China and the change

Skyscrapers are rare the place to go for inspiration of any sort. But there it was. Not the architecture, but the art. The sun bounced in making a mirror out of all the glass-covered works. And when we peered into the depths of political pop art pieces, what we saw was ourselves.

First in CHINA, the new wave, Yue Minjun. For the unexpected exhibit of new Chinese art on our tourist trip to the trappings of the 63 Building: a familiar welcome mat. His distinct pink-faced people color the desktop of my Mac.

Of the rapid, warped mitosis of current Chinese culture, Minjun knows best. Minjun is a nomad who carved his style painting bohemian friends in the artist village where he lived. He then took on social conventions and politics, like others in the show.

But Minjun manages to stay stupid-happy while drilling home the point. The wide, toothy, dark mouths and squeezed shut eyes say it all: when reality is ripped at its seams, all that is left is the silly little smile.

The Luo Brothers know change well, note economics with Welcome to the World’s Brands. Made in the style of China’s nianhua January door hangings, the brothers weave together past, present, and future China in their work.

The red and yellow lines from Mao Zedong’s campaign posters run into smiling baby children dressed in China’s past, cans of Coca Cola, and the American-World golden arch of M. The soldiers stand proud as the children hoist a pile of shrimp burgers up, food for the mass.

Wang Guangyi has his say, too, points his soldier’s guns towards Omega, Louis Vuitton, and all those western brands. Here China’s first pop artist mixes Great Criticism with more of those red and yellow lines.

We ping pong back and forth from the art to the cityscape, watch patrons take cell phone snaps of both. Insert self into Minjun’s painting at the photo-op, then fly elevator down sixty-three floors to the street.