A Conversation with Zhang Hongtu
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De-nin Deanna Lee A Single Artwork: A Conversation with Zhang Hongtu rom October 18, 2015, to February 28, 2016, the Queens Museum, Zhang Hongtu, A Walking Man, 1985, acrylic on New York is exhibiting a retrospective of the work of Zhang Hongtu. canvas, 142.24 x 157.48 cm. FI spoke with Zhang Hongtu as he was preparing for the exhibition. Courtesy of the artist. De-nin Deanna Lee: The Queens Museum exhibition will be the first US survey of your work. How will it differ from your retrospective at the Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts in Taiwan last year? Zhang Hongtu: The Queens Museum show will be smaller, but the artworks will be drawn from a larger timespan, from as early as 1959, before I began studying at the high school of the Central Academy of Fine Arts. Another difference is that because the exhibition will take place in New York, it will feature more work from the 1980s and early 1990s. My artwork then was closely related to society, AIDS, and identity issues. 44 Vol. 14 No. 6 De-nin Deanna Lee: In working on this retrospective, have you found persistent themes or features in your artwork that surprised you? Zhang Hongtu: There weren’t any surprises because many of these things were exhibited in Kaohsiung. I wouldn’t call it a “surprise,” but what seemed apparent was the sense of myself as an artist who over the past decades has been working on a single artwork. It might look like I have different styles and periods, or skills and materials, but when I look at all of my work together, I see a single artwork. In terms of attitude and content, since the very beginning, my artwork has been about the relationship between society and myself. De-nin Deanna Lee: As you look back, do you have any regrets? Zhang Hongtu: Now that I’m getting on in years, I cannot avoid looking back at the past, at old materials. I have discarded many things, and I have only myself to blame. When I began studying art, at the approach of every lunar new year I would give myself the task of reviewing all the artwork I had done in the past year, and I would refuse to allow any work that I did not like to remain. The ones I disliked, I would be sure to tear up and throw out. De-nin Deanna Lee: Was it in 1960 that you began this yearly practice? Zhang Hongtu: Yes. I can’t quite remember whether it was Qi Baishi or another Chinese painter, who had a saying, “Leave to this world no inferior paintings.” I agreed with that sentiment, so I set myself a high standard. In fact, I was quite immature at the time, and some of my earlier works may not have been very good, but they have value in that they represent how I was thinking at that time. For example, there was the time I went to have my hair cut. At that time, I always had a sketchbook at my side. While I was having my hair cut, a white sheet covered my body, and my hands were underneath. I looked in the mirror and started to draw myself, and of course I could not see what I was drawing. After the haircut, I looked at my drawing and said to myself, “not good.” Of course it was not good. So I discarded it. This kind of thing happened again when I was older. In the school library there were books that only teachers could borrow. If you wished to see the books, you first needed to be friendly with your teacher. And then the teacher would invite you to his or her home, and there you could see them. I remember copying examples of painting in styles such as Pointillism, but I discarded all these. Later, some were destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. These are my regrets. On Living a Fully Human Life De-nin Deanna Lee: You left for America in 1982. Had you already made the decision to leave China permanently? If so, why? Zhang Hongtu: I don’t want to return to China to live, and I don’t struggle with this question. One of the reasons I haven’t returned is not merely Vol. 14 No. 6 45 about the artistic environment here, which gives me more freedom as an artist, but about being human. Life here has more dignity. In America, you can realize your potential and have autonomy, choosing how to live your life. I believe this is absolutely fundamental. Without this, in later years many realize that their lives have been controlled. I think this is tragic. You don’t need so many achievements; the important thing is whether you have lived with integrity. In America, this is possible. I don’t care what people think about my art, or how much it’s worth, or whether it’s in a prestigious collection. More important is the question of whether what I have done is what I wished to do. Is the relationship between my artwork and my life consistent? I don’t want to grow old and doubt my life, suspecting that I acted because of others or the market or the critics. Were that the case, I would believe that I had made a terrific error. Regardless of how much China has changed, so long as it is better to be human in America, I don’t think about returning. De-nin Deanna Lee: Was there a precipitating event that led to your decision to leave China? Zhang Hongtu: I had already lived in China for thirty, almost forty years, and I truly felt sick and tired of it. Were I to continue on in China, I felt, either I would have gone mad or given up my art. Since I was a child, I loved art. But at the time in China, there was no such thing as freelance work. The government determined all jobs. There wasn’t such a thing as an independent artist, and there were no galleries. You might fantasize about quitting your job. Well, there was no such thing as quitting your job unless you had committed a crime and your work unit had ejected you. If you didn’t work, then not only would you be jobless, you also would have no vouchers for food and no way to live. And if you had a family to raise, well, then you had no choice but to work. The job that the government assigned to me was at a jewelry company as a jewelry design advisor. But at the time, no one in China wore jewelry. Still, we had to design jewelry, which would be exported to acquire foreign currency. Think about how meaningless this work was. I did not enjoy it. Only on Sundays, when my wife would bring my child to my parents’ home, would I have some time and space to make art. It was like this for years. Several times I tried to change jobs, but none was successful, due to my own work unit. It’s like this: When the government assigns you to a work unit, then you belong to that work unit. They have your personal file, which they control. If they refuse to give you this file, then no other work unit can accept you. It’s very simple. After several failed attempts, I decided to leave China. I thought that only by leaving could I continue to make my art. 46 Vol. 14 No. 6 On Early Work De-nin Deanna Lee: Your sister found some of your early work among your mother’s belongings—is that right? Zhang Hongtu, Sky is My Zhang Hongtu: After my mother Home, 1980, ink on paper, 34.29 x 29.8 cm. Courtesy of passed away, my younger sister the artist. found some of my drawings. When I went back to China, I picked them up. I find this one especially interesting. I rarely make ink paintings: I’m not very good at it, and my calligraphy is poor. But here I wrote: “The sky is my home. Why do I have to stay at the bottom of the oil barrel? Open my eyes and wings. Outside everything is alive.” This small bird represents my hope and me. This painting isn’t a particularly important one, but it is an authentic expression, surpassing my ability with words. On Artwork in the Queens Exhibition De-nin Deanna Lee: Could you tell me more about artwork that will be included in the Queens Museum exhibition? Zhang Hongtu: In 1995, I had an exhibition at the Bronx Museum, and all of the works were of Mao Zedong. It was called Material Mao, a single- themed exhibition. After that, I decided to stop doing works on Mao. Why? First of all, I didn’t feel a need to do any more. When I first starting making them I used it as psychological therapy. Zhang Hongtu, Mesh Mao, When I first started making 1992, wire mesh, 91.4 x 69.85 x 21.59 cm. Courtesy these works, I had the feeling of the artist. of committing a crime, doing something wrong. Still, I felt that I must continue. At the time, George H. W. Bush was the American president, and I asked myself, would I have this same feeling if I did portraits of Bush? No, but why would I have this guilty feeling with Mao portraits? Moreover, Mao had already been dead for some years.