Cai Guo-Qiang, the China born but transplanted to New York artist, has been getting a lot of attention of late: the big Guggenheim show (I saw most of this a few weeks ago while they were still installing part of it…) the New Yorker piece; the NYT Sunday Magazine piece. The man is at the top of his game. I was struck, however, by this article (ht: CDT) in The Art Newspaper, with the great title: "I am Eternally Optimistic: I am Chinese." That brought several thoughts to mind.
First, while I was wandering around the Guggenheim (I had missed his work when he was in my neighborhood, at Mass MoCA, a few years ago), I was taken with his use of gunpowder (I really liked his "Project to Extend the Great Wall of China by 10,000 meters"). I was wondering how his sensibilities might reflect Taoism or Confucianism (that is my job, after all) but could not discern too much from the exhibition labels, save a vague reference to the natural ebb and flow and balance of things in a yin-yang sort of way (though he did not, if I remember correctly, actually cite yin and yang). Then, this passage jumped out of the Art Newspaper article:
TAN: In your work, you deal constantly with the ephemeral. One year of
work can disappear in 15 seconds. Do you ever feel frustrated by this?CG-Q: I feel good with the volatile nature of
gunpowder; I am looking for the unchanging through the always changing.
Nature always changes but the fact of change—or evolution—never does. I
also associate it with the discipline and spontaneity of calligraphy,
that most honoured Chinese art form. In calligraphy the artist is a
“perpetual amateur”. This is the model I identify with as an artist.
His gunpowder work, really something like pyrotechnic performance art, draws our attention to the ephemeral, the volatile and the spontaneous that surrounds us. In a way, it is all about Way. In reminds me of Chuang Tzu:
If you’re all transformation, you’re free of permanence. (100)
Which might be best explicated by the story of the man facing death, the ultimate transformation. When asked by a friend if he resented his physical demise, he responded by embracing the moment he was in and the changes he was experiencing:
"No, why should I resent it?" replied Adept Cart. "If my left arm’s transformed into a rooster, I’ll just go looking for night’s end. If my right arm’s transformed into a crossbow, I’ll just go looking for owls to roast. And if my butt’s transformed into a pair of wheels and my spirit’s transformed into a horse, I’ll just ride away! I’d never need a cart again. (92)
In a sense, in the expanse of Way our lives are little more than the momentary flash of gunpowder. Each has its time of existence, each passes away, some faster, some slower, each unfolding, rising and falling, in its own unique pattern. Perhaps Cai is not a self-conscious Taoist, but his work is certainly open to a Taoist interpretation.
But what about the title of the Art Newspaper piece? It comes from this exchange:
TAN: You are a consummate experimentalist who has combined traditional
materials and methods from the east (from the historical and living
cultural traditions of both China and Japan) with strategies from
western art history. How important are these Chinese traditions for you?CG-Q:
Just like western art is important to westerners, Chinese traditions
are important to me. However, while they are my origins and foundation,
they are not my main purpose in making contemporary art. The main
purpose in making art is to have fun and to redefine the nature of
objects. Where are the limits when an object becomes a work of art?
Making contemporary art can throw up obstacles but it does not worry
me. I am eternally optimistic; I am Chinese.
Wow! What an assertion. Is Chinese-ness necessarily optimisitic? Or, another way to ask the question: what about Chinese-ness is optimistic?
I think Taoism is optimistic. In encouraging us to give up our expectations and desires and just let Way unfold as it will, philosophical Taoism offers a certain salvation. Your life will be better if you let go, if you yield to circumstances. That is not to say that there will be no bad in your life, just that the balance of good and bad, and your ability to accept changes from one to another as they come, will liberate you from fear and anxiety and frustration. "In yielding is completion," the Tao Te Ching says.
I imagine some might want to push back and say that Taoism transcends or sidesteps or simply disengages from the issue of optimism or pessimism. But the image of Chuang Tzu laughing always comes back to my mind:
Running around accusing others is not as good as laughing, and enjoying a good laugh is not as good as going along with things (Watson 88-89).
He is telling us, ultimately, to just go along with things, but a good laugh gets you half the way there. That strikes me as optimistic.
Confucianism is optimistic as well. Although The Master himself expresses a certain frustration at being ignored by those in power, he keeps at it, working to encourage others to create Humanity in the world, because he believes that such effort can make a difference. People can learn how to do good. Maybe not every single person, but enough to transform the world for the better. Mencius is much more obviously optimistic, with his notion of innately good human nature.
If Cai Guo-Qiang is eternally optimistic because he is Chinese, he is Chinese in a Taoist and Confucian sort of way – more Taoist, I suspect.
Needless to say, Legalists are not optimistic; so, maybe, by these lights, they aren’t really Chinese?
UPDATE: commenter Jeff sends along this link to a video of Cai’s Guggenheim retrospective. Thanks, Jeff.
The Useless Tree 
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