This was the closing statement made by Ai Weiwei on the audio guide for his exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. It resonated with me as it sums up everything that Weiwei wants to convey in his art and echoes the inescapability from politics in his daily and creative life.
It was such a privilege to see an exhibition of Ai Weiwei's work (I missed his Sunflower Seeds in the Tate Modern Turbine Hall in 2010-11). I have been a fan for a few years and I am drawn to his work because of its focus in political activism and storytelling.
The piece He Xie has an important message of how the Chinese government tries to control its people and how they manage to resist. It is a large pile of handmade porcelain river crabs that appear to have been thrown into the corner of the room (but would obviously smash if done so). The idea behind the piece originates back in November 2010, when Ai Weiwei's Shanghai studio was ordered to be demolished by the Chinese government. To mourn this event, Weiwei invited 500 guests to a crab fest at the studio, but he was put on house arrest in Beijing the day before in order to prevent his attendance. The crab fest still went ahead without him. The reason behind holding a crab fest, and using them in He Xie, stems from the meaning of the word 'crab' itself. In mandarin, 'crab' is a homonym for 'harmonious', which is used a lot by the Chinese government in propaganda. The word has been appropriated by the Chinese people on the internet as slang for 'censorship'. He Xie is a symbol of both the paranoia of the Chinese government and the unrest within the people.
I think we, in the western world, take our freedom of speech for granted. It is quite terrifying to compare our situation to that of Weiwei's, and China as a whole. His work is powerful because it is drenched in symbolism and meaning (so it is a good thing the audio guides are included with the ticket!). However this could be seen as a hinderance to Weiwei's work; you need to know the context to fully understand, and arguably appreciate, the work. But his pieces are also visually appealing, like the Han dynasty vases dripping with paint. His manipulation of ancient objects is interesting because many find it quite provocative and pushes the traditional Chinese culture into a new age.
Weiwei had a difficult upbringing, partly in exile due to his father's outspoken poetry. Therefore, from an early age, Weiwei had a problematic relationship with his country, its history, and its present; it is as if he is trying to fight all three at the same time. Ai Weiwei disappeared in March 2011 and it was only when he returned that we found out what had happened. Weiwei was kidnapped by the Chinese government and incarcerated for 81 days. He was constantly watched by two guards who never left his side, when he slept, ate and even when he went to the bathroom. This traumatic experience is materialized in the exhibition at the Royal Academy. Visitors can peer into 6 recreations of Weiwei's cell, in which models of himself and the guards in different situations are arranged.
The recreation of his cell from his 81 days in captivity was very moving. It felt like a self-referencial invasion of privacy. We, the viewer, are looking at a vulnerable man who is constantly being watched by the state; we are witnessing the government monitor their people. The Chinese state rebut these claims against them but by Weiwei formalising the event in this exhibition he solidifies his experience as real.
The line between art and political activism is not just blurry in the work produced by Ai Weiwei, it is fluid. One is not separate from the other and I think he means it that way. To him they are the same because of the limits but on his people. I think Ai Weiwei is one of the most important artists of my lifetime (massive claim, I know), and the exhibition at the Royal Academy confirms that.