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. So I felt that I had to make them, because psychologically there was a question that needed to be resolved. Later I discovered many Chinese had similar issues: They can in their hearts criticize Mao, but if it came to voicing rigorous opposition, they would be cautious. A friend of mine told me that if I were to make something like my Last Banquet featuring twelve images of Mao in China, I would be shot at least three times. Once would not be enough.

Vol. 14 No. 6 47 Another reason for my decision to stop making the Mao works is that in the Top: Zhang Hongtu, Last Banquet, 1989, laser prints, mid-1990s, things like this became highly commercialized. Lots of people pages from the Red Book, acrylic on canvas, 152.4 were making similar works, and many Westerners liked them—it was the x 325.12. Courtesy of the time of the Mao craze. Many were making Mao icons, and I do think that artist. many of them were also good.

If you want to use Mao’s image and transform Zhang Hongtu, After Picasso (detail from Unity and it into a religious icon, that’s fine, too. But Discord), 1998, oil, acrylic, ink, and soy sauce on there is no clear message or statement in terms canvas board, 76.2 x 60.96 of criticism. I believe that Mao was a political cm. Courtesy of the artist. animal. While I don’t think of myself as a political artist, still, politics has played a role in my life. I didn’t want my artworks to become merely a part of the commercial market, so I completely stopped making the Mao images.

De-nin Deanna Lee: At times your artwork can be quite witty and humorous. Are you using humour as a strategy to teach something to your viewers?

Zhang Hongtu: Not really. The humour arises naturally. For example, in 1989, while I was making the “acupuncture door,” Bilingual Chart of Acupuncture Points and Meridians, I didn’t think it was funny. It was my Chinese friends who said: “You say that your artwork is conceptual, but it’s quite funny and delightful.” Only then did I realize this was the case. I’m not using humour as a strategy, but I do find that humour helps viewers

48 Vol. 14 No. 6 Zhang Hongtu, Ping-Pong to engage with the artwork. For Mao, 1995, mixed media installation, 76.2 x 152.4 x example, you might play ping-pong 274.3 cm. Courtesy of the artist. and find it fun. And then in the work Ping-Pong Mao (1995), you see that when the ball touches the form of Mao Zedong, you lose. So, it’s easier to make my ideas known. But not all of my work involves humour. I don’t use it like a style or a “signature.” Sometimes it’s there, sometimes not.

De-nin Deanna Lee: After the Material Mao work, you have continued working in series, but you have also taken up other subject matter.

Zhang Hongtu: Yes. Over here (in the next gallery in the mock-up for the Queens exhibition) are examples from my Repaint Shanshui series. In this installation, I have arranged my version of the Song dynasty painting Early Spring in the style of Vincent Van Gogh on one wall and an ink painting of Van Gogh’s self-portrait in the guise of Bodhidharma on the opposite wall, thus forming a dialogue. One looks at the other, and vice versa.

My reason for doing this is that in recent years these paintings have been exhibited frequently; everyone is familiar with them, and they have been easily marketed. But I have realized that the reason people like them and my original concept for making them are not the same. Audiences find the paintings attractive, but I am more interested in cultural questions:

Vol. 14 No. 6 49 Zhang Hongtu, Bilingual Chart of Acupuncture Points and Meridians, 1990, acrylic and ink on panel (double sided), 201.29 x 75.56 x 3.17 cm. Courtesy of the artist.

Zhang Hongtu, Shitao— Van Gogh M, 2008, oil on canvas, 185.42 x 198.12 cm. Courtesy of the artist.

What defines Chinese painting? What defines Western painting? How do we think about different cultures, different styles, and different aesthetic standards? My motive for this series was to attempt to blur the boundaries. I put these two artworks together—mutually regarding one another—so that one crosses from the West to China and the other travels from China to the West. Van Gogh is still van Gogh, but in this artwork, the boundaries are blurred. Ink painting, Bodhidharma, and oil painting: What was ink painting is now oil painting, what was black-and-white now has colour.

De-nin Deanna Lee: I am also interested in your more recent Shanshui Today series. What is the meaning behind this title?

50 Vol. 14 No. 6 Zhang Hongtu, After Ni Zan, Zhang Hongtu: It’s because there are still mountains (shan), and there is 2009, oil on canvas, 167.64 x 137.16 cm. Courtesy of still water (shui), and there is still some of that visual sensibility of Chinese the artist. water and ink, but nature, the natural environment, has changed. In fact, nature has been so damaged and there is no way to return to a pristine past unless people disappear. If people disappear, then nature will return. So long as there are people, I am pessimistic. The damage that people have caused to the natural environment is frightening.

De-nin Deanna Lee: When did your interest in the environment begin?

Zhang Hongtu: In fact, I have always been interested, but not necessarily has it been from the point of view of art. For me the most catalytic event was in 1997, when I returned to China. I had not been back in ten years. I took a car north from Guangzhou, passing the Pearl River. The colour of the water resembled soy sauce. It was black, and it smelled foul.

Vol. 14 No. 6 51 But during the Cultural Revolution that spot had been a swimming area! I remember a marvelous moment, when I stood in the shallows, not moving. Small fish would come swim between my legs. I thought, this is extraordinarily beautiful and wonderful! The water was so clear, you could see through to the sand. But now, it’s not so.

De-nin Deanna Lee: These paintings make use of a grid. What is that about?

Zhang Hongtu: The grid pattern derives most directly from the wall tiles of New York subway stations. I have ridden the subway for over thirty years. For me, the grid transports viewers to the contemporary moment, to today. Traditional Chinese paintings do not use a grid. Also, the grid serves as a means of unifying the ink and oil I use in the Shanshui Today series.

De-nin Deanna Lee: The monkey is a new motif in your work. What is the source or reference for your monkey?

Zhang Hongtu: When I first started this series, there were no monkeys. Then I tried different motifs in my sketches to generate a viewpoint that would create a relationship with nature. When I inserted the image of a monkey, I realized that among all animals, monkeys are closest to humans. But still they remain a part of nature. When I added the monkey, my painting shifted.

Many people ask me what the meaning of the monkey is in my work. Americans, especially, ask if it is related to Sun Wukong, the monkey hero from Journey to the West. After all, they see that I am Chinese, and the most famous monkey in Chinese culture is Sun Wukong. Many religions have different ways of understanding monkeys. For example, in India the monkey is a god. And there are American films in which monkeys rule over humans, and they can be very wicked.

So I hesitate to explain. If I must explain, then I have only my subjective viewpoint. I cannot take my monkey and make it into a universal symbol. I don’t find this necessary. Perhaps the viewpoint is shared, but perhaps not. That’s okay, too.

De-nin Deanna Lee: What about your monkey’s form and style? Did you find inspiration in observing monkeys at the zoo? Or did you look to art historical precedents, as in Song dynasty painting?

Zhang Hongtu: I found inspiration in all of these sources. At first I went to the zoo. I didn’t draw a lot, but I took photographs, which are easier. I have many books about monkeys, and I also downloaded many images from the Internet. Finally, when I started painting monkeys, I found at a collector’s home in Taipei a set of books with reproductions of Song Dynasty paintings. I opened a book from that set, and the first page I turned to was a painting of a monkey.

52 Vol. 14 No. 6 Zhang Hongtu, Sleeping Monkey, 2013, ink and oil on rice paper mounted on panel, 123.19 x 116.84 cm. Courtesy of the artist.

Zhang Hongtu, Little Monkey, 2013, ink and oil on rice paper mounted on panel, 123.19 x 116.84 cm. Courtesy of the artist.

The artist was Mao Song. I had never before heard this name. And I had never known of his painting. But his monkey painting is particularly fine. It made me think of Rodin’s sculpture, The Thinker. The resemblance was uncanny. So, I then made a painting of an old, sleeping monkey in blue, Sleeping Monkey (2013), surrounded by buildings.

After I spent a while drawing monkeys, it became very easy for me to render their actions and the structure of their bodies. But Little Monkey (2014) was done after my granddaughter was born. I have a photograph of her gazing out at the world, and the look in her eyes—the innocent, artless, naive quality—I found tremendously moving. Moreover, I know that when she grows up, it won’t be the same. When she enters society, she will change. Often I think all people inevitably undergo such changes. As you grow up, the question is: Are you able to remember the past? If you have such a thought, that’s good. But I think the majority of adults forget. After growing up, people think of themselves as adults, not children, and they think that children don’t know anything. I disagree. I think that children in their naturalness possess something valuable. When I painted the eyes of this monkey, it was according to what I saw in my granddaughter’s photograph.

For me, this monkey has many layers of significance. I am drawing an innocent and artless being who opens its eyes to witness the world today. We are living in these high-rise buildings, and so we cannot see it so. It might not be by choice, but it is already so because of our excessive population.

De-nin Deanna Lee: In early February, you returned from China, where you took photographs of the Great Wall for a site-specific piece for the Queens exhibition. How is this piece related to your 2009 Great Wall with Gates?

Zhang Hongtu: The two are directly related. The basic idea is not very different. But while computer-based prints of the earlier work are up to eight

Vol. 14 No. 6 53 feet, this piece will be fourteen feet high and one hundred feet long. Given the Zhang Hongtu, Great Wall with Gates, 2009, pigment size and thinking about the Great Wall, this new one will be more powerful. print, dimensions variable. Courtesy of the artist.

Still, from my perspective, the Queens audience shouldn’t think of it as the Chinese Great Wall, but just as a wall. I’ve always been interested in the idea of a wall. Today, people are building walls, physically and mentally, and I find this is a problem for humanity. So, to “demolish the wall” is to have mutual understanding, mutual compassion between different religions and cultures. I want to emphasize that this wall is not merely Chinese, but it’s about all humanity.

On Censorship Zhang Hongtu: I had two art teachers who came to my studio while visiting America. They viewed my artwork. One said it was very good and liked it. The other said, “When we return to China, do not tell anyone that we came to Hongtu’s studio.”

In another incident, during my exhibition at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, there was a reception area where visitors could sign their names in a guest book. Two people came in and signed their names. On their way out, they crossed out their names so that they were completely obliterated. When the exhibition closed, a friend said that I must forgive them because they would be returning to China. This kind of incident happens all too often.

At yet another exhibition, friends had purchased flowers to congratulate me, as is the custom in Asia. Flower arrangements have ribbons where names may be written. They put the flowers there and then they stood there discussing I don’t know what. In the end, they decided not to write their names on the flower arrangement. They wrote only “Old Classmates of the Central Academy of Arts and Design.” We had been in the same department. This kind of incident I find very tragic.

On Religion De-nin Deanna Lee: In many publications that include a biography, they write about you, “He was born into a Muslim family.” What is your reaction to this?

54 Vol. 14 No. 6 Zhang Hongtu: When I was in China, this didn’t matter at all because China has close to ten million Muslims. Additionally, after 1949 in China, we were taught that religion is the opiate of the people. I was born into a traditional Muslim family. My father was very devout. He traveled to Egypt, studied the Koran, and learned Arabic. My mother was also devout, practicing daily, except during the Cultural Revolution.

After I left China, I realized that others’ interest in my Muslim background exceeded my own. But I later discovered that my background made an imperceptible impact on me. For example, take my father. My strongest impression of him was that he emphasized—regardless of what you choose to do, whether it is making art or studying science—that you must keep a religious attitude. By this he meant if you learn art, think of art not as a tool to reach another goal like making money or becoming famous. If you learn art, then learn it properly. Take art itself as most important.

As an artist, it isn’t possible to ignore the social and material aspects of society, especially if you want to become famous and have your artwork be well received. But I think to have faith, regardless of whether it is in a god—Allah or Buddha—to know a spiritual life beyond the material one is to have a better peace of mind. When others look at my Muslim background, I see this as a good reminder to myself, even though I am not a regular practitioner, having been to a mosque perhaps ten times in my life. Recently, I went to Istanbul on a visit, but not to worship. I’ve read the Chinese translation of the Koran twice, and I am interested in Arabian history and stories of Mohammed. I simply want to learn and understand. For me, this isn’t especially about religion, but about knowledge. It helps me to understand the world, to understand family, to understand myself.

On Art and Life De-nin Deanna Lee: Besides the example of drawing inspiration from your granddaughter’s expression for Little Monkey, are there other individuals in your life who have been sources of inspiration for your artwork?

Zhang Hongtu: There hasn’t been any particular artist who has been especially influential for me, but thinking more broadly I think of my parents, even though what they did work wise was entirely different from me. My father at first was not supportive of my making art. But his views on how to go about being an artist made a strong impression on me.

My mother was not formally educated. But she held onto the ability to experience nature and beauty and life directly, with little influence from traditional culture or the surrounding social environment. When I was in school, I brought some of my work home to show my mother. The piece she liked best was the one my teacher disliked most. It was 1963, and I was using the pointillist technique and brighter colours. My teacher thought my piece was influenced by capitalist ideology and “decadent bourgeois art.” My mother did not know nor did she care about ideologies. But she knew beauty. I liked this picture, too.

Vol. 14 No. 6 55 Although I was quite young at the time, the effect this had on me was profound. Not being educated does not mean you have no aesthetic sense. And the opposite is true, too: You may be educated and have learned a lot about the newest things, but what you have forgotten far exceeds what you have learned.

De-nin Lee: Do you have some thoughts or concerns that you wish your audience were more aware of? Things that have been overlooked?

Zhang Hongtu: One of the things that is most important to me is the relationship between my artwork and society. Life brings me new inspiration or impressions, and my art changes accordingly.

De-nin Deanna Lee: Are there particular events or issues that have been Zhang Hongtu, Remake of Ma Yuan’s Water Album S especially provocative for you? (780 Years Later), 2008, oil on canvas, 127 x 182.88 cm. Courtesy of the artist. Zhang Hongtu: Let me start with an example. After I came to America, I wanted to forget about China. But in 1989, with the events of June 4, I realized that I was still Chinese. Why? Because I was still very concerned about Chinese matters. But my point of view now differed from when I was back in China. When I was in China, I lived during the Maoist era. I trusted Mao. I believed him. Now, I doubt him and criticize him. When I began using Mao’s image in my art, it wasn’t entirely to criticize Mao himself. More importantly, I used him as a symbol in order to deal with my prior worship of him.

The social environment, the multicultural quality of New York, of Queens— this background affects how I look at society. When I paint, using Van Gogh

56 Vol. 14 No. 6 to paint Chinese culture, in fact, I have the feeling of living in different eras. Today I might imagine I am Van Gogh; tomorrow I will pretend I am Claude Monet. And then I imagine I am a Chinese painter of the past, Dong Qichang or Shitao. Walking down the street, I might encounter someone from South America. He speaks to me. I might not understand his language, but I can still have some exchange with him, because we live in the same environment. This directly affects my Repaint Shanshui series.

How I see the environment that is in front of me is important. This relates to air pollution and water pollution in China. Food safety, too. The water problem is most severe. When I was sent to the countryside, you could dig a well ten or twenty metres deep, and there would be water. Later, even if you dug a well one hundred metres deep, there still would not be any water. This kind of phenomenon is reality. It is related to my life and my art and what I paint, such as the Shanshui Today series, the first of which were based on Ma Yuan’s paintings of water. Ma Yuan’s paintings are twelve beautiful images of water. But those do not represent water today. I asked myself, were Ma Yuan alive today, would he paint that kind of water?

When I began depicting polluted water, it was extraordinarily difficult because water can be any colour, and water reflects its surroundings. All colours are possible in water. People don’t really understand the horror of polluted water. I use a phrase “dangerous beauty.” I see the polluted water from factories that print textiles. That water is the most polluted, but it is incredibly beautiful: reds, deep blues, so beautiful! If you did not know that this was pollution, then you would easily say that this was beautiful.

Ma Yuan has a painting called Sunrise and Mountains. I also have a red sun at dawn, but with smoggy polluted air. After doing some research I understood that landscapes by Monet and J. M. W. Turner were related to the early Industrial Revolution and the kind of air that results from burning coal to produce steam power. Now when I see Turner’s paintings, which I have always loved, after learning about the pollution, I don’t see them in quite the same way.

I can always make connections between my artwork and art history, regardless of whether we are talking about Western art or Chinese art. But some of the most fundamental inspirations are drawn from my life experiences. Life might be the same or similar for many people, but I can use art as expression and share something with others. When people cannot express themselves, then they can look to me and what I have stated.

It’s just like singing. If others sing well, then we go to hear them. We can hum along, even if we hum badly, and there is something that is shared. From this viewpoint, even though I am pessimistic, I think that a good artwork still has the capacity to be moving when shared with others.

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