Gritty reality paints promising portrait

"Will this affect the atmosphere of the place? No, I don't think so," says Yang Shu, founder of Organhaus, an art studio that has been operating in Huangjueping for six years and aims to push forward China's contemporary art scene. "The campus that attracted students here focused only on teaching art techniques."

Indeed, the institute has a reputation for conservatism in its approach to teaching. "The artists who move here to work (as opposed to study), are concerned with more contemporary art," adds Yang.

Dust and sand

International artists based in the area are very much involved with contemporary art and are passionate about remaining in Chongqing and supporting its fledgling art industry.

British painter Oliver Gosling has lived in the district since 2008. "The art scene here is not as big as Beijing's or Shanghai's, but even though there's not as much happening, there are always unexpected encounters," he says.

"In many cities you need to be outrageous to have your art noticed. You need to be a showman and a networker. Here though, people see your work and want to talk about it."

Gosling creates paintings that leave the viewer with a great deal of room for imagination. It would be inaccurate to describe his style as purely abstract, but the images he produces are designed to be interpreted at least somewhat differently by each person who experiences them.

"I like to propose something in my paintings," he says. "There are clues in every image I create, but how these are interpreted is up to each individual," he points to one painting of a single line of barbed wire in front of abandoned chairs strewn across a landscape of dust and sand. "I have my own concept of how these items - the chairs, the barbed wire - might have come to be in the desert they are shown in," he says.

"But if someone wants to discuss alternatives then that's great."

Across the road in what appears to be a disused school, is the studio of a French artist, Vincent Cazeneuve. He too is a contemporary artist, but one with a strong and passionate link to Chinese historical craftwork.

His chosen form is Chinese lacquer, which he uses on sometimes very large canvases (propped against one wall of his studio he has a woven bed base acting as a canvas), although the finished products are far from the smooth and even surfaces of traditional lacquer work.

"Chongqing has a lot of dust and dirt - it's impossible to keep anything clean here, and that's a characteristic of the city" says Cazeneuve. "I want my art to be of Chongqing itself, so the raw materials of this city go into what I produce. I collect the ash and dust that float about, and I add them to the lacquer I apply to my pieces."

In addition to typical lacquer - and Chongqing dust - there are a host of other materials to look out for. What starts as an aesthetically pleasing image from afar becomes a fascinating combination of techniques and materials when viewed close up.

Wegrzyn, a sculptor, deals very much with the abstract.

He creates his artwork from a huge range of materials that include steel, plexiglass, bronze, wood, even water. "In the abstract, there are no borders," says Wegrzyn. "Without lines, I feel freer as there are no rules; I can explore more in the abstract form than I could in a more traditional framework."

When he moved to Chongqing, Wegrzyn studied Mandarin in Beibei, a district on the other side of the city and some two hours ride away via public transport. "I had heard about SCFAI and was starting to look at whether there were any art courses I could teach at the institute, or simply meet young artists," he says.

Change of perception

"When I discovered Huangjueping in the process, it totally changed my perception of Chongqing." Wegrzyn explains that without Huangjueping, Chongqing's industrial nature is dominant, and it is easy to believe that people are only chasing the chance to earn money as the city develops.

"I feel like my year on the other side of town was a lost year, given that I didn't know about (Huangjueping)," says Wegrzyn, only half-joking. Wanting to spend time working in the area, he arranged a residency at Organhaus and began creating sculptures in a warehouse studio in the center of Huangjueping.

Gosling, on the other hand, arrived in the district from England, after being invited by art gallery Jinse to curate an exhibition of his own paintings.

"I signed a three-year agency contract with Jinse, they put on a show and arranged the media invites," says Gosling. "I sold a painting at that first show. The buyer knew nothing about me, but appreciated my work - I've been based here ever since.

"In Germany, in the Netherlands and in other northern European countries since the 1970s, young people have bought contemporary art because they want to be a part of things. They want to participate in something," says Gosling.

"Here, there is a decent curiosity and interest in art but there is no tradition of actually buying artworks that you're fond of."

In order to strengthen habits such as this and boost the art scene for both artists and audience, Gosling says leadership and confidence are required.

Wegrzyn believes that this is happening, slowly, as China - and Chongqing in particular - progresses. "As people acquire more money, they are increasingly showing an interest in things other than work," he says. "In Germany, small artists organize things by themselves and ordinary people are attracted to come and check them out, and this is beginning to happen in Chongqing too."

"Like we see between Hong Kong and Singapore - when one city invests in art, they both invest, in the interest of keeping up. That benefits everyone."

There are some very promising signs already, he adds.

"A few months ago, I saw an artist from Taiwan auction his work. He sold around half of his work for hundreds of thousands of yuan - and that auction was located in Chongqing. If that doesn't show confidence in this city, then I don't know what does."

 

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