History of the Painters’ Village in Songzhuang

In regard to the formation of the painters’ village in Songzhuang, many different versions of the story are circulated. According to one of them, in the spring of 1994, to escape from the outside disturbance, a couple of popular artists moved from Yuanmingyuan to Songzhuang, a hamlet 10 km (about six miles) east of Tongzhou in Beijing’s eastern suburbs. Following their suit, floods of avant-gardes came here to either buy or rent houses, gradually making Songzhuang as well as the surrounding villages, such as Xiaobao, Daxingzhuang and Xindian, a hot housing area for artists.

It is said that currently nearly 200 painters live in this area, most of them making a living by selling their own paintings. They live a life that looks quite normal in their own eyes but rather odd to outsiders.

Artists came here from all over the country with varied occupations and background. Naturally, there are good as well as bad guys in such a large crowd. Once settling in Songzhuang, all labeled themselves as “free artists.”

As time goes on, most of them fall in love with the rural life of leisure, and style themselves “villagers” proudly. It will not take long for newcomers to be assimilated. A uniform appearance -- a clean-shaven head, a jacket covered with gravy stains and khaki pants -- is characteristic of these jobless artists.

They live in farm houses decorated with antique furniture in quadrangles. They raise fierce dogs and get used to shouting at their animals in a farmer’s way. Unlike city dwellers who seldom visit each other, they like to call on neighbors, either chatting over a cup of tea or playing cards together. Clock is an unnecessary thing in their irregular life since no one feels regret over the passage of time. Quite a lot of them sleep the daytime away and work at night. Sometimes they will visit the downtown area at dusk, where they relax themselves with the help of alcohol and the company of several fashionable girls in a dimly-lit bar. They seldom read a newspaper, listen to a radio program or watch television. Computer is a rare object to many of them. Even those who indeed own computers only use the machine to send and receive e-mails for saving the usual postage.

Many artists moved to Songzhuang as they regarded the village as an important transfer station for going abroad. Among the others, some dream of becoming rich overnight; others truly love its tranquility. However, Songzhuang is not a haven of peace. To choose Songzhuang means to adapt to a tranquil but dangerous lifestyle. The “villagers” must force themselves to act as real dealers so as to get a good price for their works; otherwise they cannot survive at all.

The process of transforming art into coins is full of individual struggles, during which an artist’s dignity vanishes without a trace. As a result, many querulous “villagers” want to go abroad, believing that in a developed country, they can find a foundation to support them and life can be easier.

Even long ago when they stayed around the ruins of Yuanmingyuan, a wide gap between the rich and the poor had taken shape among these painters. Nevertheless, the majority of the Songzhuang “villagers” are still struggling to make ends meet. In a sense, the painters’ village is like a magic flame that constantly seduces those “outsider” artists to dart into it, like a bunch of flying moths.

Life in Xiaobao Village

The reputation of Xiaobao village near Songzhuang is based on the fact that in the past years quite a few successful artists have been produced here.

When they first moved in, the painters did a lot of good things in Xiaobao, such as repairing roads and setting up street lamps with their own money. Right now around 40 painters live in this small village. Besides those who still devote themselves to painting, some have put down their brushes and engaged in trade. For instance, one of them runs an inn in the village, with his own paintings hung on the walls. In their leisure hours, the painters often gather in the inn to eat, chat and enjoy a happy hour. Some rear poultry and grow flowers and vegetables in their courtyards, enjoying a poetic rural life. Those born social activists, who are good at making friends and building connections, can often easily find financial support for their personal exhibitions. One painter went even further. A couple of years ago he married a Dutch woman. Since then, he has been frequently traveling between China and Europe to collect ancient lamps and lanterns, with which he decorates his European-styled home, making it look like a museum.

As for those poor painters who are still living in straitened circumstances, their behaviors are becoming more and more eccentric. Stricken in solitude, a single artist begs others repeatedly to find him a girl friend. Another one rides a lousy motorcycle to and fro on a country road and shouts at the top of his voice in the piercing wind…

There are very few female painters in the village. Thus the painters’ village is more or less a world of males who have no strong sense of family. Among the “villagers," such people as divorced, remaining single till an older age or cohabiting with their girlfriends are by no means rare. Besides the genuine and ardent love for both avant-garde art and novelty, stubbornness and restlessness are common characteristics of these painters. No wonder someone said jokingly: “Never fall in love with an artist. The artists here are all mentally ill.”

To survive, these avant-gardes must socialize with gallery proprietors, art patrons and critics, in addition to attending all kinds of art shows and activities day in and day out. As a result of the widening gap between the rich and the poor, a wealthy people’s quarter has been formed in Xiaobao, where a group of artists lives in townhouses and drives de luxe cars, enjoying the respect and admiration from their poor colleagues. They have long become world-renowned, and their paintings can be sold each at a price ranging from hundreds of thousands of yuan to millions of yuan. As for those poor artists, some of them are unable to sell a single painting for several years. It is said that a painter cannot even pay his phone bill. Consequently, some went back to town to set up stalls. Some became Buddhist priests. However, reluctant to abandon both the title of an “artist” and the leisurely life freed from all worldly cares, the majority are still working in obscurity.

In this small and unique community, these jobless artists have learned to seek joy in hardship. Every now and then a couple of friends will gather to drink. Very often, they recall their even harder times in the former village around Yuanmingyuan. In the past, they said, two kinds of people were most welcome. One was the art dealer; the other was the reporter. “Once the interview was over,” one of them recalled, referring to the latter case, “We would be treated with a free meal.” While saying so, rays of bliss emitted from his eyes.

An Oddball

Wang Qiang, a “villager” in Xiaobao, hates to be described as “eccentric.” Nonetheless, within their coterie, Wang is regarded as an out-and-out monstre sacré. It is said that he never follows any academic rule in painting. Wang’s works, named “physical pictures”, are far different from the traditional on-easel paintings. For instance, once he drew a group of faceless nudes in varied movements on the lining of an overcoat to both break down the antiquated pattern of human body and clothing and indicate the intrinsic relationship between love and sex. In Wang’s words, “Sex could be distorted before Platonic love. However, once sex is brought into the open, real love might be screened from view…”

Wang is “eccentric” not only in his art career but in his daily life. For most of the interview he was lackadaisical and looked drowsy, stalling this reporter with repeated “I don’t know” or “I don’t care.” All of a sudden he was in high spirits, either fiddling with a toy car or embarrassing the reporter with such absurd questions as “You should manicure your fingernails.”

In any case, the interview cannot be counted as a total failure since the reporter has pried quite a few little known background stories out of Wang. He took college entrance examinations in five consecutive years before he was finally admitted to the Department of Engraving of the Central Academy of Fine Arts. During that period, he did odd jobs in many different trades, including setting up a roadside stall. After his graduation, to apply for residence in Beijing, Wang went to work in the Beijing-based Capital Iron and Steel Works. “At that time, every day I eagerly awaited to be fired by the factory,” Wang said. Of course, in the end, he handed in his resignation before he could wait any longer and moved to Xiaobao to join the ranks of avant-gardes. Since then, he got divorced and remarried. Now with his current wife and child living in Beijing, Wang’s home in Xiaobao functions more like his studio.

No Use Crying over Spilt Milk

Self-taught painter Tang Jianying, 40, has never crossed the threshold of any college in his life. During the interview, Tang did not try to gloss over his awkward predicament, just as not to deliberately avoid touching on his true motive to come to Songzhuang.

After Tang began to enjoy some reputation in his hometown, the idea of making a fortune in Songzhuang came to his mind. “There seemed to be a lot of opportunities. But only after coming here did I realize what a fierce rivalry I was in,” Tang sighed. With friends’ help, for a whole year he merely sold two paintings at very low prices.

“Right now what I fear most is falling ill, since I have no money at all to see a doctor,” Tang said, wearing a distressed expression.

To become a “villager” in Songzhuang, Tang deserted his wife and children. “Under high-sounding pretexts of ‘dream and liberty,’ my true purpose then was to shirk my responsibility for my family,” now Tang began to reproach himself for his past behavior. However, if he had the chance to choose once again, probably he would follow the beaten track. “I love painting. I can do nothing else,” Tang explained.

The reason the phenomenon of the “painters’ village” originally drew the attention of society lies in the fact that those early avant-gardes played the role of cultural or ideological pioneers at a certain historical stage. Currently, when people have more channels to reach the outside world, to strain after novelty cannot make a splash any more. Without high artistic accomplishments and a down-to-earth attitude towards life, in a constantly changing society, a so-called “artist” is no more than an empty insignia.

(北京青年报 [Beijing Youth Daily], edited and translated by Shao Da for china.org.cn, July 29, 2002)