The Taipei Mass Rapid Transit System's Hsintien-Chungho line, which began service in December 1998, has four stations decorated with art. Does public art, as a rather new concept in Taiwan, fare well with construction units and artists? Is the general public ready for a new domain in civil life?
"I will marry you--when the MRT is no longer a joke," says a woman in a wedding gown to her would-be groom on a billboard set up by the Taipei City Government in a Mass Rapid Transit (MRT) station. The advertisement plays ambiguously on the infamous delays and struggles the transit system has faced over the years. Now that the billboard's message has become commonplace in the minds of many commuters, we have the pleasure of witnessing another wedding ceremony--the marriage of the MRT and public art.
The MRT is without doubt one of the most controversial public projects in the history of the island. When construction began about ten years ago, the modern, "progressive" MRT absorbed enormous intellectual and financial resources, and working for it was a respected job. As construction went on, an avalanche of scandals and testing accidents made MRT workers ashamed even to mention their occupations. The line was dubbed the "Doomed" (in Mandarin a homonym of "Rapid") Transit System. While running for election in 1994, former Taipei Mayor Chen Shui-bian even suggested that the MRT's Mucha line be pulled down if necessary. Brought into service in March 1996, the line stands accident-free above Taipei's busy streets. The smoothly operated MRT is part of everyday life in Taipei, and is now propelling the city into the world of public art.
In 1992, the promulgation and implementation of the Statute on Encouraging and Rewarding Cultural and Art Enter prises marked a new era for the development of public art in Taiwan. According to Article 9 of the statute, "public building owners should set up artwork using an expenditure of no less than one percent of the building's assets in order to beautify it and the surrounding environment," and "large-scale government construction projects should include artwork for a more beautiful environment." In accordance with this regulation, the Public Art Establishment Measures, drafted by the Council for Cultural Affairs, were promulgated and implemented in January 1998.
In December 1998, following the MRT's Mucha and Tamsui lines, the Hsintien-Chungho line began service. What is being added to the cityscape is not just another means of transportation but a new artistic territory. Located in four stations along the Hsintien-Chungho line are sculptures, paintings, photographs, and a variety of installations. "With regard to the promotion of public art, the MRT is taking the lead," remarks Chang Bor-shiun, a section chief of the Taipei City Govern ment's MRT Department. "We're more quick-acting, more efficient in gathering information, and more responsive to social trends and demands." Even before the promulgation of the Statute on Encouraging and Rewarding Cultural and Art Enter prises, the MRT Department has invited architects, urban designers, artists, and media representatives to discuss promotion strategies for public art. In 1991, the MRT Department set up the Special Case for Public Art and, two years later, the Public Art Examination Committee.
The integration of art into public transportation facilities is an international trend. Sites such as transfer stations and airports where large crowds come and go are ideal places for public art. Here, people are going on a journey (whether long or short), and the art they run into confronts them with unexpected pleasures and aesthetic experiences. "We don't want to talk about schools or any implied meanings of art," explains Chang. "We're not hunting for 'great' artwork or trying to create some artistic aura. What we do want is to inject a sense of life, a colorful note of vigor, into functionally structured buildings." Chang has a simple philosophy: "Art knows no limits." Work by either talented masters or the general public cannot be other than art. This perception is reflected in the MRT's acquisitions of artwork. They include creations by students, the general public, and artists, by invitation and through competition.
"This MRT station, a public area in which human energy resonates, has been selected to demonstrate a universal phe nomenon of life--youth," reads a description of art by Lai Tsun-tsun installed in the Hsintien-Chungho line's Nanshihchiao Station. "These forms and colors will bring a pleasant surprise to passengers and awaken them to a state of youthfulness as soon as they enter the station." Lai's art focuses on a "rhythm" and unites several individual works into a whole composition. Her installation is called "Youth Melody" (the last three characters being the Mandarin transliteration of the English word "melody," literally meaning "beautiful, happy, land"), and has twelve parts. These parts are made of thick plexiglas, epoxy resin, and neon lights attached to the walls at the entrance and platform levels, or suspended from stairwell ceilings. Lai believes that the MRT will bring a fundamental change to urban living. "Traffic facilities not only contribute to transportation but also produce a new perspective on life," explains the artist. Her work is a response to the station's environment in which the flow of people illustrates the dynamism and speed of modern times. "A sense of the future, hope and progressiveness is what I want to convey through these streamlined shapes and bright colors," she adds.
Teamwork is an extremely important element in the production of public art. With different professional foci and per sonal interests, interpretation gaps between a construction unit and an artist are to be expected. "Safety and easy access by the general public are the MRT's major concerns," says Chang. While artists might like to knock new ideas into traditional ways of thinking, construction units try to make the artist adequately acknowledge their demands. The artists must continually communicate with a construction department, "because artistic demands are too hard to be neatly listed in a contract," explains Lai Tsun-tsun. "Generally speaking, I've had a pleasant experience in working with the MRT. I have so much to learn and so many things to take into consideration in terms of cooperation and coordination." She concludes that an interac tive group relationship is one of the most important parts of public art.
Although the Hsintien-Chungho line marked the first time artists had participated in the MRT's construction, those four stations saw artistic intervention only during the last course of construction. "The key to a successful public art enterprise," says Chang Bor-shiun, "is the specification of time. Our future efforts will consist largely of earlier planning and involvement by construction units and artists." To boost integration, a public art planner will be included in the consulting group for the unfinished Hsinchuang line. This planner, an intermediary between artist and architect, will provide a complete set of public art concepts and themes according to surroundings and local cultural features, as well as the interior structure of stations. "A Lively Architectural Space," "Modernization and Technology," "Humor in Urban Living," "Popular Art," "Collage Art in Children's Fantasy Worlds," and "Past Glory and Postmodern Art Newly Planted into Modern Urban Space" are among the themes picked for the stations along the Hsinchuang line.
The involvement of the public is another issue that requires attention from construction units and artists. Art is typically conceived as a representation of personal emotions and imagination, but once it appears in a public area, it can take on social and general-interest meanings. One artist whose work appears in the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial Hall Station complained that a lack of public opinion surveys and statistical data made it difficult for the artists to take the feelings of commuters into consideration during the production process. He suggested that future projects include the acquisition of basic information about passengers so that creativity can be better applied. As with language, the social aspect of public art cannot be overem phasized, for language that is unintelligible is language not spoken. "People shouldn't be forced to view lousy artwork," says Lai Tsun-tsun. "They have the right to reject visual rape." On the reception of public art, the artist also strikes another line of thinking. She points out that the general public represents popular tastes that may fail the test of time. Some artworks that originally alienated viewers later became noted landmarks as a result of heated discussions--Paris's Louvre Pyramid being a good example. Discussions greatly build up an artwork's social significance from which a community consciousness or even a city spirit may emerge. "Paying loving attention to public space is nothing less than a demonstration of human rights awareness," Lai stresses.
The Taipei City Government has recently been trying to nurture that awareness in four communities in which its mem bers pick artists and meet them face to face. "Regarding public art, it's very important to take people's opinions into account," says Lin Chung-chieh, director of the Urban Design Division in the Urban Development Department of the Taipei City Government. "However, public participation in the production of public art needs to be regulated, for artistic originality should not be compromised." In order to preserve a sensible autonomy of artwork, the Urban Development Department has drawn up a procedure for the public's participation in art to be followed. Since 1996, the Taipei City Government has actively promoted public art, and 1997 was designated the "Year of Public Art" by Taipei's then-mayor, Chen Shui-bian. Chen, who served from 1994 to 1998, was a promoter of the arts, and had vowed to build Taipei into a city of culture and an artistic capital. The city government held an open contest called "Taking Art to the Streets" which attracted more than 200 competi tors, and this year will see a Public Art Creation Camp take place in various parts of the city. The former contest led to three projects, but two of them failed for political or technical reasons. Unfortunately, the surviving project has become tied up in lengthy arguments about budgeting and copyright concerns.
This unfortunate outcome drove the city government to seek alternative ways of increasing the presence of public art. "Before more flexible budget distribution and the establishment of the Cultural Affairs Bureau as the organization in charge of public art affairs," explains Lin, "our strategy comes down to the utilization and integration of existing resources from governmental and private sectors, with a view to inspiring city dwellers and meeting artists' expectations." For example, the city government persuades entrepreneurs to provide their undeveloped land for the exhibition of public art. Right now, there are more than fifty public art projects underway. Lin explains that during the current art boom, before relevant legislation and institutions are perfected, the city government aims to educate people and talk up the notion of public art by staging the unexpected. "Public art is much more than the presence of several pieces of sculpture," Lin remarks. "It fills the role of engendering a pluralistic culture and increasing exchanges between inhabitants. In a word, public art wants to tell a story about the city."
In the eyes of Wang Shih-chen of the Society of Contemporary Art, that story is being told a little too quickly. "I'm wondering what kind of peculiarity causes the Taiwanese either to do nothing at all or to do it desperately," she observes. "Perhaps the prolonged rule of martial law left too much to be done on its annulment in 1987." She argues that the real owners of public artwork, city dwellers, know nothing about public art. In other countries, public artists tour local schools to speak on what motivates them to create and how these motivations are connected to local history and customs. The system of appren ticeship in which young people are funded by the government to work with the artist responsible for a public art project also affords an example for Taiwan to follow if it seeks to hand down traditions from one generation to the next. "Public art is hardly intended to achieve the mere goal of gracing the environment," says Wang. "Rather, it serves as a bridge between the general public and an historically, emotionally constructed aesthetic province."
Despite certain irregularities and dissatisfaction, Wang sees a promising future for public art in Taiwan. "It's natural and instructive to proceed through errors," she notes. Artist Lai Tsun-tsun feels the same way: "A step forward has been palpably taken." The government's support for cultural and artistic affairs is substantial, the general public's reception encouraging, and the possibility for living space great. If Taipei wants to tell a story of its own, public art is a good way to do it.