As
a pedestrian winding through the narrow alleyways of Beijing's Hutongs or
Shanghai's Longtangs, one's senses are often assaulted: the pounding of
jackhammers and the fierce bite of bulldozers have become a kind of local choir,
continuously rehearsing for that big performance on the global stage. The
unending construction and demolition of China's cityscapes represents perhaps
the most radical restructuring of urban space on earth. As more traditional
courtyard housing communities are leveled to make room for shopping centers and
business plazas, large-scale apartment complexes are erupting to house those
dislocated by the demolition. Critic and curator Wu Hung notes: "Old houses
are coming down everyday to make room for new commercial buildings, often
glittering high-rises in the so-called 'Chinese post-modern' style. Thousands of
people have been relocated from the inner city to the outskirts by official
decree. " The arrival of these high-rise apartment buildings signals the
disciplining compression of more horizontal communities into vertical hives of
order and control. Or does it?
Xiang
Liqing's large-scale photoworks find signs of life within the standardized
fa?ades of China's new housing projects. In his series News from Hangzhou, Xiang
uses computer software to manipulate photos of architectural development in his
hometown, two hours southwest of Shanghai. Even Hangzhou, a major tourist
destination renown by the Chinese for its natural beauty and historical
monuments, is not exempt from this radical transformation of the landscape. By
multiplying the repetitive, gridded architecture of Hangzhou's newly erected
buildings, Xiang amplifies their grim uniformity. Yet looking carefully, a
viewer realizes that each segment of Xiang's structure has an individual
identity. His careful application of color to the monolithic architectural
surface in Get Together (2000) invites the viewer inspect the image carefully,
checking each window for signs of vitality. Similarly, the nightmare skyscraper
of Rock Never (2000) is initially overwhelming, a cautionary tale about a
science fiction of the present-one that seems only moments away from the already
jarring reality of Chinese urbanism. Yet the strength of this work rests on its
ambivalence: as one examines each tiny balcony, the image of dystopian public
housing transforms with the understanding that each person inside has altered
the space she or he inhabits. With his intense attention to detail-the various
window shapes, the clothes hanging out to dry, a plant enjoying the sunlight-Xiang
creates a sense of personal space that contrasts sharply with his skyscrapers.
Rather than canceling out the possibility of individual expression, the
architecture of Xiang's urban existence is transformed by those who use it. In
this way, Xiang's buildings evoke a kind of cabinet of curiosities: the hold
vast collections of individuals, whose unifying principle is the strength of
their differences.At age 27, Xiang Liqing is considered by many to be one of China's most promising young artists. His first solo show opened on March 1, 2001 at ART50, an expensive, rotating restaurant on the fiftieth floor of the towering Novotel Atlantis Building in Shanghai's New Pudong Area. Circular in shape, the restaurant is a vista point, its exterior walls made entirely of glass. From here one may watch comfortably as the mushrooming skyline of Pudong ticks by like so many seconds on a clock. The restaurant derives much of its cultural cache from its art shows, and has a reputation for featuring important regional artists. What better place for Xiang Liqing's solo premier, where his photoworks seem to establish a direct, critical dialogue with both the newly wealthy Chinese patrons and the view outside the restaurant's windows? If the breakneck development of Pudong is thought to represent the future of China, Xiang Liqing looks to the moment just beyond this future, showing us not only what is at stake, but also what is possible.
