Taiwan Today

The general perception was that oil painter Yang Hsing-shen (楊興生) was a brave soul when he set up Lung Men Gallery in 1975. It was Taipei's first art gallery, and for several years it remained the only one. Yang did not need any competition. "I arranged many shows," he says, "but in a month only ten people would come in to look." Yang went on to open three more galleries in Taipei in the early eighties. By the end of the decade, it was clear that he was no brave soul. He was a smart businessman.

It was in the late 1980s that galleries were springing up in rapid succession, responding to the energetic economy and then profiting immensely from boom times in the stock and real estate markets. There are now over 150 commercial galleries in Taipei. Most are located in Taipei's fashionable eastern section, within short walking distance of each other. Yang has since closed one gallery and sold the other three. He spends his time painting, but he continues to watch the Taipei art market. He recognizes a change, particularly in the buyers. While major art patrons had once been American expatriates, today they are Taiwan's new rich.

"They look at cultural commodities with the stock or real estate market in mind," says Chang Tsong-zung (張頌任), owner of the Hanart Gallery chain in Taipei, Hong Kong, and New York. While viewing art primarily as an investment is certainly not a preoccupation unique to Taipei collectors, when Chang compares the three cities in which he sells art, he says, "In Taipei I often find the investment motive has the upper hand."

This is no surprise. Investment or speculation - is an integral part of life in affluent Taiwan. This was particularly true in the latter half of the 1980s when incomes increased dramatically and the stock index climbed to ludicrous heights. There was more money out there than overnight millionaires knew what to do with. Fortunately for hard-up artists, the new rich began buying art, and lots of it. Galleries and artists alike stood to profit from the art rush. Like the majority of stocks listed on the exchange, art works were incredibly over valued, with prices increasing from 400 to 1,000 percent.

The galleries began to reflect the activity in the Taiwan bourse, banking on art that guaranteed quick profits. The works of two groups of artists were- and continue to be - in great demand. One group was made up of old-generation Taiwan artists who developed their talents during the 1920s and 1930s. Their canvasses were generally unimpressive pastel landscapes and village scenes done in the Post-Impressionist style. The other group was made up of main land masters of traditional ink painting such as Chi Pai-shih, who is noted for his sparse yet strong renditions of birds, flowers, crabs, and shrimps. According to Chang, the galleries that rode on this demand became financially successful.

The paintings were not always the best that Taiwan had to offer. But an undiscerning market is a lucrative market. The goals of prestige chasing included the random buying of fashionable Taiwan art, and the determined acquisition of Chinese antiquities as well as works of Western masters. Even international auction houses were quick to realize that serious money could be made in the Taiwan art market. Christie's and Sotheby's began to hold previews in Taipei of their Hong Kong auctions. Galleries also brought in works by Western greats, among them Chagall, Dufy, Utrillo, Monet, and Miro. The collecting mania engulfed individuals as well as corporations.

Those were the days. By mid 1990, it was clear that the big game had come to an end. The plunge of the Taiwan stock exchange index by more than 80 percent represented a US$200 billion change in market valuation. People began to reconsider the future value of their in vestments and potential appreciation of further investments. Investor confidence - whether for real estate, stocks, or art - was badly shaken. Where there was once big spenders, there suddenly was debts, bankruptcies, and investigations. The future of galleries looked bleak. Exorbitant rents and the competition among so many galleries for an increasingly limited number of clients led to serious financial problems. Many galleries were having trouble keeping their doors open. But the speculative fever of the late 1980s has left a legacy: a trail of practices, perceptions, and attitudes that will continue to be detrimental to the sale and acquisition of art.

Gallery exhibition schedules still feature a fast turnaround and little interest in nurturing an artist or cultivating a market. But according to Chang, short-term planning and relying on quick fluctuations in the market are characteristic of local businesses. As such, exhibits are extremely short, lasting between ten and fourteen days. And often a new show can be set up in a few days. "Each artist has his own supporters," says Yang Hsing-shen, "so each show brings in new customers. The galleries think that if they change exhibits quickly, there will be more sales." That is also how ink painter Chi Wei-yi (戚維義) sees it. He says, "One gallery owner told me that he can tell at the opening how the exhibit will do. If the works don't sell the first day, they're not going to sell later. People usually go on the first day so that they can get the best paintings."

A loose contract system allows a gallery to abandon an artist who is not bringing in money. In fact, the most common gallery-artist arrangement is no arrangement. Nevertheless, both sides benefit. For galleries, this means more freedom to react to public taste; for artists, more freedom to choose where they can show their work and thus gain better leverage in negotiating profits and commissions. Some artists, however, have an unwritten agreement with specific galleries. A few actually receive monthly stipends of about US$1,850, which must be repaid after the exhibition.

The system works to the advantage of established and profitable artists. But where can a young, promising artist go? Breaking into Taipei's cliquish art circle often begins with an application to exhibit at the American Cultural Center of the American Institute in Taiwan (AIT). According to David Miller, chief of the AIT's cultural unit, the center makes exhibition space available to American and Chinese artists selected by a screening committee. Teresa Huang, cultural affairs assistant, adds that young, innovative artists are especially encouraged. "They are usually just out of graduate school, and don't have the chance to exhibit in galleries and museums like older artists do," she says.

Not one of Taipei's commercial galleries specialize in searching out and cultivating new artists. But most are willing to test two or three a year. Compared to the immediate acceptance of famous, older artists, the process of exhibiting someone new is long and tedious. Galleries require portfolio evaluations, studio visits, and repeated assurances of the artist's commitment to his career. The galleries also often demand a style that agrees with their taste. Li Ya-li (李亞俐), present owner of the Lung Men Art Gallery, prefers to build a relationship with her artists first. "I wait until I've known them for two to three years before I schedule an exhibit," she says.

There are galleries that have chosen to deviate from common practice, and not always with positive financial results. The Cherng Piin Gallery, for example, concentrates on selling contemporary art by Taiwan and mainland China artists. It is one among a handful of galleries that promote modern art. Says Ho Chun huan (何春寰), the gallery's manager, "Taiwan galleries are uncomfortable about selling abstract and contemporary art because they are afraid to lose money."

No matter. Cherng Piin continues to exhibit modern art, and according to Ho, is willing to wait the decade or two that it will take for interest to peak. They are counting on businessmen in their thirties and forties, and architects and interior designers. Says Ho, "The young collectors are more accepting of new ideas. We target businessmen because they have had more opportunity to travel and see the outside world. And architects and interior designers in general tend to be bolder. If they can accept contemporary art, maybe they can influence their clients."

Although abstract and contemporary art by Taiwan and mainland China artists has been available for many years, Ho says that buyers are largely unfamiliar with it, and refuse to buy what they cannot understand. Fortunately, the art binge of the last three years included modern art, and a few buyers have shed some of their hesitancy. But sales come nowhere close to the figures raked in by art in the Impressionist and Post-Impressionist style. And while Taiwan contemporary art may be startling to local viewers, it is strongly reminiscent of Western styles that date back to the 1950s.

Chang Tsong-zung of Hanart points out that only long-time and serious collectors seek work that is more innovative and creative than the Post-Impressionist renditions by older generation Taiwan painters or ink paintings by mainland masters. It seems to him that the new rich are less willing to purchase work done by the experimental artists such as the New Painters, a group of artists born in the 1950s. They depict modern, industrial Taiwan, using themes of alienation and despair. "People are unwilling to put in big money for newer art because younger artists are still a hit-or-miss thing, " says Chang.

The works of the now defunct Fifth Moon Group and the East Group are exceptions. Made up of artists who moved to Taiwan from the mainland, both groups defiantly began the island's modern art movement in the 1950s. They combined Chinese characteristics such as calligraphy or ink painting with Western abstract expressionism. Seeking an environment that would not stifle their experimentation with new paths, the artists left the island to live as expatriates in the U.S. and Europe. It was also overseas that they gained recognition. And now that they are international artists, some Taiwan buyers are more accepting of their works. Li Ya-li of Lung Men says that her two best-selling artists are Chuang Che of the Fifth Moon Group and Wu Hao of the East Group.

New buyers tend to follow trends when making decisions about acquiring art. And often the decision is left in the hands of friends, architects, interior designers, and the galleries. Their need for expert help in selecting art-either for speculative purposes, to fulfill a collector's vision, or to simply make sure that the painting would not clash with the new leather sofa - became a business opportunity for enterprising art historians and curators.

Rita Chang, former curator of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum, and Michael Chang (no relation), former manager of the Hong Kong Arts Center, set up an art consulting business in 1989. They now work independently, from helping clients source the art work to displaying it in the most advantageous setting. Corporate clients make up two-thirds of their business. Still, both consultants say that there is not much venturing into new directions, including the decade-old field of interior decoration. It seems the buyers prefer to look at art with Chinese characteristics, such as a Western-style oil of a countryside scene, an abstract work with Chinese characters hidden in it, or a traditional ink painting on rice paper. "It makes them feel comfortable," says Michael Chang.

Big things do not come in small packages in the Taipei art market. The larger the painting, the higher the price. Galleries follow a pricing system inherited from the Japanese, in which the dimensions of a work determine its value. For oils and watercolors, the price is computed by the hao (號), about a postcard size of painted surface. For ink paintings, it is computed by the tsai (才), about a square foot of painted surface.

The unit price is determined by the artist's age. Old artists aged seventy and up command the highest prices. They are considered more experienced and established, and therefore average about US$1,100 per hao. Artists between the ages of fifty and sixty can ask for about US$185 to US$375 per hao, and the range for young artists, aged thirty to forty, is approximately US$40 to US$185 per hao.

Prices per hao or tsai do not remain constant. Neither do they have limits, depending largely on the highly volatile market and the personalities of the artists themselves. Pricing is primarily in the artist's domain, and the galleries buckle under their demands, charging an average commission of 30 to 40 percent. Older generation artists in particular are known for taking charge, and often their assessment of the value of their work depends on the competition. The higher the price, the better the work is perceived to be. As a result, many artists have priced themselves out of the international market. A buyer would expect to pay up to US$36,000 for a work by a Taiwan or a mainland artist virtually unknown anywhere else. Ink painter Chi Wei-yi returned to Taiwan ten years ago after living in the U.S. for seventeen years. He says, "I was very surprised to see my paintings sell here for about US$7,000. In the United States, US$1,000 is a very good price. It would be impossible for me to sell my paintings there for US$7,000, but it's not difficult here at all."

Taiwan artists have little financial reason to break out of their domestic cocoons. International recognition counts for less, especially because the runaway prices here have given a greater number of artists opportunities that would have been impossible over a decade ago. They can now travel, visit galleries and museums the world over, buy books, collect other artists, and indulge in existentialist pleasures such as throwing away the Shaohsing (rice wine) and downing instead a bottle of XO. Artists are content in Taiwan, where, according to Mary Crawley, director of the Taipei Art Guild, people pay prices that there is no reason for them to pay.

Galleries, however, now avoid the compulsion for extravagance. In its place is a new humility. And now that the economy is slowly regaining some of its past energy, the galleries that made it through the hard times will have more strength and experience to meet the future. Chang Tsong-zung of Hanart thinks the sedate economy has had a cleansing effect on the art world. "The market was crazy," he says. "It wasn't healthy at all. People were not looking at art, they just saw a commodity going up in value. People were buying art because everyone else was buying it. It was very dangerous for the whole economy and the art economy. I think it's better being sober. "

There is some debate as to the role galleries will play in the future. Former gallery owner Yang Hsing-shen thinks Taipei galleries should take more responsibility and serve as a nurturer of artists as well as an educator for the public. But painter and influential art critic Ho Huai-shuo (何懷碩) feels that is asking too much of galleries since they are basically businesses that have to survive and turn profits. Yet he also says, "They should improve, because their performance of their function to enrich the art world in Taiwan falls short of what the galleries in the West are doing."

Whatever the case, most people affiliated with the local art world see galleries playing a greater role in the future. Gallery history proves how quickly things have changed. From one gallery in 1975, to seventy in 1985, to over 150 today. One can only hope that the increase is the first step en route to the rise of galleries with loftier motives, such as the appreciation of art for its visual and evocative merit rather than solely for its investment value. •