In recent years, many people in Taiwan have begun yearning for something beyond economic development. They realize that, with all the attention paid to making money, certain things have gone by the wayside. One of these is an appreciation for art. “Art is a reflection of society and history,” says Huang Kuang-nan (黃光男), director of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum. “People can survive without art, but an important part of human dignity will be missing.”
Now that many families are enjoying economic prosperity, people have turned their attention toward some of the things they had neglected. And art is on the list—not just traditional painting and calligraphy, but contemporary art as well. There are now more private galleries and museums collecting and showing local artworks, more businesses willing to sponsor exhibitions, more people starting to appreciate contemporary art, and more rewards for artists themselves.
As part of this trend, last August the Taipei Fine Arts Museum opened one of the most diverse exhibitions it has undertaken in its ten-year history. In the museum’s main first- and second-floor exhibition rooms, subtle Chinese ink paintings shared space with geometric forms in vibrant rainbow hues. Impressionistic genre scenes of idealized peasant life hung around the corner from explosive canvases of urban alienation and chaos. In the middle of the front gallery, a life-size, abstracted version of a slick gold truck took center stage. Close by, a rustic wooden figure, carved in strong, simple volumes, evoked a sense of rural folk origins.
The wide range of styles reflected the broad focus of this exhibition, entitled “The New Face of Taiwan Art, 1945-1993.” By encompassing the last fifty years, the show had a special significance for the local art world: it was the island’s largest so far to give a systematic introduction to the development of modern art in Taiwan. It traced the Japanese, Chinese, and Western influences that have been important to Taiwan artists throughout this period, as well as the more recent interest in finding a pluralistic art that reveals unique Taiwan roots yet has an international appeal.
The exhibition itself is part of this back-to-roots thinking. It reveals the museum’s own interest, along with artists and scholars, in identifying, understanding, and promoting Taiwan art as a respected category in its own right. “The purpose of the exhibition is not to write history, nor to grade individual artists,” Huang says. “We just wanted to give a basic introduction to the development of Taiwan art since the Japanese occupation.” But the show also stirred up a fair amount of controversy, reflecting the challenges in developing an environment conducive to the growth of art in Taiwan.
Although it took only six months to organize and set up the exhibition, the museum actually started collecting works and information on Taiwan artists more than four years before the show opened. But lack of professional manpower and finances kept the museum from holding the show sooner. A chance finally came early last year, when the Independence Post newspaper group and the Prince Housing & Development Corp. offered to sponsor an exhibition focusing on Taiwan art.
The result was a comprehensive show featuring 106 artists representing four main periods in Taiwan art since 1945. The exhibition provided a chance for the public to examine the main currents of each of these periods, as well as to speculate on future artistic directions. Thorough summaries and evaluations were made by several scholars and critics in the exhibition catalogue.
The different styles and techniques presented show that Taiwan’s art development has been greatly influenced by the island’s overriding social and political environment, which has dramatically changed course several times in the last fifty years. During the first period represented in the exhibition, 1945 to 1957, Taiwan underwent two major shifts: in 1945, it was returned to Chinese rule after fifty years of Japanese occupation, and in 1949, the Nationalist Chinese government moved to Taiwan after being defeated by the Chinese Communists in the civil war.
Initially, those painting styles popular under Japanese rule were still influential during this period. This included traditional Japanese gouache painting and, particularly, the 19th century European oil painting tradition as it had been filtered through Japan’s art academies. But Western-style artists in Taiwan were painting subjects that reflected the daily life of the local people, creating what might be called a Taiwanized Western art. Good examples are the impressionistic rural landscapes and village street scenes of Chen Chern-po (陳澄波 1895-1947) or the carefully composed portraits, often in everyday settings, of Li Mei-shu (李梅樹 1902-1983). Other works of this genre are the broadly stroked painting Old Street of Taipei, by Yang San-lang (楊三郎 1907- ), and the down-to-earth Happy Farmers, by Lee Shih-chiao (李石樵1908- ).
In the meantime, Chinese ink painting, which had gradually been abandoned under the Japanese, began to resurface. Landscape artists such as Huang Chun-pi (黃君壁 1898-1992) and Fu Chuan-fu (傅狷夫1909-), who came to Taiwan with the Nationalist government, were eager to carry on this tradition. The government as well was keen on upholding Mainland Chinese culture. Traditional ink painting soon became the focus of art education and promotion activities, leaving a less than conducive environment for the development of Japanese- or Western-style art. Nevertheless, by the mid-1950s, some artists were beginning to band together in a movement that rejected traditional Chinese art.
This latter development paved the way for the second post-Japanese period, 1958 to 1970, when Taiwan was greatly influenced by the United States in art as well as politics and economics. Inspired by Western ideas, young artists in Taiwan found their older colleagues out of touch with global art trends. Many younger artists moved to the United States or Europe in search of broader inspiration and greater creative freedom—although many returned in the following decades.
These young painters abandoned realism and their own artistic traditions to put their energy into Western-style abstract art. Examples in the exhibition include vibrant landscapes painted in quick strokes and bright fauve colors by Liao Chi-chuen (廖繼春 1902- ); abstract ink paintings by Liu Kuo-sung (劉國松 1932- ) that suggest lunar landscapes or ice-covered earth; the bold expressionistic ink strokes and splashes of Chuang Che (莊喆1935- ); and works by Hsieh Li-fa (謝里法 1939- ) that bring together diverse images to create a surrealistic world.
The third period represented in the exhibition, 1971 to 1982, was marked by Taiwan’s diplomatic isolation. The island and its people felt disillusioned and frustrated when the ROC lost its U.N. seat in 1971 and when the United States recognized the Communist government in Beijing in 1979. Yet this frustration became a motivating force for many people to begin looking at their own culture in Taiwan. Many artists began to reject outside influences and tried to develop an authentic Taiwanese aesthetic. Among these were the influential Shi De-jinn (席德進 1923-1981), who after returning to Taiwan in the mid-1960s gradually replaced his Western, avant-garde orientation with a search for inspiration within the local culture, and Chen Chan-hsi (鄭善禧1932- ), who used local themes and a folk-like approach to transform Chinese ink painting.
Many artists at this time—as well as the public—also found inspiration in the works of “naive” artists who had folk art backgrounds rather than academic training. One of the most famous of these is the sculptor Ju Ming (朱銘1936-), whose heavy woodcarved figures from this period possess an earthy, elemental force.
The final period of the exhibition started in 1983, the year the Taipei Fine Arts Museum opened, and is marked by the development of a diverse, international style. The hallmark political event of these years was the lifting of martial law in 1987. This was followed by the liberalization of the press, a growth of opposition politics, and continued economic growth.
The more open environment attracted many artists who had moved overseas to return to Taiwan and to join in an even more fervent search for their roots. They not only benefited from a growing political and social pluralism, but also from greater opportunities for showing and selling their works through galleries as well as artists’ cooperatives. A variety of styles popped up, including Neo-regionalism, New Conceptualism, and Neo iconography. This period also marked the rise of talented women artists and of stylistic distinctions between artists of northern and southern Taiwan.
Among the twenty-nine artists representing this period in the exhibition are Chen Hsing-wan (陳幸婉1951- ), whose abstract mixed media work focuses on carefully angled sticks setting off areas of poured, dripped, and brushed paint; Yang Mao-ling (楊茂林 1953- ) and Wu Tien-chang (吳天章 1956-), who express a sense of modern angst using primitive imagery; Huang Jing-ho (黃進河 1956- ), whose cartoon-like paintings satirize the excesses of contemporary life; and Wu Ma-li (吳瑪悧 1957-), whose gold-papered sculpture, Fa Fa Car makes a similar statement.
The exhibition not only outlined the major trends in art since 1945, it also brought to light some of the problems that plague the museum as well as the general art world in Taiwan. Most obvious of these was the dissatisfaction voiced by many artists, scholars, and critics concerning the paintings selected for the exhibition.
In the selection process, four local scholars and art critics were asked to write introductions to the four periods in the exhibition and to submit a list of important artists. Another group of four scholars was asked to give second opinions on these lists before the museum made the final decisions.
The ultimate selection, according to the museum, was based on several criteria. Priority was given to artists who had made significant contributions to art education in Taiwan, were at the forefront of a particular style, had founded important art associations, or were otherwise influential. In addition, the artists chosen had careers spanning at least a decade, with the last five years or more spent working in Taiwan. The particular works selected were those that exerted a definite impact on local artists, reflected the culture of Taiwan, or showed a distinct personal style. The museum also gave some preference to works that were already in its collection.
Nevertheless, some questioned the fairness and representativeness of the works finally chosen, especially those for the most recent period. “The people we invited to make the selection were all very enthusiastic in the beginning but ended up not too happy,” Huang says. “They thought they were not fully respected because the museum didn’t follow their suggestions exactly.” Victoria Lu (陸蓉之), who was among the first group of selectors, saw the problem as part of a larger one plaguing the museum. In her introduction published in the exhibition catalogue, she writes: “The Taipei Fine Arts Museum, still confined by concern with administrative authority and paralyzed by fear of various pressures, could not bring itself to allow those professionals responsible for running the exhibition to perform their duties.”
Huang insists that the museum could not possibly have included the more than three hundred artists on the original lists. “Besides,” he says, “people should trust the museum’s professional ability to make the final decision.” He also stresses that this was not a once-and-for-all exhibition, and that many other artists will be included in future exhibitions.
But Huang concedes that the museum could have done a better job of working with the selectors. He echoes Lu’s criticisms in admitting that the museum’s biggest obstacle to progress is the inadequate government administrative system under which it operates. The museum is organized at a low administrative level under the Taipei City Bureau of Education, a position which often leaves Huang and his staff feeling powerless. “The staff are all professional people,” Huang says. “But we sometimes have to follow decisions made by non-professionals.”
Although Huang holds his own staff in high regard, he feels that Taiwan suffers from a lack of qualified art management professionals and high-quality art research and criticism. Artists may enjoy greater opportunities for showing and selling their work, he says, but the island’s overall art environment still has a long way to go.
Public attitudes toward local artists are another hindrance. Although there is far greater interest in their work than in the past, viewers are still more likely to be drawn to exhibitions by Western artists. Waiting-line crowds, for example, turned out for the museum’s exhibition last year of Rodin sculptures, as well as for a Monet exhibition at the National Palace Museum. Both exhibitions also received extensive media coverage. “The New Face of Taiwan Art” attracted only an average-size crowd of about 100,000 viewers during its more than two-month run. But, the museum is still intent on promoting local works along with big-name foreign artists. “It’s natural that people are more curious about foreign cultures,” Huang says. “But the museum has always considered it more important to present contemporary Taiwan art.”
In fact, Huang thinks the museum can play an active role in raising the level of appreciation for Taiwan’s own artists. During the exhibition, for example, the museum invited several art professors and artists, including some of those involved in the selection process or whose works were selected, to host more than twenty lectures and seminars. The topics included Western and Chinese painting and sculpture.
Weekend support activities in the museum’s plaza and lobby, such as puppet shows and other folk art presentations, also helped to attract viewers to the exhibition. “We want people to understand the function of a museum rather than just drop in for a casual look,” Huang says. He sees these activities, along with the museum’s regular lectures and workshops, as part of a larger role. “Museums should be able to work with the community,” he says. “They can provide knowledge and help improve the quality of life.”
Another of the museum’s long-term tasks is to promote contemporary Taiwan art outside Taiwan. The first step in this direction, Huang says, has been establishing direct computer links with more than one hundred museums, mainly in the United States and Europe. These links allow an exchange of information on artists, collections, and activities. But ultimately, the Taipei Fine Arts Museum can only play a supporting role in helping artists become better known internationally. “The best way for any art to gain international popularity is to establish its own style,” Huang says. “While the symbols might be international, the content and the meaning must represent the unique character of a people.”
In light of the problems—as well as the accomplishments—highlighted by “The New Face of Taiwan Art,” Huang hopes that the arts community and the public will recognize the important role that the Taipei Fine Arts Museum plays and will be more supportive of its efforts in promoting art and educating the public. Society, he says, must learn to value art as an important part of human dignity. “And museums are here,” he says, “to help keep this important part from disappearing.”