Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} 798 Inside 's Art Zone by Wenya Huang archstudio applies a translucent metal curtain to clad IOMA art center in . for a recent project archstudio has transformed an existing building at , beijing, to create the IOMA art center. based on the concept of ‘symbiosis’, the design aims to realize harmonious coexistence between the old and new, inside and outside, and architecture and nature. main façade, image © jin weiqi. when approaching the project, archstudio utilized the original architectural space and added extensions to the top floor and along the street, with a view to satisfying the future demands of the building. the design team firstly deconstructed and integrated functions into the overall space, and created some new communal areas such as a restaurant, art store, multi-functional hall and leisure area, so as to enable smooth transition from nature to public spaces and to exhibition areas. façade detail, image © jin weiqi. the designers also reorganized the circulation routes throughout the entire space. the visiting route of the former exhibition space was conventional and monotonous, and visitors had to go back along the circulation route after seeing the exhibitions, which resulted in boring spatial experiences. besides, up and down movement of visitors generated a sense of formality, which sometimes alienated them from the space. considering this, the design team demolished and transformed parts of the original architectural space, and added staircases and elevators, thereby creating a loop- shaped route. in addition, archstudio also designed two independent circulations leading to the terrace and the restaurant, which provide visitors with interesting experiences and let them feel like they are touring a garden. entrance, image © jin weiqi. the design team created several recessed arc-shaped courtyards, and completely retained the trees that already existed on the site . the courtyards and green trees together shaped a distinct spatial character for the building. as visitors wandering in the space, their interaction with trees varies. they encounter different parts of trees, from roots to the treetops, and sometimes need to bow their heads to walk under branches. exhibition hall, image © jin weiqi. the perfect combination of nature and space gives the place great charm. the façade is clad in a translucent curtain of metal, making the trees appear to grow out of it, blending into the environment and as well as the building. through the above-mentioned strategies, an originally conventional which resembled an enclosed box has been perfectly transformed into a natural, open, intimate and interaction-evoking multi-functional art center. exhibition hall, image © jin weiqi. art store, image © jin weiqi. exhibition hall, image © wang ning. exhibition hall, image © wang ning. exhibition hall, image © jin weiqi. restaurant, image © jin weiqi. restaurant, image © jin weiqi. exhibition hall, image © wang ning. project info: project name: IOMA. scope of design: architectural transformation + interiors. location: 798 art zone, jiuxianqiao road, chaoyang district, beijing, china. area: 32,291.73 ft2 (3,000 m2) main materials: perforated steel panels, self-levelling cement, cement-effect paint. completion: april 2019. design firm: archstudio. chief designer: han wenqiang. design team: cao chong, wen chenhan, huang tao. structural design: zhang fuhua. electrical & plumbing design: zheng baowei, cheng guofeng. HVAC design: yu yan. photography: jin weiqi, wang ning. designboom has received this project from our ‘ DIY submissions ‘ feature, where we welcome our readers to submit their own work for publication. see more project submissions from our readers here. 798: Inside China's Art Zone by Wenya Huang. About 330,000 visitors and media representatives attended the 798 Art Zone from August 1-24, 2008, including a record-breaking 30,000 in one day. More than 30 percent of the visitors were from overseas. [Illustration by Guillermo Munro] Area helped to transform Beijing, but now the landscape has changed, as Zhang Yuchen reports. Huge fashion spreads cover brick walls. Shining steel adorns a maze of pipelines. Both are clear evidence that the days when cavernous concrete ceilings and obsolete machinery used to occupy the site of Beijing's 798 Art Zone have gone. With the capital's urbanization, the area, which once stood on the outskirts, has become part of the city. Most of the old factories have disappeared. The zone was transformed with the arrival of around 10 years ago in what was billed as a "cradle of contemporary ". , one of the pioneers of Chinese contemporary art who was once unofficial spokesman for the 798 arts district, said, "The artists' hub reflected the ebb and flow of the development process, similar to that in the SoHo district of New York, but it has ended up quite differently." In 2002, Huang came across the factory area and, amazed by the -style space inside the warehouses, decided to stay. Texan arts book publisher Robert Bernell was the first foreigner from the arts world to arrive at 798, full of passion and enthusiasm for contemporary Chinese art. With belief in his promising friends and dynamic works of art, he started his own publishing business, Timezone8, in 2002. Before moving in, he worked at Lucky Tower on the Third Ring Road in a small, drab office with dismal gray carpet and cheap, gypsum walls. With the need for more space, but with little money, he started to explore factories around Beijing. In 2000, the Beijing municipal authorities were moving factories out of the city fringes, leaving many industrial areas vacant. These factories had electricity, water and lots of space. They were on key transport routes and were cheap at the time. After looking at a number of factories, Bernell settled on 798 in 2002. It used to have a Muslim canteen where they made steamed buns and halvah, a dense, nougat-like dessert. The walls were caked with grease, there was a hole in the ceiling to accommodate an emissions vent, but it was only 0.6 yuan per square meter, or 2,000 yuan ($325 a month at today's rates). At the time, only 20 percent of the factory spaces were occupied. As artists started to work at 798, they also began to meet at Timezone8's coffee shop. Zheng Kuo, director of 798 Station, an independent documentary about the progress of 798 in the past 10 years, said: "I always remember the atmosphere of freedom in the factory district when I went there for the first time. Factory workers and artists shared the same open space. Everything pointed to it being an ideal place in which to create art." In many artists' eyes, 798 developed along similar lines as SoHo or Greenwich Village in New York. 798: Inside China's Art Zone by Wenya Huang. Top: A couple walk past the Graffiti Wall at the 798 Art Zone on Sept 21. Below: An exhibition depicting farmers' lives is staged at the 798 Art Zone this summer. Provided to China Daily, Di Feifei / China Daily. Area helped to transform Beijing, but now the landscape has changed. Huge fashion spreads cover brick walls. Shining steel adorns a maze of pipelines. Both are clear evidence that the days when cavernous concrete ceilings and obsolete machinery used to occupy the site of Beijing's 798 Art Zone have long gone. With the capital's urbanization, the Dashanzi area, which once stood on the outskirts, has become part of the city. Most of the old factories have disappeared. The zone was transformed with the arrival of artists around 10 years ago in what was billed as a "cradle of contemporary Chinese art". Huang Rui, one of the pioneers of Chinese contemporary art who was once unofficial spokesman for the 798 arts district, says, "The artists' hub reflected the ebb and flow of the development process, similar to that in the SoHo district of New York, but it has ended up quite differently." In 2002, Huang came across the factory area and, amazed by the Bauhaus-style space inside the warehouses, decided to stay. Texan arts book publisher Robert Bernell was the first foreigner from the arts world to arrive at 798, full of passion and enthusiasm for contemporary Chinese art. With belief in his promising artist friends and their dynamic works of art, he started his own publishing business, Timezone8, in 2002. Before moving in, he worked at Lucky Tower on the Third Ring Road in a small, drab office with dismal gray carpet and cheap, gypsum walls. With the need for more space, but with little money, he started to explore factories around Beijing. In 2000, the Beijing municipal authorities were moving factories out of the city fringes, leaving many industrial areas vacant. These factories had electricity, water and lots of space. They were on key transport routes and were cheap at the time. After looking at a number of factories, Bernell settled on 798 in 2002. It used to have a Muslim canteen where they made steamed buns and halvah, a dense, nougat-like dessert. The walls were caked with grease, there was a hole in the ceiling to accommodate an emissions vent, but it was only 0.6 yuan per square meter, or 2,000 yuan ($325 a month at today's rates). At the time, only 20 percent of the factory spaces were occupied. As artists started to work at 798, they also began to meet at Timezone8's coffee shop. Zheng Kuo, director of 798 Station, an independent documentary about the progress of 798 in the past 10 years, says: "I always remember the atmosphere of freedom in the factory district when I went there for the first time. Factory workers and artists shared the same open space. Everything pointed to it being an ideal place in which to create art." In many artists' eyes, 798 developed along similar lines as SoHo or Greenwich Village in New York. Artists moved in when the rent was cheap, lured by the large, interesting spaces. Like artists in other districts, they fed off each other. Getting together regularly, putting on events and shows, they became stronger as individuals. This fed 798's growth and soon it also became a center for writers and movie producers. "Since 2006, I have witnessed its changes on a daily basis," Zheng says. "Every day I see something different at 798." In recent years many artists have moved away from 798, deterred by high rent increases and a declining market for contemporary Chinese art. They still meet and put on shows, but the fact that too many people try to contact them while they're working has also triggered the exodus. Mao Lizi, who once spent 10 years in France and arrived at 798 with the first group of artists, says: "A significant part of the creation of art happens in the discussions, the interaction, the viewing of exhibition openings. That's where ideas are germinated, even refined. The execution in a studio in many ways may not be as important as these other things." He remembers the days when he and other artists talked and drank outside their studios, most of which have now closed. Last winter, the Timezone 8 bookstore closed and a Japanese sushi restaurant of the same name opened on the site. With contemporary art requiring artists to focus on topical issues, the germination of Chinese contemporary art can be traced to the Star in Beijing in 1979. Against the backdrop of the end of the "" (1966-76) and the start of reform and opening-up in 1978, art was freed from the concept of merely serving politics as it had since the People's Republic of China was founded in 1949. Starting in the fall of 1979, some 150 pieces of art were displayed at the Star Art Exhibition, including oil paintings, wash paintings, pen-and-ink drawings, wood etchings and carvings, all imitated and borrowed forms of expression from Western modernism. The exhibition served as a breakthrough for a formerly taboo style. The role 798 played in promoting Chinese contemporary art is undoubtedly important. Xu Yong, one of the zone's pioneers, says, "Before the appearance of 798 and before Reconstruction 798, Chinese contemporary art was still in a semi-underground state." Reconstruction 798, a synthetic art event, had an audience of 3,000 in April 2003, hard to imagine today. After this show, Chinese contemporary art began to open up, enjoying closer contact with the public. The present interaction, which has been sustained relatively well, began with 798. The arrival of the art zone was a sign that the creation of contemporary art and artists' environment had changed from a semi-rural status, when artists lived in the Yuanmingyuan and Songzhuang areas, to a post-industrial status. Tai Shuangyuan, the manager of He Gallery, which arrived at 798 in 2008, says: "I have never thought about leaving, even if the prospects now appear so gloomy. No other art zone in Beijing can match the environment here." With the rise of 798, different areas of the country have competed to develop their own art zones. But Xu is convinced that nothing can replace 798, describing it as the epitome of Chinese art zones. The district has become the best trading market for contemporary art and the best platform for foreign exchange of contemporary art, not only in the Beijing area, but nationwide and in the Asia-Pacific region. Xu took photographs of Beijing's hutong in the late 1980s and started hutong tourism in the Shichahai area of the capital. In 2002, he rented a 1,200 square meter space at 798 and set up the 798 Space Gallery. He invested more than 1 million yuan on establishing this, but his lease was only for about three years. From the start Xu positioned 798 Space as a venue mainly for contemporary art along with some other high-level commercial and cultural activities. When Xu and Huang organized the Dashanzi International Art Festival in 2004, artists predicted it was inevitable that the 798 district would become like the SoHo area in New York. At the time, they tried hard to turn 798 into a purely cultural space and platform by recommending the arrival of good galleries and institutes. As 798 has attracted media and public attention, both at home and abroad, it has also become a cultural landmark in Beijing. Li Xiangqun, a professor at the Fine Arts School at , submitted a proposal on "retaining an old industrial architectural heritage, retaining a developing art district" to Beijing Municipal People's Congress during the two sessions in 2004. As a result, the 798 Art Zone received a great deal of attention from the Chaoyang Government and the Beijing government. Coordinating with the Seven Star Group, the Chaoyang government set up the 798 Art Zone management office. After the office was established, the Chaoyang government invested 120 million yuan on the overall planning of 798. Roads were built and foundations dug but then, for a year in 2008, all this had to take a back seat with the buildup to, and staging of, the Beijing Olympics. Zhang Guohua, executive vice-president of the 798 Art Zone Administrative Committee, regards the zone's rise as an inevitable phase for the cultural sector as part of China's social development. He admits that today's 798 is no longer the ideal place for the creation of art, or the place to display it. "We could attempt to slow the pace of commercialization," he says. "Now, only art-related businesses, such as galleries and design companies, are allowed to settle in the zone." Up a steep flight of steps in dim evening light, a handful of women are busy with frantic phone negotiations at the Thinking Hand Studio, but Huang appears calm and eager to talk about the art zone, which he once initiated and tried to preserve. In March 2007, on the orders of the Seven Star Group, the property company in the factory district, Huang was refused permission to rent studios, and was forced to move out of the zone. "Like a speeding train lost to posterity, 798 has already missed out on the chance of standing eternally in the arts world," Huang says, pointing to a declining taste in cultural events and stalls in the art zone recently. "The next step is to know how to guarantee the quality of culture it presents." Mao, the artist, also suggests that commercial development should take place outside the art zone. "The value of the art zone needs to avoid being exploited inside but to be established outside," he says. "That is what the government should do." delighting "me" always. Picture: I suppose to focus my camera on the instead of on the pink lady. However, I was surprised when I got home with this result, my camera chosen to focus on pink lady! It is delighting me. Canon, delighting you always. Location: 798 Art Zone, Beijing. China.

798 Art Zone (Chinese: 798艺术区; : 798 Yìshùqū), or Dashanzi Art District, is a part of Dashanzi in the Chaoyang District of Beijing that houses a thriving artistic community, among 50-year old decommissioned military factory buildings of unique architectural style. It is often compared with New York's Greenwich Village or SoHo. The area is often called the 798 Art District or Factory 798 although technically, Factory #798 is only one of several structures within a complex formerly known as Joint Factory 718. The buildings are located inside alleys number 2 and 4 on Jiǔxiānqiáo Lù (酒仙桥路), south of the Dàshānziqiáo flyover (大山子桥). 798 Space gallery, Jan,2009. Old Maoist slogans are visible on the ceiling arches. The Dashanzi factory complex began as an extension of the "Socialist Unification Plan" of military-industrial cooperation between the and the newly formed People's Republic of China. By 1951, 156 "joint factory" projects had been realized under that agreement, part of the Chinese government's first Five-Year Plan. However the People's Liberation Army still had a dire need of modern electronic components, which were produced in only two of the joint factories. The Russians were unwilling to undertake an additional project at the time, and suggested that the Chinese turn to from which much of the Soviet Union's electronics equipment was imported. So at the request of then-Premier , scientists and engineers joined the first Chinese trade delegation to East Germany in 1951, visiting a dozen factories. The project was greenlighted in early 1952 and a Chinese preparatory group was sent to East Berlin to prepare design plans. This project, which was to be the largest by East Germany in China, was then informally known as Project #157. The architectural plans were left to the Germans, who chose a functional Bauhaus-influenced design over the more ornamental Soviet style, triggering the first of many disputes between the German and Russian consultants on the project. The plans, where form follows function, called for large indoor spaces designed to let the maximum amount of natural light into the workplace. Arch-supported sections of the ceiling would curve upwards then fall diagonally along the high slanted banks or windows; this pattern would be repeated several times in the larger rooms, giving the roof its characteristic sawtooth-like appearance. Despite Beijing's northern location, the windows were all to face north because the light from that direction would cast fewer shadows. The chosen location was a 640,000 square metres area in Dashanzi, then a low-lying patch of farmland northeast of Beijing. The complex was to occupy 500,000 square metres, 370,000 of which were allocated to living quarters. It was officially named Joint Factory 718, following the Chinese government's method of naming military factories starting with the number 7. Fully funded by the Chinese side, the initial budget was enormous for the times: 9 million rubles or approximately 140 million RMB (US$17 million) at today's rates; actual costs were 147 million RMB. Ground was broken in April 1954. Construction was marked by disagreements between the Chinese, Soviet and German experts, which led at one point to a six-month postponement of the project. The Germans' harshest critic was the Russian technology consultant in charge of Beijing's two Soviet-built electronics factories (714 and 738), who was also head consultant of the Radio Industrial Office of the Second Ministry of Machine Building Industry. The disputes generally revolved around the Germans' high but expensive quality standards for buildings and machines, which were called "over-engineering" by the Russians. Among such points of contention was the Germans' insistence, historical seismic data in hand, that the buildings be built to withstand earthquakes of magnitude 8 on the Richter scale, whereas the Chinese and Russians wanted to settle for 7. Communications expert Wang Zheng, head of Communications Industry in the Chinese Ministry of National Defense and supporter the East German bid from the start, ruled in favor of the Germans for this particular factory. At the height of the construction effort, more than 100 East German foreign experts worked on the project. The resources of as many as 22 of their factories supplied the construction; at the same time, supply delays were caused by the Soviet Red Army's tremendous drain on East Germany's industrial production. The equipment was transported directly through the Soviet Union via the Trans-Siberian railway, and a 15 km track of railroad between and Dongjiao Station was built especially to service the factory. Caltech-educated scientist Dr. Luo Peilin (罗沛霖), formerly head of the preparatory group in 1951-1953, was Head Engineer of Joint Factory 718 during its construction phase. Dr. Luo, now retired in Beijing, is remembered by his former colleagues as a dedicated perfectionist whose commitment to the obstacle- strewn project was a major factor of its eventual success. Joint Factory 718 began production in 1957, amid a grandiose opening ceremony and display of Communist brotherhood between China and East Germany, attended by high officials of both countries. The first director was (李瑞), who had been involved in the early negotiations in Berlin. The factory quickly established a reputation for itself as one of the best in China. Through its several danwei or "work units", it offered considerable social benefits to its 10,000-20,000 workers, especially considering the relative poverty of the country during such periods as the . The factory boasted, among others: the best housing available to workers in Beijing, providing fully furnished rooms to whole families for less than 1/30 of the workers' income; diverse extracurricular activities such as social and sporting events, dancing, swimming, and training classes; its own athletics, soccer, basketball and volleyball teams for men and women, ranked among the best in inter-factory competitions; a brigade of German-made motorcycles, performing races and stunt demonstrations; an orchestra that played not only revolutionary hymns, but also German-influenced classical Western music; literary clubs and publications, and a library furnished with Chinese and foreign (German) books; Jiuxianqiao hospital, featuring German equipment and offering the most advanced dental facilities in China.

The factory even had its own volunteer military reserves or jinweishi (近卫师), which numbered hundreds and were equipped with large-scale weapons and anti-aircraft guns. Workers' skills were honed by frequent personnel exchanges, internships and training in cooperation with East Germany. Different incentives kept motivation high, such as rewards systems and "model worker" distinctions. At the same time, political activities such as study workshops kept the workers in line with Communist Party of China doctrine. During the Cultural revolution, propaganda slogans for Thought were painted on the ceiling arches in bright red characters (where they remain today at the latter tenants' request). Frequent VIP visits contributed to the festive atmosphere. Notable guests included , , , , and Kim Il- Sung. The Joint Factory produced a wide variety of military and civilian equipment. Civilian production included acoustic equipment for Beijing's Workers' Stadium and , as well as all the loudspeakers on and Chang'an Avenue. Military components were also exported to China's Communist allies, and helped establish 's wireless electronics industry. One of the old machine tools in front of some contemporary art in Dec 2005. After 10 years of operation, Joint Factory 718 was split into more manageable components, such as sub-Factories 706, 707, 751, 761, 797 and 798. The first Head of sub-Factory 798 (the largest) was Branch Party Secretary Fu Ke (傅克), who played a major role in recruiting skilled workers from southern China and among returned . However, the factory came under pressure during Deng Xiaoping's reforms of the 1980s. Deprived of governmental support like many state- owned enterprises, it underwent a gradual decline and was eventually rendered obsolete. By the late 1980s and early 1990s, most sub-factories had ceased production, 60% of the workers had been laid off, and the remains of the management were reconstituted as a real-estate operation called "Seven-Star Huadian Science and Technology Group", charged with overseeing the industrial park and finding tenants for the abandoned buildings. The Dashanzi factory complex was vacated at around the time when most of Beijing's contemporary artist community was looking for a new home. Avant-garde art being frowned upon by the government, the community had traditionally existed on the fringes of the city. From 1984 to 1993, they worked in run-down houses near the (Yuanmingyuan) in northwestern Beijing, until their eviction. They had then moved to the eastern Tongxian County (now Tongzhou District), more than an hour's drive from the city center. Then in 1995, Beijing's Central Academy of Fine Arts (CAFA), looking for cheap, ample workshop space away from downtown, set up in the now defunct Factory 706. The temporary move became permanent and in 2000 Sui Jianguo(隋建国), Dean of the Department of Sculpture, located his own studio in the area. The cluttered sculpture workshops have always remained open for visitors to peek at the dozens of workers milling about. In 2001, Texan Robert Bernell moved his Timezone 8 Art Books bookshop and publishing office (founded in 1997) into a former factory canteen; he was the first foreigner to move in. One of Timezone 8's early employees was fashion designer Xiao Li, who along her husband, performance artist Cang Xin, helped artists secure and rent spaces in the area. Through word-of-mouth, artists and designers started trickling in, attracted to the vast cathedral-like spaces. Despite the lack of any conscious aesthetic in the Bauhaus-inspired style, which grounded architectural beauty in practical, industrial function, the swooping arcs and soaring chimneys had an uplifting effect on modern eyes, a sort of post-industrial chic. At the artists' requests, workers renovating the spaces preserved the prominent Maoist slogans on the arches, adding a touch of ironic "Mao kitsch" to the place.

Later that year, Mr. Tabata Yukihito from Japan's Tokyo Gallery set up Beijing Tokyo Art Projects (BTAP, 北京东京艺术工程) inside a 400- m² division of Factory 798's main area; this was the first renovated space featuring the high arched ceilings that would become synonymous with the Art District. BTAP's 2002 opening exhibition "Beijing Afloat" (curator: Feng Boyi), drew a crowd of over 1,000 people and marked the beginning of the popular infatuation with the area.

In 2002, designer artist Huang Rui (黄锐) and hutong photographer Xu Yong (徐勇) set up the 798 Space gallery (时态空间) next to BTAP. With its cavernous 1200-m² floor and multiple-arched ceilings at the center of Factory 798, it was and still is the symbolic center of the whole district. (Huang and Xu since designed at least seven spaces in the area and became the prime movers and de facto spokespersons of the District.) A glass-fronted café was set up in the former office section at the back of the 798 space, opening into a back alley now lined with studios and restaurants such as Huang's own At Café, and Cang Xin's #6 Sichuan restaurant, the area's "canteen".

In 2003, Lu Jie (卢杰) set up the Foundation, an ongoing project for artistic re-interpretation of the historical Long March, inside the 25,000 Li Cultural Transmission Center (二万五千里文化传播中心). Around that time, Singapore-owned China Art Seasons (北京季节画廊) opened for display for pan-Asian art, and was one of several new galleries setting up at that time. Avant-garde artist Huang Rui’s studio opens to the public. Chinese avant-garde artist Huang Rui's private art studio, Hang Rui White Cloud House, has opened for free public visits on weekends, becoming a new destination for art lovers in Beijing. It offers a glimpse of the versatile artist's early paintings, and art installations, as well as his art and antique collections. Huang, born in 1952, is a pioneer in Chinese contemporary art and also a founder of Beijing's art hub 798 Art Zone. Contemporary architecture, Beijing courtyard style. Inside Huang Rui White Cloud House. [Photo provided to chinadaily.com.cn] The 3,000-square meter space was built near the 798 Art Zone on the site of an abandoned waste yard. Construction work started in 2006 and it took Huang almost 10 years to finish, using up to 200,000 ancient bricks from China's Ming and Qing dynasties (1368-1911). Some of the wooden beams came from the Palace of Prince Gong. The main building, spanning nearly 1,200 square meters, was cooperatively designed by Dutch designer Neville Mars and Chinese designer Bian Jing. It's added with a twist of Beijing's old siheyuan courtyard style, because of Huang's special bond to Beijing — he was born here six decades ago.