“Eye” is a hit!

Posted on by

“Eye” was a success, so successful in fact that people (with tickets) were turned away at the door. How could this happen?

The New Black Box Theater at Shenzhen University seats roughly 150 people, with space for folks to sit on the floor and aisles, and to stand in the back. So maybe 200 people can see a show. Most Fat Bird productions don’t fill the house, even when (as with “Eye”) it is a joint production with Shenzhen University and therefore the show is free and open to the public. Thus, in order to encourage people to come, we call our families, friends, and acquaintances and encourage them to come. We ask, “How many will come?” And then to encourage us, our families, friends, and acquaintances say, “five” or “six” or “fourteen”. On the day of the show, maybe two or three or nine actually come. Sometimes a few unexpected guests drift in, but because Fat Bird / SZU productions are advertised by word of mouth, generally everyone expects 1/3 of of the promised audience not to come.

So, for “Eye” folks gave tickets in the spirit of “1/3 of the promised audience won’t come”. Opening night, this strategy worked and all who came got in. However, by day three of the performance, people were being turned away at the door; on day four, SZU students were not allowed in so that guests could see the show and still about 100 people (including students) were turned away; and on day five, new special tickets that operated as tickets (and not as airline overbookings) were issued. On day five, I actually had to call several friends and uninvite them to the show. It seems that the audience began to spread the word that “Eye” is a great show and consequently, those with tickets not only came (expecting to get in), but also brought additional guests (who didn’t have tickets).

“Eye” exceeded all expectations. Of those who got into the house, most had seen Chinese opera and some had seen translations (or not) of American musicals, but for many in the audience it was the first Chinese musical they had seen. And they loved it. Yes, musical theater may be one of the great popular art forms because it’s hard not to enjoy singing and dancing even when we don’t understand the lyrics, but when we do, and the story connects with our lives – fun, fun, fun.

The concept is seriously absurd – human beings are killing all the pigs to prevent the spread of “swine flu”. The dog in charge of insuring animal cooperation with human demands, has to track down the last pig couple on earth in order to exterminate them. A space experiment gone wrong, Fat Bird has been placed under house arrest by the dog, but is recruited to help in find the missing pigs because he speaks human and animal languages. Indeed, the animals mistake Fat Bird – a cross between a human, pig, and bird embryo – as the angel who will save them from humanity because he is the new human. And as the pigs and dogs and bats and rats and frogs and cockroaches sing about life under human domination, the point is clear: we will only save ourselves when we understand that to be fully human is not to dominate other life forms, but to learn to live (and dance and sing) in harmony.

Thanks to all who helped produce the show and thanks to all who came and made it at hit.

All about “Eye”

Posted on by

“Eye” has been well received. Links to local reviews, here, here, and here.

why bad things happen

Posted on by

My groin muscles and Achilles tendons are tight. So tight that it is difficult for me to squat without my feet splaying and my back hunching. According to my yoga teacher, this is a situation of 活该 (serves you right) because quote unquote: you americans don’t use squat toilets.

Hmmm.

Anyway, the point of this post is the cultural perspective that make 活该 and serves you right different, even though they are used in overlapping situations.

活该 literally means “live – should be”. In other words, how you live has created this situation irrespective whether or not you have chosen this lifestyle. In contrast, serves you right pivots on the idea of “just rewards or punishment” for the choices one has made. Thus, my yoga instructor says that not using squat toilets has resulted in me having tight groin muscles and Achilles tendons – live this way and this should happen, indeed. In contrast, I’d be more likely to explain my general lack of flexibility to the fact that I don’t stretch every day. In other words, serves me right would indicate my decision not stretch caused my lack of flexibility.

活该 and serves you right both work to describe my condition, but the explanations used focus on different aspects of the situation – one the environment, the other my agency within that environment. 活该 includes the habits we acquire simply from hanging about in a particular environment. In contrast, serves you right seems to function much more on the level of poetic justice for bad choices.

So yes, I’m now actively choosing to use squat toilets and seeing it as an opportunity stretch my groin muscles and achilles tendons. Serves me right, indeed.

Body Work

Posted on by

Short comments on two dance pieces that I saw at the OCAT contemporary dance festival 2010. Both pieces were intensely personal responses to objective reality – here, objective reality in the sense of “can not be changed”, and personal response as “adapting to” and eventually “overcome by” said reality.

First, 朗诵 (recitation or reading) from 纸老虎喜剧工作室 (Paper Tiger Theatre Studio, 2010). Here, objective reality to the form of tests, descriptions from medical textbooks, lists, newspaper articles – printed matter that is taken to accurately represent reality. Direct Tian Gebing’s (田戈兵) response subjected five, young and amazingly fit young men to difficult motions that they repeated until the men were obviously exhausted. In one movement series, for example, the dancers stood at the back of the stage, back to the audience, arms and legs stretched into an X. While one or several read the text, one or several would bend from the knees backward until collapsing with a thud onto the floor. He / they then pushed themselves forward, leaving a wake of sweat. He / they abruptly jumped up. Returned to the back of the stage. Stood in the X position and began again. And yes, the thud was important. Most of the sound for the performance was thumping bodies. For over an hour. Through a rain storm. All the while the dancers clutched pages of text that they continuously read out loud. Until two pairs of dancers sat on two chairs, cradling the partner, who continued to read. Between, around, and behind the seated pairs, a lone dancer continued to dance.

Second, 治疗 (medical treatment, 2008) from 生活舞蹈工作室 (Living Dance Studio). In this piece, objective reality was the suffering and eventual decay and death of the human body. Choreographer Wen Hui (文慧), Wu Wenguang (吴文光), several other studio members, and Shenzhen residents performed the experience of dying and growing old despite medical treatment. The spark for this piece was the last 12 days of a mother’s life. The piece began with a young girl playing with motorized shoes that hummed around the stage throughout the show. One by one, studio dancers and audience members came onstage and then painstakingly moved from the back of the stage to the front. While watching I felt caught somewhere between Noh and Waiting for Godot because dancers held contortions effortlessly, with the end result of relentless pessimism. Indeed, I felt distressed not only because performers used over an hour to move about 50 meters, but also because by the end of the show about 30 or so slow moving, contorted figures had overtaking the space where the one girl – and halfway through the piece it was clear she was the only young, healthy body onstage – continued to keep the motorized shoes moving.

Youth exhausted. Spent in industrial repetitions. Relentless pages of knowledge that never made the movement easier. A single girl. A slow, determined, frightening accretion of misshapen, yet still oozing forward bodies.

Interestingly, although these two pieces provide insight into the experience of China’s boom, I am more interested in how these pieces continue and expand upon the general nihilism of modernist art, when its not being over the top utopian. Living in Shenzhen, we are used to this relentless exhaustion of bodies and the seemingly unlimited replacement bodies that slip onstage and remain unnoticed except and until a critical mass forms. But Shenzhen also thrives on the experience, the energy before one steps into the vortex of change. The threshold moment, when we turn from the past and leap into all that is possible – plans can’t keep up with change, here.

I keep thinking about sighs and the expression 没办法 – no way out as the experience of work and meeting the demands of family and friends by way of exhausting work situations. And I’m wondering when all this exhaustion becomes something other than resignation and nihilism. In this sense, I remain skeptical of any assertion that the only response to “objective reality” is resilient adaptation unto decay. Noticing this reality, yes, step one. But I yearn for alternative second steps.

What’s love got to do with it? Speculations about what it means to say 我爱你 (in Shenzhen)

Posted on by

I am an American woman married to a Chinese man. I have lived in Shenzhen for many, many years. Consequently, I have heard many, many stories about cross-cultural romance – some successful, some not, others vaguely disturbing.

The other day, a good friend – Euro-American man because these labels mark the site of negotiation – told me that Chinese women say, “I love you,” way too soon. Creepy soon. So, I asked another good friend, Chinese woman, why it might be that my friend would go out on one or two dates with a woman and she was already willing to confess her love. My Chinese woman friend countered with her own question, “I thought that foreigners [meaning Westerners] were open about their feelings. Isn’t that true?” I then asked a Canadian born Hong Kong women what she thought it meant to say 爱 and she replied that she usually meant something leaning towards appreciation and gratitude.

Given that I like, respect, and trust these three people, I started thinking that the romantic cultural gap was even further than I had once thought (and yes, pangs of what was I actually doing when I fell in love ringing in my ears). I knew my Chinese friends often had different understandings of their place in a family because they have different understandings of what a family is. I knew that my Chinese women friends were more likely to start dating with an eye to marriage than my Western women friends.

And yet. I hadn’t stopped to think about what it might mean to say, “I love you,” in Shenzhen because that feeling has been so fundamental to how I have defined myself. Nor am I alone because one of the define features of modernity in the West has been the way that individual passion for god or a person or an ideal defines a fully human life. Consequently, I have assumed that love was not only a universal feeling, but universally important without stopping to consider that (1) it may not be universal even in the West or that (2) even if it is universal, forms of expression are certainly not.

After these conversations, I began listening to the use of 爱 in conversations and media broadcasts. I now think that 爱 means something closer to “appreciate” or “enjoy” or “desire” or “am grateful for”. More interestingly, I think 爱 allows Shenzhen Mandarin speakers to establish a site of individuality or personality. Who and what they love allows them to have something that is personal. Importantly, I also think 爱 is a much less socially important emotion (possibly because of its individualizing function) than are other sentiments, such as loyalty and trust and long-term commitment.

All this to say, I think that Shenzhen Mandarin speakers say I love you in order to create an individualized self. This self is recognized as being distinct from and often in opposition to the more important social and/or collective self. Anecdotal evidence follows.

(1) Accomplished children generally thank (in order) – their parents, teachers, classmates, and audience for supporting them to succeed, after which they add the line, “I love you all.” （我想感谢爸爸妈妈，感谢我的老师，感谢我的同学，感谢观众朋友；我都爱你们!) Given that that gratitude is hierarchically ranked and explicitly differentiated while爱 is general, this use of 爱 seems to signal that all the support excites or makes the speaker happy.

(2) One of the main ice-breaker conversations that Shenzheners enjoy is about hobbies or 爱好 – literally love-like (好 is a fourth tone noun in this phrase).

(3) 爱 is used to describe foods and activities that people enjoy – he loves to eat sweets (他很爱吃甜品); she loves to play tennis (她很爱打网球). Interestingly, this use of爱 seems in contrast to fear or 怕 as in the expression – he’s afraid to eat spicy food (他很怕吃辣的); she’s afraid to get sun tanned (她很怕晒太阳). In this context, it’s easy to see that this is not fear of boogeymen fear, but rather fear as dislike or something that challenges a sense of self.

(4) Once when my husband and I were having difficulties, I complained to a friend and told her how I intended to handle the situation. My friend responded, “It’s great that you dare to love and dare to hate (你敢爱敢恨多好).” In retrospect this use of 敢 seems to indicate the personal and marginalized aspect of爱.

(5) Likewise, I have been repeatedly told that Chinese women do not “become obsessed with passion (痴情),” but are loyal (忠) and faithful (贤).

(6) Indeed, a true friend is someone who is revealed over a long time (日久见人心), the person who is still by your side when those who love to eat and carouse with you (酒肉朋友) have gone their merry way.

To return to the question of what’s love got to do with it, clearly not as much as one such as I – western, feminist, using love to establish a life – would like to think. Hence, the “creepiness” of Chinese women who declare their “love” after several dates, when in fact all they might be saying is “I like you” and “Given the fact that I’m dating, it means I’m looking for husband material and I think you’ll due.” That said, once married, “I will be faithful and due my duty to you, my parents, your parents, my friends and yours – in short, I’ll live a socially responsible, respectable, and meaningful life.”

Now it may be that part of reform and opening China will be the increasing importance of 爱 in defining, constituting, and giving meaning to individual lives. But maybe not. And I don’t think matters because there are so many, many ways to be fully human and I’m learning to love – rather than fear – the diversity.

ungodly creations

Posted on by

i have been thinking about the phrase “and god created the world in his own image.” i’ve also been wondering about how worlds get made and unmade in everyday life. a weekend of arts festivals prompted this speculation, which is necessarily permeated by the ongoing re- de- construction of shenzhen.

god’s gender provides a useful point of departure for thinking about what it means to create in one’s own image because, of course, there are (at least) two possible interpretations of “image”. image could refer simply to god’s face, snowy white beard and amazingly grecian and white toga. obvious and understandable target of feminist outrage. more interestingly and less exclusionary, image could also mean whatever happens to be going on in god’s head, which opens us to discussions that veer into dream interpretation. if we are every part of our dream, by analogy, god would be every part of the world as it was in the beginning, is now and every shall be…, begging the question: which part of god am i? and oh my god. you, too?

the play between image as what is visible and image as what we think was central to the subtlemob performance piece, as if it were the last time, which i saw saturday evening as part of the microwave new media arts festival.

the title of the piece itself, as if it were the last time is in the subjunctive, the tense where we suspend our disbelief and live the story as truth. the piece was created through the interaction of audience members with each other, a small commercial area of tsuen wan, and the other people in the area. the audience was divided into two groups, “lost” and “found”. both groups were given an mp3 with a mix of music, story, and instructions. throughout the 30-minute piece, the members of the two groups variously performed, watched each other, listened to the music and story creating a cinematic experience in the space.

last time played with both senses of image. on the one hand, none of the performers looked like an actor. on the other hand, in order for the piece to work, audience members needed enough familiarity with audiovisual conventions in order to appreciate what was happening. indeed, one of the more moving effects of this process was how the performance opened me more fully to those around me as if we were part of the same story and therefore the same world.

this spirit of creative exploration continued on sunday, when i enjoyed an afternoon with friends at the shenzhen bay fringe, including fun mime by the trip of mime, a group from hong kong and then participated in the fifth shenzhen pecha kucha night, showing twenty images of the transformation of houhai since 2002. uncanny moment that. the slides were projected onto a screen in the middle of a decorative pond where once was coastal water now a coastal mall. indeed, it was the sense of displacement that foregrounded for me the slippage between images as what appears and images in the mind’s eye. houhai has been razed and reconstructed so many times that there is no there on which to hang a history. the place crumbles away only to re-emerge as another version of modernity from someone else’s sketchbook.

now, i don’t know if our creative conflation of what is and what the mind’s eye sees makes us divine. it would be nice to think so, but my experience in last time has me thinking otherwise. the success of the experience hinged on collaboration, more on the idea that we are all part of god’s unfolding, so to speak and less on the imposition of individual images onto that world. more explicitly, the history of reclaiming houhai teaches that when we impose one image onto the diversity of life, we end up with less life and more pollution, not to mention fewer refuges for spoonbills to nest and mangroves to flourish.

and there’s the ethical rub. it is so difficult to understand myself not as a source of world transformation, but rather as an expression of the world itself and the role i am assigned.

Fat Bird Premiere!!!

Posted on by

“Eye of the Universe”

Those in the PRD are respectfully invited to attend the premiere of the sci-fi musical, “Eye of the Universe”. “Eye” was co-produced by Fat Bird and the Shenzhen University Department of Acting.

Time: 7:30 p.m. 17-21 December, 2010
Place: New Blackbox Theater, Shenzhen University
深圳大学师范学院B座（深圳大学正门左侧建筑）新黑匣子剧场（进正门左转20米，停车场对面地下一层)

To reserve seats for the performance, please contact me before December 13.

In the Name of Shenzhen Bay

Posted on by

The Shenzhen Bay Fringe Festival begins on Saturday, December 4 at 3 pm with a three-hour parade. The parade route spans from the Poly Theatre in the east to the Wenxin Park Plaza in the west (behind the Nanshan Book City). Should be fun. Also, please note that during workdays, most performances and screenings will take place from 7:30 on.

For Fat Birders, there will be two outdoor performances. The short playAnimals in Motion: Flashing Animals (动物在行动之”快闪动物”) shows on Sunday, December 5 at 4 p.m. on the Shenzhen Bay walk. The second is an ongoing performance piece (5-11 Dec) – Animals in Motion: One Cat, Six Days (动物在行动之”一猫六日”) that takes place throughout Coastal City.

In the meantime, in the spirit of the hopeful creativity, I’m posting a translation of Yang Qian’s thoughts on the Fringe; the Chinese original follows.

In the name of Shenzhen Bay
Yang Qian

During the Pliocene Epoch, over 5,300,000 years ago, black-faced spoonbills already took refuge in the mangrove forrest that grew in the deep and tranquil swamps of Shenzhen Bay. Over the past few decades, the ongoing reduction of the wetlands necessary to their survival, the increasing smog of their skies, the beautiful neighborhoods incesently clammering on their coast, towering glass skyscrapers and the shocking honks of traffic have made it nearly impossible for them to nest and breed here. Nevertheless, spoonbills continue – now as before – to take wing at sunrise and return to their nests at dusk. Like a group of society-forsaking hermits, their hidden but unhurried observation bears witness to and records each and every human action.

The nine days from December 4 to 12, 2010 may bring a sense of prosperity to the human residents of Shenzhen Bay because this is where the first Shenzhen Bay International Fringe Festival is being held. These days, it is more and more difficult to find situations which might be described as prosperous, nevertheless I feel that for this arts festival, we can boast a little.

The first Fringe Festival was held in Edinburg in 1947. It’s purpose was to celebrate and generate conversations about alternative theatre. Today, the Edinburg Fringe remains the world’s most famous and largest Fringe Festival. The word “fringe” refers to the decorative edge of a garment, consisting of hanging threads or cords. In the context of the arts it refers to art that is non-official, alternative, and non-commercial. Throughout the world, many countries and regions have their own Fringe, when residents get crazy happy and artists flaunt their brilliance and creativity.

During the first Shenzhen Bay International Fringe Festival, several tens of thousands of people will participate in the arts parade, independent films will be shown, cutting edge music and theatre will be performed, and performance artists and animal protection supporters will protest animal cruelty. The organizing principals of all this celebratory play are collective participation and individual creativity, equal dialogue and free expression.

In addition, I hope that people will be pleasently surprised to discover that the arts may change one’s habitual understanding of “ecological geography”. The first Shenzhen Bay International Fringe Festival takes place at Coastal City and the surrounding area. For the past three years, this luxury shopping mall has been the destination of upscale consumors. However, during the Fringe, the focus is not anxiously desired namebrand goods, even as the conversation is not about getting a good deal. In an era of ascending consumerism, securing a free space is a battle of life and death. In contrast, during the Fringe business defers to the people, and if even for a few days, this breathing space is the kind of prosperity worth lauding.

Finally, I cannot but comment that in practice the themes of this year’s Fringe – environmental conservation, low carbon life styles, and ecological safety – are but impotent and empty talk.

To understand the scale of Shenzhen’s environmental transformation, the most direct method is to visit the NASA website and download satelite photos of the Nantou Peninsula. From 1997 to 2002, in the short span of five years, the area of the peninsula doubled in size. What was the corresponding increase in population? How much arable land was eliminated? How many wild animals and plants were lost? Who knows the answers to these questions? More to the point, who can tell us what the short and long term cumulative effects of industrialization are and will be?

Presently, the phrases “environmental protection,” “low carbon lifestyle,” and “ecological safety” are on everyone’s lips. However, when we say one thing and do another, even putting the rights, safety, and protection of consumers above those of our world, then of course we become even more hypocritical and destructive.

A sense of prosperty flourishes when we face the world with dreams and hope and live with respect and freedom. It does not grow ignoring and fearing painful and lingering death – of ourselves or of the natural world. The most valuable aspect of the Shenzhen Bay Fringe is that it provides us with an opportunity to reflect on the true meaning of prosperity. Whether or not a fringe festival celebrated in the name of Shenzhen Bay will maintain its honor and sence of well-being is not simply dependent on Shenzhen’s GDP, but more importantly depends on the future condition of the Bay itself. If human beings act in the name of place and are to do so without shame, it must be done in such a way that also benefits black-faced spoonbills and painted snipes, spoiled and abandoned pets. May all that consitute the Shenzhen Bay prosper!

以深圳湾之名 杨阡

在深圳湾僻静幽深的泥沼里，530万年前的上新世也许就已经存在的黑脸琵鹭藏身红树林间。尽管最近的几十年里，它赖以生存的水面越来越小，尽管它鼓翼飞翔的天空越来越朦胧，尽管漂亮的邻居彩鹬一直抱怨岸边，高耸的镜子和震天的喇叭让它无法安心养育雏鸟。黑脸琵鹭还是一如既往地凌晨起飞，黄昏归巢。犹如离群索居的隐士，躲避着人群又从容不迫地观察着、记录着人类的一举一动。

2010年12月4日到12日这九天，对生活在深圳湾周围的人或许是幸福的日子，因为这里将举办首届“深圳湾国际艺穗节”。幸福这个词在今天越来越难得有用得上的地方了。但这个艺术节，我觉得多少值得这么自夸。

世界上首次“艺穗节”（Fringe Festival）是1947年在英国的爱丁堡举办的，主要是边缘戏剧表演和交流的艺术节。至今爱丁堡戏剧节仍是世界上最享有盛誉的也是规模最大的“艺穗节”。艺穗的“穗”（Fringe）原意是指我们穿的衣服，戴的围巾周围作为装饰的穗子。引申到艺术活动就有了非官方、非主流、非商业的含义。如今世界上已经有许多国家和地区拥有自己的艺穗节。这是个民众狂欢和艺术家自由展示才华与创造的节日。

在首届“深圳湾国际艺穗节”期间，将有几万人组成的艺术巡游，有独立电影的播放，有先锋音乐和戏剧的表演，有行为艺术家和动物保护主义者对环境破坏和动物虐待发出的抗议行动等等。公共参与和个体创造，平等对话和自由抒发是这个节日的游戏规则。

除此之外，我希望人们能惊喜地发现，艺术活动其实可以改变自己习惯的“生存地理学”概念。首届“深圳湾国际艺穗节”的主场地是深圳海岸城及其周边地区。这座奢华的shopping mall建成三年来一直用高档消费主导着大众周末和平日的消遣。但是由于艺术节，那些让人望而生畏的品牌将不再是焦点，压抑的标价也不再是谈话的核心。在消费主义盛行的时代，夺回自由空间是一场生死攸关的战斗。欢呼生意向民意低头，哪怕只有短短的几天时间，这也是值得夸耀的幸福。

最后我不得不说说这届艺术节的主题——“环保”、“低碳生活”和“生态安全”——在具体的现实面前是多么无力与苍白。

如果想了解深圳的环境发生了多大改变，最直观的办法就是上美国国家航天局（NASA）的网站，下载南头半岛的卫星照片。事实上从1997年2002年仅短短的五年里，南头半岛的面积几乎膨胀了一倍。那么同样的时间人口膨胀了多少？汽车增加了多少？耕地和湿地减少了多少？野生动植物损失了多少？谁能告诉我们？更进一步，这些改变加在一起产生的近期和远期后果，谁又能告诉我们？

现在“环保”、“低碳生活”和“生态安全”正在流于口号和做作。因为这些动听的字眼在不作为的时候，甚至比提保护消费者权益还要安全、保险，当然就更加犬儒和恶俗。

幸福感产生于我们朝向梦想与希望而生的尊严和自由中，而不在逃避与屈从恐惧的苟延残喘里。艺穗节最大的价值在于提供了这个对幸福反省的机会。以深圳湾得名的艺穗节是否会延续自己的荣誉和福祉，不光仰赖深圳市GDP指数，也仰赖于深圳湾这片水域有怎样的未来。如果我们人类用一个大地的名字荣耀自己而无愧疚的话，那么让黑脸琵鹭、彩鹬还有那些关在宠物店或流浪在路上的猫狗也能分享吧！

wedding high…

Posted on by

yesterday evening i enjoyed myself at a chinese wedding, really enjoyed myself in an almost american let’s dance and party at the reception kind of way. why is this worth noting?

other shenzhen weddings that i have attended have been more formal, staging important relationships through explicit ritual. for example, the last wedding i attended included two sets of tables (bride and groom’s sides) for parents and elders, brothers and sisters and their families, including in-laws, bosses and colleagues, business associates, friends of parents and elders, friends of bride and groom. in short, a crystallization of the relationships – formal and emotional – that had made up the lives of the bride and groom. toasting (who went to which table to drink with whom) allowed guests to formally acknowledge these relationships even as they deepened the affection both for the couple and between guests. importantly, monetary gifts to the bride and groom were correspondingly classified with the closer and higher ranking guests giving more and the more distant and lower-ranking giving less.

(so yes, i always ask a knowledgeable friend how much i should put in a red envelop before i go to wedding. and yes, i am as frequently told, “put in what you feel.” to which i reply, “i don’t know what i’m supposed to feel.” my ignorance about the monetary expression of my feeling occurs because giving either too much or not enough means i have misinterpretted the nature of my relationship with either the bride or groom and thus can lead to awkwardness, misunderstanding, and even hurt feelings. sigh.)

slight detour through my anxieties aside, the point is that yesterday’s wedding had a much stronger emphasis on being happy than on making social relationships explicit. yes, parents and grandparents came and yes, bosses and colleagues showed, but the majority of the guests were friends of the bride and groom, who as generation 80 kids were only children (thus no siblings and all those relationships), as under-30 years of age not very well established socially (thus not many business associates), and also most had grown up in Shenzhen with party habits. moreover, the bride is young, almost generation 80 young and so many of her friends did come to party.

perhaps more importantly to the general high high high of the evening, the bride and groom were theatre people. this meant that when a guest stood up to congratulate the couple, it was a performance and not the usual blah blah of more formal weddings. there were solo songs, chair dances, a cross-talk routine, a magic show, humorous impromptu speeches, and videos that spoofed the happy couple in a good natured way. indeed, even throwing the bouquet became a chance for telling jokes and performing; the group was on in the most satisfying way.

wonderful.

Advertizing and the Shenzhen Soul

Posted on by


DSCF0704

Originally uploaded by maryannodonnell

The elevators in my building have three walls dedicated to advertizing; the fourth wall, so to speak, is a door. These advertisements change every week. What’s more, the advertisements in each of the three elevators are different. This means that every week, I encountered nine different sales pitches for appliances, cars, cultural events, family phone plans, and beauty makeovers. In short, the walls of my elevator promote a constantly changing version of the good home life, which is presumably affordable to those who live here – the catch is to make these life purchases desirable.

One of the latest advertisements for a beauty makeover claims to be able to remove all traces of acne and pimples. This advertisement disturbs me because its intended audience is Generation 90, teenagers who in addition are under the stress of the gaokao are being told they have no place to hide themselves and feel safe from prying eyes. Given the fact that most adults only notice a teenager when said teenager has blundered, the feeling of an ostrich unable to safely hide its head in the sand is probably spot on, if you’ll forgive the pun.

In English, I have understood the expression “to hide one’s head in the sand” to mean something like “avoid reality” or “avoid the consequences of my actions”. For me, being an ostrich has implied a kind of cowardice and a reluctance to take responsibility. In contrast, this advertisement focuses on being exposed – warts and all – to the gaze of others. In other words, the Mandarin interpretation of “to hide one’s head in the sand” focuses on a response to feeling ashamed – hide one’s face.

In other posts, I have spoken of the difference between lian (face as a metaphor for ethical sensibility) and mianzi (face as a metaphor for prestige and social power), what I hadn’t seen at the time was the way in which the emotional impact of these metaphors is cultivated through reference to actual faces. We effectively use shame to control the behaviors of others not only because we care about ethics, power, and other abstract values, but also because we have been taught to value some faces more than others and in the process become ashamed of our own.

Such is the cruelty of advertizing; it exploits cultural tropes for profit. More lamentably, when successful, the creative minds behind such symbolic manipulation are rewarded for their lack of lian by increased mianzi.

Sigh.