Zhang Huan's "12 Square Metres"

Every now and then, but all too infrequently, a photo book arrives in my mail that exceeds all expectations. Drawing back the curtains to reveal a hitherto unknown body of work to me, Chinese Rong Rong's East Village 1993-1998 is a case in point.

Beijing, China, 1992. A loose collective of artists makes home in an impoverished area of the city and gives it the nickname of the East Village. The community consists primarily of avant garde artists who hold what become legendary performances before small groups, consisting mostly of themselves. Rong Rong documents these performances, and in many cases his role is indeed part of the performance, until 1994 when police remove the residents and raze the area. East Village 1993-1998 chronicles the activities of this group of artists during a turbulent time in China's artistic history.

Zhang Huan's "12 Square Metres"

The performances that Rong Rong photographed were often built on particularly Chinese notions of identity, space, cynicism, and consumerism. Certainly these are all universal themes of art but viewed through the prism of contemporary China they speak with a new voice. If the West finds it difficult to comprehend China in emerging economic, social, and political contexts, this can only underscore the potential for misinterpreting Chinese art. The exhibition Between Past and Future: New Photography and Video from China travelled the world in 2004 (ICP, New York) and 2005 (V&A, London) and included photographs by Rong Rong. The Times of London published a famously bad review. The "self indulgent" photography, it said, was "painfully adolescent. Much of it looks to me like the kind of work churned out all over the developed world by self-obsessed second-year art students. Would we be paying it any attention if it was being made by Germans or Australians? I sense a whiff of the emperor’s new clothes."

The book is itself invites performance. For a start, unpacking it from two layers of cardboard box feels more like building flat pack furniture than opening a book. It is far more than a photobook. Housed in a heavy black 16x19" box, it must weigh close to 15 lbs. Inside sits a lacquered wooden tray, and then a 230pp book inside that tray secured with twisted yarn. Forty prints on 15x18" paper lie inside a separate black portfolio. Wu Hung, Chinese Art Scholar at the University of Chicago, fills the book with background information, excerpts from Rong Rong's diary, stories of the artists, and contact sheets. It was published in 2003 to accompany an exhibition of photographs at Chambers Fine Art in New York.

It is seldom that I enjoy catalogue publications or non-monographs. However, this publication was borne of a collaboration between photographer, writer, and publisher that is appropriate for a photographer whose very subject was collaborative art. There were 800 copies produced, with 40 of these a limited edition housed in a metal box and the silver gelatin prints signed and numbered. One of these limited editions sold last month at Sotheby's for nearly US$40,000. I was able to track down a regular copy for just over US$200 new which is great value considering what you get. There are probably very few copies left unsold.

Rong Rong's photographs of the performances of Zhang Huan form a considerable part of Rong Rong's portfolio. Tending toward masochism, his cautious commentaries on life under Chinese rule, 12 square metres and 65 kilograms were two of the most memorable acts photographed by Rong Rong. In 12 square metres, Zhang Huan slathered his naked self with fish oil and honey and sat on a stool in the filthiest public toilet he could find for almost an hour. Stoic and motionless, he envisaged the act as a statement of endurance in an oppresive environment. Rong Rong's photographs of the event show the performer displaying zen like calm as dozens of flies land upon him. The performance complete, Zhang Huan slowly immersed himself in a nearby pond amongst a surface of floating flies. These final photographs, not part of the intended performance, imbue the act with an extra dimension of Rong Rong's making.

Zhang Huan's "12 Square Metres"

Later the same week, Zhang Huan went one step further with 65 kilograms. He was hoisted on to his bedroom ceiling and shackled in place. His own blood dripped from the ceiling on to a hot metal plate on the ground as three doctors stood in wait. Rong Rong's diary reveals the impact that the sound and smell of each drop hitting the plate had on his senses. There were several photographers present at this performance but only Rong Rong's go beyond mere recording. With a low angle and wide lens the scene becomes sinister, chilling, alien.

65 Kilograms

Interestingly, the artists of the East Village often hired photographers to record their performance and then hand over complete authorship and copyright to the artist. In contrast, Rong Rong often became part of the performance. In one case he played a fake photojournalist snapping pictures of a happening, in effect mocking himself. In other cases, it was he who directed the artists to perform certain acts. "They are my models", he wrote to his sister. It is this complex melding of documentarian, photographer, actor, and director in what has become known as Apartment Art that places Rong Rong at the centre of this self-exiled community and makes his photographs so important. It is not easy to discuss these photos of Rong Rong's without discussing the performances. But then the reverse is just as true. The performances no longer exist without the photographs. The performance and photograph have become inseparable.

The East Village, Beijing, China

Inevitably the performances began to attract the ire of police. Performed outside and often with naked participants the locals were often the first to object. Many were arrested and others fled. Once dispersed the performances took on a more cautious, nuanced flavour. In To Raise the Water Level in a Fishpond, forty locals entered a pool of water up to their waists to indicate the ineffectual nature of man. Much more palatable to authorities and international audiences, it was events like these that allowed the former East Village artists to be tolerated by police and claim overseas attention.

"To Raise the Water Level in a Fish Pond"

In the whirlwind progress of modern China, the roles have reversed. Photography shows are now sponsored by the government, who realise the economic benefit, although the artists are keen not to have the government appear as their patron. The real antagonist is now frequently the capitalist developers knocking down artist communities to build new supermalls and apartment blocks. The East Village itself is long gone.

I started this post by identifying the danger of (mis)interpreting art and photography of such strangeness and unfamiliarity. It is much easier to say how not to interpret it. Not every piece is a black and white reaction to communist oppressiveness. Nor is it re-appropriation of the western canon of photography, like you might find in the film world. I've begun to believe that some contemporary Chinese photographers have more to say about consumerism and the modern world than their Western counterparts.

This year has seen an influx of photobooks published by Westerners visiting China, each of which I am sure will be wildly successful. It strikes me that these photographers may be guilty of applying techniques now popular in the West, such as interminable typologies and deadpan portraits, in much the same way that the British photographers of the 1930s were guilty of applying their self-indulgent colonialist aesthetic to their age. Instead, I'm drawn into the raw honesty and passionate photography of young Chinese photographers. No doubt time will render some of it to be described as "self-obsessed second-year art student" photography, but I suspect Rong Rong's East Village photos will be around for a long time.

* If you have any comments regarding the accuracy of details in this review, or you have additional details that others may be interested in, please be kind enough to contact me so that I can incorporate your information.