By Zhuocheng Jiang ’26
After a forty-year rapid development, China’s urban landscape has transformed dramatically, becoming completely alienated from its past. This urbanization has impacted not only the material but also the spiritual level of the country, leaving the minds of the previous generation alienated to the new generation. As someone born in the 2000s, I’ve often pondered how the previous generation would think differently about the same issues. To address this generational gap, I found Contemporary Chinese art, an invaluable medium to pry into the minds of earlier generations.
The Zhou Yan Contemporary Chinese Archive (ZYCCAA) features art mostly from the 1990s. Despite political repression, the 90s retained the rebellious spirit of the preceding decade. According to Prof. Zhou, the 80s were a golden age for Chinese intellectuals, marked by the influx of diverse movements: neoliberalism, psychoanalysis, sexual liberation, existentialism, and etc. Many ideas we Chinese now take for granted stem from the rebellion against rigid social norms during that era.
In my two years working at the ZYCCAA, the most thrilling aspect of my mechanical routine is the moment I first opened a new artist’s file. At first, these works and words seemed like gibberish to me. But as I began to research their background and understand the issues the artist addressed, a broader social consciousness of their time gradually unfolds in front of me.
This semester, I was assigned to catalogue the sculptor Wu Shaoxiang. Initially, I was intrigued by the sleek, dynamic, and curvaceous lines of his Windows series. As I dug deeper into his work, my appreciation shifted to his bold exploration of sexuality, which sparked some thoughts I would like to share here.
Wu Shaoxiang’s provocative expression of sexuality is a testament to the rebellious avant-garde artists’ ambition to challenge societal norms lingering from the Cultural Revolution—an ideological chimera of asceticism and conservativeness. His ambition is to challenge conservative sexual norms. In his work The Angels, withered yet fleshy, upside-down female breasts are hung in a dim room, eliminating the erotic connotations typically associated with these body parts. In my opinion, this work critiques the perverse objectification of female bodies by displaying them in a non-sexualized manner. Then, sexuality and bodies can be liberated from the shackle of disciplinary norms.
Entering the new millennium, Wu’s focus shifted to critiquing the commercialization of art and the prevalence of mammonism. Although this transition seems abrupt, it becomes understandable when considered alongside China’s rapid economic growth. Money is indeed the elephant in the room. His sculpture Apple exemplifies this shift, which is a hollow sculpture made up of coins, contrasting the gilded surface and the hollow connotation of the pursuit of wealth.
My take is this: it seems impenetrable to me that exhibiting human organs righteously was once considered a way of defiance. Is this really the only thing you have to say to the world? My sarcastic reflection actually articulates my main point: Many critiques that once appeared avant-garde no longer carry a sense of rebellion today, indicating that society has already absorbed these critiques. Contemporary Chinese art is never outdated, JZ! Rather, your modern Chinese way of thinking and living is a result of the intellectual revolutions in the 80 and 90s—and contemporary art documented them! By thinking in this way, I stop disparaging the achievements predecessors have done. Working on contemporary art is a unique experience; it serves more as a footnote to the zeitgeist than as a pursuit of pure artistic mission. It helps me understand the previous generation and the origin of my own idea better.