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ECCENTRIC NOTES
OF DISSENT:
THE ART OF
ZHU WEI
XENIA TETMAJER VON
PRZERWA
Illusion of
pictures:
P18:
Figure 1. Zhu Wei, Comrades, 1995, ink and colour on paper.
Courtesy by Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P19:
Figure 2. Zhu Wei, Pictures of the Strikingly Bizarre: Serving the
People, 1994, ink and colour on paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms
(International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P20:
Figure 3. Zhang Xuan, Ladies Preparing Newly Woven Silk, eighth century,
ink and colour on silk. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd.,
Hong Kong
P21:
Figure 4. Attributed to Yan Liben, The Imperial Sedan Chair, date
unknown, ink and colour on silk. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International)
Ltd., Hong Kong
P21:
Figure 5. Zhu Wei, China Diary, No.7, 1995, ink and colour on
paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P22:
Figure 6. Zhu Wei, China Diary, No.4, 1995, ink and colour on
paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P23:
Figure 7. Zhu Wei, Box, No.3, 1995, ink and colour on paper.
Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P24:
Figure 8. Zhu Wei, Supreme Treatise on Moral Retribution, No. 18,
2000, ink and colour on paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International)
Ltd., Hong Kong
P24:
Figure 9. Zhu Wei, Sunflowers, No.30, 2000, ink and colour on
paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P25:
Figure 10. Zhu Wei, Utopia, No.32, 2002, ink and colour on paper.
Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P25:
Figure 11. Zhu Wei, Festival, No.21, 1998, ink and colour on paper.
Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
P26:
Figure 12. Zhu Wei, Sweet Life, No.38, 1999, ink and colour on
paper. Courtesy of Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., Hong Kong
Most artists in
China's so-called avant-garde circle adopt Western media as a form of
expression. Zhu Wei does not. Rather, he sees himself as the single artist
who pushes the age-old Chinese painting tradition, both in content and
style, into the contemporary.
Zhu Wei's images
are a mosaic of commentaries based on social and political issues that the
artist observes in his daily surroundings. They portray Zhu Wei coming to
terms with himself in China's contemporary urban society in general, and
the politically laden capital, Beijing, in particular. His images are
neither objective nor distanced. The viewer sees the world through Zhu
Wei's eyes and thus follows the fantastic roving of his mind where time,
place, and space coalesce.
It is Zhu Wei's
incisive observations and laconic humour that make his artwork so
persuasive. The direct, intense, and sometimes even overbearing visual
presence of his compositions, as well as their painterly diction, are
rooted in China's propaganda art. However, the technically refined
and meticulous brushwork reflects his scrupulous training in traditional
Chinese painting techniques.
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Zhu Wei was born on
the eve of the Cultural Revolution in 1966, the son of medical doctors
working in the People's liberation Army (PLA). Historical circumstance
would make him come of age in a world where individuality was frowned upon
and deemed irrelevant. Hong Ying vividly describes this emotional
landscape in her novel Summer of Betrayal:
...
under the brilliant glare of the shining Red Sun we grew
up
pale and thin, hiding in dark, gray corners. Our youth
was
spent in the emptiness attendant upon a loss of faith,
in
ferocious attention in all kinds of hope, but when we
wanted
to cash in on them we discovered that the world
is
not built on hope alone. So the first half of our lives has
been
a series of contradictions. If there's going to be a
second
half, it can only mean drifting along from day to
day
resigned to circumstances, competing to be good at
feigning
ignorance (1)
Yet, Zhu Wei
has no intention of feigning ignorance or of succumbing to the various
traumas that mark his generation. Despite the turbulent circumstances of
his youth, he has developed a distinct -- though often torn -- sense of
self. Seeing himself as a chronicler of an era, Zhu Wei stresses:
"Unlike other contemporary artists, there is no direct political
intention in my art."(2)
Yet looking at his oeuvre, it is clear that Zhu Wei is deeply critical of
China's social and political situation and that his works aim to confront,
to startle, and to indict.
Zhu Wei's
intense need to seek and reveal the truth behind the facades of everyday
life underlies his artistic creations. More often than not, he displays
his findings with a prickly dry humor to emphasize the absurdities he
finds. Even in real life interactions, Zhu Wei frequently reveals a
similar playfulness and disjointedness. For example, he told a reporter
interviewing him on a series of paintings with obvious humouristic
undertones that he is not a funny person at all and actually often felt
gloomy. When the reporter, taking him seriously, probed further, Zhu Wei
replied that the only thing that can make him happy is "drinking
beer."(3)
A perfectionist to
the core, Zhu Wei appreciates the meticulous labour that goes into the
creation of his works. He uses a xuan paper (a special type of
paper used in traditional Chinese painting), produced exclusively
according to his detailed specifications, and carefully textures the
background of each work. Depending on the size of the painting, Zhu Wei
applies the first layer of colour either on the incised stone plates in
his yard or on the finer rack inside the studio. After drying, the paper
is treated once more on a more detailed surface, such as a sisal carpet.
The often quite dominant background textures in his works are thus
adjusted to the mood he aims to transmit. Depending on the scale --some of
Zhu Wei’s works are up to three meters in height and two meters in width
--the paintings are grafted together from several sheets of paper. When
working on large compositions, Zhu Wei uses a small prototype of the image
so that the shades and colour gradations of each section fit in with the
overall composition and reveal a cohesive whole.
Zhu Wei’s hand,
his application of Chinese ink and pigments, is unmistakable. During his
education at the Art College of the People’s Liberation Army, he
mastered the fine brush technique. According to his teacher, Liu Tiancheng,
Zhu Wei assiduously trained himself in the styles of the famous Tang and
Song dynasty masters, as well as the figure painting style of the Five
Dynasties. He researched early Buddhist and Daoist mural art and studied
the pictorial representations on Han dynasty pricks. Internalizing these
traditional techniques as well as the language of propaganda art, for
which he was trained, Zhu Wei developed his particular visual vocabulary.
Zhu Wei vehemently
detests any kind of categorization of himself or his art along the
assigned lineages of contemporary Chinese art production, such as
Political Pop or Cynical Realism. He keeps to himself, both personally and
professionally. Similarly, Zhu Wei has seldom shown his works alongside
his peers and does not spend evenings together with them discussing the
underpinning of their approaches. Zhu Wei wants us to experience the
multi-layered aspects of his works and to see his as an independent voice.
Although using some of its visual tools, he clearly counters the
homogenous nature of propaganda art.
Zhu Wei works in
series. As a result, and despite his reluctance Io allow classification,
the artist's impressively large oeuvre --close to one thousand recorded
pieces - already includes mine pre-existing caesuras. Furthermore, a
number of thematic continuities can also be identified. Apart from issues
relating to the artist’s psychology, they include his observations on
the political and social fabric of contemporary society. The following
selection consists of ten works that Zhu Wei completed between 1994 and
2002. Belonging to several different series, they are analyzed according
to two thematic topics.
TOTALITARIAN
NOSTALGIA: THE STRIKINGLY BIZARRE
One of the
most conspicuous aspects often found in mainland Chinese contemporary art
production of the 1980s and 1990s is its propagandistic aura. Although
meant in the vein of dissent they all share a common root in the visual
diction of Chinese propaganda art of earlier decades. As Geremie Barmé
describes in his book on contemporary Chinese culture In the Red(4),
dissident groups in mainland China "use the language of their enemies
when writing their denunciations and attacking their foes at various
forums."(5)
Zhu Wei was
trained to produce propaganda images for the Chinese Communist Party (CCP)
during his education and is thus well versed in its rhetoric or, as
Mikhail Epstein, calls it, "ideologemes."(6)
The artist's visual vocabulary follows the same path, although with
different intentions from his contemporaries and often with more subtlety.
Compared to Wang Guangyi's Big Criticism series, for example, the
,critical articulations of Zhu Wei's works are decidedly more refined both
visually and intellectually. Where the artist mixes in a pinch of his
laconic humour, the viewer is faced with the strikingly bizarre scenes to
which Zhu Wei bears witness.
The
ideologemes created by the CCP are grafted together from various visual,
literary, social and political sources, including traditional symbols that
are deeply engrained in Chinese public memory. The evocation of famous
masterpieces of the Chinese art historical canon and their subsequent
subversion thus neatly fits into the dissident discourse of China's so
called avant-garde art world.(7)
Zhu Wei uses this tactic - down to the application of seals to imitate the
traditional practice of identifying authorship and ownership - to lay bare
the disconcerting daily realties he encounters. Comrades (1995)(fig.
1) and Pictures of the Strikingly Bizarre: Driving after Drinking (1994)(fig.
2) are some obvious examples.
The
compositional structure as well as the formation and stature of the main
figure in Comrades is visibly based on the third section of the
Tang dynasty (618-907 AD) painting Ladies Preparing Newly Woven Silk (eighth
century)(fig. 3). Instead of treating a roll of silk, Zhu Wei's central
figure--whose physiognomy bales an uncanny resemblance to Mao Zedong's
effeminate features--is in the process of dying red what used to be the
British flag and thus patiently brings to life the likeness of the
Communist Party flag. The allusion to Hong Kong's return to the Motherland
is emphasized by the depiction of bauhinias, the Special Administrative
Region's national flower, and the People's Liberation Army soldiers in the
background.(8)
The
"mood of languor and melancholy typically associated with court
ladies"(9)
that is evident in the Tang dynasty painting is coarsely interrupted by
Zhu Wei's cartouches in this work. They cite, as the art critic Jia
Fangzhou notes,(10)
a popular underground poem from the revolutionary period in Russia:
Comrades,
Comrades, you are high up and dry, what are
you
dragging me into the mud for?
Moreover
you spit at me. But, comrades, despite being
covered
with mud and saliva I will still firmly stand amidst
your
ranks.(11)
Contrary to
the visual allusions, there is nothing docile or relined about the text
that accompanies this painting. Rather, Zhu Wei voices China's resolution
to walk as equals amongst the ranks of world leaders.(12) On a deeper level, however, Zhu Wei also addresses the price China's
people had to pay for Mao's visions. The Chinese characters for
"...you are high up and dry..." [gao yu gan] in the first stanza
are uncannily close to those for ‘high ranking official' [gao (ji) gan (bu)].
The artists thus suggests, visually supported by the red drops of dye,
that those high up rely on the blood of the people to accomplish their
plans.
In Pictures
of the Strikingly Bizarre: Serving the People,(13)
the compositional arrangement of Mao Zedong in a sedan chair surrounded by
his entourage is manifestly based on the corresponding section of another
Tang dynasty painting, entitled The Imperial Sedan chair (fig. 4).
The Tang work depict Emperor Taizong greeting the Tibetan minister, who
came to welcome Princess Wecheng (Taizong’s daughter) as the bride-to-be
of the Tibetan King.(14)
The aura in this work is one of solemnity, poise, and authority.
In Zhu Wei’s
painting, however, Chairman Mao is stripped of Taizong’s implied
political superiority and dignity. The disproportionate representation of
his body parts, the hot liquid he is being brought in a red cup inscribed
with "Café," and the grimacing expressions of his followers all
work together in deriding the strikingly comical veneration. Visually, Zhu
Wei also plays a pun on the Chinese expression "blow the trumpet and
carry someone in a sedan chair (chui laba, tai jiaozi), meaning to flatter
rich and influential people. The irony is pushed further by the evocation
of Mao Zedong’s famous phrase "Serving the People". The
reality is that Mao was undoubtedly separated from the workers and
peasants he clamed to serve. Rather, he was revered and waited on like a
Chinese emperor by the cadres and the military, which profited from his
power.
Zhu Wei is
both cynical and disquieted with regard to the nostalgic revivalism of the
Mao cult. In China Diary, No.7 (1995)(fig. 5) the viewer is taken
into a traditional study room with young boys. A child-like figure bearing
a clear resemblance to Mao Zedong and another, in an army uniform, are
coaching some youths. The absence of the teacher allows them to fill the
heads of the students with "dangerous ideas." What they are
reading is a copy of the Records of the Strange, Second Volume,(15)
a book that was
traditionally blacklisted for youths as it was thought to instill negative
tendencies in them. Another boy, probably in reference to the European
origin of Marxist thought, is reading a text in Western alphabet.
The huge television
in the background with the Great Helmsman --sporting a Red Guard armband
--waving to the masses seems to function as an example of what fatal
cataclysms Mao Zedong’s indoctrination sessions brought about. Alluding
to his own experience of daily Mao Zedong Thought study, Zhu Wei puts
himself into the painting. Little Zhu sits in the lower right corner but
isn’t listening. Wearing headphones, he looks up sheepishly from
flipping through a copy of his own first catalogue as an artist
--identified by the title The Story of Beijing and the insignia of
Zhu Wei’s sole agent, Plum Blossoms Gallery.
Zhu Wei also
addresses the immense commercial value of the Mao cult by identifying the
footage as a Channel V music video and by placing the television on a
table--next to a bottle of Head and Shoulders shampoo--where one would
traditionally expect to see scholar objects. The dream-lick time fractures
in the image seem to underline the Mao Cult’s severe decontextualization
of one of the darkest chapters in the history of the People’s Republic
of China (PRC).
In another
painting, Zhu Wei commemorates--not without a pinch of dry humour--the
still visibly decreasing influence of Mao Zedong’s ideology on
contemporary Chinese life. In China Diary, No.4 (1995)(fig. 6) the
viewer sees Mao playing a flute--a pun on the expression
"drum-blow" (gu chui) meaning to advocate (revolution) or
preach. Zhu Wei depicts Mao in a stage-like setting, but the theatre is
closed, as the municipal seal on the door announces. Red flags, paper
flowers, and the Gate of Heavenly Peace in the background evoke the
ambiance of extravagant Cultural Revolution parades. Zhu Wei’s
cartouches read:
Saxophone
entered China. But actually ‘Bailemen’(16)
and
‘Angle’ mounted the stage first. Everyone knows them.
In
the short 20s and 30s it already existed in the Western
influenced
metropolis.
(17)
After
1949, it slowly disappeared and during the Cultural
Revolution
it was made to disappear even more. As a
representative
of rotten art, it suffered doubly.
The
60s are gone. In 1994 Beijing held the first
international
jazz festival.(18)
The Painting
suggests that all of Mao’s propaganda tunes cannot stop the appreciation
for Western music that had started in China in the early twentieth
century. Now the Chairman sits on his stage but there is no one there to
listen to him. If the viewer were not to read the cartouches, however,
s/he could not have guessed that Zhu Wei is commenting on China’s first
international jazz festival. He uses the visual vocabulary and iconography
of the Cultural Revolution era to record a decidedly different event.
This
dialectic relationship between Mao Zedong’s era and the contemporary
shapes many of Zhu Wei’s works. The interlacing of text and image in
these works is rooted in propaganda art’s didactic architecture. Yet,
Zhu Wei undermine the government discourse, lays it bare and ridicules it.
These works thus effuse an "ironic nostalgia" that Geremie Barmé
situates in the realm of totalitarian nostalgia where the refurbished past
is used to begin a new history.(19)
OPIATE FOR THE
PEOPLE
The rapid
changes that Deng Xiaoping’s Open Door policy brought about are another
important topic in Zhu Wei’s art. He poignantly depicts the people’s
blinded transfixion by commercial prosperity(20)
and unveils the current government’s cunning appropriation of Mao’s
propaganda machinery. Working at full speed, it now dispenses to the
people a new kind of opiate: material wealth.
In Box,
No.3 (1995)(fig.7) Zhu Wei addresses China’s westernizing
transformations. He depicts a traditionally dressed intellectual sitting
at a bar and drinking Becks beer. He looks up at a parasol that is
inscribed with the words "Raffles Hotel."(21)
The West and its colonializing shadow appear to loom over the figure as he
--critically eyed by a woman --seemingly proclaims:
Hey,
I think the following. That flag wraps a box.
What
actually is in the box, no one has ever seen.
Going
back, that broken box is thrown away and
that
ragged flag is ripped apart.
Tell
the victor that he made a mistake. The world
already
started to change long before.(22)
In these
thoughts, Zhu Wei expresses his opposition to the deprecation of all
things Western as well as the indiscriminate condemnation of all things
traditional during Mao Zedong’s era. By including the banner of a
pharmacy that claims to join Western and Chinese medicine and to be thus
able to "heal the wounded and rescue the dying," Zhu Wei also
voices his distrust for the current status quo. The banner seems to allude
to the Chinese saying: "What kind of medicine is sold from the
calabash?"(23)
Zhu Wei thus questions the effect this miracle cure (i.e. westernized
modernization) will actually have on Chinese society.
In Supreme
Treatise on Moral Retribution, No.18 (2000)(fig. 8) Zhu Wei provides
the viewer with an answer to the above question: it works like a drug. Zhu
Wei most strongly expresses this physiological condition in the eyes of
his figures. In their function as windows onto the soul, the eyes--either
closed or open--take on the central role of transmitting emotion in Zhu
Wei’s works and in this thematic context they are particularly dominant.
The female figure seems to be in the process of swearing an allegiance,
her eyes conveying reverence and submission. Similarly, the eyes of the
two men in the background effuse transfixion mixed with a hint fascination
and disbelief.
In the Chinese
title of this painting, Zhu Wei alludes to Daoist beliefs of immortality.
In Daoist lore a person that meets the celestial Laozi, the enigmatic
father of Daoism, may be given a capsule imparting him/her with
immortality. It is here that Zhu Wei draws the parallel with China’s
contemporary situation. For the CCP Laozi’s capsule of immortality came
in the form of economic modernization, giving the government a new lease
on life. Moreover, as the figure’s expressions suggests, the
populace’s striving for the material wealth propels an obsession similar
to the desperate search for immortality potions by some Daoist adepts.
Zhu Wei pushes the
concept of trance-like following to the point of fanaticism in some other
works. In Sunflowers, No.30 (2000)(fig. 9), the viewer
re-encounters the two men from the painting discussed above who are joined
by an almost identical third figure. The window, though which the scene is
observed, probably refers to Zhu Wei’s studio--the turquoise star
depicted on the left wall is identical to his own bronze sculpture China
Diary Star (1999). The viewer thus shares the artist’s perspective
both visually and psychologically. As the title implies, the figures pass
by in a seemly hypnotic state, transfixed by the object of their avidity.
In Utopia, No.32 (2002)(fig. 10) the artist portrays two
bald-headed men that seem to absurdly cheer on an event beyond the picture
plane. Like the figures in the painting above, their state is one of
puppets in a carefully orchestrated spectacle. Hence. Both works exude a
chilling atmosphere of absurdity and docility.
Interestingly,
it seems that in Zhu Wei’s world, the people’s attitude changes little
when the bubble of economic prosperity bursts. His Festival (1998)
series focuses on the mass lay-offs of employees from China’s
state-owned enterprises starting in 1998.(24)
It is the pallid faces of these people that the viewer sees in Festival,
No.21 (1998)(fig. 11). Although in dire straits, the eyes of the two
men effuse the same hypnotic quality as the figures in the works discussed
above. The arid landscape and the industrial area in the background, as
well as the men’s apparent passiveness, strongly evoke the desolate
state with which they are faced. Watching the government sponsored
firework display in celebration of the Chinese New Year,(25)
their expression do not reflect the joyousness typically associated with
the most important festival of the Chinese lunar calendar. But they also
show no sign of rebellion. Deprived of any social insurance system and
forced into poverty, they still stand there as onlookers--inert and
anesthetized.
What makes
them such docile creatures, Zhu Wei seems to imply, is the government’s
aforementioned propaganda machinery. Despite the superficially increasing
freedoms, this behemoth from the Mao era still works today as an
alarmingly effective mind-control apparatus. It entertains the masses and
promises everyone a better future. The privations of today, it pledges,
will be the prosperity of tomorrow. By adding a dash of national pride(26)
to the mélange--as Zhu Wei also seems to suggest in his Utopia
(2002) series--it has found a new and highly effective opiate for its
people.
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As can be seen from
these works, Zhu Wei’s art is inextricably bound to China’s present
condition--from historical catharsis to social transmutation. The
disjunctures that mark contemporary Chinese life are evidenced by the
effortless coexistence of different times and events within the same
painting. Zhu Wei’s keen observations allow him to successfully indict,
unmask, and thus rebel against this status quo.
Yet, Zhu Wei
has a deep-seated love and reverence for his country and culture. The
lyrics for "This Space"(27)
by the famous Chinese rock-star Cui Jian,(28)
which Zhu Wei inscribed on Sweet Life, No.38 (1999)(fig. 12),
reflects the artist’s torn, yet emotional relationship with contemporary
China. They read:
I
can’t open the sky and I can’t penetrate the earth.
Anyhow,
freedom is not a temporary prison.
You
can’t leave me and I can’t leave you.
No
one knows if in fact it’s love or dependence.
Money
is just money and profit is just profit.
But
you and I are not slaves.
You
can only serve me and I can only serve you.
Just
like pairs of small shrimps.
There
is nothing fresh and new in this space
Just
like there is no secret in our love.
I
looked at you before but could not see into the depths.
Who
would have known that only after
many
encounters [I] understand that it’s a borderless void.
Just
like in this space.
All
that I’ve thought I’ve not said and all that
I’ve
said I’ve not done.
What
makes me happy is playing the guitar and
singing
a song for you.
Don’t
intermittently cry and laugh.
You’ve
already know what kind of a thing I am
for
a long time.
Heaven
is a pot and the surrounding is a desert.
You
are a dried-up well but the deeper the more beautiful.
The
fire in this breast, the sweat on this body
That
is the real sun, the real spring.
There
is nothing fresh and new in this space
Just
like there is no secret in our love.
I
looked at you before but could not see into the depths.
Who
knows that one can only understand after
looking
in and out that it’s a borderless void.
Just
like in this space.
(29)
Set against
the three factions that most strongly shape China’s reality: government,
army, and the business world--personified by the gluttonous,(30)
businessmen in the background--Cui Jian’s lyrics reflects Zhu Wei’s
independent spirit and underlines the contradictory structures that mark
contemporary Chinese society. Whilst tracing society’s ugly face, Zhu
Wei is able to pierce through its multi-faceted layering and see the
beauty that lies beneath. It’s the source from which he derives his
inspiration and it’s the soil that nurtures his dissent. In the same
vein, he takes on the traditional Chinese painting medium only to
transform it so that it may express his acute contemporary vision.
Notes:
(1)
Hong Ying, Summer of Betrayal (New York: Grove Press, 1997), 132.
(2)
Interview with Carma Hinton, 1997. See digital disk Zhu Wei Diary (Hong
Kong: Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., 2000).
(3)
Sherman Chau, "Reality Checked," in iConnect (November 3, 2000).
(4)
The cover of the book is in fact a portrait of Deng Xiaoping by Zhu Wei
entitled China China (1997).
(5)
Geremie Barmé, In the Red (New York: Columbia University Press,
1999), 333.
(6)
Ibid., 326-327.
(7)
Examples are Wang Qingsong’s Night Revels of Lao Li (2000) and Hong
Lei’s Imitating Zhao Mengfu’s Autumn Colors on the Que and Hua
Mountains (2003).
(8)
The preparations for the repatriation of the then British colony, which
included the creation of a PLA unit that was dispatched for special
training in a Guangdong garrison in 1995, was a central political topic
after the turbulent waves created by the Tiananmen incident turned into
occasional ripples. At exactly midnight on the eve of the handover of Hong
Kong, these PLA soldiers crossed the border in the New Territories in a
symbolic act of military conquest.
(9)
Xin Yang et al., Three Thousand Years of Chinese Painting (New Heaven:
Yale University and Foreign Language Press, 1997), 78.
(10)
Fangzhou
Jia, "Zhu Wei and His Determination," in Zhu Wei Diary (Hong
Kong: Plum Blossoms (International) Ltd., 2000), 281.
(11)
Translation
by the author.
(12)
This
aspiration was most famously encapsulated in Mao Zedong’s ringing 1957
proclamation that China will be equal surpass Britain in industrial
productivity within fifteen years. See Immanuel Hsü, The Rise of Modern
China (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 655.
(13)
Records
of the Strange, Second Volume is a Ming dynasty collection of short
stories. Zhu Wei presents this series as a new edition of that book.
Compilations of stories describing strange events have a long history in
China. Liaozhai’s Records of the Strange by Pu Songling
(1640-1715 AD) is one such example. In the same vein as Pu, Zhu Wei here
presents himself to us as a historian of the strange. See Judith Zeitlin,
Historian of the Strange (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1993).
(14)
Xin Yang et al., Three Thousand Years of Chinese Painting (New Heaven:
Yale University and Foreign Language Press, 1997), 61.
(15)
Ibid. See endnote 13.
(16)
This word refers to the name of a dancehall in Shanghai that opened in
1932.
(17)
This usually refers to pre-liberation Shanghai.
(18)
Translation
by the author.
(19)
Geremie Barmé, In the Red (New York: Columbia University Press,
1999), 344.
(20)
Similar
concerns can also be seen in a number of works by China’s youngest
generation of contemporary artists.
(21)
The Raffles
Hotel in Singapore is famed for its "Long Bar." A connection can
also be drawn to Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles (1781-1826), who was an agent
and colonial administrator of the British East India Company. In 1824 he
purchased Singapore Island for the British Empire.
(22)
Translation
by the author.
(23)
A bottle
gourd is a medicine repository for traveling monks. Their medicine is said
to alleviate any illness and sometimes even impart immortality.
(24)
Within four
years, a total of more than twenty-six million Chinese lost their
jobs--out of which ten million remained unemployment by 2002. Already poor
areas, such as China’s northeastern "rustbelt," were hit
particularly hard. See People’s Daily website: http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200210/27/eng20021027_105729.shtml.
(25)
Not shown
in this work but in others that are part of this series.
(26)
Most
directly apparent since the victorious bid for the 2008 Olympics in 2001.
(27)
From Cui
Jian’s 1991 album Resolve.
(28)
Cui Jian is
one of Zhu Wei’s closest friends. In the early 1990s he created the
stage backdrop that Cui Jian still uses for his performances.
(29)
Translation
by the author.
(30)
Holding one’s chopsticks
close to the tip is a sign of greed.
加拿大《艺术：当代华人艺术期刊》2004年9月秋季刊
异见的异解
——朱伟的绘画
作者：梅瑞婷
中国大部分在所谓的前卫圈子里的艺术家都承袭了西方的媒介作为表达方式。朱伟没有。反而，他把自己看作是将中国的传统绘画艺术，包括内容和风格，推进到当代的一个艺术家。
朱伟创作的形象建立在这位艺术家对他日常生活中观察到的社会和政治题材的提炼。它们描绘了朱伟在中国当代城市生活中的自己，尤其是首都北京的生活。他的形象既不是反对的，也不是疏远的。观察者通过朱伟的眼睛来看这个世界，因此也看到他眼中的由时间、地点、空间编织而成的奇妙的网络。
朱伟深刻的观察和简洁的幽默使他的作品富有说服力。他直接、强烈、有时甚至是专横的视觉作品与他的艺术措辞一样，根植于中国的宣传艺术。但是，技法上的精炼和绘画上的谨慎都说明他在中国传统绘画技术上经过良好的训练。
1966年，朱伟出生在中国文化大革命前夕。个人主义受到压制和反对的历史大环境使他早熟。虹影在她的小说《背叛之夏》中生动地描述了这个图景：
……在红日升起的耀眼光芒中，我们在灰暗的角落里成长得苍白而瘦弱。我们的青春耗费在信仰丧失的空虚当中，粗暴地想要抓住各种各样的希望，但是当我们想要兑现这些希望时，却又发现世界不仅仅只由希望构成。所以，我们的前半生变成了无休止的愤世嫉俗。如果有后半生的话，那只是一种日复一日的漂浮，顺从命运的安排，看看谁比谁更漠然。[1]
然而，朱伟无意于漠然面对他们这一代所遭受的各种创伤。除了他青春时代的混乱环境与别人相同，他自身却生长出一种与众不同的——有时甚至是撕裂般的——内省。把自己当作一个时代的编年史，朱伟强调说：“在我的艺术里面没有直接的政治意图。”[2]
然而纵观他的所有作品，就会发现朱伟的艺术并不仅仅是提供愉悦，也不是无所批判的。
朱伟对被日常生活表象所掩盖的真相的热切寻求和揭露，更增添了他作品的艺术创造性。时常，他会用多刺的幽默来展示他的发现，强调了他所发现的荒谬性。甚至在他的日常生活中，朱伟也常常展现出这种顽皮与脱节。例如，面对一系列富有幽默底蕴的他的作品，他告诉一个采访的记者说，他根本就不是一个有趣的人，实际上经常是阴郁的。当这位记者把他的话当真并想要问更多问题的时候，朱伟回答说唯一一件能让他高兴起来的事情就是“去喝个啤酒”。[3]
作为一个内心是完美主义者的人，朱伟欣赏蕴含在自己作品中的一丝不苟。他用宣纸作画（一种中国传统绘画所使用的特殊的纸），毫无例外用他特殊的要求，给每幅作品仔细地加上背景图纹。根据作品大小的不同，他或者用他院子里的石砖地面、或者用工作室里好一些的板子，给纸张加上第一层颜色。在干燥后，纸张又被用类似剑麻毯子等工具加上一层更细致的颜色。在他的大部分作品中这类的花纹因此而有了他所想要表达的情绪。根据作品大小不同——一些朱伟的作品有三米高两米宽——作品由数量不同的纸张接成。当创作大幅作品时，朱伟先创作一个小一些的草图，以保证每张纸上的颜色和形状最后能成为一个统一协调的整体。
朱伟对中国墨色的运用已臻炉火纯青。在上大学时他就显示出了高超的技法，朱伟一直都以唐、宋和五代时期的绘画风格作为学习对象苦习不休，同时还深入研究佛教和道教的绘画。对传统技法和他所受训的宣传画艺术的兼收并蓄最终使朱伟形成了自己独特的视觉语汇。
朱伟强烈反对把他的艺术或者他自己分类到中国当代艺术的任何一个门类当中，例如政治波普或玩世现实主义等等。他特立独行，既在人格上，也在职业上。比如，朱伟极少同别的画家一起做联展，晚上也不与同行们讨论未来的前途。朱伟希望人们经历他作品当中的多层次感，也希望人们把他当作一个独立的声音。尽管是运用了宣传画的一些视觉工具，他仍然很清晰地反对宣传画的单一性。
朱伟的作品多成系列。所以，尽管他不愿意被分类，从这位艺术家的创作量——几百件作品——仍可看出其中的脉络。此外，一些延续性的主题也可以被确认出来。除了关系到艺术家心理的一些主题，它们还包括他对当代的政治和社会的观察。下面十幅作品包括了朱伟1994到2002年间完成的一些创作，虽然它们属于不同的系列，我们仍可以将之分析为两大主题。
怀念极权主义：拍案惊奇
1980年到1990年期间中国大陆当代艺术作品的一个显著特征是它们的宣传性气氛。这也意味着他们共同根植于更早时代的宣传艺术的视觉语汇。正如Geremie Barme在他的关于中国当代艺术的书《在红色中》[4]
所说的一样，中国大陆持不同政见的一群人“用与他们的敌人一样的语言来进行谴责与攻击”。[5]
在受教育期间，朱伟曾被训练成一个宣传者，他熟悉宣传画的修辞形式，换种说法，即Mikhail Epstein口中的“意识形态”[6]。艺术家的视觉语汇遵循同一道路，尽管他的当代性赋予了他不同的创作意图，因而也更深奥。举例来说，跟王广义的大批判系列相比，朱伟的作品无论在视觉上还是在思想上都更为精炼。当艺术家把简洁的幽默混合压缩起来的时候，观者就看到了朱伟经历过的惊奇景象。
当权阶层创造出来的意识形态覆盖了方方面面，视觉上、文字上、社会中和政治上，包括那些深深印在中国公共记忆中的传统符号。这些中国艺术史里的经典形象及其后对之的颠覆，恰好适合所谓的中国当代艺术世界来表达他们的异见。[7] 朱伟运用了这个策略——从用于证明作品的著作权和所有权的印章模仿传统形式开始——到他所遭遇的日常生活的现实。《同志们》（1995）和《二刻拍案惊奇之酒后驾车》（1994）都是此类明显的例子。
从构图到人物设置到尺幅，《同志们》都模仿了唐代（公元618-907）绘画作品《捣练图》中的第三幅（八世纪）。不同的是，妇女们不在纺织丝绸，朱伟的中心形象——脸上带着离奇的与毛泽东类似的女人气——正在把英国的国旗染成和中国的党旗一样的红色。这种香港回归的暗示被象征特别行政区的紫荆花和背景中的解放军士兵加强了。[8]
在“原作唐朝绘画中的娇弱无力”[9]被朱伟在这幅作品中粗暴的改写了。它们表明，正如艺术评论家贾方舟[10]注解的，题款中苏联革命时期的一首广为流传的诗歌：
同志们，同志们，随你们高兴干什么。把我往泥浆里拖，还朝我啐唾沫。可是同志们，尽管粘着泥浆和唾液，我还坚定不移的站在你们的行列。[11]
除了视觉暗示，没有其他的线索表明这些题款与图画的联系。朱伟还表现了中国的领导人想要成为世界领先国家领导人的想法[12]。更深一层，朱伟也表明了中国人民为了毛泽东的幻想所支付的代价。
在《二刻拍案惊奇之为人民服务》[13]中，构图安排毛泽东坐在中央一个轿子上，周围环绕着他的附庸者，也是模仿了另一幅唐代绘画《步辇图》。唐代的作品描绘了西藏人迎娶文成公主（太宗的女儿）时，唐太宗会见西藏来使的情形[14]。这幅作品的主题是庄重，平衡和权威。
在朱伟的绘画中，毛主席被去除了唐太宗所暗示的政治优越与尊严。他身体的不成比例，端给他的热乎乎的液体用红杯子盛着上面写着“咖啡馆”，还有他的追随者的怪表情，合在一块嘲笑了这种滑稽的崇拜。视觉上，朱伟也在中国表情上玩起了双关语“吹喇叭抬大轿”意味着奉承有钱有地位的人。这种讽刺被毛泽东的著名言论“为人民服务”更推进了一步。现实是，毛毫无疑问地从他号称要服务于的工人和农民当中分离出来，被干部和军队像个皇帝一样的敬奉，而这些人从他的权力当中获取利益。
对于毛泽东崇拜热潮的复兴，朱伟感到既愤慨又不安。在《中国日记七号》（1995）里，观者被带到一个男孩子们的传统学堂里。一个男孩子长得很像毛泽东，而另一个，穿着军服，在教导其他的男生。教师的缺席使他们这些学生的脑海中得以充斥“危险的思想”。他们念的书是《二十年目睹之怪现状》[15]，一本给年轻人看的关于中国传统黑幕的书，用于加深年轻人反叛的思想。另一个小男孩，或许是代表欧洲的马克思主义，正在念西方的字母表。
背景中的巨大电视机，正在播放着伟大舵手的画面——会见红卫兵——在向众人挥手，似乎象征着毛泽东教导带给中国的剧变。影射他自己对毛泽东思想的学习经历，朱伟把他自己也放到了画面中。小朱伟坐在右下角，但没在听课，戴着耳机，他怯生生地往上看着，手里拿着艺术家自己出版的第一本画册《北京日记》，书面上还有朱伟的代理人万玉堂的标志。
用Channel V的标志和放置在桌子上的电视机——旁边有一瓶洗发香波——通常传统上会放一个教学用具，在此朱伟也表明也毛泽东崇拜的巨大商业价值。这种画面上时间感的错位像是代表了毛泽东崇拜给中华人民共和国历史上带来的最黑暗的一章和严重的断层。
在另一幅作品里，朱伟在纪念——并非没有幽默感的——至今仍可见的毛泽东意识形态对中国人生活的影响的衰退。在《中国日记四号》（1995）里，观者看到毛泽东在吹长笛——暗示着“鼓吹”的意思。朱伟把毛泽东放在一个舞台样式的地方，但剧院已经关门了，就像在门上的市政封条所显示的一样。背景中的红旗、纸花、天安门唤起了人们对文革的联想。朱伟的题款写道：
萨克斯风进入中国其实不短，二十、三十年已有之，并在百乐门[16]、安琪尔率先登台，风靡十里洋场[17]。四九年后逐渐消失，文革时期谓之腐朽艺术之代表，备受责难。六十年过去，时为一九九四年在北京举办了首届国际爵士音乐节。[18]
这幅作品显示，就算所有宣传工具加起来也抵挡不了人们对西方音乐的喜爱，其实这种喜爱在二十世纪初中国就开始了。现在主席坐在他的舞台上，可没人留意。如果不看题款的话，人们不会联想到朱伟说的其实是中国第一届国际爵士音乐节的事。他用了文革视觉语汇，说的却完全是另一回事。
毛泽东时代和当代中国之间的辩证关系造就了很多朱伟的作品。题款和图画的交错也正是根植于宣传画艺术的说教功能。但是，朱伟破坏了官方的演说辞，让它苍白和荒谬。这些作品因此而流露出“反讽性的怀念”，正如Geremie Barme在他的《怀念极权主义》中所说，刷新过去，从而创造新历史。[19]
给人民的鸦片
邓小平的开放政策所带来的快速变化[20]给朱伟的作品带来了另一个主题。他尖锐地描述了人们被经济繁荣所蒙蔽的情形，以及当前政府对毛时代宣传工具的巧妙运用。全速的发展给人们带来了另一种新的鸦片：物质财富。
在《盒子三号》（1995）中，朱伟描绘了中国的西化改革。他画了一个身着中国传统服装的学者坐在一个酒吧里喝贝克啤酒。画中人向上看着一顶阳伞，阳伞上写着“Raffles Hotel”[21]。西方化和其殖民地的阴影逼近了，他被一个女人挑剔的眼光盯着，像是在宣布：
嘿，我的理想是那个，那旗子包着的盒子，盒子里装的是什么，人们从来没见过。回去扔了那个破盒子，回去撕了那个破旗子。告诉那个胜利者他弄错了，世界早就开始变化。[22]
在这些想法里，朱伟表达了他反对对所有西方东西不加选择地接受，正如他反对在毛泽东时代对所有传统不加选择地谴责。画中包括的那幅中西医结合的广告牌和“救死扶伤”的广告语，朱伟也表明他对这种论调的不信任。广告牌像是暗示着中国的一句老话“葫芦里卖的什么药？”[23]朱伟因此而质疑这种万能药（西化的现代化）是否真能给中国带来什么变化。
在《太上感应十八号》（2000）中，朱伟提供给观者以上问题的答案：这就像是一种毒品。朱伟用他画中人的眼神强调了这种生理反应。眼睛是心灵的窗口——不管是张开的还是闭着的——眼睛在朱伟的作品中都承担了一种传达人物感情的功能，在解读主题中起了主要的作用。妇女的形象像是在流汗和过敏，她的眼睛传达出崇敬和谦卑。类似的，在背景中两个男人的眼神也里流露出痴迷与不信任。
这幅作品的中文题目，朱伟暗示了道教对长生不老的信仰。在道教故事里，一个人遇到了天上的老子，这个谜一般的道教之父，给了他/她一个药丸可以使之长生不老。正是在这里朱伟也描绘了中国当代现状。对中国社会主义政党而言，老子的长生不老药丸就是经济的现代化，给了政府一个缓冲的机会。此外，正如画中人形象显示的，平民对经济财富的追求也就像道教信仰者对长生不老药的追求一样。
朱伟在其他作品里也描绘这种狂热和迷恋。《向日葵三十号》（2000）中，观者看到上述两个男人中间加入了第三个男人。而窗户，景象是透过窗户看出去的，应当是朱伟的工作室——在左边墙上挂着的五角星，是朱伟自己的铜雕塑作品《中国日记·星》（1999）。观者分享了艺术家的欣赏角度，不仅在视觉上，也是在心理上。正如作品名称显示的，经过的画中人处于一种被催眠的状态，以及对某种目标的渴望。在《乌托邦三十二号》（2002）里，艺术家画了两个光头男人，像是在对某样画外的东西热烈欢呼。像上述作品一样，他们的状态就像是被精心编排操纵的傀儡。因此，两幅作品都呈现出荒谬和顺从。
有趣的是，好像在朱伟的世界里，面对经济泡沫的破裂，人们态度几乎没有改变。他的《节日》（1998）系列，关注了从1998年开始下岗的原国有企业的员工[24]。在《节日二十一号》（1998）里，观者看到他们苍白的脸。尽管处境艰难，这两个人物眼中显露出的被催眠状态和前面提到的人物没有区别。背景中贫瘠的风景和工业区，和人物明显的无助一样，传达出他们所面对的凄凉前景。看到政府赞助的庆祝中国最重要的新年所放的焰火[25]，他们的表情看不出有任何的喜悦。但是也看不出反抗。被剥夺了所有的社会保险，不得不生活在贫困线上，他们仍然站在那里像一个旁观者——无动于衷且麻木。
什么让这些人如此驯良，朱伟像在暗示的，是上述的政府宣传机器。除了表面的自由增加了，这个毛泽东时代至今的庞大怪物仍然控制着人们的思维。它娱乐大众并且保证给每个人一个美好的未来。今天的贫困，它发誓，就是明天的繁荣。再加上爱国狂热[26]——如朱伟在他的《乌托邦》系列里要显示的——它发现了一个给它的人民服用的高效鸦片。
如同在这些作品中看到的，朱伟的艺术脱离不开中国的现状——从历史的宣泄到社会的转型。不同时代和事件共存在一幅作品里，这种裂变也标志着中国人的生活。朱伟敏锐的观察让他成功地描绘现状，激发人们去思考。
但是，朱伟也有着对他的国家和文化的深深热爱。中国著名摇滚明星崔健[27]写的歌《这儿的空间》[28]就被朱伟写在他的作品《甜蜜的生活三十八号》（1999）里，表达了艺术家所承受的，和当代中国的感情关系。歌词为：
打不开天 也穿不过地
自由不过不是监狱
你离不开我 我也离不开你
谁都不知到底是爱还是赖
钱就是钱 利就是利
你我不过不是奴隶
你只能为了我 我也只能为了你
不过不是一对儿一对儿虾米
这儿的空间 没什么新鲜
就象我对你的爱情里没什么秘密
我看着你 曾经看不到底
谁知进进出出才明白是无边的空虚
就象这儿的空间里
想的都没说 说的也都没做
乐的就是弹吉它为你唱个歌
你别一会儿哭 你也别一会儿笑
我是什么东西你早就知道
天是个锅 周围是沙漠
你是口枯井 可越深越美
这胸中的火 这身上的汗
才是真的太阳 真的泉水
这儿的空间 没什么新鲜
就象我对你的爱情里没什么秘密
我看着你 曾经看不到底
谁知进进出出才明白是无边的空虚
就象这儿的空间里[29]
列举出三大影响中国现实的成分：政府、军队和商业世界——被这些贪婪的商人形象[30]人格化了——崔健的歌词正反映了朱伟的独立精神，也强调了当代中国社会的相互矛盾的结构。当面对中国社会的丑恶面孔时，朱伟能够穿过多个表层看到事实的美。这是他获取灵感的来源，也是他反抗的土壤。在同样的血液里，他运用中国传统的技法，只是为了表达他敏锐的当代视角。
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注释：
[1] 虹影《背叛之夏》(纽约: 小树林出版社Grove Press, 1997)，132。
[2] 与Carma Hinton的对话, 1997。参见多媒体CD《朱伟日记》(香港万玉堂国际有限公司出品，2000)。
[3] 出自发表于iConnect (2000年11月3日刊) 的Sherman Chau的文章“审视现实”。
[4] 这本书的封面为朱伟所作的邓小平肖像，作品名为《中国 中国》(1997)。
[5] Geremie Barmé的《在红色中》(纽约哥伦比亚大学出版社, 1999), 333。
[6] 同上, 326-327.
[7] 例子为王庆松的《老栗夜宴图》(2000) 和洪磊的《仿赵孟?鹊华秋色图》(2003)。
[8] 为准备英国殖民者的撤离，1995年从驻广东部队中抽调出人员成立了一支经过特殊训练的部队。在香港回归那一日的零点，这支队伍越过位于新界的边界，象征了政权的恢复。
[9] 出自杨新等著的《中国绘画三千年》。(纽黑文：耶鲁大学外文出版社, 1997), 78。
[10] 出自贾方舟在《朱伟日记》里的文章“朱伟和他的决心” (香港万玉堂国际有限公司出品，2000), 281。
[11] 作者译。
[12] 这种想法最著名的体现是，1957年毛泽东宣布，中国要在15年内超过英国的工业生产能力。参考徐中约的作品《现代中国的崛起》（纽约牛津大学出版社1990年出版），655。
[13] 《二刻拍案惊奇》原为明朝的一部短篇小说集，朱伟这一作品系列采纳了它的名称。怪力乱神的故事在中国有悠久历史，蒲松龄（1640～1715）的《聊斋志异》即为其中一例。与蒲松龄一脉相承，朱伟也像一个研究怪力乱神的历史学家。参考Judith Zeitlin作品《怪力乱神史》（斯坦福大学出版社1993年出版）。
[14] 参考杨新（音译）作品《三千年中国绘画史》（耶鲁大学外语出版社1997年出版），61。
[15] 参见注释13。
[16] 该名称为上海在1932年开张的舞厅名。
[17] 通常指解放前的上海。
[18] 作者译。
[19] Geremie Barmé的《在红色中》(纽约哥伦比亚大学出版社, 1999), 344。
[20] 在中国当代年轻艺术家的作品中可以看到类似的关注。
[21] 新加坡的Raffles Hotel(莱佛士酒店)由于它的“长酒吧”而闻名。另一个联想是Thomas Stamford Raffles (1781-1826 AD)爵士，他是英国东印度公司的代理人，也是殖民地的行政长官。1824年他为大英帝国买下新加坡岛。
[22] 作者译。
[23] 葫芦是给云游的僧侣准备的装药的容器。他们的药据说包治百病，甚至长生不老。
[24] 在过去四年中，有超过两千六百万中国人失业——他们之中有一千万人在2002年仍没有找到工作。在已经很贫困的地区，比如中国西北的工业衰退地区，遭受的损失尤其严重。参见“中国日报”网站http://english.peopledaily.com.cn/200210/27/eng20021027_105729.shtml.
[25] 出现在本系列其它作品中。
[26] 在2001年中国申请奥运会举办城市成功后尤为明显。
[27] 崔健是朱伟最亲近的朋友之一。在90年代早期，他为崔健制作的舞台背景图现在仍在使用中。
[28] 出自崔健1991年的专辑“解决”。
[29] 作者译。
[30] 手握筷子接近顶端是贪婪的象征。
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