Oct 22 2012

Field Trip: Shanghai

by John Jervis

The location for the Ninth Shanghai Biennale is the city’s brand new Power Station of Art, the eye-catching 41,000-square-meter refurbishment of the Nanshi Power Plant. This, it is said, dates back to 1897 “in part,” but looked rather like it had been slapped up specially for the Biennale, curated by Qiu Zhijie, Boris Groys, Tsong-zung Chang and Jens Hoffman.

The theme is “reactivation,” inspired by the surroundings, but eschewing hymns to industrial might and proposing instead that real power, real creativity, comes “from collective consciousness,” from community relations and from diversity–that “‘others’ are a form of mineral resources.” The display panels even proclaim that the best energy comes not from the ground but from “cuddling together for warmth.” All inspirational stuff, if a little reminiscent of 1970s soul, or even Jennifer Rush.

The occasion is a whistle-stop press preview. The catalog, which may have mined these themes around cultural energy in a more through-going manner, was in embarrassingly short supply, but the art is surprisingly engaging—both in the main galleries and in the city pavilions located on the top floor (more were scattered across the city). In all, there is much to enjoy, and a palpable feeling of relief among local commentators at the high quality of both the work and its setting.

The Shanghai Power Station of Art in its restored glory.

The main hall, with Chico MacMurtrie’s performing Totemobile (2007) in the foreground and Huang Yongping’s 18-meter tall Thousand Hands Kuanyin (1997–2012) in the background.

Thomas Hirschhorn’s Spinoza-Car (2007) made a welcome reappearance, dovetailing with the Biennale’s theme of re-utilizing creative energy from others, and possibly even touching on issues of sustainability. . .

Simon Fujiwara’s entertaining contribution, Rebekkah (2012), a riff on rampant consumerism and “what can be achieved when a massive-scale, national population pulls together,” did incite slightly waspish feelings that this artist is becoming just a bit too clever for his own good.

An atmosphere of trust and confidence in the Biennale’s visitors was engendered by the ubiquity of colorful and bold barriers, here surrounding Nishino Kozo’s Memory of Sky (2010–12).

Sui Jianguo’s Wanderer (2012), with a top speed of 25 cm per minute, breaks out from its fragile pen, threatening curators and artworks à la Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Massaro is a Woman (2012), Lee Kit’s recreation of a favorite bar in Palermo, proved a functional tour-de-force when used as a dumping ground by those sampling local delicacies in the “Palermo Felicissima” City Pavilion.

Ju Yan’s Sea Anemone (2012) explored the sense of domestic fragility and threat engendered by tropical storms, and looked rather fetching hanging from the ceiling.

Signs of haste became evident as visitors rose through the building –The User’s Quartet for Dot Matrix Printer (1998) seemed in particular need of TLC.

Photographer Boris Mikhailov prowled the Biennale like an aging rock star while his gallerist scribbled hasty amendments to late-arriving wall texts—this is Mikhailov’s Case Study (1971–85).

The after-party, with the usual speeches, light shows, squabbles over brandy allocations and expressions of disgust on waiters’ faces.

The Map of Reactivation by chief curator Qiu Zhijie, a “conceptual map for the Shanghai Biennale” based on the “renovation of a thermal power station,” portraying the cycle of energy transmission.

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