Wenda Gu is
the most celebrated of a new generation of avant-garde artists who emerged
from China in the very late 1980s and in the 1990s, as a result of the
'Open Door' policy that succeeded the chauvinism of the Cultural Revolution.
Born in Shanghai, Wenda Gu received his initial training at the Shanghai
School of Art and Craft, where he soon established a reputation as a troublesome
student who wanted to go his own way. Later he attended the China National
Academy of Art in Hangzhou, one of only five students accepted as the
school was re-opening after the chaos of Mao's final years. Here he studied
calligraphy and traditional Chinese ink-painting under Lu Yunshao, one
of the last surviving heirs of the old Chinese literati tradition. At
the same time he absorbed everything he could find about Western and Chinese
philosophy, in addition to experimenting in private with Western art styles.
He says now that, while he was impatient then with the traditional training
he received at Hangzhou, he is now grateful for the foundation it gave
him. "Without this base," he says, "you don't really have
anything to work against." He points out that very few Chinese artists
of his generation received a training of this kind - most were trained
instead in Western methods of making painting and sculpture.
His earliest independent art works, produced before he left China for
the United States in 1987, made use of large scale ideograms. His first
solo show was closed down by the authorities because it featured characters
which were unreadable, though it was afterwards re-opened for a 'professional'
audience. Wenda Gu says: "The fear was that there was a political
message in the calligraphy, but there wasn't - I was just questioning
the philosophy of language." At the same time, however, he does note
a connection with the Cultural Revolution years - a link to the 'big character
posters' produced at that time by young people, workers and farmers, none
of whom had any formal training in calligraphy. "I consider [this
to be] much livelier, more vital and contemporary than calligraphy by
the masters... The farmers and workers involved in the Revolution did
not consider what they were doiing as art, but if you look way their words
had their own identity and creativity...These works were about passion
too - the people believed in what they were writing." [quotation
from an interview with Melissa Chiu in 'Orientations'].
In 1987 Wenda Gu left China for North America, settling in New York after
brief periods spent in San Francisco and at York University near Toronto.
There were two reasons for his departure. One was that there was at that
time no avant-garde exhibition scene in China, and he did not want to
have to continue living and working as a purely underground artist. The
other was that he had been fascinated from the beginning by the idea of
cultural diversity. He now maintains three studios - one in New York,
and two others in China, one in Shanghai and one in X'ian. Some work has
to be carried out in China in order to retain authenticity. This is true,
for example, of one of the projects being shown in Singapore - the 'Forest
of Stone Steles'. Here text is engraved on stone tablets, and China
alone has the professional calligraphy carvers who can do this. The actual
content of the work is nevertheless typically trans-cultural. The texts
consist of Tang Dynasty poems, translated into English in the 1940s, by
translators who looked for the meaning rather than the sound, and now
re-translated into Chinese, based on the sound of the English. "The
poems are still readable, but they're contemporary."
The other project on display is Wenda Gu's 'United
Nations', an ambitious installation made of human hair. In fact
'United Nations', an enterprise that began in 1993, is not a
single project, but a single idea that has led to a proliferating series
of sub-projects. Eaxch is an installation made of human hair, which Wenda
Gu collects, or has collected for him, all over the world. One reason
for choosing hair is that it is very durable - the hair found on Ancient
Egyptian mummies is still intact. Another is that it is both universal
and very personal, in the sense that the merest fragment of hair from
any individual carries his or her DNA - that person's unique genetic code.
There is also the belief, prevalent among Native Americans, but also found
in the Bible, in the story of Samson, that hair is a repository of physical
power. In sophisticated societies, both ancient and modern, elaborate
hair-styles were, and continue to be, a sign of status.
This marked symbolic value may be one reason why the 'United Nations'
project has sometimes proved to be very controversial. For example, both
in Israel and in Poland it aroused memories of the Holocaust - because,
during the Holocaust, Jewish women had their hair cut off before being
sent to the gas chambers.
However, Wenda Gu points out that the mythology and symbolism of hair
is much broader based than this. "Punk or hippie, people cut their
hair according to their political stance - you see these white supremacists
shave their hair, for example." There is also the notion that hair
is something which is both 'abject', in the sense the French philosopher
Georges Bataille gave to that word, and at the same time inherently noble.
It is abject because, when it is cut off, it becomes a form of bodily
waste, something unclean. Wendu Gu sometimes has trouble importing it
through customs. What he does, the structures he makes, restore its original
nobility.
Wenda Gu's installations made from hair have quite a close relationship
to traditional Chinese architecture. Similarly, his inscriptions, even
when the characters are subverted, still retain their kinship to the Chinese
use of ideograms. In their earliest form, some of these ideograms may
date to five thousand years before the Christian era - new archaeological
discoveries in China keep pushing them yet further back into the past.
His work is therefore both universal in its ambitions and deeply rooted
in the Chinese literati culture that he once wanted to reject. The revival
of the literati sensibility is having an increasing effect on Chinese
avant-garde art, not least because it links so easily and naturally with
Western Conceptual ideas.
Wenda Gu was the pioneer of this development. He is also the first Chinese-born
artist, working since the end of the Cultural Revolution, to have made
himself into a fully international figure. In more senses than one, he
is a key figure in the culture of our time. 
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