by Gary Yeh, Duke Student
Stepping through the doors of 258 Fake, I unquestionably knew I had left China behind and entered the world of a contemporary master. I paused to observe the modernist architecture, to be greeted by white puffballs that were the famed cats, and for a brief moment, to see Ai Weiwei slip into the courtyard and out again. Mere seconds ago, I stood in the barrenness that was Beijing’s outer rings, only to find an oasis in the middle of the 798 Art District. The grass was greener and the Beijing haze dissipated. As I approached Lu Qing, seated towards the back of the courtyard, reality began to set – I’m in Ai Weiwei’s studio!!
The next few hours I spent in 258 Fake were the culmination of an art-filled summer – a two-month period of teaching arts to the next generation of Chinese students, gallery hopping in Hong Kong, and experiencing the culture of Beijing. All the while, I was able to see the stark contrast between artistic expression in the western world and that in communist China.
This past summer, I was fortunate enough to participate in DukeEngage. My program consisted of teaching oral English to middle school students in Zhuhai while introducing them to American sports and activities. The extra-curricular activities my peers taught consisted of singing, drawing, and hip-hop dance, while I primarily taught Photoshop and football. Although many of the students excitedly engaged with these new activities, I could sense some hesitation. After seventh and eighth grade, seldom would these children have opportunities to reengage with the arts – there almost seemed a desperation amongst them to get in one last drawing or one last rehearsal of a dance routine.
China’s education system rewards stellar test scores and little else – well-roundedness was no less than a foreign concept. Often times, my peers and I would be restricted in spreading the arts because academics was strictly the focus. Fortunately, there are a handful of visionary private education systems that maintain a sort of balance in its curriculum. An occasional photography or orchestra class might be integrated into a student’s schedule. It pains me, however, to see that this process of integration is so slow when the country is experiencing a cultural disaster in what is essentially a nationwide waste of raw talent. This oppression of the arts is all the more interesting when considering Hong Kong is an hour’s boat ride away.
The weekend I spent on the island helped me realize just how separately Hong Kong had developed from its mainland counterpart. Art galleries and antiques shops line many of the historical districts. Gagosian is there, so is Pearl Lam and tens of other international dealers. Heck, Opera Gallery has an entire five floors dedicated to displaying artwork. I would be hard-pressed to find any galleries with two floors back on the mainland. I was most impressed, though, with the well-maintained art museums and performing arts centers.
The Hong Kong Museum of Art was a refreshing indication that this Special Administrative Region cares about the arts. The exhibitions on view were professionally hung and of no lesser quality than the ones I was used to along the National Mall in Washington D.C. Furthermore, Hongkong has a Cultural Centre that regularly hosts orchestra concerts, and theatre performances. To contrast, the sole art museum of Zhuhai hung fire extinguishers in-between ink paintings and most of the labels were poorly hand written – it seemed like the city had an art museum for the sake of building its resume. And Zhuhai’s cultural center? Currently nonexistent.
After experiencing the arts culture in mainland China and seeing its potential, I appreciated the opportunity to visit Ai Weiwei that much more. I saw his studio as the ultimate juxtaposition of where Chinese art has been and where it is headed. A photograph of his S.A.C.R.E.D. installation, highlighting his 81-day incarceration, hung in plain sight. And his wife, Lu Qing, described how she might never publicly display her art again – possibly as a result of fear rooted in her past. Simultaneously, however, Ai was busy working on a new architectural project while reviewing sketches for a new artwork.
Though enlightening, my studio visit was nearing its end and my goal of meeting Ai had yet to be fulfilled. I continued to sit quietly by Lu and her friends as they conversed over some tea. The conversation reached a point where the mandarin was simply too fast for me to understand, and I gradually drifted into my own reflection. Then, out of nowhere, I was interrupted by an outstretched hand holding a stroopwafel. It was Ai Weiwei. “Here, have a cookie.”
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