Lynn Hai

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Why is the Past a Foreign Country?

An interview with Eugene Wang, Founder of Chinese Art Media Lab at Harvard University

Text&Translation / Liang Hai

For thousands of years, Chinese art has been nurturing its vitality and creativity by naturally absorbing the new and metabolizing the old, thus maintaining its  striking aesthetics and unique spirituality throughout history. Today, the exploration of contemporary art is an unconstrained endeavor, free of the regimented aesthetic frameworks that defined art criticism for past generations. Now—in this moment—the frontier of research and practice of Chinese contemporary art is advancing towards what new directions? Because the mission, responsibility, and ambition of art in our time is different today than at any other point in history,  how might artistic pioneers improve their self-awareness and achieve new breakthroughs?

If answers to these questions are to be found, these answers will surely be disparate; that’s why art always encourages us to open our minds and expand the scope of our knowledge. With the goal of enhancing and broadening our awareness of art and the ongoing dialogue that surrounds it, I sat down for a conversation with Professor Eugene Yuejin Wang, founder of the Chinese Art Media Lab at Harvard University. Professor Wang and I discussed the lab's fields of research and artistic practices. We discussed the leading-edge Chinese art professionals’ contemplation of and efforts towards artistic innovation, as well as its ongoing detailed and informative academic research.

The Chinese Art Media Lab (CAMLab) at Harvard University was founded in 2019 by Eugene Wang, an Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Professor of Asian Art. Sitting squarely at the intersection of humanistic inquiry and design thinking, CAMLab is an incubator for creative innovation, a base for multimedia experimentation, and a platform for curatorial activities. By translating research concepts into studio practice—which, in turn, drives new research initiatives—CAMLab explores innovative means of showcasing Chinese art and culture through immersive installations, exhibitions, films, digital publications, curatorial projects, and other multimedia formats.

In its projects, CAMLab uses cutting-edge multimedia storytelling and multi-sensory technologies to interpret and model both traditional and contemporary Chinese art. Unshackled from analogue forms of curation, CAMLab’s projects engage participants through multisensory and multidimensional spatial journeys to convey critical artistic concepts. Every project is grounded in a process that incorporates extensive research into art history and cognitive styles, with an ultimate goal of inheriting and recreating the most authentic memories of art, culture, and historical narrative. “The past is a foreign country.” British writer L. P. Hartley opened his 1953 book The Go-Between with this short sentence. Since then, this aphorism has been cited by many scholars from different fields of study—including by historian and geographer David Lowenthal as the title of his 1985 book—to encapsulate a sense of unfamiliarity with one’s own cultural inheritance due to obliviousness, as well as a sense of enlightenment relating the known and the unknown while exploring forgotten realms.

The conversation opened with an overview of CAMLab’s recent art practice in China, and went on to encompass broader and more universal discussions as the topics deepened.

Innovative Ideas on Traditional Culture 

Liang Hai (LH): CAMLab was founded in the US. As a research center for Chinese art, it is essential to practice art in China as well. Among the recent news coming out of CAMLab, a particularly eye-catching item is the crossover collaboration with Nan Cultural Studio by Aman in Shanghai. How was this collaboration initiated and executed

Eugene Wang (EW): Two years ago, Nan Cultural Studio offered us a grant to design an immersive experience project. I proposed creating an experiential theater for Peony Pavilion, with the core idea being my new concept: Object Play.

Peony Pavilion is a perennially adapted play that continues to enjoy great popularity. There have been constant attempts at and experiments with bringing this ancient play into our contemporary context; the latest achievement is Pai Hsien-yung's youth edition of The Peony Pavilion, which has evoked a variety of responses. My intention, however, was to allow the audience to  experience a specific perspective from the culture of the Ming Dynasty era in which this story takes place. The commodity economy and material comforts were flourishing during the Ming Dynasty, and led to an all-consuming social and cultural atmosphere of materialism.  People’s aesthetic palates and their appreciation for objects reached new heights at that time. This ethos is one of the reasons the Chinese culture prospered so greatly during the Ming Dynasty. The appreciation of objects (which is tantamount to today's “life aesthetics”)—demonstrated by an interest in flower arrangement, tea tasting, and the classification of artifacts—underwent major progress and evolution during the Song Dynasty and reached its climax in the Ming Dynasty. The same achievements and aesthetic standards have never reemerged in the time since.

The appreciation of objects demands praise for exquisiteness, delicateness, and the rich connotations of culture. Chen Hongshou (1598–1652), a late Ming dynasty painter, depicts men as objects and objects as men. Human figures in his paintings are as solemn as still objects. Correspondingly, objects like ice crack porcelains and blooming or fading flowers imply stories of the human condition. Nowadays, China has a well-developed economy that encourages an affluent lifestyle. But here there may yet exist an inadvertent risk: namely that there exists a temptation to merely improve the cosmetic specifications and sticker prices of objects rather than to accomplish the more difficult task of preserving the subtle scintillations of the culture behind said objects. Being aware of this risk, we designed the “Object Play” to tell stories using only antiques and materials, instead actors and actresses. The audience passes through spatial experiences rendered by new media, and thus comprehends the appealing essence of the Ming Dynasty objects which inhabit the world of Peony Pavilion.

We’ve honed the design for two or three years, and are now conducting experiments as to its feasibility. If realized, the work would carry repercussions, as it possesses a unique perspective and an approach unlike any of the many past Peony Pavilion remakes. We have analyzed global trends and tendencies and the overall state of experiential theatre, as well as our own distinctions and characteristics. Research technologies in Europe, America, and Japan are already cutting-edge, while an area that can be improved upon is the infusion of new technologies with cultural relevance. In terms of content, we base our research on historical and professional studies; in terms of technology, we cooperate with the best experts and artists. In this way, we will not be technologically outdone as we advance profound and meaningful themes in our art. Teamlab’s projects, for example, are very good, but can, in my opinion, be further deepened in terms of their cultural content. Nan Cultural Studio by Aman has offered support for us to establish a research foundation in Shanghai. The prospect of our collaboration is promising, and we are also willing to bring in some international perspectives.

LH: The development of material life advanced during both the Ming Dynasty and our modern era. This reminds me of a 2012 article of yours  on Chinese contemporary art—Three Decades/Themes—in which you mentioned the impact the boom of consumerism in China around the 1990s had on the themes and ideas of contemporary Chinese art. Apparently, there is no way to make an exact comparison of the development of material civilization between ancient and modern times. But it is perfectly reasonable for such a project to evoke people’s inner response when carried out in contemporary times. We are living in an era of peace and development, not a time of famine and war, and therefore we possess sufficient capacity and energy to attend to life aesthetics.

Immersive projects providing a highly interactive experience are not a new concept. Nonetheless, the extremely solid academic support behind Peony Pavilion sets it apart from its counterparts. As a laboratory founded within an educational institution, is CAMLab more school-oriented and aimed at academic research and education, or is it established as a probe reaching out from the school, in order to acquaint the general public with academic research to better understand the beauty and value of traditional culture through its projects?

EW: It is not school-oriented. CAMLab was founded with two intentions, one being the reason it was founded and the other being who the target audience is. 

I’ve done a lot of my own research into the aesthetics and states of ancient life arts (e.g., the Mausoleum of the first Qin Emperor, Mawangdui, Famen Temple, etc.) and Buddhist grottoes (e.g., Dunhuang, Yungang, etc.) as presented in architectural or positional spaces. The greatest challenge and difficulty for a researcher and writer is that the space is not there to be read in words. The Dunhuang Buddhist caves, for example, are a kind of spatiotemporal imagination of the mind space, which resembles the immersive experience of today, in a sense. It is spatial and cannot be illustrated in the readers’ minds simply through words, or by any linear linguistic form.  The south, north, east, and west walls, as well as the slope of the west and south ceilings of the east wall…these are organized like a symphony. There are so many interrelationships in the images that literal descriptions—one after another—will be difficult to comprehend. This is not because the wording is obscure, but rather because the brain has difficulty translating words into spatial relationships. 

The history of architecture is also difficult to read. If presented in images—rather than as text alone—architecture will be much more straightforward and attractive. The sense of a spatial experience, which is rare in other fields, is another reason people are interested in architectonic history and spatial topology. The representation of spatiality should not be limited to words, but rather must be expounded by multidimensional means.

There are two examples that touched me a lot. One was in 2012, outside the Freer Gallery in Washington, D.C., whereby the City University of Hong Kong set up a tent for a projection exhibition of the Mogao Grottoes in Dunhuang. It seems like a technically simple exhibition now, but tickets sold out instantly and there were probably no longer lines in the entire Washington area while it was open. The other example was from around the same time, a new exhibition was brought up in Paris to realize a virtual reproduction of the Lascaux cave paintings. It was also immensely popular and toured the world. These impressed me a lot and made me realize how avid people are for this kind of experience, presented by new technology. Both works had something in common: first, both used digital technology, projection, and other new media tools; second, both were about fine art found in caves and grottoes.

The caves and grottoes represent a significant stage in the development of the human imagination. Upon entering a cave, one also enters a meditative state wherein the senses are free of external distraction and are instead focused on the self. Recreating this special experience with technology has proven to be an interesting endeavor. One inadequacy of the  City University of Hong Kong’s Mogao Grottoes exhibition was a lack of in-depth interaction with authentic Buddhist art and fresco experts. So it was merely a technical presentation, which did not reveal the imaginary world of the Dunhuang frescoes and their underlying intrinsic logic. If this approach is  applied over a long enough period of time, the audience will not acquire any new knowledge in the end, even if the presentation itself is initially spellbinding. There is tremendous information contained in a grotto’s design—there’s an overall code and a self-contained logic behind the code. If the on-site immersive experience can enlighten the audience as to the elaborateness of the design, it will bring not only aesthetic pleasure but also rational pleasure, and lead the audience to a certain mental state, one step at a time.

Why is Chinese Buddhist art so outstanding? If one only comprehends the beauty of its portraiture and the gracefulness of its flying apsaras, one risks overlooking the true essence of Chinese art. The beauty of Buddhist art should not be limited to a purely sensorial enjoyment of aesthetics, but rather lies in the meticulousness of its arrangement and composition.  Through its composition, the viewer begins by concentrating on his or her own body, and then experiences a state of “shedding the body”, and finally achieves the sensation of being a soaring spirit. It is an evolution of states. The body—as a means of experiencing the art—ends up in a melding of time and space, ultimately reaching a state whereby past, present, and future are all completely transcended. This sensation is one of the most important and remarkable aspects of the early and middle period of Chinese art.

Nowadays, art is often vulgarized, interpreted only as a record of an era’s social styles and features, such as its clothing, traffic, and scenery, which gravely reduces the original function of Chinese art. Chinese art aims to show evolution; it spiritually transcends people and things. Different roles and stories only serve as mediums. This is where art creation diverges from written records in its ability to visually reconnect the logic chain. So, what CAMLab is trying to accomplish is to bring the spirituality of Chinese art directly to the public, through the use of contemporary new media technologies.

Another original intention derives from when I was reading the Teamlab introduction. Their team includes crossover designers, artists, computer experts, and other talented professionals from all walks of life who are willing to give up the opportunity for a good salary in order to join Teamlab, because of the thrill it brings for creatives from different fields who are able to brainstorm together. It would be very satisfying for me as an academic if I could establish a group or a platform wherein young people with different aspirations and expertise could have fun creating together and doing things that they could not otherwise do in their own environments. The projects that some of the new CAMLab members executed this year were very intriguing, and the atmosphere and interaction of the lab was great.

Harvard also has the advantage of never subjecting itself to internal or external boundaries, and has always encouraged its professors to publish their scholarship for the world, reflecting a sense of social responsibility and leadership. That's why CAMLab has been positioned from the very beginning not as an internal lab but as a global lab, aiming to be a model that sets new trends and blazes new directions.

Public Awareness and Reflection on Cognition

LH: Because I graduated from Harvard with a degree in Art, Design, and the Public Domain, I am personally very focused on the value of art objects or artworks to the public—which is an essential part of its overall value. Art should not languish in private spaces but rather should boldly dive into the public domain and obtain public feedback. This interaction is the core element that distinguishes public art from private art.

The City University of Hong Kong's exhibition outside Freer Gallery reminds me of the early 2018 Michelangelo show at the Metropolitan Museum. At that time, a scaled-down replica of the Sistine Chapel ceiling was produced and installed on the museum’s ceiling, simply moving its display to another location by modern means. Perhaps most viewers were able to deeply comprehend it because of their strong cultural heritage or religious beliefs. Conversely, the cultural rationale behind Chinese Buddhist art remains elusive for many of the young generation in China nowadays. So viewers' first reaction to the Dunhuang frescoes is usually an attempt to appreciate superficial and obvious aspects, such as their figure, composition, color, historic context and so on. 

In fact, there exists a full contextual narrative undergirding the emergence of specific artistic expressions , including the social background, historical events, cultural and economic conditions, exotic influences, etc. These factors can only be appreciated after a period of intensive devotion to the relevant study and research. Knowing this, how can we use multimedia to make art more accessible to audiences who have not conducted this research?

There is often a wide gulf between the complete academic output and the final artistic practice,  as well as a lot of information that is lost in translation between what the audience sees and realizes, and what we as artists are attempting to convey. The purpose of CAMLab is not to dazzle audiences with scattered and superficial knowledge, but rather to enlighten them as to the true meaning of culture. What are the processes and means by which to achieve this? Does CAMLab have any insight from its past projects?

EW: We desperately need the intermediary talents. Every project now requires a project leader who has a vision for the overall tenor of a project, and who can refine the project and bring it to a level that was not originally anticipated. Project leaders must have the ability to independently generate ideas and transform them on the foundation of their academic background and comprehension, as well as good communication skills to interact with other students. A project should not be a top down process, but rather an idea that gains new life after many stages of understanding and reinvention.

As an example, one of CAMLab's current projects—Fire Dream—was launched in September at UNO (UrbanNetworkOffice) in the Wukang Mansion in Shanghai. Zhao Meng, a Chinese ceramic artist, has an art project in which he uses different materials, such as straw and paper pulp, to fire a number of ceramic blocks. The process involves controlling the temperature of the fire, photographing it, composing the image on the computer as a series of "strange rocks", and finally printing it on rice paper. This transformation of materials is very intriguing. Rice paper is made from paper pulp, straw, etc. The whole process is similar to an ecological cycle, from grass to grass, from paper to paper, undergoing many natural phenomena such as material transformation and burning. This process swings between the virtual and the real, blending materials and synthesizing virtual elements, and then being presented by the actual material vessel after the final integration. Under ordinary means of exhibition, the audience couldn’t easily grasp the subtleties and uniqueness of this transformation. So, this year, we deepened the exhibition and presented it by multimedia means.

Zhao Meng is from Anhui Province. A critical piece of cultural background knowledge is that in the early twentieth century, Huang Binhong and other predecessors in Anhui compiled the Art Series to re-imagine the design of landscapes and to redefine art. At that time, some of their fellow practitioners attempted to discover the artistic potential of material mediums—such as strange stones and paper—as cultural resources. Painting and sculpture were considered novelties that were not included in the traditional “Six Chinese Arts”, and thus painting was consigned to a less prominent position than calligraphy. People at the time desired to change, to embrace new and alien ideas and to integrate their own resources. For example, “strange rocks” is, in a way, akin to sculpture, and paper also provides an interesting creative medium. That generation’s acts of artistic  exploration were confined by the limitations of the time. One hundred years later in the 21st century, however, artists of Zhao Meng's generation are venturing into new explorations with new approaches, unintentionally fulfilling the dreams of people a hundred years ago.

To render this story, we resort to acoustic and optical technologies and observe the texture of the paper and the state of the fire, so that the audience can be exposed to the vast universe and the vicissitudes implied by the process, rather than simply viewing static pottery or landscape paintings. We intend to present a more ambitious process, to detect substances through objects, to feel as though we are on this journey along with the materials, to be burned to ashes with them, to experience the sensation of material transformation, of surviving changes from an internal perspective.

The team incorporated burning feathers and replicas of historical letters into the design, as well as a lot of experimental music—which was overall a delightful process of discovery and will hopefully give art lovers some inspiration when it launches in Shanghai in September. At the same time, the project also happens to correspond to the current state of affairs on a psychological level—that is, the sensation of surviving an epidemic—that can evoke even more empathy.

Peony Pavilion has a comparable design in that it ends with the audience following Du Liniang's perspective out of the tomb. In the original text, Du emerges confused, with no memory of any incident; or maybe even felt that nothing had occurred at all. I emphasize this as particularly crucial, to avoid reinforcing the love affairs and to transcend this basic level to discuss personal liberation. We need to underscore the sense of disorientation we feel when we emerge from the tomb with her, which is exactly how survivors will feel after emerging from a disaster, befuddled but rejuvenated.

Reading the original text, I inevitably make certain associations due to current circumstances. I also hope our art will instill a global sense of empathy in the aftermath of a disaster, increase mutual understanding, and arouse more compassion towards people of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. This is the most direct impact that art brings: allowing us to place  ourselves into others’ positions and realize their point of view, even experiencing the world from the perspective of materials, being totally unshackled from anthropocentrism. This will free us from many limitations.

LH: In the process of these projects, instead of replicating and improving specific images as is traditionally done, the CAMLab team, through its research, identifies a concept as an unchangeable core and builds all its designs around that concept. Rather than simply modifying the superficial formation, designs adapt themselves to whatever forms and means best make this concept discernible. People, objects, experiences, and time are all only the surfaces, while the phenomenon of "material transformation" in Zhao Meng's works and Du Liniang's dreamlike state of being lost in the middle of nowhere form the core. With a solid enough core, even if there is no physical pavilion in Peony Pavilion or piece of concrete ceramic in Fire Dream, the manifestation of the work can still be achieved to the utmost degree.

In its creations, CAMLab's ultimate goal is to enable people to observe art from different perspectives in order to increase empathy, and the ability and awareness brought by mutual understanding. We grow up in an Eastern context, deeply imbued with and rooted in Chinese culture. Then we gain access to Western education, learning about Western culture, history, and ways of thinking. In this journey, we cultivate a sense of responsibility as to allowing people from different cultures to truly understand one another. One of the primary origins for a lot of the political and ideological conflicts that emerged during the pandemic, in my opinion, is that the Western world does not grasp the historical derivations and of Eastern philosophies. Nor—for our part—do we widely understand what actual events and evolutions the West has undergone and how these have shaped their current mindset. 

This cultural divide is also an important topic now among art, academia, literature, and many other aspects of life. As we are living in the context of globalization, how can we ensure that contemporary people are able to comprehend the traditional art and philosophies of the East? Not by merely knowing a few fragmented points of knowledge, but rather by substantively establishing a structured, systematic, and integrated framework of understanding.

EW: This is a vast and important question, and it consists of two aspects: one is the way of thinking and the other is the East–West question. They are somewhat related, but not exactly the same.

I am personally very keen on thinking, cognition, and modes of perception. Human consciousness contains many narratives and frameworks, and will readily situate external things into its own internal framework so as to understand them. This is the most significant feature of human cognition, namely that a conceptual framework must first be applied in order to introduce the unknown. The “C” in CAMLab stands for Chinese, but we cannot limit ourselves to that. We should broaden our concern from just Chinese art to the whole of humanity. The “C”, in my expectation, stands for Cognition, which is not only of enormous interest to different areas of academia, but also an obligatory component of CAMLab’s mission to explore at the forefront of the artistic world.

Differences in cognitive styles are not limited to divergences between East and West, but are derived from many of the ways in which we’ve forgotten about our own past. The evolution of many states—such as how to transcend the mundane and attain a selfless existence—arises from a thinking and imaginative process that we have already forgotten. Art history—and history generally—will not speak of this, either. However, we as professionals in the arts and humanities have a responsibility to awaken the collective cultural memory.

A Western scholar, David Lowenthal, put it very aptly: “The past is a foreign country.” It is a country that is unfamiliar to many people today. To enter that country and thereby venture into the unknown intrinsically carries the exhilaration of discovery. Human memory is transient and can easily be narrowed and distorted; so much of our memory and culture needs to be readjusted and perceived anew.

On the issue of East and West, it's true that people in any region are habituated to specific ways of thinking that are very different from the cultural conventions of other ethnic groups and communities. But I'm rigorous on easily defining this as a difference between the East and the West. This dichotomy is still relatively mainstream in many media and academic circles, but those who have conducted historical research themselves always know that different cultures actually permeate each other constantly. Many of the so-called ironclad Eastern cultural achievements may, in fact, originate from the West, much as Eastern elements may also appear in Western culture. This is because all cultures are constantly and unceasingly blending with and learning from each other.

For example, the Chinese pipa is our national tradition, but in fact is a completely foreign item. When it first entered the Central Plains of China, it was attributed to the music of the Western Liang kingdom, as a consequence  of the flourishing instrumental music of that time. By the poet Bai Juyi’s (772–864 AD, Tang Dynasty) time, the pipa  had already become a quintessential part of Chinese culture. Another example is the Music Cave in the Yungang Grottoes. According to the early formal Buddhist scriptures first introduced to China, music was not supposed to be involved in worship because the emphasized detachment from worldly desires never encouraged singing and dancing. As acceptance grew, however, the need for secular offerings led to the emergence of musical offerings. After that, scenes of song and dance gradually permeated the Buddhist imagination. In addition, the Tang Dynasty Song of the Rainbow and Feather Garment—originally a Brahmin tune from ancient India—was embellished with lyrics by the Tang Emperor Xuanzong (685–762 AD) and ultimately became a song and dance associated with the Chinese royal court.

Modern examples, and even my own new research, will reveal many unknowns. For example, I've always thought of Mei Lanfang as the representative and quintessential embodiment of Chinese Peking Opera. But after I came across some Mei Lanfang research by Professor Catherine Yeh of Boston University,  I was literally astonished. At that time, Qi Rushan studied in Paris, absorbed the teachings of Western modern dance, and did a lot of research on the technical elements of the modern Parisian dance theater before returning to China to innovate the new Peking Opera. In terms of the operatic roles in earlier times, Laosheng (senior male roles) were the mainstay, while Dan and Qingyi (female roles) were second-tier. In the late Qing Dynasty it was all about listening to the opera but not watching it. Qi Rushan assimilated Western influences and turned some elements of Western modern dance into the performing skills of Peking Opera—such as water sleeves and body postures—to refine Mei Lanfang’s performance. Peking Opera thus became an art form that carried both song and dance onward to the world. In that period, Stanislavski’s and Brecht’s systems of performance were in competition with one another, but both endorsed Mei Langfang’s system of performance and regarded it as an Eastern art worthy of study. Polish theatre director and theorist Jerzy Grotowski was deeply amazed when he visited China and watched Mei Lanfang's performance, but he himself was unaware that some of the déjà vu elements he surely felt while watching Mei's art were inherently familiar to him. The true essence of Chinese opera addresses the vocal cadences, while the aesthetic beauty of Chinese opera that Grotowski discovered actually resonated with his own Western memories. 

As another example, the study of the history of painting states that in the twentieth century the discovery of Zen aesthetics by the West arrived through a peculiar process in which Japan played a major role. D. T. Suzuki's interpretation of Zen incorporated ideas from existentialism, attributing issues to underlying human anxieties, and thus succeeding in provoking a tremendous response to the Zen tradition in the West. Suzuki introduced Zen Buddhism by adopting a Western framework, such that Zen Buddhism was a key concern for Westerners at the time. The modern re-conceptualization of Zen Buddhism in China was also aided by the reassembly of Zen that took place in Japan. Like a snowball rolling over the world, the Zen Buddhism consistently integrated elements from different cultures and eventually ended up with its Eastern and Western conceptions being indistinguishable.

Indisputably, in order for an idea or a theoretical system to be vital, it must also be transboundary. It will not always adhere to the traditions or framework in which it was originally conceived, but it will implement itself in the context of dialogue. It will enmesh the strengths of other systems and use them to elucidate its own system. We should also reflect on the cultural phenomenon of tea. The West highly praises the Japanese interpretation of tea culture and regards it as being far superior to the Chinese tea culture, even though it was the Chinese who invented tea drinking. The Japanese tea ceremony sublimates its cultural aura and taste in the process of interfacing and communicating with the West. Without the audience and without a dialogue for exchange, Chinese tea culture can hardly hope to improve its acceptance in the West.

People's memories fade quickly and don't last from generation to generation with any certainty. We may presently be indulging in ideas and ways of thinking that will be incomprehensible in 50 years' time. Therefore, the past is a foreign country. If we wish to reactivate our memories of the past, we have to enter this realm anew. We don't necessarily demarcate the border between East and West, but rather distinguish between oblivion and memories to be revitalized, such as what kind of cognitive processes we have experienced and what different mindsets we’ve had during which times. With such a spirit and attitude, we will be able to achieve a lot more than mere adherence to so-called traditions.