called cultural offerings – even at those of the avant-garde. In an effort to preserve a feeling of contrast to contemporary streamlining, culture is still permitted to drive about in a type of gypsy wagon; the gypsy wagons, however, roll about secretely in a monstrous hall, a fact that they do not themselves notice. (Adorno, 1978, pp.117–118)

  • ADORNO, Theodor (1978). Culture and Administration. Translated by Wes Blomster. In The Culture Industry. London: Routledge, 1991. pp.107–131.

Central St Martins MA Fine Art Degree Show

Central St Martins MA Fine Art Degree Show

I picked up cards for the following artists, the ones where something seemed to be going on:

  • Francisca Aninat
  • Mike Ballard
  • Manuela Barczewski1
  • Brtpmovs {rtrx Lst;rdpm2
  • James Burke
  • An-Chen Chiu3
  • Tânia Bandeira Duarte
  • Tariq Husein
  • Yingda Li
  • Sophie Loss
  • Wei Luo3
  • Mark Melvin
  • Brendan Murphy
  • Reto Scheiber
  • Cally Trench
  • Mary Yacoob

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