Regarding the American Cultural Center’s
Shutting Down of My Solo Exhibition Public Statement 25 (1)
In February of 1984, I was the same as other young artists who were born and raised in martial law Taiwan; I could only apply for my first solo exhibition at AIT’s American Cultural Center because it was the only place exhibiting so-called modern and contemporary art. After my work passed the judges, I started planning for a solo exhibition that was to open on October 20.
The Nativist Literature Movement (1977—1978) had made me realize that the Center was the organization most likely responsible for promoting the cultural cold war during the anti-communist, martial law period in Taiwan. However, the harsh censorship of the martial law period meant that when criticizing the cultural cold war, Nativist writers could only obliquely refer to it with the term “modernism.” I found this very confusing—could it be that the same Center that promoted freedom, democracy, and transparency was really a mechanism of cultural brainwashing under the martial law system?
A month or two before the opening, Chou Chi-hsun, a coordinator at the Center, called me and asked that I send the content of the work that I wished to exhibit for reevaluation. The proposal was for an installation that included tomb-like structures made with charcoal and wooden pillars and occupying the entire venue. A pigeon would have been part of the installation and tied to these structures so that it could not fly away.(2) The proposal also included several TV monitors displaying continuous loop videos of prisoners being shot and then resurrected, and a collection of writings from historical books and newspapers, as well as graffiti, written on the venue walls.(3) But upon viewing the proposal, they thought the installation would have interfered with the multipurpose nature of the space, and I was given the choice of changing everything or canceling the exhibition.
I am unsure if, by proposing this installation, I was subconsciously testing the supposedly free and democratic spirit of the Center, or if I was just prompted by the social atmosphere at the time.
Nonetheless, while speaking with Chou Chi-hsun, I finally chose to compromise and change the proposal. The new proposal was for red and black banners that could be rolled up and put out of the way when the venue was needed for other events. On the floor, there would be an oil painting of me holding a sign with an X on it to indicate protest. On the painting, I was going to spread white chrysanthemums, which were to gradually wither over the course of the exhibition. The installation would have also included 25 stones from the Xindian Creek.(4) I sent pictures of the work and a drawing of the installation’s layout for another evaluation, which the work passed. Then, on the day before the scheduled opening, I proceeded to the venue and installed the work. When I went back on the next day to prepare for the opening, I was surprised to find the door locked. Chou then walked over and said, “They had a meeting yesterday and decided to cancel the exhibition.” He asked me to immediately remove all of my artwork. I asked if I could take pictures before removing everything, and Chou answered yes but only if the door remained closed.
The performance artist Lee Ming-sheng unexpectedly opened the door and walked in while I was taking pictures.(5) When he found out that the exhibit was shut down, he immediately called the cultural reporter Chen Hsiao-ling from the Min Sheng Daily and asked her to conduct an interview. Consequently, the situation was reported three days later (October 23) in the Arts Section of Min Sheng Daily.(6)
In its interview with the newspaper, the Center mentioned that it had asked me to “change the work displayed on the floor” as it would “interfere with the use of the space,” a statement which did not reflect the true situation. I had told the Center that the work could be rolled up, and therefore they knew it would not interfere with the use of the space. They had agreed to present the exhibition; otherwise, how would I have had the access to the space to install it? I have never been able to clarify their real reason for shutting down the exhibition.
Sometimes humiliation leads to enlightenment. Through this experience, I came to understand what the Nativist movement was actually referring to when criticizing American modernism. It also prompted me to look into the motives behind the cultural cold war. Even though I understood the cultural cold war more clearly after martial law was lifted in 1987, my experience with the Center allowed me to see the various reports about the United States in the Taiwanese news media from a new perspective. Also, my view of the modern and contemporary American art presented in Taiwanese art magazines was no longer so naive.
Humiliation is also a starting point for self-reflection. I chose to compromise on an exhibition at the American Cultural Center, which was the only place where a show of modern and contemporary art could be held, but the compromise just resulted in more humiliation. Afterwards, I not only refused unfair treatment by any exhibition, but also saw how the cultural cold war implanted and manipulated desire within me.
From there, I began my long and difficult journey of self-reflection and the reconstruction of my desires and perceptions.
Written on May 1, 2017
Chen Chieh-jen
Notes
- Originally, the American Cultural Center at AIT occupied a building constructed in 1931 during the Japanese colonial period. The building previously housed the Taiwan Education Association Building, the site of the Japanization movement promoted by the Japanese colonial government from 1936 to 1945. The Taipei office of United States Information Service moved into the building during the cold war (1959), making it the base of U.S. operations for promoting the cultural cold war in Taiwan. The organization was renamed The American Institute in Taiwan—American Cultural Center in 1979, and the exhibition venue at the Center was called the Lincoln Center until 1991, when the American Cultural Center moved to the International Trade Building, Room 2101, 21F, Xinyi District, Taipei. I called the exhibition Public Statement 25 when I was 24 in 1984. I created the title as a kind of wordplay: twenty-five exceeded my age at the time, and so I thought it could suggest transcending my situation, which was living under martial law in Taiwan. To me this was connected to the totalitarian society monitored by the omnipresent Big Brother in George Orwell’s 1984. It was not until many years after the exhibition was shut down that I realized Big Brother did not only exist in a totalitarian society, but also in the so called democratic countries guided by the United States. Also, 1984 was the year that Taiwan announced it would pursue neoliberal policies.
- A reduced version of the installation that was first proposed and then rejected by the Center was eventually exhibited at Shenyu Gallery. The pigeon in the original proposal was not included in this exhibition, as I changed my mind after realizing the violence that would be borne by the pigeon.
- After the Shenyu Gallery exhibition closed, I had to throw the entire installation away because I had no storage space. I was left with only a videotape recording of the work. After 1988, I moved many times and became increasingly confused about art. During this period, I destroyed most of my work and lost track of the videotape from the installation and pictures documenting the exhibition. Sometime around 2002, my brother converted a large quantity of video tapes to digital format at a video production studio. Among the many government-produced documentaries I had pirated, he had discovered a fragment of the video installation I exhibited at Shenyu Gallery but never mentioned that he converted it along with the others until 2015. After I rediscovered this fragment, I titled it Flickering Light.
- I chose the 25 river stones to echo the title of the exhibition. But this idea mainly came from the year or longer I spent from 1978 to 1979 performing my work which involved moving and washing stones in the Xindian Creek while waiting to do my compulsory military service.
- I did not know any reporters from any media outlets, so if Lee Ming-sheng had not taken it upon himself to contact reporter Chen Hsiao-ling at the Min Sheng Daily, and if she had not dared to write her article, then this incident would have been completely forgotten.
- At the end of this fundamentally balanced article, the reporter wrote, “Chen Chieh-jen did not mind meeting the American Cultural Center’s requirement that he change his artwork. He could understand the Center’s position and felt the situation was just a matter of differing opinions.” As far as I can remember, Chen Hsiao-ling suggested that an excessively harsh statement about the Center would certainly be difficult to publish and impact any artist’s chances of holding an exhibition there in the future. Considering the enormous influence that the United States had on Taiwan and the Kuomintang’s strict control over the media during the martial law period, I agree with this gentle approach since at the very least, it allowed this situation to be reported in a public forum.