Thinking about Shanghai Urban Skyline in the “Anticipation of Reappearance” of Shanghai
Transcript of Thinking about Shanghai Urban Skyline in the “Anticipation of Reappearance” of Shanghai
Thinking about Shanghai Urban
Skyline
in the “Anticipation of Reappearance”
of Shanghai
Mia Yu (于于 )
December 19, 2006
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Splayed open from a suitcase, the Shanghai skyline
in Yin Xiuzhen’s Portable City series immediately pops up
like a shoddy sales display temporarily installed by a
traveling salesman. Displayed directly on the gallery
floor, the Oriental Pearl TV tower appears to be a
syringe needle wrapped in toilet paper; the Bund,
Shanghai’s iconic waterfront, is a pair of tattered
pantyhose stretching across the garish interior (fig.1).
With flashy lights embedded inside, the suitcase also
works like a light box. It not only brightens up the
whole display to entertain the viewer’s eye, but also
draws the viewer up close to examine its material
details. While “Shanghai in a suitcase” delivers a quick
pun on the city’s recent development fever, the kind of
banal materiality attributed to Shanghai’s skyline
prompts us to think about the very urban condition that
the work responds to and probably operates upon.
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Fig 1. Yin Xiu Zhen, Portable City-Shanghai, 2002. Installation: suitcase, clothing, needle, cupboard. Courtesy of the artists.
Yin Xiuzhen’s installation was first exhibited
during the 2002 Shanghai Biennale. Inaugurated in 1996,
the Shanghai Biennale is a large-scale international art
exhibition sponsored by the Ministry of Culture and
Shanghai Government, as a permanent programme of the
Shanghai Art Festival and the Tourism Festival.1 The
Biennale has been seen as a strategic place-making
manoeuvre to develop the cultural software needed to
promote Shanghai as the Global City of Asia. The 2002
Biennale with the theme “Urban Creation” was the first
exhibition in China where art and architecture were shown1 Lisa Movius, “Urban Deconstruction: The 2002 Shanghai Biennale Moves Towards the Mainstream,” Asian Wall Street Journal, January 17-19, 2003.
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together. As Alice Ming Wai Jim astutely observed, “[the
biennale’s] political correct and relatively safe theme
sought to address the speed of construction in cities of
different scales over the past two decades and how this
ongoing historical and spatial transformation is shaping
China’s contemporary culture.”2 In this context, a number
of artworks dealing with Shanghai’s rapid urban
transformation were selected by a team of international
curators and exhibited together in the Biennale. It is
during this biennale that critics noticed that more and
more Shanghai-based artists started to treat Shanghai as a
new thematic in their works.3 Using diverse artistic
strategies, these works directly comment on Shanghai’s
drastic self redefinition and reinvention movement. In
these works, Shanghai refers more than a place, rather
signifies a series of new sensibilities, Utopian ideals
and emerging urban subjectivities.
The social backdrop of such artistic production is
the rapid urban transformation undertaking in Shanghai in
2 Alice Ming Wai Jim, “Tourism, Art and Shanghai’s Urban Skyline,” Parachute, no 114 (2004): 85. 3 The Biennale curators Alanna Heiss and Yuko Hasegawa discussed it in a private conversation.
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the last two decades. Until the 1990s, the tallest
building in Shanghai was the twenty-four-storey Park
Hostel, built by Ladislaus Hudec in 1934. But in the past
decade, in Shanghai’s headlong rush to reinvent its urban
fabric, partially in its own former image, partially as a
fractured conglomeration unconstrained by any unified
urban plan, the city has once again become the site of
growth on an unparalleled scale. The biggest
transformation of Shanghai has been the city’s horizontal
expansion into Pudong, a new special economic zone. The
most visually dramatic spectacle has to be the vertical
rise of the Pudong skyline along its farmland-turned-
into-business-district waterfront.
With the influx of capital investment and an economy
driven by commodity exchange, not only did social
relations and everyday life change, but so too did
cultural practices. Like Yin Xiuzhen, many Chinese
artists started to see artistic potentials in Pudong’s
transformation and started to appropriate its iconic
skyline for their artistic production. Often being
created in a quick fashion just like the city’s thousands
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of building projects, many of these works wrap themselves
in a fun, light-hearted spirit and even demonstrate
prankish impulses. They tend to poke fun at not only the
kitschy forms of the landmark buildings in Pudong, but
also the kind of cultural urbanism that bolsters
Shanghai’s image in a high-visibility platform.
Contemporary artists in China, especially in
Shanghai, no longer define themselves in relation to the
state and resistance to or dissent from an authoritarian
power. The challenge is to define themselves in relation
to the aesthetics of commodity culture and the “society
of spectacle.” Hence, Shanghai has again become a
laboratory for thinking through a range of issues
concerning the formation of the contemporary Chinese
subject. In this short essay, I would like to trace the
connections between the ways in which Pudong skyline is
presented, re-presented and enacted upon as a spectacle
and the very strategies that the artists employ in a few
selected works.
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Pudong’s new skyline in the culture of “reappearance” of
Shanghai
Although the concept of “skyline”, traditionally
meaning “the line where earth and sky meet,” only began
to refer to the buildings on the horizon in the late
nineteenth century, the visualization of the skyline-like
urban profile can be traced to the early modern Europe.4
One of the first graphic devices to conceptualize
“skyline” in the Renaissance is to emphasize buildings in
silhouette against a blank sky. Though this ideal
representation was not completely based on visual
reality, it nonetheless broadcast a formal statement of
the city’s self-conception and highlighted those features
of the cityscape important to the purposes of the
sovereign power.5 In the late 19th century, Europe
witnessed the first impulse to build monumental towers to
commemorate important cultural or political events. Best
exemplified by the Eiffel Tower, they served as
advertisement for, and monument to, the spectacular 4 Spiro Kostof, “The Urban Skyline” in The City Shaped: Urban Patterns and Meanings Through History (Boston: Bulfinch Press, 1991).5 In this respect, Kostof gave the examples such as “Jorg Seld for his view of Augsburg (1521) and Lubeck (1552), Woensam for the 1531 view of Cologne, and Conrad Merian who depicted a number of Austraiancities as well as Strasbourg, Frankfurt, Ulm and Paris.” (287)
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advances in engineering technology. It is also around the
same era that the corporate skyscrapers started to shoot
up in Chicago and New York as a monument to the growing
prominence of the modern American corporation. In the 20th
century, the urban skylines composed by landmark
skyscrapers are probably the most visually impressive
ones and the most represented in the modern visual
culture. Creating landmark skyscrapers have been
frequently employed as a strategy to address various
agendas, which more or less has to do with attracting
investment and tourism, updating the city’s image in line
with historical changes and elevating the city’s profile
in the global order.6 The most recent example in the West
is probably the transformation of Berlin’s skyline with
mega projects like Potsdamer Platz’s SONY center in the
1990s.
The modern urban skyline, as Spiro Kostof concisely summarizes:
Skylines are urban signatures […] These landmarks focus city forms and highlight city portraits. The
6 For example, In 1979 the city of Melbourne held an international competition aimed at securing a distinctive landmarkt itself. “It became clear that Melbourne needed a big idea—something unique, something remarkable, something to give us more pride in ourselves and a far more significant place in the global iteneray…” Quoted in W. Attoe, Skyline (Chichester 1981), 2.
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presentation itself is contrived. It is chiefly meant for an external audience. The artist composes the urban skyline with the pilgrim, the official visitor, the common tourist in mind.7
The most intriguing aspect of Kostof’s definition is
contrived effort to orient a skyline toward an “external
audience.” His understanding suggests that not only the
skyscrapers significantly broaden the viewer’s field of
vision, but also they want to be viewed from a distance.
This kind of extraverted exhibitionism is connected to
the spectacularization of a skyscraper-strewn downtown in
visual culture, starting from the skyscraper photography
of the early 20th century. Since Alfred Stieglitz
glamorized the Manhattan skyline by abstracting it into
stylish silhouettes and planes, the Manhattan skyline has
built up its iconicity through proliferated
representations. Nowadays, tourists flock to take the
Staten Island Ferry in order to see the city as the
photographers see it. Going to a particular view point
and identifying the landmarks on the urban skyline have
indeed become part of the modern tourist ritual.
Conceived as an object of long-range vision, the
7 Spiro Kostof, The City Shaped: Urban Patterns and Meanings Through History (Boston: Bulfinch Press, 1991) Ch. 5: The Urban Skyline.
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modern urban skyline is intensively mediated by a pre-
meditated system of representation. Skyline seems live
its life more in magazine photographs, postcards, tourist
souvenirs and advertisings than its specific spatial
locale. In them, the skyline’s topography is often
flattened into two-dimensional images, planes, or even
abstract contours. The material specificity of the
architecture looses the relevance and is reduced to
smooth and shiny surfaces.
A contemporary urban skyline is neither a real place
that one can spatially experience from within, nor a
concrete object that one can physically interact with.
Its existence oscillates between an object of vision and
a simulacrum space. It has a concrete presence in image
and yet remains elusive in physical experience. However,
I posit that skyline still leads a life physically,
socially and culturally. A skyline grows, matures, ages,
rejuvenates and even gets injured at various moments of
its life as seen in the tragedy of 9/11. In the hands of
various cultural agents, a skyline also travels and
mutates through images and objects. Though a skyline is
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built to fulfil certain desires caught at particular
historical time, its accumulative growth over history may
make it loose its original social-cultural significance
and re-gain cultural currency of a whole other kind. The
system of signification that articulates a skyline’s
cultural relevance is never static, but in a constant
state of flux. An urban skyline is contextualized, de-
contextualized and re-contextualized as the socio-
political context evolves and reshapes. Hence, thinking
about a skyline’s cultural life is essentially to think
about how meanings are organized through architectural
and spatial displays and representations, and how skyline
and its representations, in turn, mediate social
relations among people. Shanghai’s new skyline in Pudong
New Area provides us a potent site to examine these
issues as well as the resonances in contemporary art.
In 1992, Deng Xiaoping, China’s neo-liberal leader,
toured Southern China and called for the region to become
the laboratory for the country’s drive towards
modernization. Deng’s slogans “To get rich is glorious”
and “A new look each year, a transformation in three
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years” became the catch-phrases of the Reform Era. Within
a few short years, Shanghai has seen the construction of
over one thousand skyscrapers, several around-the-city
subway lines, a high-speed magnetic train and the longest
steel-arch bridge linking Shanghai to Pudong.8 As the city
was revitalized, so were its aspirations of being a
cosmopolitan city. With an acute obsession for
superlatives and speed, the city is never shy about
desiring replacing Hong Kong to become Asia’s premier
metropolis. Located right across the river from the Bund,
Pudong used to be a vast suburban area occupied by
vegetable farms and low-income housing by the late 1980s.
After being designated as a special economic zone in
1993, the residents pf Pudong were quickly relocated
within a year and the shanty towns they used to live were
razed to make space for a Central Business District at
the waterfront, two tax-free factory zones, five high-
tech parks and numerous new residential compounds.9 Amidst
all the transformation, the most visually dramatic one is
the fantastic vertical reconfiguration of urban skyline
8 Shanghai Tourism: Expanding the Horizons. (Tourism Commission, 2000), 42. 9 Xu Wen, “Pudong: Untold Story,” The Asian Urban Review, 40 no. 2 (May, 2006), 23.
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in Pudong.
The skyscraper skyline of Pudong was conceived to
impress (fig.2). It consists of a line-up of landmark
buildings along Pudong’s waterfront, such as eighty-
eight-storey Jinmao Tower and the Oriental Pearl TV Tower
perched on a small river delta at the turning point of
Huangpu River. 10 Every night, Pudong puts on a fantastic
show with excessive neon lights and subliminal video
projections on the architectural surfaces (fig. 3). As
the new icon of Shanghai, the Pudong skyline is
conveniently used in Western TV documentaries and
magazine feature articles to illustrate a phenomenon
phrased by the Western media as “China rising.” Like many
foreign visitors who experienced a “Shanghai surprise” in
their first visits, cultural theorist Ackbar Abbas viewed
Shanghai today as “an everyday cinematic illusion,
capable of conjuring whole skylines as if through special
effects.”11 He called Pudong an artificial paradise
10 I think that the tallest building in Shanghai, Jinmao Tower possesses a “religious aura.” Its architectural shape is inspired by and loosely modeled upon a Chinese pagoda, the tallest structure in Chinese classical cities. 11 Ackbar Abbas, “Play it Again Shanghai: Urban Preservation in the Global Era,” in Shanghai Reflections: Architecture, Urbanism, and the Search for an Alternative Modernity, ed. Mario Gandelsonas (New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 2002), 37.
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anticipating the “reappearance” of Shanghai as Asia’s
most important international city.
Fig.2 Postcard image of Shanghai.
Fig. 3 Postcard iamge of Shanghai night view.
As a spectacle planted on the façade of Pudong, the
Pudong skyline serves as a total justification of the
conditions and goals of this anticipation and represents
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the constant presence of this anticipation. With the spirit
of a commodity, the skyline “sells” to the world an
economically prosperous and culturally glamorous image of
Shanghai that helps to seduce international business and
tourism. This image projects a falsified reality but
simultaneously presents itself as part of the reality.
Shanghai is materially invaded by such projection, and
ends up absorbing it and aligning itself with it.
The Pudong skyline simultaneously reveals and
conceals. What it reveals is the desirable “reappearing
face” of Shanghai; what it conceals is the presence of
the true producers of Pudong skyscrapers—the migrant
peasant workers who arrive in the city everyday to work
on the construction sites. Like all other spectacles put
up in Shanghai everyday, the Pudong skyline subjects its
own producers to itself by separating them from the end
product and eventually casting them into consumers and
spectators. The fetishism of the Pudong spectacle
attributes subjective characteristics to the skyline as
compensation for the loss of subjectivity felt in the
division of labour. As Guy Debord conceptualizes,
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“[Spectacle] is at once a faithful reflection of the
production of things and a distorting objectification of
the producers… [T]he fetishistic appearance of pure
objectivity in spectacular relations conceals their true
character as relations between people.”12 Hence, the
Pudong skyline is at the very heart of Shanghai’s
“unreality.”
At a quick glance, Yin Xiuzhen’s installation Portable
City-Shanghai satirizes such “unreality” that the Pudong
skyline projects. Yin has made several suitcases for the
world cities where she has exhibited her art—all using
locally found objects, the recorded sounds and the used
clothes of the city residences. Compared with the others,
the Shanghai suitcase particularly strikes me as the kind
of garish sales display that one can find in a summer
street market. The flashy lights embedded in the suitcase
brighten up the whole set-up and further accentuate the
cheap and mundane material that the “merchandise” is made
of. Yin deliberately objectified Pudong and attributed
materiality to Pudong’s media architecture, which have
been heavily de-materialized by its own media projections12 Guy Debord. Society of the Spectacle. (Detroit : Black & Red, 1977)
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and representations. Yin significantly shortened the
viewing distance between the city object and the viewer.
Instead of looking up at a mirage-like skyline on the
horizon like all spectators do, the viewer looks down at
a small suitcase right under the eye. The closeness to
the viewing object arouses an anthropological interest of
observation. The viewers often linger over the suitcase
for a long time and try to identify all the material
details that compose the suitcase interior.
The suitcase functions as both a humble platform and
a physical container. It simultaneously reveals the
context in which Shanghai exists and suggests the
potential space that it travels to. The suitcase, a
travel object, is destined to live its life in between
various fragmentary phases of travelling, waiting, in
transition, in diversion, in detour, in detention and in
storage. A suitcase draws a map with the traces that it
inscribes onto the world. The items inside the suitcase,
mixed with essential things for travel and the souvenirs
from a visited place, also reveal the purpose of the
journey and the status of the traveller. Having been
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asked many times the same question bout the identity of
the suitcase owner, Yin Xiuzhen remains ambiguous about
the answer. She even once said in an interview that it
did not really matter to her. Some critics see the
suitcase as a symbol of Yin’s personal journey as an
international artist; others view it as a simple
belonging to a migrant worker who may have come from the
countryside and participated in building Pudong.13
However, it seems to me that the specific identity of the
suitcase owner may not be so important. It is precisely
due to the ambiguity of the traveller that Yin’s work is
open to more interesting interpretations. Shanghai is at
the center of inter-crossings of itinerates with diverse
goals and desires. The Pudong skyline contained in that
suitcase, hence, could be a tourist’s souvenir, a migrant
worker’s dream, an architect’s project, a real estate
developer’s target or a salesman’s product. Pudong
provides a platform of exchange for goods, services,
ideas and people. The city is not only a stop in their
paths but also makes diversions in lives as commodities.
13 Pi Ji, “Review: Portable City series” Yishu: Journal of Chinese Contemporary Art, 36 no. 3 (Fall 2003), 45-46.
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Shanghai’s own journey of “reappearance” as a global
metropolis is precisely articulated by the conflicts,
contradictions and negotiations of these intertwined
travels.
Between Pudong and the Bund: the tale of two skylines
The Pudong skyline was born into a contrast with the
Bund. The most dramatic aspect of Pudong is probably not
the waterfront display of landmark skyscrapers, but the
dramatic juxtaposition and cultural echoing between the
two skylines of Pudong and the Bund. The architectural
confrontation of two skylines signifies a reciprocal
space in which they constantly compete with each other,
contextualize each other and also complement each other.14
The line-up of neo-Classical Concession-era buildings on
the Bund used to be Shanghai’s signature skyline from the
1930s until the early 1990s. Since the late 1990s, the
14 This shift manifests itself most evidently on the cover of the city’s tourist brochures and travel magazines as well as the investment portfolios targeting Western investors Interestingly, the tourist brochures targeting Chinese tourists have Pudong skyline. While travel materials targeting overseas tourists still use the Bund. Jeffrey N. Wasserstrom observed that “Similarly, the sheer number of Shanghai publications dealing with the city has grown so much in the last decade that, even factoring in the tendency ofa rising percentage of these to show only one or more Pudong structures on the front, there has been no overall decrease in the number of times the Customs House shows up on the cover of a new book.”
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Pudong skyline started to replace the Bund on the covers
of investment portfolios and tourist magazines. The
emergence of Pudong did not damper the Bund’s cultural
relevance, but altered its meaning and diverted its path.
Just ten years ago, tourists came to the Bund to
snap photos at the neo-classical buildings that once
served as the headquarters of foreign banks and shipping
companies in the early 20th century. Today, the Bund is
the primary location to view the Pudong skyline, where
tourists are obsessed with taking pictures against the
theatrical backdrop across the river. As the Concession-
era buildings from the 1930s were refurbished into
nostalgia-themed restaurants, bars, boutiques and
luxurious hotels, numerous roof-top terraces were created
on the top of them. They aim at offering their well-
heeled clients a uniquely “Shanghai” experience: wining
and dinning in the fetishized Old-Shanghai glamour while
enjoying the dream image of Shanghai’s future. (fig.4) On
the Pudong side, tourists can also take the elevator up
to the Oriental Pearl Tower’s observatory deck to gaze
down at the aging skyline of a once semi-colonial city.
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(fig.5) The gazes from two sides of the river
reciprocate each other, forming a diptych of past and
future.
Fig. 4 View of Pudong from a roof-top terrace on the
Bund. Photo: Miao Yu. 2004.
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Fig. 5 View of the Bund. Photo: Miao Yu. 2004.
Jeffrey Wasserstrom, in his essay “A Big Ben with
Chinese characteristics: the Customs House as urban icon
in old and new Shanghai”, examined the cultural biography
of an iconic object on the Bund, the big clock on the top
of the Customs House, from the moment it was shipped to
Shanghai in the 1930s until the recent rise of a
competing icon, the Oriental Pearl TV Tower. Considering
icons having “careers”, Wasserstrom addressed the issue
that the old icon might “lose its job” to the upstart new
icon. However, he argued that the rise of Pudong “has not
stripped the buildings of the Bund of their symbolic
resonance, but altered their meanings.” He wrote,
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The appearance of this competing skyline… also has made [the Customs House] start to seem less a symbolof a place than a symbol of a time, an icon less of Shanghai than of ‘Old Shanghai’ (a common term now for the city’s incarnation as a treaty port). In general, which the Customs House was once treated inmany texts as a displaced piece of another part of the world (a British object in a Chinese setting), it is now as likely to be understood as a displaced piece of another era.15
In the presence of the Pudong skyline, the Bund
makes a diversion from “coming from a foreign place” to
“being left by an old era”, from Shanghai’s official
portrait to a repackaged symbol of “Old Shanghai.” The
echoing between the old and new skylines privileges a
linear, progressive timeline in which the temporal
categories of past, present and future are carved out
from the flux of time and materialized by an
architectural display of Pudong vs. the Bund. Shanghai’s
past, selectively fixated on the 1930s, is repackaged
into a consumption of nostalgia as seen on the Bund.
Colonialism in disguise of global consumer culture once
against merges into a convoluted dialectic with a desire
for cosmopolitan subjectivity. The history after the 1949
communist revolution is conveniently forgotten due to its
15 Jeffrey N. Wasserstrom, “A Big Ben with Chinese characteristics: the Customs House as urban icon in Old and New Shanghai.” Urban History, 33, 1 (2006), 68.
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relative irrelevance to such subjectivity. With other
strands of Shanghai history remarkably absent in the
Bund-Pudong space, Shanghai is caught within the “empty
homogeneous history” that Walter Benjamin characterized
as a defining principle of modernity. The future, or at
least the kind of future that Shanghai’s double skylines
tend to project, cast individuals into amnesic bodies.
Their personal and public spheres are released from the
boundaries of the nation and compressed into the single
figures of global consumers. Shanghai-based curator, Gu
Zhengqing, wrote in an essay that,
The images of this fictive future … are especially capable of stimulating feelings of idealism and romanticism. Nevertheless, the weight of reality presses people deeper and deeper into a fictive world that promises tomorrow will be a better day. To many people, this unattainable Utopia is a reality, in whose light the present is only a periodof crossing to that other shore.16
Such utopian vision seeps into the public belief
system by urban spectacles, spectacular viewing
experiences and popularization of certain languages that
affirms and privilege a glorious future. Shanghai-based
16 Gu Zhenqing, “An Explanation of the Themes of ‘Second-Hand Reality’” in Second-Hand Reality (Beijing: Today Art Gallery, 2003),n.p. The exhibition was in two parts: “Pre-reality” and “Post-reality.”
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artist Shi Yong’s photo collage series titled Made in China-
Welcome to Shanghai (1999) appropriated these Utopia-making
schemes (fig. 6). In one image, the artist poses as a
model Shanghai citizen in a Mao-suit, sunglasses and
coiffured blond wig. His hand is pointing toward a far
direction that supposedly Shanghai is heading toward. His
gesture alludes to Mao’s iconic gesture in his public
sculptures and portraits (fig. 7). The Oriental Pearl TV
Tower and the Customs House, Shanghai’s old and new
icons, are framed by the red curtain and visible on each
side of the backdrop. The words placed next to them read
like bland slogan phrases straight out the mouth of a
government leader—“Look, the global outlook of the new
century must be glorious” and “in the new century, we
should really grasp opportunities.” Shi Yong dismantles
the singular iconic figure associated with the Communist
leader and replaces with the figure of the modern-day
Chinese businessman driven by the allure of everything
global. If the desire is for persons to transform their
own life through agency of the marketplace, Shanghai of
tomorrow will be populated by such figures content to
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live out a fictive life characterized by illusive
perpetual prosperity.
Fig. 6 Shi Yong, Made in China-Welcome to Shanghai, 1999.
Photo.
Fig. 7 Mao statue. Photo. Associated Press.
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Fig. 8 Shi Yong, The flying vehicle over Shanghai. 2004. Installation: metal, air matt, video. Photo: Miao Yu. Gallery view of Shanghart gallery, Shanghai.
Shi Yong’s video installation The flying vehicle over
Shanghai (2004) is a more subtle commentary on the
relationships between Shanghai’s two skylines. Making it
sound like one of the simulated tours in Shanghai Urban
Planning Exhibition Museum, the title instantly arouses
the viewer’s appetite for another spectacular experience.
At the first glance, the so-called “flying vehicle” looks
like a flying saucer fixated on the ground. (fig. 8) To
experience the work, the viewer must lie on the ground
and insert his or her upper body into the flying saucer.
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However once inside, the viewer may be surprised or
disappointed to see that there are nothing more than a
few small monitors showing grainy video footages of the
stagnant water of Huangpu River. No sign of urbanism is
ever visible for the entire two-hour video. After lying
on the floor for a few seconds, most of the viewers feel
embarrassed and even mildly furious for getting down to
the floor for such a banal and meaningless video.
Shi Yong’s anti-spectacle video takes a prankish
look at how contemporary understanding of Shanghai is
automatically mediated through ready-made presentations
of spectacle. The notion of a “flying vehicle” alludes to
multiple existing technologies that enable tourist to
view Pudong and the Bund from multiple angles, such as
roof-top terraces, revolving restaurants, coin
binoculars, cruise ships, helicopters, simulated virtual
tours in museums, and so on. However, unable to fly, Shi
Yong’s flying vehicle provides the ultimate anti-
spectacle experience to the spectacle seekers, still
water. Consequently, the non-presence of these expected
images simply makes the spectacle consumers uncomfortable
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about themselves. Shi Yong intentionally let the viewer
confront their discomfort by seducing them to the ground
with a promise of a flying trip.
The focus on the unspectacular image of water evokes
a new viewer-object relationship that is not based on any
kind of consumption and exchange. Huangpu River’s water
is not only the material that fulfills the ground space
between the two skylines, but also the very medium that
enables the physical passing from one side to the other.
As the spectator’s vision is conveniently fixated onto
the grand mirage on the horizon, he or she ignores the
things that fill the space around. As the camera
horizontally moves across the water, the viewer’s body
(lying flat inside the installation and having the video
right under her or her eye) is as if aimlessly floating
in a neither-here-nor-there space. The floating body of
the viewer is potentially released from the “striated
space” of the city and initiated into a “smooth space”—a
space with no orientations, or landmarks and only a
series of fluid movements, segments and intensities.17 By
17 Striated space is defined by Deleuze and Guattari that “defined by the requirements of long-distance vision: constancy of orientation, invariance of distance through an interchange of inertial points of
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disrupting the correct body position of a spectator, the
artist removes the spectator from the linear temporal
scheme of the Bund-Pudong and locates him or her immersed
in the residue space between two skylines, an in-between
state of becoming.
As the lifeline of Shanghai residents, the water of
Huangpu River also has potent meaning. It is through the
symbolism of flowing water that Shanghai, a port city,
was first connected to the world in the mid 19th century
and reconnected to the global market in the last decade
or so. Huangpu River has been a symbolic site for the
appearance and the reappearance of Shanghai, two temporal
phases that Shanghai was and is being confined. However,
Shi Yong’s video presents the river as a space with
neither horizon nor skyline. The disappearance of the
Shanghai skyline(s) signifies the disappearance of Shanghai
as an object of local and global market forces and place-
making schemes. Ultimately, the space of disappearance is a
reflexive space relatively autonomous from the realm of
reference, interlingage by immersion in ambient milieu, constitution of a central perspective.” Quoted in Deleuze and Guattari, “Conclusion: Concrete Rules and Abstract Machines” In A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. (Minneapolis: Univeristy of Minnesota Press, 1987). 494-495.
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