A panel discussion at the Central Academy of Fine Arts (CAFA), Beijing,
to celebrate the Sixth International Awards for Art Criticism
Translated by Bridget Noetzel
The Sixth International Awards for Art Criticism (IAAC 6) were celebrated at the Central Academy of Fine Arts (CAFA), Beijing, on 24 June 2019, at a panel discussion hosted by Shao Yiyang, the Vice-Dean of CAFA’s School of Humanities. The five invited speakers comprised one of China’s pioneering theorists and curators, two prominent artists and teachers, and the directors of two leading contemporary art spaces in Beijing.
Shao Yiyang, Vice-Dean, School of Humanities, CAFA, Beijing
Where is contemporary art going? Does art criticism still have a role to play?
In 2008 I wrote an essay about ‘the death of art criticism’, because I felt that art criticism was facing crises on several fronts. One of those crises was the fight over discursive power and the difficulty of remaining independent. In our times, critics can become commercial or political propagandists; it’s difficult to retain an independent stance.
More widespread interdisciplinary practices and the intervention of social and political language have gradually blurred the direction of contemporary art and art criticism, and they were even viewed negatively for a time. After Arthur Danto had pronounced art dead, it had seemed to some people around the turn of the millennium that art was dying, and that everything was being folded into philosophy. However, art criticism has always existed, and now we are talking about it again it seems like an old subject. Everyone has begun to reflect on it, but I could not prevent myself from asking: Where is contemporary art going? Where is art theory going? Does art criticism still have a role to play? All of this has become very important in the current moment.
In 1980s China, and even earlier in the United States, the relationship between critics and artists was very close, and even directly drove the development of artistic movements. Since the advent of the postmodern deconstructionist era, artists are no longer privileged geniuses, and everyone’s vision has expanded. Many historians, philosophers and writers have joined the ranks of the art critics, and critics and art historians have learned a lot about other disciplines, including science and philosophy, so they are no longer limited to a few artists or art movements. Now, how should art criticism be done in this context?
Gao Minglu, contemporary art theorist and curator
We shouldn’t let the end of art, the end of history, or the death of criticism bother us: we need to think carefully about our current state and the issues we are facing, as well as the responsibilities of artists and critics.
I think that whether art is in crisis, whether criticism is in crisis, and whether we are facing the end of history, are all manufactured issues. Theorists are talking about them, but I don’t think they necessarily exist. The relationship between artists and critics is a practical issue, and the relationship will be different at every stage. Critics and artists have to be bound together, as in a marriage. This is impossible to force, because it must exist in a natural state.
Today, we’re talking about the end of art, the end of history and the death of criticism, ideas that emerged in force in the West in the 1970s. It’s entirely unnecessary to be bothered by these ideas; it’s more important to think carefully about our current state of affairs, the realities we are facing and the problems we need to solve. For example, when artists make work, they have to think of something original, then find some common ground on the foundation of that originality. This originality should be continuous and leave space for development. When critics write criticism, they first have to sincerely do some academic research. As a result, when works, artists or exhibitions truly touch you, and make you feel as if you have to say something, that is when you should comment. I think that this is a critic’s responsibility.
If everyone did it this way, we wouldn’t be worried about ‘crisis’ or ‘death’, and these issues wouldn’t exist. Now these issues exist because people have not acted on these responsibilities at any stage.
Don’t be restricted by the roles imposed by the modern division of labour!
Modern people formulated the division between artists and critics; the ancient Chinese didn’t have the concepts of critics, artists or painters back then. China’s earliest concepts of literature, calligraphy and painting coexisted with one another. Was Dong Qichang a critic or an artist? Su Shi could also be called a critic. This division of labour was produced with Western influences in modern times. Division of labour has its advantages; every field can be examined more closely, but it’s also easier to get stuck in a narrow alley.
Critics need to interact with artists, but they also need to sit quietly on the sidelines.
Personally, I have always followed issues of criticism, but something important has happened at every stage. At the end of 1990 I left China and began to focus more on Western modernism and avant-garde art. There were some questions that I had brought from China that needed answering, so I spent a lot of energy combing through Western theory and wrote about them. I wanted to tell Chinese readers, artists and critics what I felt. But I didn’t have great relationships with artists, so after I returned I had to observe artists and interact with them. After I got back, I found myself on the sidelines, so I went to study, research and write.
Disregard dogma, comment from the heart, and preserve independent thinking!
Since 2000 I have moved back and forth between the two. I was teaching and also engaged in research and writing, so I don’t really understand the current state of Chinese contemporary and modern criticism. I haven’t written too many critical essays. However, last year I participated in the IAAC judging at Shanghai Minsheng Art Museum. I think that this event is vital, because all the articles were written by young writers. I really wanted to talk to them and see what they really thought, how they wrote and what their concerns were. This prize is international, but I don’t think that young people should see this as too mysterious or unattainable, because the critics of Clement Greenberg’s day no longer exist. Abroad, you can’t say that anyone is the top critic; hundreds would respond to that title. Truly influential critics more often become critics after crossing over from other disciplines.
In last year’s Awards, many young people may have chosen more international topics because of the international nature of the prize. I think that art criticism shouldn’t pander to anyone; you have to express what you truly feel, even if your feelings are about a small domestic exhibition; that’s the only way of laying a proper basis for your own kind of criticism.
With many issues in criticism, I find it better to emphasise practical issues. Now is the time for young people to depart from established, well-tried principles, and think independently. Because the world is very complex, the questions that art must now confront are not merely artistic, so independent thought is very important.
Sui Jianguo, contemporary sculptor and professor at CAFA, Beijing
Artistic creation is like giving birth, and the connections with critics and curators are like what happens after the birth of a child – the agony and the ecstasy of the process are difficult for others to comprehend. It’s like the process of independent thought that critics enjoy, when writing.
As an artist, making a work is actually a very independent state, a state that you enjoy. It’s what the author described in The Agony and the Ecstasy, that biographical novel (and film) about Michelangelo. When your creativity hits a roadblock, you feel agony, but there is ecstasy after the piece is finished. You are the only one who can enjoy this agony and ecstasy. I think that this is the part that artists cannot turn over.
For critics, theorists and art historians, their relationships to artists come after creation. It’s like giving birth to a child; it’s only after the ‘child’ arrives that critics, theorists and art historians can begin to play a role. Interestingly, critics, theorists and art historians may have the right to express an opinion about whether this ‘child’ is good or bad, but artists will find it difficult to share their own agony and ecstasy with them. As Professor Gao said, you need to think independently. What critics, theorists and art historians enjoy is that process of independent thought, and of course they enjoy the process of interacting with artists. As an artist, this is generally how I feel.
An art world without critics is incomplete.
From the 1980s to 2000, Chinese contemporary art was very hot, and this continued until around 2007 or 2008. Prior to the emergence of the art market, critics and theorists still had immense power, but in recent years they have been rather quiet. I’m very curious – what is the relationship between our generation born in the 1950s and the young people who are currently active in art? Where is our common ground? What are our differences? Therefore, I tell gallery directors that simply spending money to plan an exhibition won’t work; you also have to spend the money to invite curators and critics to discuss the direction of the exhibition and the works for it to be complete.
The outmoded idea about many artists was that they were essentially crazy, extreme people who locked themselves in their studios and didn’t want to speak to anyone. At that time, critics and theorists played an important explanatory role. People like Greenberg would even directly give you an orientation, and this orientation became a trend, perhaps a trend that many artists could follow. In the classic American era, many artists followed this trend, and now their works sell for hundreds of millions of RMB.
In our current era, there are many limitations. I often encourage my own students and other artists, saying, ‘We may have done good things back then, but there was no one to write about them.’ This creates a sense of community and connection.
Qiu Zhijie, Dean, School of Experimental Art, CAFA, Beijing
Artists and critics are both friends and enemies.
First, the question ‘Do artists need critics?’ does not have a direct answer, because there are many types of artist, and there are also many types of critic. Some artists really need critics –take me for example! Some artists don’t want to listen to the opinions of others; they have constructed their own standards and they have set them for themselves. On the other hand, some critics are worth listening to, and some critics are not worth listening to. This question can only be analysed for a specific context.
Take my own case for example. I care very much what Gao Shiming has to say about my work, but I don’t care about some other critics at all; this is the real relationship between artists and critics. Some people’s criticism of me always opens my mind and resolves questions I had. I really care about this kind of criticism, and I often consider these encounters fortuitous. I think that there’s no way of talking in general terms about whether artists today still need critics.
Artists need true critics, not explainers.
However, we often conflate criticism with explanation. Many people call themselves critics, but they are simply explaining the works. Explaining deals with what the work is, or could be. In the past, these people acted as artists’ appendages, speaking on their behalf and saying that the work had such and such a meaning. In general, artists will say no, no, no, that’s not what I meant. These explainers believe that, even though their explanations were not at the heart of the artist’s concerns, they are, at the very least, one of one thousand Hamlets, and they have a right to speak. Other explainers see themselves as psychologists, telling you ‘what you actually are’, as if you, the artist, don’t know, and they know you better than you know yourself. That’s what they mean.
This is what I think about explanatory art writing, but, for me, ideal criticism directly evaluates the strengths and weaknesses in a work of art, and answers the question ‘Is it good?’ And if it’s not good, why? In addition to stating whether a work is good or bad, they could also mention how you should do it if you wanted to do it well. Criticism that gives suggestions is the kind of criticism I really want to receive.
A good critic is like a sincere friend, who can push an artist forward.
Truly intrepid explainers don’t really need the artists or the works. You could give them a brick and they could provide a thorough explanation. With words, they could turn straw into gold and crows into swans, but we artists really don’t need these explainers. I need a sincere friend to tell me the things I can’t see, because an ambitious artist will go back and revise his work. He won’t simply see the work as finished, and just leave it there. Those kinds of artist won’t make any progress. A constantly advancing artist will always listen to those opinions and go back to the studio and bury themself in work. Friends will tell me what remains unresolved and what wasn’t done well, and I will go back and revise my work. These kinds of artists will get better and better, until they become really good.
Only when we dare to propose and discuss diverse standards and viewpoints can artistic creation and art criticism benefit.
Firstly, it’s a very high-handed thing for someone to make demands of artists and criticise them on the basis of their own standards. However, because everyone does it, we have been able to build a diverse, democratic society. Not everyone can offer boundless explanations; everyone is Hamlet, and this kind of thing doesn’t help artistic creation or art criticism. It doesn’t help us to arrive at the truth through debate, and it doesn’t help us to arrive at a consensus or seek common ground while accepting existing differences. When everyone brings out their own standards, you have to accept this diversity and leave space for negotiating a median position. In the process, these diverse viewpoints and standards finally and gradually end up coalescing into something coherent.
We shouldn’t be restrained by the division of labour between curators, critics and artists; we should switch easily between roles.
Secondly, the issue of a person’s role isn’t actually important. On Su Shi’s The Huangzhou Cold Food Observance, Huang Tingjian wrote the following inscription: ‘Dongpo’s [Su Shi’s] poem is similar to Li Taibai’s, but I fear it has not reached Taibai’s level. This calligraphy brings together the brushwork of Yan Lugong, Yang Shaoshi and Li Xitai.’ This passage could be seen as criticism. However, Huang Tingjian was a great calligrapher, so this was a shift in his identity. In the ancient Chinese intellectual community, switches between the roles of curator, critic, artist and art historian were very organic, and they were determined by circumstances. There was no need to switch between roles based on a division of labour, such as happens when I sit down to write something.
Good art criticism needs good institutional safeguards.
I realised that the issue of criticism that we’re now discussing was a problem about fifteen or twenty years ago. I don’t think the issue with Chinese criticism is, as Professor Gao has said, a lack of independent thought. Everyone has a lot of personality, and everyone’s very noble; we can’t make it a moral requirement for all critics to have independent personalities, in order to write good criticism. I’m going to talk about a very practical issue, and it’s the amount critics are paid to write essays; when fees are too low, there can’t be good criticism. In a society where a top critic drives a QQ (QQ car), but a third-rate artist drives a Mercedes-Benz – how can that produce good criticism? So, the level of recompense is key. This recompense should also be independent from galleries and artists. When galleries are paying or artists are paying, it’s difficult to get good criticism. The kind of strong personality that would take someone’s money, then write an essay denigrating them, is very rare in China, so I think that reasonable essay fees are crucially important. Only when our media pay critics to write can the latter maintain an honourable, middle-class income. In that way, criticism will naturally improve, critics’ personalities will naturally become more independent, and the scholarly quality of criticism will naturally increase. This is my proposed solution.
Philip Tinari, Director, UCCA Center for Contemporary Art, Beijing
The greatest role of art criticism is to provide guidance for critical standards, at a time when everyone can be a critic.
Critics still have an issue; they see more than other people, and this kind of professional exhibition-viewing experience is not the background that the majority of people have. I think that the greatest role of art criticism is not directly to determine whether a work of art is good or bad, or to decide future stylistic directions, but to enlighten the formation of public discourse. In this era, social media provide many channels and platforms, so everyone can share their own opinions, viewpoints and insights, and everyone can participate in art criticism. However, in the end, there is always a group of people who set the standard for all criticism. Even if we live in an era of deconstruction, the standards and trends in our values will always have a direction; there will always be some things that are valued relatively more, or relatively less. This is the greatest role of art criticism.
At the same time, these values are certainly related to the values of our time and place. This is what I think is special about the International Awards for Art Criticism (IAAC); the submitted essays from around the world are translated and evaluated, and the winners could be Chinese or foreign; we have no way of knowing which is which. The discussion that is produced in this process is very meaningful, and this is the significance of an international award.
A change in role is just a change in expressive method.
These role shifts are simply a change in expressive method, because curatorship is also a form of writing; it just utilises different media and forms, but in the end, it is related to criticism, and to rhetoric. The goal is to convey an idea or raise an issue, so I don’t think we need to limit criticism to the act of writing.
Guarding against dogmatism.
Nevertheless, critics who exert an exaggerated influence can also be very dangerous. In the last few years I have met a few wine critics and discovered that the world of wine is a lot like the art world in the 1970s. There is an American wine critic called Robert Parker, and wines to which he gave high scores became unbelievably expensive. The influence of this one critic has been akin to that of Clement Greenberg; his emergence and the spread of his critical system forced many winemakers to produce high-alcohol, high-sugar wines, and this led to a prevalence of these kinds of wine in the 1990s. Returning to the art world, the globalisation of art in the 1990s also produced a similar dogmatism, which has only started to dissolve in recent years. A critic can have such an immense influence; it’s quite scary when you think about it.
As a curator, I don’t look to the direct role I play with regard to artists; we certainly walk behind art. We may be organising and presenting it, but we’re serving art – that’s for certain. I hope to find new ways to combine the wonders of art with deeper ideas and present them to the audience in a way that fits with the space. Perhaps art is still an area that only few have access to, but it’s like runway fashion; people may not wear the clothes, but those clothes influence the things that are sold in every little shop. Everyone still wants to participate in art and wants to believe in art, regardless of their approach – whether that be curatorship, criticism or creation. At the same time, we must remember that this is not simply to earn a high score, but to have a richer and more diverse understanding of art.
Gao Peng, Director, Today Art Museum, Beijing
In very limited contexts and critical environments, maintaining an independent character in criticism is really difficult.
I think the question of values is particularly important, although this isn’t our topic today. The environment for criticism today is not great, so raising the issue of criticism now is actually a really courageous thing to do. In many circumstances, many problems can’t be touched; even if you criticise them, you can’t present them to an audience. When so many things cannot be raised, many people can only talk about money, which is really practical, but really unfortunate. In this process, ‘criticism’ is immediately taken hostage; if you maintain a strictly independent character in your criticism, it’s really easy to end up without a platform for your voice.
I have always maintained a very rigorous attitude in considering the issue of values, because when we look at Western criticism, we discover the essential differences between Western values and ours. For example, a lot of Western values come from the Bible, and ours come from Laozi and Zhuangzi. China is particular about interior poetic feeling, and if our kind of poetry is written about in terms of Western critical theory or critiqued within the Western context, it becomes really awkward or even simply gets lost.
When we don’t understand the ecosystem, criticism, or any other element, becomes very unexpected.
The other thing is the entire ecosystem of the art industry. When I was a student, I didn’t have a good understanding of this environment, which led to a binary choice: you either went on to be a critic or an artist. However, regardless of how we cross boundaries, and regardless of our place or position in the process, we must first execute the duties that the ecology of the industry requires of us. The elements in the art ecology are museums and galleries, art fairs and auctions, as well as art critics and art historians; artists are the most important of all. First, you need to build an awareness of the larger ecosystem. A unified set of values and goals will make the ecosystem even better. As a result, if we maintain our independence, whether you like it or hate it, we all end up sharing the same goals, continuing to develop a unified ecology for a unified values system. When we don’t understand the ecosystem, criticism, or any other element, becomes very unexpected, and each new element is unsettling. In the end, no one knows what they’re saying, and they have no way of establishing an organically connected set of values and ecologies.
Everyone can criticise and everyone can share their views; this is a time when critical standards and values become especially important.
The third question is about the channels one uses. In the 1980s we read a lot of criticism, because there was a really limited number of media outlets. There were just a few good critics, and there were just a few good magazines. Once an article was published, basically everyone in the art world across China could see it. Today, that’s no longer true, and with the media explosion and the era of reform, channels for obtaining information and sharing ideas have opened up. Everyone can criticise and everyone can share their views; this is a time when critical standards and values are especially important. Magazines are much less authoritative today, and this means that readers no longer take the critical essays in those magazines and other publications seriously. This has become a very important issue.
The era of reconfiguring and rebuilding values requires a sense of problematics.
Finally, I think that this is unrelated to age, but is related to the many changes that are taking place; China is experiencing a reconfiguration and rebuilding of values, so many people will reflect on this, and art criticism has been rebooted. I believe that only if you observe this society and reality can you discover the underlying issues. If there are genuine issues, you can express them, and if you express them, you can become an artist, you can become a critic, and, of course, you can become an art historian.