An artist arguably better known for his fierce criticism of the Chinese state than for his work, Ai Weiwei has reached dizzying celebrity status for his political dissidence and the frankly dystopian impingements on his human rights that have followed. The swell of his name has lead some to doubt his credibility as an artist, but if there was any question that Ai Weiwei’s work could ever measure up to the stellar reach of his reputation, rest assured he is worth his salt: the man is, among many things, a star, but he is first and foremost an artist.
The last time Ai Weiwei was in London for an exhibition of his work was back in 2010 when he installed millions of hand-painted porcelain sunflower seeds in Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall. Not only was that the last time he was in London, it was also the last time he was present for any of his some 100 exhibitions in the last five years. His politics have notoriously landed him in trouble with the Chinese authorities time and again, seeing him hospitalised at the hands of police brutality, detained in a secret prison, and placed under house arrest and surveillance, all of which culminated in 2011 with the confiscation of his passport and severe restrictions on his travel. Since then Ai Weiwei has helped curate a spate of international exhibitions remotely, rarely leaving his Beijing studio. His momentous show at the Royal Academy of Arts in London – the largest survey in the UK yet – marks the first time since Sunflower Seeds that he has been able to attend one of his own exhibitions.
The eponymous show bridges two decades of Ai Weiwei’s career, from the time he returned to China from the US in 1993 to present day, and explores his transformative use of materials, many mined from China’s luxuriant material culture. It is, above all, a sweeping testament to the way in which his ever-expanding creative output – which encompasses everything in between intricate ceramics and architecture, and ranges from photographs, videos, books, wallpaper and furniture, to sculptures, installations and performances – is inseparable from his campaign for human rights and justice in China. Owing to the way in which his politics have become fused with his artistic persona, he is almost invariably referred to as both an artist and an activist in any one sentence.
Walking in, a dark, rippled work in reclaimed ironwood unfurls before you like carpet rolled out. Despite appearances, Bed is a most unusual map of China; a ridged, rectangular mass of timber whose contoured edges actually trace the country’s border. It certainly doesn’t look like a map, but it starts to if you imagine China’s outline has been laid flat on the floor.
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via. It’s Nice That