by Kenny Moon
Thursday, April 26, 2012
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ink and brush, flowers and birds.
Modern artists are different:
Mei Mei uses her body to challenge
state repression and terror,
exposing every dark little corner.
Dripping candle wax
onto Cang Xin's shoulders - tactile art.
Questioning society; couples tied together like Siamese twins,
the old idea of joining yangs and yins
in the prison of marriage.
Zhang Dali sprays his head on Beijing's crumbling walls,
guerrilla graffiti artist,
constantly looking over his shoulder,
aware of control and censorship.
I'm old-fashioned: galloping horses,
goldfish and shrimps, clear and limpid.
Remembering the past: female-artist
standing naked on the Great Wall, exposing her breasts
to the scorn of a prudish society.
Her mother driven mad by persecution;
they never let her forget her daughter was born out of wedlock.
Mother ran naked in the streets,
and now the artist-daughter relives the nightmare flight.
I'm classical: Li Bai and the drunken boat,
pandas and bamboo,
peasants making do.
The thought of a sex-change donor giving his
dismembered member to posterity
truly defies government dicks the world over.
From London, Cai and JJ, brought the exhibit.
What are they going to do with it?
Make wine. OK! Perfect for parties.
I'm romantic: willows along the riverbank.
Gender politics: feminine–faced Ma Liuming,
combing his long black hair on the Great Wall,
making the point that gender is negotiable,
a hosepipe running
from his penis to his mouth. Still no hosepipe ban!
I'm traditional: monkey kings
and water margins, singsong girls
and peony pavilions;
my eyes more on heaven than earth.