Homegrown Luxe
Asia's elite have fueled the growth of Western high-end brands. Now, they are creating their own.
By Alexandra A. Seno
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 2:28 PM ET Nov 3, 2007
Ten years ago, the most gracious hosts in China provided dinner-party guests with imported vintage reds, a rare treat as the country began to open up to Western-style extravagance. Today, they still serve $5,000 bottles of Château Lafite the way they did back then, often mixed with tomato juice or Sprite (wine isn't yet about enjoyment, but about showing wealth). Increasingly, though, tables are filled with something more palatable to local tastes: premium baijiu, a fiery, traditional Chinese grain-based alcoholic beverage (from brands like Wuliangye, Swellfun or Wen Jun), which outsells all other spirits.
It's a much anticipated shift. For years now, rich Chinese, who today represent 12 percent of the global luxury market, have been snapping up Western brands like Chanel, Armani, Cartier, Rolls-Royce and Louis Vuitton. Goldman Sachs predicts that by 2015, China will be the world's largest luxury market, accounting for 29 percent of sales, some $11.5 billion. It's no wonder that Western brands can't build stores in the country fast enough.
But now, as the Chinese begin to feel more comfortable with their place in the world, they are also willing to pay top renminbi for a small but growing tribe of homegrown brands, including not only premium baijiu labels, but also high-end fashion brands like Ports 1961 and Passerby, or cosmetics like Yue Sai, acquired by L'Oreal in 2004. "There are two elements that are important in luxury: exclusivity and making people dream. History and culture become important at some point," says Denis Morisset, a former CEO for Armani and Ralph Lauren, who now heads the luxury-brand management program at ESSEC, a French business school. "China has both."
Increasingly, it also has top-quality production, crucial to building a luxury industry. While Chinese manufacturing standards have come under fire recently after a raft of safety scandals, many overseas luxury-goods brands are boosting production in the Middle Kingdom—Armani, Paul Smith, and Coach to name a few. Production standards, particularly in the south, are increasing, and the skills gained will support the homegrown luxury business. Lorraine Justice, head of Hong Kong Polytechnic University's design school, says that leather craftsmanship is now equal with Europe and that the government has supported the flourishing of more than 200 design schools, a boost to what Beijing considers "cultural industries."
The mainland is also mastering the art of marketing, which is essential to selling luxury. Leveraging celebrity helps—Yue-Sai Kan, the founder of Yue Sai cosmetics, is one of the most famous women in China. Born in Guilin, she left in the 1950s for Hong Kong and then the United States, but returned in the 1990s as a tremendously successful author, TV presenter, and lifestyle guru. Her blog gets approximately 150,000 hits a day, and her personal Web site features pictures of her art-filled Shanghai apartment and her New York townhouse. Later this year, she plans to open her own 5,000-square-foot lifestyle store in Shanghai inspired by how she lives.
It was pure spin that made baijiu a luxury product. The drink, a favorite of farm workers and manual laborers, is mass—if not down—market, accounting for 99 percent of China's wine and spirits market. The trick was in proper packaging—a number of companies evoked China's rich imperial past on fancy boxes containing bottles with crystal decanters—and pricing ($3,600 for fine, aged baijiu). "Price-points communicate everything here. Most people still use price to assess quality," says Lilian Yap, a director in Shanghai for Nielsen, the consumer-research company. Last year at a public auction in the southern boomtown of Shenzhen, a connoisseur bought a bottle, no more than half a liter of Wuliangye 90-year-old baijiu, for a record $117,000, the equivalent of the lucky-sounding 880,000 renminbi.
Now those prices are attracting foreign money. In January, Diageo, the maker of Johnnie Walker and Smirnoff, acquired 43 percent of Sichuan Chengdu Quanxing, parent company of Sichuan Swellfun, China's oldest baijiu distiller. In May, the French conglomerate LVMH bought 55 percent of Wen Jun from Jiannanchun, the No. 3 producer. These Western buyers are no doubt counting on the fact that the rest of the world may someday mimic China, and raise a glass of baijiu with guests.
With Quindlen Krovatin in Beijing
URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/67849
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Newsweek: Asia's Women Leaders and "Inherited" Power
Handing Down the Reins
In Asia, a surprising number of women hold powerful political positions. For better or worse, they have their family connections to thank for that.
by Alexandra A. Seno
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 3:31 PM ET Oct 13, 2007
Americans may be contemplating a female president for the first time, but in Asia 11 women have ruled in office since the 1960s—and many others exercise great influence from off-stage. Their cultures may be different, but they share one characteristic: politically powerful parents and husbands. "There is no doubt that the rise of female leaders is linked to their being members of prominent families: they are all the daughters, wives or widows of former government heads or leading oppositionists," write Claudia Derichs and Mark Thompson, the authors behind the German government-funded research project "Dynasties and Female Leadership in Asia." "These women share dynastic origins and inherited political leadership."
Chandrika Kumaratunga, the Sri Lankan head of state, once remarked that leading her homeland was the "family business." She succeeded her mother, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, who became the world's first female prime minister after her husband was assassinated in 1959. In their part of the world there is no shortage of family firms. Benazir Bhutto's much anticipated return to Pakistan this month after eight years in exile is believed to foreshadow her comeback as prime minister, a post she held from 1988 to 1990 and 1993 to 1996, as did her father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, in the 1970s. Megawati Sukarnoputri, daughter of Sukarno, Indonesia's first post-colonial president, was leader of the world's largest Muslim country between 2001 and 2004 and is expected to seek the post again in 2009. In Bangladesh, arch-enemies Sheikh Hasina and Khaleda Zia have both served as prime ministers as well as heads of the two largest political parties. Hasina's late father and Zia's late husband ran the country at different times.
The phenomenon isn't confined to developing countries. In South Korea, legislator Park Geun-hye, daughter of dictator Park Chung-hee, remains a power in the ruling conservative party despite recently losing the nomination for the presidency by a few votes. In Japan, one of the most prominent lawmakers is the controversial ex-foreign minister Makiko Tanaka, whose father was a prime minister.
Most of the women who have "inherited" political power—Megawati, Kumara-tunga, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and imprisoned Burmese pro-democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Burmese revolutionary Aung San—also have brothers. But in the past two generations, women have been claiming a bigger share of the inheritance pie. This is partly because they are stepping up to take it, often spurred by social unrest. "We want women to be transformational leaders in transformational politics—not simply new members of the old male fraternity," says Patricia Licuanan, a Philippine academic who chaired 1995's landmark United Nations World Conference on Women in Beijing.
But in politics as well as business, fathers are also increasingly comfortable ceding authority to qualified daughters, says Roger King of the Centre for Family Business Studies at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. He's also found that when women rather than men become the main decision-makers in Asian family enterprises, they tend to be more focused on preserving the name and values of their fathers. Suu Kyi was only 2 years old when her father was killed, but was obsessed by the idea of him while growing up and wrote a book about him. Bhutto was driven into politics by the memory of her father, who was executed after a trial she insists was unfair.
Even for women with famous last names, being female can be a disadvantage. "The women have to be even better as leaders. They have to have a lot of drive to get to the top in an environment where that is not the tradition," says Christine Blondel, a professor at the French business school INSEAD. But of course they've got it much better than women without family connections, who still have trouble breaking into politics; according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union, women compose only 16.6 percent of Asia's legislatures. That's an improvement over 13.1 percent a decade ago, but a long way from Scandinavia's 41.6 percent and still below the global average of 17.4 percent.
Still, having women in office—no matter how they got there—benefits other aspiring female candidates. "The more women in top positions in politics and business, the more women will be encouraged to enter these fields," says Licuanan. History shows that countries that have elected women leaders do it again, and that credentials rather than family ties ultimately become the issue. It's already happening in Asia: Han Myung-sook, who was South Korea's prime minister until last March, and Taiwanese Vice President Annette Lu Hsiu-lien both arrived at their positions not through birth but through lifelong careers as activists. Ability, not bloodline, was their ticket to power.
URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/43373
In Asia, a surprising number of women hold powerful political positions. For better or worse, they have their family connections to thank for that.
by Alexandra A. Seno
NEWSWEEK
Updated: 3:31 PM ET Oct 13, 2007
Americans may be contemplating a female president for the first time, but in Asia 11 women have ruled in office since the 1960s—and many others exercise great influence from off-stage. Their cultures may be different, but they share one characteristic: politically powerful parents and husbands. "There is no doubt that the rise of female leaders is linked to their being members of prominent families: they are all the daughters, wives or widows of former government heads or leading oppositionists," write Claudia Derichs and Mark Thompson, the authors behind the German government-funded research project "Dynasties and Female Leadership in Asia." "These women share dynastic origins and inherited political leadership."
Chandrika Kumaratunga, the Sri Lankan head of state, once remarked that leading her homeland was the "family business." She succeeded her mother, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, who became the world's first female prime minister after her husband was assassinated in 1959. In their part of the world there is no shortage of family firms. Benazir Bhutto's much anticipated return to Pakistan this month after eight years in exile is believed to foreshadow her comeback as prime minister, a post she held from 1988 to 1990 and 1993 to 1996, as did her father, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, in the 1970s. Megawati Sukarnoputri, daughter of Sukarno, Indonesia's first post-colonial president, was leader of the world's largest Muslim country between 2001 and 2004 and is expected to seek the post again in 2009. In Bangladesh, arch-enemies Sheikh Hasina and Khaleda Zia have both served as prime ministers as well as heads of the two largest political parties. Hasina's late father and Zia's late husband ran the country at different times.
The phenomenon isn't confined to developing countries. In South Korea, legislator Park Geun-hye, daughter of dictator Park Chung-hee, remains a power in the ruling conservative party despite recently losing the nomination for the presidency by a few votes. In Japan, one of the most prominent lawmakers is the controversial ex-foreign minister Makiko Tanaka, whose father was a prime minister.
Most of the women who have "inherited" political power—Megawati, Kumara-tunga, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and imprisoned Burmese pro-democracy leader Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Burmese revolutionary Aung San—also have brothers. But in the past two generations, women have been claiming a bigger share of the inheritance pie. This is partly because they are stepping up to take it, often spurred by social unrest. "We want women to be transformational leaders in transformational politics—not simply new members of the old male fraternity," says Patricia Licuanan, a Philippine academic who chaired 1995's landmark United Nations World Conference on Women in Beijing.
But in politics as well as business, fathers are also increasingly comfortable ceding authority to qualified daughters, says Roger King of the Centre for Family Business Studies at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology. He's also found that when women rather than men become the main decision-makers in Asian family enterprises, they tend to be more focused on preserving the name and values of their fathers. Suu Kyi was only 2 years old when her father was killed, but was obsessed by the idea of him while growing up and wrote a book about him. Bhutto was driven into politics by the memory of her father, who was executed after a trial she insists was unfair.
Even for women with famous last names, being female can be a disadvantage. "The women have to be even better as leaders. They have to have a lot of drive to get to the top in an environment where that is not the tradition," says Christine Blondel, a professor at the French business school INSEAD. But of course they've got it much better than women without family connections, who still have trouble breaking into politics; according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union, women compose only 16.6 percent of Asia's legislatures. That's an improvement over 13.1 percent a decade ago, but a long way from Scandinavia's 41.6 percent and still below the global average of 17.4 percent.
Still, having women in office—no matter how they got there—benefits other aspiring female candidates. "The more women in top positions in politics and business, the more women will be encouraged to enter these fields," says Licuanan. History shows that countries that have elected women leaders do it again, and that credentials rather than family ties ultimately become the issue. It's already happening in Asia: Han Myung-sook, who was South Korea's prime minister until last March, and Taiwanese Vice President Annette Lu Hsiu-lien both arrived at their positions not through birth but through lifelong careers as activists. Ability, not bloodline, was their ticket to power.
URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/43373
IHT: China's Luxury Manufacturing
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/10/01/style/rchina.php
A new luxe take on 'Made in China'
By Alexandra A. Seno
Monday, October 1, 2007
HONG KONG: Say "Made in China" these days and the growing list of manufacturing scandals immediately comes to mind. But the recalls of lead paint-covered toys, news of poisonous dog food and shocking sweatshop stories obscure another reality: a very small but flourishing high-end factory sector that produces top-class goods.
Cheap and nasty fashion gets made a lot in mainland China but increasingly, well, chic happens. "Luxury manufacturing in China is a new trend so there will not be many factories. I would think this number must be less than 100 or even much lower," said Hana Ben-Shabat, a partner and international consumer goods specialist at the London offices of the management consultancy A.T. Kearney.
"In the beginning I was skeptical," said Rafe Totengco, designer of Rafe New York, a label popular among the Hollywood crowd. "I thought: 'Ugh, cheap labor . . . !' and I had all the perceptions of people who are uneducated about manufacturing in China."
A few years ago, hearing what some other high-end brands were doing on the mainland, Totengco began to visit workshops in Guangdong and Shenzhen in southern China. The recipient of several U.S. accessories design awards, he said, "I was blown away."
Totengco said he found tidy, Chinese-owned factories with neat, uniformed local workers and some Italian employees. The equipment tended to be cutting edge and the products, he said, were excellent quality with attention to detail. While he still uses Italian skins, he has had two collections entirely made in China, including the reptile-skin clutches that the "Desperate Housewives" star Eva Longoria ordered earlier this year for members of her wedding party.
Price, however, is not a big advantage in these factories. "It is not cheap. Small runs, under 300 pieces per style, per color, tend to cost the same as anywhere else in the world," said Fiona Kotur-Marin, a Hong Kong-based designer who also is a production consultant and a silent partner in the Tory Burch brand.
"There are different tiers of manufacturing in China," she said, "In the north, it is less expensive production. As you move south, manufacturing gets more refined." Labor for handbags or clothes generally constitutes just a tiny fraction of overall costs, often less than 10 percent, and the average general rates for workers in, say, Bangladesh can be a fifth of those in China.
The main advantage, according to Kotur-Marin: "Chinese factories meet their deadlines, unlike Europe." Chinese workers do not have the vacation allowances of European workers so factories, for example, work through August. And one of the under-appreciated qualities of the mainland's manufacturing capacity, she said, is a sophisticated supply chain infrastructure.
And the best workshops do not work with just anybody, Kotur-Marin said. "They pick you, you don't pick them because they don't need your business."
A recent study by consultants at the international accounting and business consultancy firm KPMG and at Monash University in Australia reported: "While companies are often wary of the 'Made in China' tag, companies such as Coach, Paul Smith and Armani have shifted some of their manufacturing to China in recent years."
Burberry makes up to 10 percent of its products in some of the more sophisticated factories across the border from Hong Kong, including about a quarter of its shirts and some of its accessories.
None of the three brands mentioned in the study would comment on their product sourcing methods.
When queried directly about the percentage of their goods made in part or entirely in China, representatives of other randomly selected European luxury labels were vehement that their goods were made in Europe yet refused to give further details about their manufacturing process.
Their reticence is understandable, analysts say. "One of the selling points of luxury is that the goods are handcrafted in Europe," said Nick Debnam, head of KPMG's consumer group in the Asia Pacific region and an author of the study.
And Ben-Shabat at A.T. Kearney said: "This is something all players will handle with care because of the sensitivity of consumers. Why pay $1,000 for handbag if it's not made in Italy?"
"Typically, you will see that they maintain most production of high-end ranges in Europe but will try to produce a sport line in a low-cost location," she said. "Or they will only do part of the work in the Far East and complete it in Europe."
China's own appetite for luxury goods may drive the country's growth in high-end manufacturing in the future, industry experts say.
Management advisers at Ernst and Young predict that by 2015, Chinese consumers will account for some $11.5 billion of luxury purchases, 29 percent of the industry's sales.
China already is the world's third-largest single market for luxury goods.
Earlier this year, the World Luxury Association predicted that by 2009, 60 percent of all luxury goods would be made in the mainland - and some of that production doubtless would end up being bought by the Chinese themselves.
Yet even that scenario has its own problems. Mainland Chinese, in particular, relish the "exotic" frisson of owning something made in Italy or France, Debnam said.
Aside from the general negative connotation around the "Made in China" tag these days, Kotur-Marin is frank about the other obstacles for a brand using mainland factories. For example, it took plenty of patience and five samples to prototype her bag named Fane Hitchcock. The $575 feathered clutch is now a hit among the East Coast socialites that patronize Kotur but the factory initially could not understand what she was trying to do.
"It is easier to work in Italy because we share the same vocabulary" of design, Kotur-Marin said. In China, "you are working with many people who have never been to Bloomingdale's."
Which partly explains the presence of foreign employees at some of the top-end factories. Of the six that Kotur works with, one has Italian workers; two of the five manufacturers used by Totengco have some Europeans on the payroll.
A new luxe take on 'Made in China'
By Alexandra A. Seno
Monday, October 1, 2007
HONG KONG: Say "Made in China" these days and the growing list of manufacturing scandals immediately comes to mind. But the recalls of lead paint-covered toys, news of poisonous dog food and shocking sweatshop stories obscure another reality: a very small but flourishing high-end factory sector that produces top-class goods.
Cheap and nasty fashion gets made a lot in mainland China but increasingly, well, chic happens. "Luxury manufacturing in China is a new trend so there will not be many factories. I would think this number must be less than 100 or even much lower," said Hana Ben-Shabat, a partner and international consumer goods specialist at the London offices of the management consultancy A.T. Kearney.
"In the beginning I was skeptical," said Rafe Totengco, designer of Rafe New York, a label popular among the Hollywood crowd. "I thought: 'Ugh, cheap labor . . . !' and I had all the perceptions of people who are uneducated about manufacturing in China."
A few years ago, hearing what some other high-end brands were doing on the mainland, Totengco began to visit workshops in Guangdong and Shenzhen in southern China. The recipient of several U.S. accessories design awards, he said, "I was blown away."
Totengco said he found tidy, Chinese-owned factories with neat, uniformed local workers and some Italian employees. The equipment tended to be cutting edge and the products, he said, were excellent quality with attention to detail. While he still uses Italian skins, he has had two collections entirely made in China, including the reptile-skin clutches that the "Desperate Housewives" star Eva Longoria ordered earlier this year for members of her wedding party.
Price, however, is not a big advantage in these factories. "It is not cheap. Small runs, under 300 pieces per style, per color, tend to cost the same as anywhere else in the world," said Fiona Kotur-Marin, a Hong Kong-based designer who also is a production consultant and a silent partner in the Tory Burch brand.
"There are different tiers of manufacturing in China," she said, "In the north, it is less expensive production. As you move south, manufacturing gets more refined." Labor for handbags or clothes generally constitutes just a tiny fraction of overall costs, often less than 10 percent, and the average general rates for workers in, say, Bangladesh can be a fifth of those in China.
The main advantage, according to Kotur-Marin: "Chinese factories meet their deadlines, unlike Europe." Chinese workers do not have the vacation allowances of European workers so factories, for example, work through August. And one of the under-appreciated qualities of the mainland's manufacturing capacity, she said, is a sophisticated supply chain infrastructure.
And the best workshops do not work with just anybody, Kotur-Marin said. "They pick you, you don't pick them because they don't need your business."
A recent study by consultants at the international accounting and business consultancy firm KPMG and at Monash University in Australia reported: "While companies are often wary of the 'Made in China' tag, companies such as Coach, Paul Smith and Armani have shifted some of their manufacturing to China in recent years."
Burberry makes up to 10 percent of its products in some of the more sophisticated factories across the border from Hong Kong, including about a quarter of its shirts and some of its accessories.
None of the three brands mentioned in the study would comment on their product sourcing methods.
When queried directly about the percentage of their goods made in part or entirely in China, representatives of other randomly selected European luxury labels were vehement that their goods were made in Europe yet refused to give further details about their manufacturing process.
Their reticence is understandable, analysts say. "One of the selling points of luxury is that the goods are handcrafted in Europe," said Nick Debnam, head of KPMG's consumer group in the Asia Pacific region and an author of the study.
And Ben-Shabat at A.T. Kearney said: "This is something all players will handle with care because of the sensitivity of consumers. Why pay $1,000 for handbag if it's not made in Italy?"
"Typically, you will see that they maintain most production of high-end ranges in Europe but will try to produce a sport line in a low-cost location," she said. "Or they will only do part of the work in the Far East and complete it in Europe."
China's own appetite for luxury goods may drive the country's growth in high-end manufacturing in the future, industry experts say.
Management advisers at Ernst and Young predict that by 2015, Chinese consumers will account for some $11.5 billion of luxury purchases, 29 percent of the industry's sales.
China already is the world's third-largest single market for luxury goods.
Earlier this year, the World Luxury Association predicted that by 2009, 60 percent of all luxury goods would be made in the mainland - and some of that production doubtless would end up being bought by the Chinese themselves.
Yet even that scenario has its own problems. Mainland Chinese, in particular, relish the "exotic" frisson of owning something made in Italy or France, Debnam said.
Aside from the general negative connotation around the "Made in China" tag these days, Kotur-Marin is frank about the other obstacles for a brand using mainland factories. For example, it took plenty of patience and five samples to prototype her bag named Fane Hitchcock. The $575 feathered clutch is now a hit among the East Coast socialites that patronize Kotur but the factory initially could not understand what she was trying to do.
"It is easier to work in Italy because we share the same vocabulary" of design, Kotur-Marin said. In China, "you are working with many people who have never been to Bloomingdale's."
Which partly explains the presence of foreign employees at some of the top-end factories. Of the six that Kotur works with, one has Italian workers; two of the five manufacturers used by Totengco have some Europeans on the payroll.
New York Public Radio Guesting: Digital Classical Music
http://www.wnyc.org/shows/soundcheck/episodes/2007/09/20
IHT: 9707
http://www.iht.com/bin/print.php?id=7304388
International brands, with a Hong Kong twist
By Alexandra A. Seno
Monday, September 10, 2007
HONG KONG: Alan Chan speaks of his recent collaboration with Salvatore Ferragamo with the kind of language usually used to describe a romance. One of Hong Kong's most distinguished design personalities, he speaks fondly about his long-time admiration for the Italian brand and of their shared passion for tradition. "The chemistry is very important," he says.
Chan's liaison with Ferragamo was part of the 9707 project, initiated by the Hong Kong Design Center, a quasi-governmental operation, to underscore Hong Kong's status as China's capital for world-class design. The project has paired 10 internationally renowned brands with top locally bred or Hong Kong-based creative talents.
The creative offspring in Chan's case: a silk scarf called "Hong Kong My Love." The design brings together symbols from Chinese and European cultures: a red star in a corner, a shoe, the Chinese character for 10, the Ferragamo logo. "My designs are East and West," Chan said, "It is cliché but this is Hong Kong's personality."
Most of the products, which include a range of fashion and home accessories, are scheduled to be finished by December, when the limited editions will go on sale, although the venues and product prices have not been settled.
There also will be an exhibit that will start in Hong Kong, then move to cities in mainland China, the United States and Europe.
The project is linked to the 10th anniversary of Hong Kong's return to Chinese rule - and its name is the actual date of the handover. Overall, 9707 is being touted as an example of the territory's desire to be considered a hub of global style and to retain that reputation.
Kai-yin Lo, a 9707 designer and a member of the design center's board, says, "Hong Kong did well with manufacturing, but that all moved to China where labor is cheaper. Hong Kong's edge is our know-how of the international market. When China can grapple with that, our advantage is lessened."
The brands involved in the project selected their Hong Kong partners. The products are in various stages of development but an early look reveals very personal interpretations of the essence of Hong Kong.
Barney Cheng named his pattern for a 9707 line of LeSportsac bags "Brilliant Beauty." Known for dressing the city's boldface names, he was inspired by a print of a pretty pink flower that he used for a couture client. He says: "I want to talk about Hong Kong people. They sway with the breeze. If there is a typhoon, the flower is still there."
For Richemont-owned Shanghai Tang, Lo is making embroidered shawls, noting that 90 percent of the world's fine cashmere yarn supply comes from mainland China.
Her designs feature Chinese knots, "universal symbols of bonding," and lingzhi, a potent fungus often used by local herbalists. "It represents Hong Kong. Lingzhi is renewable life," she said. "At home, I don't have flowers, I use lingzhi as decoration. I love its arabesques and spirals."
Working with Alessi, the stylish Italian houseware brand, the architect and product designer Gary Chang decided to avoid any obviously Chinese motif. Referring to the cramped living spaces typical in his hometown, he says: "My theme is how to make the most of the limited. It is very Hong Kong yet the idea of tight space is now global."
Chang, who has done coffee and teapots for Alessi before, is creating what he calls a "Treasure Box for Urban Nomads." He envisions a 2-inch, or 5-centimeter, thick case that is the size of an A5 sheet of paper and could function both as a travel accessory (it will fit in most hotel safes) as well as a dish for snacks.
Royal Copenhagen selected Kan Tai-keung. A recipient of a prestigious Chinese design award, he is making "Flora Banquet," a china dinner service adorned with a calligraphic yet contemporary pattern.
Others involved in 9707 include the fashion designer Vivienne Tam, who is doing jewelry for Georg Jensen, and the noted industrial designer Eric Chan, who is working on a chair for Herman Miller. They both grew up in Hong Kong but now are based in New York.
Michael Young of Britain is the only non-Asian of the lot, although he moved to Hong Kong three years ago. The product designer collaborated with Hong Kong watchmakers o.d.m. to create a pared-down timepiece "about the poetry of time and light."
While obvious targets for the 9707 message may be Europe, Japan or the United States, organizers say the most important audience is actually closer to home. "Mainland clients are not so sophisticated but they have the guts to take bold ideas," Alan Chan said.
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
International brands, with a Hong Kong twist
By Alexandra A. Seno
Monday, September 10, 2007
HONG KONG: Alan Chan speaks of his recent collaboration with Salvatore Ferragamo with the kind of language usually used to describe a romance. One of Hong Kong's most distinguished design personalities, he speaks fondly about his long-time admiration for the Italian brand and of their shared passion for tradition. "The chemistry is very important," he says.
Chan's liaison with Ferragamo was part of the 9707 project, initiated by the Hong Kong Design Center, a quasi-governmental operation, to underscore Hong Kong's status as China's capital for world-class design. The project has paired 10 internationally renowned brands with top locally bred or Hong Kong-based creative talents.
The creative offspring in Chan's case: a silk scarf called "Hong Kong My Love." The design brings together symbols from Chinese and European cultures: a red star in a corner, a shoe, the Chinese character for 10, the Ferragamo logo. "My designs are East and West," Chan said, "It is cliché but this is Hong Kong's personality."
Most of the products, which include a range of fashion and home accessories, are scheduled to be finished by December, when the limited editions will go on sale, although the venues and product prices have not been settled.
There also will be an exhibit that will start in Hong Kong, then move to cities in mainland China, the United States and Europe.
The project is linked to the 10th anniversary of Hong Kong's return to Chinese rule - and its name is the actual date of the handover. Overall, 9707 is being touted as an example of the territory's desire to be considered a hub of global style and to retain that reputation.
Kai-yin Lo, a 9707 designer and a member of the design center's board, says, "Hong Kong did well with manufacturing, but that all moved to China where labor is cheaper. Hong Kong's edge is our know-how of the international market. When China can grapple with that, our advantage is lessened."
The brands involved in the project selected their Hong Kong partners. The products are in various stages of development but an early look reveals very personal interpretations of the essence of Hong Kong.
Barney Cheng named his pattern for a 9707 line of LeSportsac bags "Brilliant Beauty." Known for dressing the city's boldface names, he was inspired by a print of a pretty pink flower that he used for a couture client. He says: "I want to talk about Hong Kong people. They sway with the breeze. If there is a typhoon, the flower is still there."
For Richemont-owned Shanghai Tang, Lo is making embroidered shawls, noting that 90 percent of the world's fine cashmere yarn supply comes from mainland China.
Her designs feature Chinese knots, "universal symbols of bonding," and lingzhi, a potent fungus often used by local herbalists. "It represents Hong Kong. Lingzhi is renewable life," she said. "At home, I don't have flowers, I use lingzhi as decoration. I love its arabesques and spirals."
Working with Alessi, the stylish Italian houseware brand, the architect and product designer Gary Chang decided to avoid any obviously Chinese motif. Referring to the cramped living spaces typical in his hometown, he says: "My theme is how to make the most of the limited. It is very Hong Kong yet the idea of tight space is now global."
Chang, who has done coffee and teapots for Alessi before, is creating what he calls a "Treasure Box for Urban Nomads." He envisions a 2-inch, or 5-centimeter, thick case that is the size of an A5 sheet of paper and could function both as a travel accessory (it will fit in most hotel safes) as well as a dish for snacks.
Royal Copenhagen selected Kan Tai-keung. A recipient of a prestigious Chinese design award, he is making "Flora Banquet," a china dinner service adorned with a calligraphic yet contemporary pattern.
Others involved in 9707 include the fashion designer Vivienne Tam, who is doing jewelry for Georg Jensen, and the noted industrial designer Eric Chan, who is working on a chair for Herman Miller. They both grew up in Hong Kong but now are based in New York.
Michael Young of Britain is the only non-Asian of the lot, although he moved to Hong Kong three years ago. The product designer collaborated with Hong Kong watchmakers o.d.m. to create a pared-down timepiece "about the poetry of time and light."
While obvious targets for the 9707 message may be Europe, Japan or the United States, organizers say the most important audience is actually closer to home. "Mainland clients are not so sophisticated but they have the guts to take bold ideas," Alan Chan said.
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
IHT: Terence Chang
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/08/29/arts/fmlede31.php
Terence Chang: A Hollywood producer turns back to Asia
By Alexandra A. Seno
Thursday, August 30, 2007
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/08/29/arts/fmlede31.php
HONG KONG: According to the producer Terence Chang Jia-tsun, casting John Travolta or Nicolas Cage is much easier than booking Chinese cinema's big names. Landing several top Asian talents for one project, as Chang recently did, requires the same logistical precision as the carefully choreographed signature action scenes of the director John Woo, his business partner.
The fruit of Chang's negotiating prowess is the all-star line-up in "Blood Brothers," a new Mandarin-language movie, shot in China, that marks the producer's first Asian project in 15 years. On Sept. 8, the $10 million production takes place of pride as the closing film of this year's Venice International Film Festival. A few days later, on Sept. 12, the movie, by the novice director Alexi Tan, makes its North American premiere with a prestigious Gala-section screening at the Toronto Film Festival.
"In Asia we have to schedule the film around the actors' schedules," Chang said in an interview. "In Hollywood when you make a film, you lock in the actors for however long. Here, they will give you 20 days this month, 10 days another month, you've got to work around it.
"When you're doing a film with just two stars, that's fine, but when you have an ensemble film, oh my God!," he continued. "Some actors are doing several things at the same time: another movie, a music video. Ahhhhh! They ask you for very specific dates - but what if it rains?"
And what if other producers suddenly appear on the set and decide to "kidnap" your talent? Chang, 58, said that he was shocked when at one point a "Brothers" star cut short the number of agreed shooting days and suddenly left with the makers of a television series.
Tan adapted "Brothers" to pre-war Shanghai, inspired by Woo's 1990 classic "Bullet in the Head." The 38-year-old director marveled at the amount of creative support that he received from Chang, whom he described as a "man of few words" and a great "mentor." "Most producers would have said: 'Stop, you already have Daniel [Wu] and Shu Qi,' " Tan said, referring to two of the film's stars. "But I wanted more. Terence just said: 'Let's go for it.' "
Chang personally worked the phones and pressed the flesh to get key people onboard. He was evidently pleased with the result: "I got the so-called 'next generation' of superstars," he said. "I've got them all." Some of the hottest young male actors working today in the Chinese film industry play the main characters, the "brothers": Wu, a Hong Kong-based Chinese-American actor; Liu Ye, from the mainland; and Chang Chen and Tony Yang Yu-ning from Taiwan.
The supporting cast and crew is also impressive. Sun Honglei, one of China's finest dramatic talents, delivers an inspired performance - and a memorable dance number - as a night club-owning crime boss. As his singer-girlfriend, the Taiwanese star Shu Qi radiates glamour and internal conflict. Tim Yip Kam-tim, who won the 2001 art direction Oscar for "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," designed the costumes.
Born and raised in Hong Kong, Chang studied architecture at the University of Oregon in the late 1960s, then film at New York University. He returned home in the 1970s, eventually becoming a successful filmmaker. After producing Woo's iconic "Hard Boiled" in 1992, he moved back to the United States. Together they made "Hard Target," the 1993 hit that established Woo's reputation in Hollywood.
The duo operate Lion Rock Pictures, based in Los Angeles, and Chang still produces all of the action maestro's films. In 1997, they made the box office blockbuster "Face/Off" with Travolta and Cage. The year before that, there was "Broken Arrow," with Travolta; and in 2002, they had Cage again in "Windtalkers." Chang has produced about a dozen Hollywood movies with major stars like Jodie Foster ("Anna and the King," 1999) and Tom Cruise ("Mission: Impossible II," 2000).
In the last three years, however, Chang has shuttled between California and Beijing to put together "Red Cliff," an ambitious Mandarin-language historical war epic that Woo had dreamed of making for years. While the Lion Rock development portfolio is still primarily made up of English-language Hollywood movies, Chang is dabbling in comparatively small Chinese projects, Tan's picture being the first, as he spends time in Asia for "Red Cliff."
He describes the style of "Brothers" as "heightened reality, like an old-fashioned Hollywood film." Woo, who gets a producer credit, edited the movie himself. Chang said: "John really wanted to make this. Unlike his American films where he's just telling a story, this one is very personal."
Chang is also experimenting with something different in the mainland movie industry. "Everyone in China wants to win awards, so they make depressing movies about peasants and poor people," he said. "I love those films, but I don't know how to make them because I make commercial films." He added, "It is time to show the world that China can make good commercial films that is not people flying in the air," referring to the worldwide blockbusters "Crouching Tiger" and "Hero."
Chang said he enjoyed working with a beginner like Tan. "Alexi is new, I can give him advice," he said. "With John, there is only really so much I can do."
When he first got the script for "Red Cliff," Chang said, he immediately realized it would be a four-hour movie. To do it properly would cost much more than the initial $50 million budget. He gently suggested to Woo, who hasn't directed a Chinese film since 1992, that they cut one of the big battle scenes.
"He stared at me and just walked away," Chang said. "How was I supposed to make this work out?" The producer ended up in the hospital due to the tension with his friend Woo. After that, they had a "heart-to-heart" talk and the director was finally convinced to break it up into a two-part film.
Chang then went around again asking investors for more money. Woo finally started filming earlier this year at a location four hours from Beijing and they hope to finish shooting by the fall.
The first installment of "Red Cliff" opens next summer in China, weeks before the Olympics begin. As sometimes happens with movies that the government deems important, several major film distributors on the mainland have promised to hold off all other releases during this much-coveted slot to better showcase Woo and Chang's cinematic opus.
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
Terence Chang: A Hollywood producer turns back to Asia
By Alexandra A. Seno
Thursday, August 30, 2007
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/08/29/arts/fmlede31.php
HONG KONG: According to the producer Terence Chang Jia-tsun, casting John Travolta or Nicolas Cage is much easier than booking Chinese cinema's big names. Landing several top Asian talents for one project, as Chang recently did, requires the same logistical precision as the carefully choreographed signature action scenes of the director John Woo, his business partner.
The fruit of Chang's negotiating prowess is the all-star line-up in "Blood Brothers," a new Mandarin-language movie, shot in China, that marks the producer's first Asian project in 15 years. On Sept. 8, the $10 million production takes place of pride as the closing film of this year's Venice International Film Festival. A few days later, on Sept. 12, the movie, by the novice director Alexi Tan, makes its North American premiere with a prestigious Gala-section screening at the Toronto Film Festival.
"In Asia we have to schedule the film around the actors' schedules," Chang said in an interview. "In Hollywood when you make a film, you lock in the actors for however long. Here, they will give you 20 days this month, 10 days another month, you've got to work around it.
"When you're doing a film with just two stars, that's fine, but when you have an ensemble film, oh my God!," he continued. "Some actors are doing several things at the same time: another movie, a music video. Ahhhhh! They ask you for very specific dates - but what if it rains?"
And what if other producers suddenly appear on the set and decide to "kidnap" your talent? Chang, 58, said that he was shocked when at one point a "Brothers" star cut short the number of agreed shooting days and suddenly left with the makers of a television series.
Tan adapted "Brothers" to pre-war Shanghai, inspired by Woo's 1990 classic "Bullet in the Head." The 38-year-old director marveled at the amount of creative support that he received from Chang, whom he described as a "man of few words" and a great "mentor." "Most producers would have said: 'Stop, you already have Daniel [Wu] and Shu Qi,' " Tan said, referring to two of the film's stars. "But I wanted more. Terence just said: 'Let's go for it.' "
Chang personally worked the phones and pressed the flesh to get key people onboard. He was evidently pleased with the result: "I got the so-called 'next generation' of superstars," he said. "I've got them all." Some of the hottest young male actors working today in the Chinese film industry play the main characters, the "brothers": Wu, a Hong Kong-based Chinese-American actor; Liu Ye, from the mainland; and Chang Chen and Tony Yang Yu-ning from Taiwan.
The supporting cast and crew is also impressive. Sun Honglei, one of China's finest dramatic talents, delivers an inspired performance - and a memorable dance number - as a night club-owning crime boss. As his singer-girlfriend, the Taiwanese star Shu Qi radiates glamour and internal conflict. Tim Yip Kam-tim, who won the 2001 art direction Oscar for "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon," designed the costumes.
Born and raised in Hong Kong, Chang studied architecture at the University of Oregon in the late 1960s, then film at New York University. He returned home in the 1970s, eventually becoming a successful filmmaker. After producing Woo's iconic "Hard Boiled" in 1992, he moved back to the United States. Together they made "Hard Target," the 1993 hit that established Woo's reputation in Hollywood.
The duo operate Lion Rock Pictures, based in Los Angeles, and Chang still produces all of the action maestro's films. In 1997, they made the box office blockbuster "Face/Off" with Travolta and Cage. The year before that, there was "Broken Arrow," with Travolta; and in 2002, they had Cage again in "Windtalkers." Chang has produced about a dozen Hollywood movies with major stars like Jodie Foster ("Anna and the King," 1999) and Tom Cruise ("Mission: Impossible II," 2000).
In the last three years, however, Chang has shuttled between California and Beijing to put together "Red Cliff," an ambitious Mandarin-language historical war epic that Woo had dreamed of making for years. While the Lion Rock development portfolio is still primarily made up of English-language Hollywood movies, Chang is dabbling in comparatively small Chinese projects, Tan's picture being the first, as he spends time in Asia for "Red Cliff."
He describes the style of "Brothers" as "heightened reality, like an old-fashioned Hollywood film." Woo, who gets a producer credit, edited the movie himself. Chang said: "John really wanted to make this. Unlike his American films where he's just telling a story, this one is very personal."
Chang is also experimenting with something different in the mainland movie industry. "Everyone in China wants to win awards, so they make depressing movies about peasants and poor people," he said. "I love those films, but I don't know how to make them because I make commercial films." He added, "It is time to show the world that China can make good commercial films that is not people flying in the air," referring to the worldwide blockbusters "Crouching Tiger" and "Hero."
Chang said he enjoyed working with a beginner like Tan. "Alexi is new, I can give him advice," he said. "With John, there is only really so much I can do."
When he first got the script for "Red Cliff," Chang said, he immediately realized it would be a four-hour movie. To do it properly would cost much more than the initial $50 million budget. He gently suggested to Woo, who hasn't directed a Chinese film since 1992, that they cut one of the big battle scenes.
"He stared at me and just walked away," Chang said. "How was I supposed to make this work out?" The producer ended up in the hospital due to the tension with his friend Woo. After that, they had a "heart-to-heart" talk and the director was finally convinced to break it up into a two-part film.
Chang then went around again asking investors for more money. Woo finally started filming earlier this year at a location four hours from Beijing and they hope to finish shooting by the fall.
The first installment of "Red Cliff" opens next summer in China, weeks before the Olympics begin. As sometimes happens with movies that the government deems important, several major film distributors on the mainland have promised to hold off all other releases during this much-coveted slot to better showcase Woo and Chang's cinematic opus.
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
Newsweek: "Collective Identity" Exhibit at the University of Hong Kong
The Revolution Lives
Memories of China's Cultural Revolution have forged some of its most provacative contemporary art.
Web Exclusive
By Alexandra A. Seno
Newsweek
Sept. 3, 2007 issue - Today’s China was forged with revolt, revolution, blood and dreams. Paramount to understanding the future direction of the country and its hyperactive contemporary art scene is the appreciation of the byways the nation has traveled. Those under 50–which would be most Chinese—only know of the turbulent ten years from 1966, when the Cultural Revolution began, to 1976, when Mao Zedong died, as other people’s memories: film clips, pictures, propaganda posters, paintings.
Yet that decade has become the most compelling narrative running through the mainland’s cultural scene today. "Collective Identity: From the Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art" is a delightfully provocative exhibit that's showing now—until Sept. 2—at the University of Hong Kong. Organized and curated by Jiang Jiehong of the United Kingdom's UCE Birmingham Institute of Art and Design, it's one of these great little shows to be experienced only in Hong Kong: it's sophisticated, nuanced, uncensored and a reflective discussion about China. It explores the Cultural Revolution’s profound power over the present by juxtaposing vintage black and white news pictures with a video, paintings, and fine art photography from the last 10 years or so.
In a multitude of ways, the Cultural Revolution–not to be confused with the economically disasterous Great Leap Forward which came before it—was the last major hurrah for Mao and his personal brand of communism. He made a high art out of sloganeering and his own image into a mythic symbol. Across the country, he galvanized citizens into what the University museum's curator, Tina Pang Yee-wan, calls “mass assemblies electrified with the giddy hysteria of revolution.” At these large gatherings, a nation was born again.
The show-stopper of "Collective Identity" is a wall-sized Li Songsong oil-on-aluminium work from 2006, “The Art of Manufacturing News,” in which a figure suggesting former president Jiang Zemin reviews troops from his car as the press immortalizes the moment from another vehicle. The scene resembles a photograph of a major government happening except that Li rendered sections by using separate panels, applying distinct brushstrokes and shades to each area. It is as if different camera lenses used different color filters. Aside from the officially sanctioned version, how many interpretations are there, how many layers making up historical fact? In China’s art, the revolution lives.
© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.
Memories of China's Cultural Revolution have forged some of its most provacative contemporary art.
Web Exclusive
By Alexandra A. Seno
Newsweek
Sept. 3, 2007 issue - Today’s China was forged with revolt, revolution, blood and dreams. Paramount to understanding the future direction of the country and its hyperactive contemporary art scene is the appreciation of the byways the nation has traveled. Those under 50–which would be most Chinese—only know of the turbulent ten years from 1966, when the Cultural Revolution began, to 1976, when Mao Zedong died, as other people’s memories: film clips, pictures, propaganda posters, paintings.
Yet that decade has become the most compelling narrative running through the mainland’s cultural scene today. "Collective Identity: From the Cultural Revolution to Contemporary Art" is a delightfully provocative exhibit that's showing now—until Sept. 2—at the University of Hong Kong. Organized and curated by Jiang Jiehong of the United Kingdom's UCE Birmingham Institute of Art and Design, it's one of these great little shows to be experienced only in Hong Kong: it's sophisticated, nuanced, uncensored and a reflective discussion about China. It explores the Cultural Revolution’s profound power over the present by juxtaposing vintage black and white news pictures with a video, paintings, and fine art photography from the last 10 years or so.
In a multitude of ways, the Cultural Revolution–not to be confused with the economically disasterous Great Leap Forward which came before it—was the last major hurrah for Mao and his personal brand of communism. He made a high art out of sloganeering and his own image into a mythic symbol. Across the country, he galvanized citizens into what the University museum's curator, Tina Pang Yee-wan, calls “mass assemblies electrified with the giddy hysteria of revolution.” At these large gatherings, a nation was born again.
The show-stopper of "Collective Identity" is a wall-sized Li Songsong oil-on-aluminium work from 2006, “The Art of Manufacturing News,” in which a figure suggesting former president Jiang Zemin reviews troops from his car as the press immortalizes the moment from another vehicle. The scene resembles a photograph of a major government happening except that Li rendered sections by using separate panels, applying distinct brushstrokes and shades to each area. It is as if different camera lenses used different color filters. Aside from the officially sanctioned version, how many interpretations are there, how many layers making up historical fact? In China’s art, the revolution lives.
© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.
Newsweek: China's "Patriotic" Art
A Cultural Revolution
China's sizzling art market has a new darling: patriotic works that mark the founding of the People's Republic.
By Alexandra A. Seno
Newsweek International
Sept. 3, 2007 issue - Revolution is sweeping China's art world. In recent months, paintings extolling the communist victory of 1949 have emerged as the hottest genre in one of the world's most exuberant art scenes. With an economy growing at some 11 percent a year and a society morphing radically day by day, fascination with the birth of modern China is growing fast. In recent years, international collectors and critics have been much taken by new Chinese pop and avant-garde works featuring such notorious emblems of communism as red stars, Mao Zedong and People's Liberation Army soldiers. But Chinese collectors and serious connoisseurs are now becoming far more interested in slightly older works surrounding the creation of the People's Republic.
Indeed, China's red-hot art market is not cooling, but its prime objects of desire are changing fast. Today's biggest draws are paintings done in the realist style between the 1930s and the 1970s, from the time of the anti-Japanese movement led by the peasant-based Red Army to the period before Deng Xiaoping's liberalizing reforms. And they are fetching record prices. Just a few years ago, Chen Yifei's 1972 "Eulogy of the Yellow River," an elegant and very large work depicting a rifle-bearing Red Army soldier on a mountain bathed in golden light, was considered dowdy and kitsch. But at auction in May, after a fierce fight among various bidders, the 297cm-by-143cm piece fetched an eye-popping $5.16 million—setting a record as the most expensive oil painting ever sold in China. By contrast, a painting of the Three Gorges dam site by fortysomething artist Liu Xiaodong set the record for contemporary avant-garde art at $2.7 million last November. "Patriotic art is a very important theme in oil paintings," says Liu Gang, director of contemporary art at China Guardian, the influential Beijing auctioneer that handled the "Yellow River" sale. "We will certainly have this kind of work at our autumn auctions. The main attraction of these works is their inspiring subjects, which reveal the artist's love of nation and the people."
While the patriotic paintings merit attention as historical objects, they are primarily beloved for the passions they arouse. With the typical age of buyers starting at about 40, Liu says the works "easily resonate among people who have experienced wars or the Cultural Revolution." They seem to be nostalgic for an idealistic old China. And they've increasingly got money to invest; nouveau riche Chinese have become highly visible at home and abroad buying all kinds of art. Evelyn Lin, Sotheby's contemporary Chinese painting expert in Hong Kong, explains that while the realist style "is not so fresh" to the Western-trained eye, Chinese highly value what it represents. "It is more emotional," she says. "We know the stories." "Put Down Your Whip," for instance, is a 1939 realist ink work by Xu Beihong that portrays a famous actress in a scene from a renowned anti-Japanese play of the same title. Xu, widely regarded as the greatest master of his generation, died in 1953, and surely never imagined that his picture would sell for $9.2 million—as it did in April at Sotheby's in Hong Kong, setting the world record for the sale of a Chinese painting. It was purchased by a non-mainland collector, though Sotheby's won't say who or where.
Technically, the works are quite accomplished. Figures appear lifelike, often cast in romantic light. European and Soviet influences are clearly discernible even when subjects were uniquely Chinese. Indeed, many of the country's biggest names trained abroad. Xu, for example, studied in France at the Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. He and his creative peers in turn helped educate younger artists. During the Cultural Revolution, Mao's system marshaled the best artistic talents in China to serve politics. Many painters took on teaching jobs at state art institutes and lent their skills to glorifying communism, often in the form of propaganda material.
But little of it still exists as original paintings. Throughout China's history, artists and their works suffered during wars and political campaigns. In the case of modernist ink painter Lin Fengmian, soldiers ransacked his house and destroyed his works during the war with Japan in the 1930s. Then in 1966, just as the Cultural Revolution was beginning, Lin destroyed all his paintings—done on rice paper—by soaking them in water and flushing them down the toilet in an effort to avoid persecution as an intellectual; later he was jailed and tortured anyway. Surviving art from that period tends to be in notoriously poor condition, further heightening demand for the precious few that are well preserved—and jacking up prices.
The art world will be watching closely this fall, when Sotheby's Hong Kong offers two unabashedly patriotic paintings as highlights of its October auction. Xu's 1935 "Crouching Lion" uses his signature animal symbolism to convey his belief in the Chinese nation's grand destiny over foreign powers; Sotheby's predicts the painting will fetch between $230,000 and $320,000. And "Father and Daughter," a 1939 work by Jiang Zhaohe that conveys the optimism of China's youth on the eve of the country's revolution, is estimated to go for somewhere between $10,250 and $15,400.
Though Sotheby's won't say when it expects the current records for patriotic art to be broken, collectors and critics outside China are clearly catching on to the trend. Catherine Kwai, managing director of Hong Kong's Kwai Fung Art Consultants, says some of her multinational investment-bank clients have begun asking her to look out for patriotic pieces to add to their corporate collections. In addition, she is in the process of helping an Italian museum stage an exhibit next year on Chinese realist masterpieces, which will include patriotism-themed paintings. She believes these kinds of paintings are among the most exciting for Chinese art collectors right now. "Behind these paintings there is so much to tell about the history of China," she says.
The fact that the works are straightforward and easy to understand only adds to their appeal. "Chinese still look at paintings for technique," says Kwai. "How lifelike is it? That is our training." As the mainland economy continues to prosper, novice collectors will keep rushing into the market, ensuring a bright future for the realist style. "This market will always be around," says Sotheby's Lin. "This will stay forever in China." That might be a particularly rosy prediction as tastes continue to evolve, but for now at least, patriotic art is enjoying its moment under the red, red sun.
© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.
China's sizzling art market has a new darling: patriotic works that mark the founding of the People's Republic.
By Alexandra A. Seno
Newsweek International
Sept. 3, 2007 issue - Revolution is sweeping China's art world. In recent months, paintings extolling the communist victory of 1949 have emerged as the hottest genre in one of the world's most exuberant art scenes. With an economy growing at some 11 percent a year and a society morphing radically day by day, fascination with the birth of modern China is growing fast. In recent years, international collectors and critics have been much taken by new Chinese pop and avant-garde works featuring such notorious emblems of communism as red stars, Mao Zedong and People's Liberation Army soldiers. But Chinese collectors and serious connoisseurs are now becoming far more interested in slightly older works surrounding the creation of the People's Republic.
Indeed, China's red-hot art market is not cooling, but its prime objects of desire are changing fast. Today's biggest draws are paintings done in the realist style between the 1930s and the 1970s, from the time of the anti-Japanese movement led by the peasant-based Red Army to the period before Deng Xiaoping's liberalizing reforms. And they are fetching record prices. Just a few years ago, Chen Yifei's 1972 "Eulogy of the Yellow River," an elegant and very large work depicting a rifle-bearing Red Army soldier on a mountain bathed in golden light, was considered dowdy and kitsch. But at auction in May, after a fierce fight among various bidders, the 297cm-by-143cm piece fetched an eye-popping $5.16 million—setting a record as the most expensive oil painting ever sold in China. By contrast, a painting of the Three Gorges dam site by fortysomething artist Liu Xiaodong set the record for contemporary avant-garde art at $2.7 million last November. "Patriotic art is a very important theme in oil paintings," says Liu Gang, director of contemporary art at China Guardian, the influential Beijing auctioneer that handled the "Yellow River" sale. "We will certainly have this kind of work at our autumn auctions. The main attraction of these works is their inspiring subjects, which reveal the artist's love of nation and the people."
While the patriotic paintings merit attention as historical objects, they are primarily beloved for the passions they arouse. With the typical age of buyers starting at about 40, Liu says the works "easily resonate among people who have experienced wars or the Cultural Revolution." They seem to be nostalgic for an idealistic old China. And they've increasingly got money to invest; nouveau riche Chinese have become highly visible at home and abroad buying all kinds of art. Evelyn Lin, Sotheby's contemporary Chinese painting expert in Hong Kong, explains that while the realist style "is not so fresh" to the Western-trained eye, Chinese highly value what it represents. "It is more emotional," she says. "We know the stories." "Put Down Your Whip," for instance, is a 1939 realist ink work by Xu Beihong that portrays a famous actress in a scene from a renowned anti-Japanese play of the same title. Xu, widely regarded as the greatest master of his generation, died in 1953, and surely never imagined that his picture would sell for $9.2 million—as it did in April at Sotheby's in Hong Kong, setting the world record for the sale of a Chinese painting. It was purchased by a non-mainland collector, though Sotheby's won't say who or where.
Technically, the works are quite accomplished. Figures appear lifelike, often cast in romantic light. European and Soviet influences are clearly discernible even when subjects were uniquely Chinese. Indeed, many of the country's biggest names trained abroad. Xu, for example, studied in France at the Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. He and his creative peers in turn helped educate younger artists. During the Cultural Revolution, Mao's system marshaled the best artistic talents in China to serve politics. Many painters took on teaching jobs at state art institutes and lent their skills to glorifying communism, often in the form of propaganda material.
But little of it still exists as original paintings. Throughout China's history, artists and their works suffered during wars and political campaigns. In the case of modernist ink painter Lin Fengmian, soldiers ransacked his house and destroyed his works during the war with Japan in the 1930s. Then in 1966, just as the Cultural Revolution was beginning, Lin destroyed all his paintings—done on rice paper—by soaking them in water and flushing them down the toilet in an effort to avoid persecution as an intellectual; later he was jailed and tortured anyway. Surviving art from that period tends to be in notoriously poor condition, further heightening demand for the precious few that are well preserved—and jacking up prices.
The art world will be watching closely this fall, when Sotheby's Hong Kong offers two unabashedly patriotic paintings as highlights of its October auction. Xu's 1935 "Crouching Lion" uses his signature animal symbolism to convey his belief in the Chinese nation's grand destiny over foreign powers; Sotheby's predicts the painting will fetch between $230,000 and $320,000. And "Father and Daughter," a 1939 work by Jiang Zhaohe that conveys the optimism of China's youth on the eve of the country's revolution, is estimated to go for somewhere between $10,250 and $15,400.
Though Sotheby's won't say when it expects the current records for patriotic art to be broken, collectors and critics outside China are clearly catching on to the trend. Catherine Kwai, managing director of Hong Kong's Kwai Fung Art Consultants, says some of her multinational investment-bank clients have begun asking her to look out for patriotic pieces to add to their corporate collections. In addition, she is in the process of helping an Italian museum stage an exhibit next year on Chinese realist masterpieces, which will include patriotism-themed paintings. She believes these kinds of paintings are among the most exciting for Chinese art collectors right now. "Behind these paintings there is so much to tell about the history of China," she says.
The fact that the works are straightforward and easy to understand only adds to their appeal. "Chinese still look at paintings for technique," says Kwai. "How lifelike is it? That is our training." As the mainland economy continues to prosper, novice collectors will keep rushing into the market, ensuring a bright future for the realist style. "This market will always be around," says Sotheby's Lin. "This will stay forever in China." That might be a particularly rosy prediction as tastes continue to evolve, but for now at least, patriotic art is enjoying its moment under the red, red sun.
© 2007 Newsweek, Inc.
IHT: Jiang Wen
http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/08/16/arts/seno.php
Jiang Wen: An actor and director with a taste for the epic
By Alexandra A. Seno
Thursday, August 16, 2007
HONG KONG: In 1970s China, Jiang Wen fell in love with epic cinema, the kind with larger-than-life heroes swept up in a changing world. "In those days, we could only watch Russian, Chinese, Albanian and Romanian films. They were mostly movies about war and anti-fascism," he said. "Those films affected me. They had a smell. The big studio films of today are very glamorous but they seem so artificial; they have no smell."
Clearly, that craving to recreate the profound cinematic experiences of his boyhood drives Jiang's career, one focused on making important statements and lasting impressions. For more than two decades, he has been the face of his country's art-house films, as a director and as China's most famous dramatic actor.
He played Gong Li's winemaking paramour in "Red Sorghum," (1987), Zhang Yimou's breathtaking first movie. In "Devils on the Doorstep," (1994) which won the Grand Jury Prize at Cannes in 2000, and which Jiang directed, he played a villager caught between the Chinese Army and Japanese occupation forces.
In his latest opus, "The Sun Also Rises," which will premiere at the Venice Film Festival next month, he is a man dealing with his wife's infidelity. It took him three years to finish the movie, his third as director. "I never control a film. The film controls me," said Jiang, 44. "I was obsessed and involved. I was controlled by the characters."
Four related stories set in idyllic, rural China comprise "The Sun Also Rises." Three take place in the 1970s, one in the 1950s. Aside from himself, the movie features established actors like Joan Chen and Anthony Wong Chau-sang.
But the early buzz has been about the performance of Jaycee Chan, the son of the action star Jackie Chan, who is making a name for himself as a dramatic talent.
Jiang takes special pride in Jaycee's work, noting that he picked him for the lead in three of the stories and served as mentor.
The director shot what he believes will be the most memorable scenes of this $10 million movie over many weeks in the remote Yunan Province. "Making this film, I wanted a dreamlike environment," he said. He wanted to enhance this further by doing post-production in Paris, choosing the same lab that worked on "Amélie," the fantastical French hit.
Jiang epitomizes the kind of filmmaking tradition that is revered on the mainland. While in Hong Kong's predominantly commercial industry the craft is learned by working on movie sets, in China cinema is considered high culture that is nurtured in elite film institutes.
Jiang graduated in 1984 from Beijing's Central Academy of Drama, China's most important acting school. He acted in a handful of government studio films like the sweeping drama "Hisbiscus Town" before making a name for himself internationally with his powerful performance in "Red Sorghum." He directed his first film, "In the Heat of the Sun," a coming-of-age tale, in 1984.
He has remained true to his pursuit of epic stories, choosing to star in only about one a year and directing only three in more than a decade.
"Do you think it is too few?" he asked. "If you look at them, they are like 20 films. Each one is like five or six. Other people's films are like a cocktail, a little alcohol with water and juice. My films are like pure vodka."
Jiang's movies are indeed potent. "Sun" tackles life during the Cultural Revolution, a period that is still sensitive in China. He remains sanguine about the risks inherent to his kind of storytelling.
"Devils" earned Jiang the ire of censors who felt he was a little too sympathetic to the Japanese, and for months after that, he was blacklisted. Despite the movie's lack of theatrical distribution, it was very popular in China, becoming a best seller in pirated-DVD shops across the country.
"A film that doesn't get distributed is like a child that never gets married," he said. "Maybe she's having a secret affair with the audiences, but officially she still lives at home."
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
Jiang Wen: An actor and director with a taste for the epic
By Alexandra A. Seno
Thursday, August 16, 2007
HONG KONG: In 1970s China, Jiang Wen fell in love with epic cinema, the kind with larger-than-life heroes swept up in a changing world. "In those days, we could only watch Russian, Chinese, Albanian and Romanian films. They were mostly movies about war and anti-fascism," he said. "Those films affected me. They had a smell. The big studio films of today are very glamorous but they seem so artificial; they have no smell."
Clearly, that craving to recreate the profound cinematic experiences of his boyhood drives Jiang's career, one focused on making important statements and lasting impressions. For more than two decades, he has been the face of his country's art-house films, as a director and as China's most famous dramatic actor.
He played Gong Li's winemaking paramour in "Red Sorghum," (1987), Zhang Yimou's breathtaking first movie. In "Devils on the Doorstep," (1994) which won the Grand Jury Prize at Cannes in 2000, and which Jiang directed, he played a villager caught between the Chinese Army and Japanese occupation forces.
In his latest opus, "The Sun Also Rises," which will premiere at the Venice Film Festival next month, he is a man dealing with his wife's infidelity. It took him three years to finish the movie, his third as director. "I never control a film. The film controls me," said Jiang, 44. "I was obsessed and involved. I was controlled by the characters."
Four related stories set in idyllic, rural China comprise "The Sun Also Rises." Three take place in the 1970s, one in the 1950s. Aside from himself, the movie features established actors like Joan Chen and Anthony Wong Chau-sang.
But the early buzz has been about the performance of Jaycee Chan, the son of the action star Jackie Chan, who is making a name for himself as a dramatic talent.
Jiang takes special pride in Jaycee's work, noting that he picked him for the lead in three of the stories and served as mentor.
The director shot what he believes will be the most memorable scenes of this $10 million movie over many weeks in the remote Yunan Province. "Making this film, I wanted a dreamlike environment," he said. He wanted to enhance this further by doing post-production in Paris, choosing the same lab that worked on "Amélie," the fantastical French hit.
Jiang epitomizes the kind of filmmaking tradition that is revered on the mainland. While in Hong Kong's predominantly commercial industry the craft is learned by working on movie sets, in China cinema is considered high culture that is nurtured in elite film institutes.
Jiang graduated in 1984 from Beijing's Central Academy of Drama, China's most important acting school. He acted in a handful of government studio films like the sweeping drama "Hisbiscus Town" before making a name for himself internationally with his powerful performance in "Red Sorghum." He directed his first film, "In the Heat of the Sun," a coming-of-age tale, in 1984.
He has remained true to his pursuit of epic stories, choosing to star in only about one a year and directing only three in more than a decade.
"Do you think it is too few?" he asked. "If you look at them, they are like 20 films. Each one is like five or six. Other people's films are like a cocktail, a little alcohol with water and juice. My films are like pure vodka."
Jiang's movies are indeed potent. "Sun" tackles life during the Cultural Revolution, a period that is still sensitive in China. He remains sanguine about the risks inherent to his kind of storytelling.
"Devils" earned Jiang the ire of censors who felt he was a little too sympathetic to the Japanese, and for months after that, he was blacklisted. Despite the movie's lack of theatrical distribution, it was very popular in China, becoming a best seller in pirated-DVD shops across the country.
"A film that doesn't get distributed is like a child that never gets married," he said. "Maybe she's having a secret affair with the audiences, but officially she still lives at home."
Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com
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