Zodiac Heads and an ARTnews article

Librado Romero/The New York Times

Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads, by the Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, at the Pulitzer Fountain outside the Plaza Hotel in Manhattan, features 12 animal heads in cast bronze.

The installation will be on display in Central Park from May 2nd- July 15th

The sculptural works are comprised of 12 monumental bronze animal heads inspired by the fountain clock at the 18th century Chinese imperial retreat of Yuanming Yuan just outside of Beijing. The heads will be placed at the historic Pulitzer Fountain in Grand Army Plaza in front of the Plaza Hotel on 59th Street and 5th Avenue.

The original 18th century piece was created by two European Jesuits at the request of Manchu Emperor Qianlong and portrays the animals of the Chinese Zodiac each spouting water for two-hour intervals from their mouth. In 1860 Yuanming Yuan was pillaged by French and British troops during the Second Opium War and the heads were plundered. Today seven heads have been found including the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, horse, monkey, and boar. The location of the other five heads is unknown. (It should be recalled that the rat and the rabbit were offered at a sale of Yves Saint Laurent Collection at Christie’s in February 2009 and were purchased for $19 million by Cai Mingchao, an advisor to China’s National Treasures Fund who then refused to pay.)

Ai Weiwei has re-interpreted the 18th century works on an oversize scale addressing issues of repatriation and the looting of ancient artifacts. “My work is always dealing with real or fake, authenticity and value and how value relates to current political and social understandings and misunderstandings. However, because Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads is composed of animal heads, it’s a work that everyone can understand, including children and people who are not in the art world. I think it’s more important to show your work to the public. That’s what I really care about,” said Ai Weiwei in a recent statement.

His 12 heads are cast in bronze and placed on bronze bases each weighing approximately 800 pounds with measurements of 4 feet high and 3 feet wide. They stand at 10 feet high when the base and the head are brought together exerting a monumental presence for the gateway to Central Park. “It’s a busy area, so it can be seen by ordinary people, but also it’s not exactly an art center. I like that people can notice it and at the same time, not to bother them too much,” said the artist of the new location in recent interview with the NY Times.

Animal Circle/ Zodiac Heads are presented by the Chinese Contemporary Art Organization AW in cooperation with the City of New York. They were previously displayed at the 29th Sao Paulo Biennale in Brazil this past September. “It is innovative and thought-provoking exhibits like Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads that keep New York one of the world’s great places to live, work and visit,” said Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg in a recent interview. After its New York City exhibition the works will travel to London’s Somerset House, Los Angeles’ LACMA, Houston’s Hermann Park, Pittsburg’s Warhol Museum, and Washington D.C.’s Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden.

Related Links:
Ai Weiwei Unleashes Animals of the Zodiac on Central Park for His First Public Art Project [Artinfo]
Plaza Hotel Fountain to be Home for Ai Weiwei Sculpture [NYTimes ]
Ai Weiwei’s Zodiac Heads/Circle of Animals at the Sao Paulo Biennale [Artdaily]
Plaza Hotel Fountain to Be Home for Ai Weiwei Sculpture [Forbes]
Mayor Bloomberg Announces Acclaimed Contemporary Chinese Artist Ai Weiwei Exhibits Circle of Animals/Zodiac Heads at Central Park’s Grand Army Plaza to Launch Historic Global Outdoor Public Sculpture Tour [NYC Gov]
[NY Times ]

The twelve Zodiac Heads/Circle of Animals by Ai Weiwei are cast in bronze and positioned on circular bronze bases.

ARTnews
this link brings you to Crossing the Line in China by Barbara Pollack

Nicholas Logsdail, director of the Lisson Gallery, talks about a forthcoming exhibition of the artist's work and his growing influence on the global stage.

guardian.co.uk © Guardian News and Media Limited 2011
The Observer, Sunday 8 May 2011

Ai Weiwei: ‘He’s committed and idealistic, and unaccepting of injustice to the point of self-denial.’ Photograph: Dan Chung/The Guardian

My last conversation with Ai Weiwei took place in January. My colleague Greg Hilty and I went to Beijing for three days to make selections for the forthcoming show at the Lisson Gallery, and we got a sense of great foreboding from him. He had been placed under house arrest in November and had subsequently been released, but he was already worried about whether he'd get out of the country. He had all these commitments abroad – in Berlin, in New York, and with us in London – and he was very concerned about fulfilling them.

There was a discussion then about whether we should do the show now or delay it for a year so that he could produce an entirely new body of work. We decided to go ahead because there was an urgency to it, due to his situation at home, and we wanted to give a London audience a sense of the range of his work and the thinking behind it.

In my opinion, Ai Weiwei is one of the major artists of the early 21st century. My gallery avoided the gold rush for Chinese art in the boom years because, in my experience, it's almost always a false premise to group artists together by generation or nationality. What's important is the quality of the individual artist, and it was clear to us that Ai Weiwei stood apart. He's not just the most important Chinese artist of his generation but a truly international figure.

His work is a very interesting blend of traditionalism and liberalism, with a revolutionary bent. He has an outspoken nature, which is what has got him into trouble, but my reading is that his primary impulse is less to overturn society than to improve it. He is unwilling to keep quiet in the face of ignorance and prejudice and he speaks out against injustice wherever he finds it.

I've met him on a number of occasions over the last couple of years. When we were preparing for the show, I found him to be highly practical and thoroughly professional. He is a serious man of few words but he has an ironic sense of humour. He's also a big guy, physically, with a barrel chest and a commanding presence. We had some very interesting conversations about the time he spent living in New York in considerable hardship. He was an exile, partly by choice, partly out of necessity because of his family's political problems in China. It was a gestation period, a time of growth. He was taking stock of the bigger world and putting his house in order, as an artist and an intellectual.

He may not think of himself as an intellectual, but I would certainly describe him as one. Although he can be irrational himself, he despises irrationality and tries to give a clear and logical approach to the issues that are important to him. He's committed and idealistic, and unaccepting of injustice to the point of self-denial – allowing himself to get into this position is surely a form of self-denial.

All the arrangements for the show had been made before his arrest, but it feels rotten putting it on in his absence. We've been praying, metaphorically speaking, that some news of his whereabouts would break, but nothing has: it's been total silence since his detention.

The outpouring of respect and admiration for him, his honesty, his bravery – maybe you could say his foolhardiness as well – have been completely astonishing. Many other artists have shown their solidarity, including Anish Kapoor who has dedicated his forthcoming Grand Palais show in Paris to Ai Weiwei. The best we can do now is to maintain our support for him and keep up the pressure. It's crucial that all the planned projects go ahead – his work is also showing in New York and, from next week, at Somerset House in London.

How do we put ourselves into the heads of the Chinese authorities who are responsible for his arrest? How do we reach them? What is it that we need to say to them? In arresting Ai Weiwei, I believe they have failed to understand what it means to be an artist. They have failed to be culturally aware. He is exactly the kind of person they should have onside. He's actually much more dangerous now, under arrest, than he ever was before. I think he is a great global cultural ambassador for the new China, but this arrest is making China's new cultural revolution look rather unrevolutionary.

They have accused him of tax evasion, bigamy and spreading pornography on the internet, but these charges are clearly trumped up. If you want to nail somebody and put them away for a while, you can probably find dirt on anybody on the planet, let alone a controversial artist like Ai Weiwei. Some people have commented that the Chinese government saw what was going on in north Africa and the Middle East and got nervous. That may well explain his arrest.

I am hopeful though – that he's in a reasonable state and can speak for himself; he's an intelligent man and should be able to provide arguments for his release. Although of course it's not going to get you anywhere if you're talking to a brick wall. What's so distressing about this situation is that there is no obvious authority that one can appeal to or challenge about what has happened.

It's so sad that this charismatic, larger-than-life, gentle guy has been arrested. I'm deeply upset. I'd get on the next plane to China if I thought there was anything I could do, and I'm sure loads of people feel the same way.

We have organised a very different series of events from the ones we had originally planned. Alongside the show, we will have a press conference and then a big open party to celebrate Ai Weiwei's work. We will also have a moment of silence to remember his situation, although until he is released I don't think it is going to be far from anyone's mind.

Artist: Ai WeiWei

People power comes to the Turbine Hall: Ai Weiwei's Sunflower Seeds

It took an army of 1,600 Chinese artisans to create Ai Weiwei's 100m handpainted porcelain 'seeds', which are scattered over the floor of Tate Modern's Turbine Hall

Day at the beach? A young girl sits down on Ai Weiwei's porcelain sunflower seeds in Tate Modern's Turbine Hall. Photograph: Andy Rain/EPA

The floor is entirely covered with a deep layer of what appear to be grey pebbles. It is like a bleak Suffolk beach, and a toddler, getting into the spirit of it, has shed her shoes and is having a sit-down in her stockinged feet. Adults are not so comfortable: as if caught out by a freak snowstorm in the wrong shoes, several are picking a distinctly wobbly way over the crunchy, uneven surface, suddenly looking out of place in autumnal London clothes.

There is more to Chinese artist Ai Weiwei's installation than meets the eye, however. Bend and pick up one of the "pebbles" and you can see that it resembles a sunflower seed encased in its striped husk. In fact, each one – and there are 100 million of them, covering an area of 1,000 square metres – is handmade from porcelain and has been individually handpainted.



Ai – a bearded, impassive, black-clad figure, who snapped the photographers surrounding him at today's press view almost as busily as they did him, and posted the results on Twitter – had the "seeds" made in the southern Chinese city of Jingdezhen.

"Historically, the town's only activity has been making porcelainware for over 1,000 years. The super-high-quality skill for generations has been making imperial porcelainware," he said. "In modern days, however, it has become very commercialised."

Harnessing traditional craft skills, each seed was moulded, fired, and painted with three or four individual brush strokes, often by women taking the objects home to work on them. One thousand six hundred people were involved in the process. "Even taxi drivers were talking about it," he said.

"I tried to explain to [the artisans] what we wanted them for, but they found it very difficult to understand," said Ai. "Everything they usually make is practical, and the painters are used to creating classically beautiful flowers using a high degree of skill."

He said that the workers had been paid a living wage – in fact slightly more than customary – to work on the project. "Now they are asking when we can start again," he said. "I shall have to think of a new project."

Sunflower seeds, he said, had a particular significance in recent Chinese culture and history. During the cultural revolution, Mao Zedong was often likened to the sun and the people to sunflowers, gazing adoringly at his face. But sunflowers were also a humble but valued source of food in straitened times, a snack to be consumed with friends.



What if the temptation to put one of these lovingly made objects in your pocket becomes too great? Smiling, he said: "They might also want to eat one, and that would be a safety issue for the museum." He added: "If I was in the audience I would definitely want to take a seed. But for the museum, it is a total work, and taking a seed would affect the work. Institutions have their own policies. But I know I would want to take a seed."

A spokeswoman for the museum confirmed that they would be "encouraging people not to" depart with a souvenir. After the installation at Tate Modern is closed the seeds, which weigh 150 tons, will be shipped back to Ai's studio in Beijing, where he will think about using them for another project.

Did he make any of the 100 million sunflower seeds himself? "I made three or four," he said. "But none of them was any good."

Tate Modern's sunflower seeds: the world in the palm of your hand

Courtesy of Chinese artist Ai Weiwei, the Turbine Hall is now carpeted with a million hand-painted seeds – an image of globalisation both politically powerful and hauntingly beautiful.




Quite a handful ... Ai Weiwei with his sunflower seeds in Tate Modern's Turbine Hall. Photograph: Fiona Hanson/PA



When you first meet him, Ai Weiwei seems as solid and impassive as a pillar of granite. He leads the way into his home without a word, then sits silently at the head of a long wooden table. But on the wall of his elegant, open-plan home, in the outskirts of Beijing, hangs a single image: of a hand with its middle finger raised. Ai has plenty to say.

Indeed he has so much to say that the 53-year-old is not only China's most famous living artist, but also a constant irritant to its authorities. When Tate Modern announced recently that it had commissioned him to fill its Turbine Hall later this year, it was a welcome reminder of his work, which in recent times has become almost overshadowed by his social and political criticism.


But the voice itself was forged in his earliest childhood. "I experienced humanity before I should. When I was very young," he says. If that sounds grandiloquent, consider his history: Ai spent years of his childhood in a labour camp in the far north-west of China, on the edge of the Gobi desert. His father, Ai Qing, was an artist and one of China's most revered modern poets, but fell foul of the late 1950s anti-rightist campaign. Life was precarious, and his parents had little time to spare for their offspring. "It was like being a little boy in the centre of a storm. Just always scared or surprised by surroundings that you cannot make sense of. And you have no comparisons because you have no memory of what another life can be," he says.





But 12 years later, when his father fell ill, he moved back to Beijing. He did so with little to show for his time in the US, at least to the outside eye. "I hadn't become very rich or got status or become part of the American dream – I had no success. I hadn't got my school diploma [or] American citizenship – that's unique for the early Chinese students in the US; those are two things they all got. I was unmarried, didn't have a real job, couldn't drive. So my mother really thought I'd never been there. She was shy to even introduce me to her friends," he says jokingly.

Ai's father sensed his discomfort on returning and offered some advice: don't be courteous. Treat this country as your home. Do whatever you want. The artist is still grateful for those words, though one feels the Chinese government may be less so. Ai helped to design the "Bird's Nest" national stadium for the 2008 Olympics – then blasted the country's "disgusting" political conditions and the use of the games as propaganda. Since then he has championed a number of sensitive causes, notably internet freedom and justice for children who died when shoddy schools collapsed in the devastating Sichuan earthquake. Others have fallen foul of the government for far less, and supporters fear Ai's position and his father's reputation will only shield him for so long. Certainly, the authorities seem to regard him, increasingly, as a problem. His China-based blog has been closed down, his email account hacked into, and security officials have made inquiries at his bank. In Chengdu last year, police detained him and fellow activists to prevent them attending the trial of a campaigner investigating schoolchildren's deaths. In the furore, a policeman punched him in the head, leaving him with painful headaches; weeks later, while working in Germany, he underwent surgery after doctors spotted internal bleeding.

"Life is never guaranteed to be safe so we better use it when we are still in good condition," he says now. "I always think that incident shouldn't have happened that way. Other than that . . . I don't want the bad memories, bad incidents, to stop me or have an effect on me."

"The state is taking action against people who have peacefully demonstrated their ideas. They are writers – all they did is to express their minds through the internet. So the pattern is very clear. The state tries to maintain stability by crushing any thought of making change," Ai says. "It could happen to me, because I did the same thing and in many cases I went much further and deeper. But I always think the government can learn from their mistakes – they should learn and should understand; they should be just as intelligent as anyone else. I have to be wishful [optimistic] in that sense."

His father's experiences have left him, he says, with a sense of duty "to speak for the generation, or generations, who didn't have a chance to speak out". "And I also have to speak out for people around me who are afraid, who think it is not worth it or who have totally given up hope. So I want to set an example: you can do it and this is OK, to speak out," he says.

And then, of course, there's his art. Ai's growing profile as a government critic has come swift on the heels of artistic acclaim for works such as his photographic series "Dropping a Han dynasty urn", which captures his destruction of an ancient vessel. But to Ai there is no meaningful distinction between his art and the rest of his life: "I'm not worried viewers will be distracted [by my activism] – I am worried they will not," he says. "I would never say I am just an artist or have some higher aesthetic values."

In recent years even his work for galleries has become overtly political, blurring the boundary between art and activism – at a recent show in Munich, his Remembering installation comprised 9,000 children's backpacks, in reference to the death toll of pupils in the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. Attached to the outside of the Haus der Kunst, they spelled out a grieving mother's words: "She lived happily for seven years in this world."

But he says his relationship with the country has been strengthened by his struggles with it. He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh when asked if he fears the authorities might bar him from returning to China one day. "People have said, if you leave, you may never come back. Or they may not even let you leave. So this is always a cost you may have to pay," he says. "But I don't want to restrict myself: when it happens, it happens. I have to deal with it, but not to prepare for it, because it is a kind of stupidity. If you prepare for it too much, you become a part of it."



Following his recent October opening at the Tate Modern, on November 5, 2010, Ai WeiWei, Chinese artist and activist, was placed under house arrest by the Chinese police. Weiwei said this house arrest was planned to prevent him from attending a party to mark the demolition of his newly built Shanghai studio, an order from the Chinese government. We learned on Artdaily, that just as he was finishing construction on his new studio, he received a notice from the government informing him that he would have to knock it down. In good activist fashion, Weiwei planned a party to commemorate and draw attention to this event.

Video link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/video/2010/mar/18/ai-weiwei-turbine-hall-tate

Embroidery Masterpieces of Song and Yuan Dynasties

Han Ximeng (seventeenth century), Chongzhen reign (1628-1644), Ming dynasty
Embroidery of the Gu family, first in an album of eight leaves, Masterpieces of Song and Yuan Dynasties,
Height: 33.4 cm, width: 24.5 cm

One Section of Washing Horse after Zhao Mengfu (Han Ximeng Song Yuan mingjice: Xima tu)----Embroidery in Bejing Palace Museum (Beijing Forbidden City)

One Section of Washing Horse after Zhao Mengfu (Han Ximeng Song Yuan mingjice: Xima tu)----Embroidery in Bejing Palace Museum (Beijing Forbidden City)

One Section of Washing Horse after Zhao Mengfu (Han Ximeng Song Yuan mingjice: Xima tu)----Embroidery in Bejing Palace Museum (Beijing Forbidden City)

The polychrome embroidery is based on the painting by the Yuan master Zhao Mengfu (1254-1322). On the right hand page of the folio, the picture is embroidered and painted on a white silk ground. In a pond under a willow tree, a groom is carefully washing his beloved dappled-grey with a brush. Plump and sturdy, the horse lifts its front leg and whinnies, seemingly excited by the bath.

It is a vivid embroidered interpretation of Zhao Mengfu’s painting. Stitches imitate the brush style of black dots on the white horse. Overlapping stitches, the signature stitch type of the Gu family, are used to present the horse’s body.

On the left half of the folio, the influential Ming connoisseur and painting master Dong Qichang (1555-1636) inscribed a colophon in ink. His high praise for the embroidery includes the comment that it is so vivid that it “pursues lightening and chases clouds”. Dong Qichang was the artistic mentor of Gu Shouqian, the husband of lady Han Ximeng.

Lady Han Ximeng, the wife of the grandson of the establisher of Gu family embroidery, was an outstanding embroidery artist who pursued the spirit of the design by combining polychrome needlework with paint.

http://www.chinamuseum.info/2009/08/embroidery-in-bejing-palace-museum-beijing-forbidden-city-washing-horse-after-zhao-mengfu-han-ximeng-song-yuan-mingjice-xima-tu/

Sanqing Mountain in Jiangxi Province

Shen Zhou, 1427–1509, China, Ming dynasty,

Xie An’s Excursion on the Eastern Mountain, dated 1480.

Hanging scroll, ink and color on silk, 66 9/10 x 35 inches.

Wan-go H.C. Weng Collection.

http://www.huntington.org/huntingtonlibrary_exhibitions.aspx?id=3674

Sanqing Mountain in Jiangxi Province, although not very well-known to many people today, was regarded as a sacred place for Taoists in the Tang Dynasty period (618-907), when Taoism was at its most popular. The mountain remained very popular among people seeking immortality until the 18th century, when Emperor Qianlong preferred Buddhism to Taoism.

The mountain is shrouded in mist for about 200 days each year. On misty days, dense fog envelops the mountain completely and makes you think you are wandering in the clouds. Once in a while, wind blows away the mist, and a stiff, imposing peak suddenly appears right in front of you. Sometimes you can even see the fog creep up on you, gently penetrating the pine trees on the cliff.

About 80 percent of Sanqing Mountain is covered by primeval forests. More than 2,500 kinds of plants exist here, most of which can be used to make traditional Chinese medicine.

These mountains and paintings of these mountains have been very influential for me and the way I approach my landscape painting and drawings. I will post more examples later.

Artist: Pam Ayres - Sketches and Influences

This is a Shan map created in 1889 relating to a border dispute between Burma and China. This map was painted by an anonymous Shan artist in tempera on paper and it covers an area of 47 square miles along the Nam Mao (Burmese Shweli) River. There are about eighty villages and hamlets shown in green. The map text is in Chinese Shan, though Burmese notes have been added in pencil. I have been looking at this map since September 2009 in a book titled "The Map Book" by Peter Barber. I am obsessed with it.

This is the first sketch I did after looking at the Shan map. It put me in mind of Dr. Seuss and The Zax.