The village offers artists various kinds of design and decoration work. The extra money helps in times of trouble, especially for most of those obscure artists

Jarring compositions and violent brush strokes create pictorial stress that only Cheng Zhongqi's canvases can subdue.

At her recent personal exhibition, the passion and eccentricities of abstractness in her paintings revealed the artist's background struggles with anxiety. As one of the painters from Painter Village, Cheng resides with her comrades on the outskirts of the city.

All Purpose Apartment

Dreaming of breaking into Shanghai's art world, young artists like Cheng are ambitious to bring spiritual freshness to the city. Leaving their hometowns, these struggling artists take up residence like other newcomers to the city in all purpose apartments, which have kitchens lacking piped-gas and bedrooms with pallid walls.

It was Liu Gang, a painter and owner of "New Discovery" gallery, who came up with the idea to set up a haven for artists, where they can live for a minimum expense, exchange their creative thoughts and focus on their painting. When he found the 21-storey building that had been empty for six years, he went to the real estate developer and negotiated an arrangement to rent rooms to artists. And then he closed his gallery and turned to this new business, working full time as the head of the village.

Painter Village is located in a regular Pudong neighborhood. Each apartment with one or two bedrooms is rented to an artist for 300-600 yuan (US$36-72), which is an incredibly low price to live in the area. And the village has an underground hall where artists can exhibit their works. Affiliated with the village are shops that supply painting tools, from pigments to frames.

The village easily gained official support from local government, and was provided with cable television and library cards, assuring artists from other provinces legal stay.

Hospitality

"Shanghai is an exciting collage of modern arts with nearly all types of works. I get to stroll around galleries here in the city, and talk to people who are quite open to new ideas." Liu Dewei, a retired artist aged 67, has been living in the village for four months. A previous Russian School practitioner, Liu left behind his villa in Qingdao to challenge himself in a city of formidable competition. "The Village is hospitable to artists outside the city. The crudity of life doesn't count much for the flowing creativity, thanks to my wife." Liu's wife, a senior physician, understands his art and takes care of him in the small apartment, cooking for him with bottled gas.

Liu tutors several schoolboys besides working on his own pieces in the village. "This is also my contribution to the village," he said.

The village offers artists various kinds of design and decoration work. The extra money helps in times of trouble, especially for most of those obscure artists.

"It's an art of self-effacement. Good pay but less spiritual enjoyment," one villager said.

The village is more of a commonplace starter home. All the artists here have gone through a process to qualify to live in the village. But there is no limitation on specific genre or styles: you can do avant-garde paintings, calligraphy, installation or cartoons. The diversity of groups brings a prodigious scope.

"The hybrid of the village has somewhat spoiled the authenticity of academic environment," said Yang Bin of his five-month stay at the village.

Serious Work

"Communication is made easier here, but sometimes people waste time fooling around. You know, doing anything but serious work." With a pursuit to highlight his career in Shanghai, this already-well-accomplished watercolor painter from Zhejiang aims to develop his skills further. To him, the village is a gateway to his treasured house of art. Yang's third-floor apartment is piled with his former works. "I didn't paint much here," he said. But it was through the village that his work "Red Sofa" was sold at the price of 13,000 yuan (US$1,566).

Liu doesn't argue at all about the business-oriented character of the village. "It is an industry we are looking forward to. Shanghai is a potential market and painters can breathe their own air," he said.

"As a company, we make profits by various means," said Zhou Lanyin, general manager of the Painter Village Culture & Arts Co Ltd. The primary function of the company is to serve as an agent for the villagers. The 30 percent commission from each trade is not much, compared with other galleries in town. "We work as an agent for over 140 artists living in the village. If five of them become famous, we will be a great success," Zhou said.

"We offer buyers direct contact with the artists. They can wander about the exhibition hall or even the private studios to pick up the works they are keen on. They can even give direct orders, specifying the size and other requirements," Liu said. The mechanism is yet to develop, and Liu believes that maybe in a year's time, the village will be different.

Long Way Ahead

"Seventy percent of the painters here still have a long way to go to reach their artistic maturity," said Ning Zuohong, an exhibition curator and villager.

To Ning, the village has brought another problem, though living with other artists and making friends with them makes it easier for him to get direct contact for exhibitions and events. "Sometimes artists would come to me and say 'hey, I heard you are preparing for an exhibition. Can I bring my works to participate?"' The situation becomes awkward when Ning doesn't think the artist's style would fit in the exhibition - and he says "style" instead of "quality", not to offend his neighbors and friends in the village.

And the "hometown complex" causes artists from the same region of the country to form small groups of their own. "It is fun to talk and drink and play together, but it is not at all helpful for your work," Ning said.

Other complaints about the village include high commission, which caused a riot at the beginning of this year. "They wanted to change the head of the village," Liu said, smiling. "Some artists are not familiar with the trade, though they all sign a contract when moving in."

"The dilemma is rooted in the innocence of art and the complexities of the market. It is a whirlpool almost every artist finds himself involved in," said Hu Jie, a villager of nine months, cartoonist and designer, presently extending his career to oil painting. "The business is not running as smoothly as expected. Without patrons, painters have to back themselves up by giving way to the market."

Painting has "pain" it. The city the villagers find themselves in may have fully explained what they have gone through. "In somewhere like Shanghai, you are assured of hopes but never foresee the twilight," said Ning.

"Painter Village is a magnet that naturally attracts followers." Another similar assembly is getting on the way, according to Hu, though the future is never set.

(Shanghai Star September 20, 2002)