Nayonggang – Untitled (无题)

So, I was pleasantly surprised when I stopped by the Xinjiang Museum on Beijing Bei Lu in Ürümchi on the first day of “融” róng, a new exhibition of paintings and sculptures by twenty-eight current Xinjiang artists at the Xinjiang Museum’s newly-opened Artist Base (艺术家基地), a free exhibition space funded and maintained by the Xinjiang Culture Office. The exhibition was put together by Zhuoya (卓娅), one of the more interesting artists showing her work, as a way to bring more recognition to local artists with unique ideas and styles. The exhibition is meant as an open rejection of the reproduction of particular styles in a formal way (as well as of “false uniqueness”) and of the competition and meritocracy that has grown up around art. Indeed, many of the artists are either untrained or incompletely formally trained or come from the edges of society; they include several self-employed individuals, one nomad, and many artists who, despite years of production, have never before shown their work. Those with the shortest résumés had the most interesting pieces. Interestingly, I was told at the exhibition that the Head of the Culture Office is especially forward-thinking and interesting in promoting unique and edgy artwork. Perhaps we will see more of this in the near future?

Zhuoya – Seasons of Love (爱之季节)

Although the original theme (and title) of the show is “fusion”, specifically that of the “crossroads” that is Xinjiang, I think “icons” would fall rather closer to the mark. All of the really interesting artists (most of whom happen to be Mongols) focus, in some way, on almost deific representations of humans or animals. Take, for example, the overtly feminine spirits of Zhuoya’s own work, women who peer, content, from their rightful place in the pantheon. In a region where any artistic depictions of women are necessarily constrained by the inevitable “ethnic dress”, I was happy to see that even the “Mongol goddess” was transcendent. And what are we to make of the two young women we see through a keyhole-like portrait, whispering to each other’s confidence? You can see, at right, one of a series of “Seasons of Love” (爱之季节) – I wonder what the other three are like? (The photo, by the way, does not do it justice.)

One of Mengkebayier’s (孟克巴依尔) paintings, “Red’s Melody” (红色的旋律), seems to be in harmony with Zhuoya’s work. It depicts, to my mind, a standard restaurant-wall scene of a mäshräp, but one infused with the spirit, not of national history and long-dead poets, but of a young woman unthinkingly lighting the men around her on fire, transforming them with her dance. As she twirls, carelessly open-mouthed, and as the men around her are twisted and blinded, a single young woman falls gently through her spirit trail.

Zhu Dong – Delicious (美味)

I was momentarily turned off by the work of Zhu Dong (朱东) until I saw it for what it was. The artist has painted himself into “Delicious” (美味), a triptych of Uyghur stereotypes, each sitting on a sack of thorns. I cannot help but read it as social commentary.

Caiwugejiafu (才吾格加甫) produced some interesting bronze reworkings of classic Mongol images – the head of a warrior, a running horse. Particularly eye-catching was a horse on lame, unbending pencil legs.

The work of Zhang Pengfei (张鹏飞), a Xinjiang artist currently resident in Guangzhou, was very eye-catching. His folk-arty animal sculptures (“Cow Head” (牛头)) are playful and fun, which makes a wonderful contrast to the stultifying formality and seriousness of even experimental art.

Zhang Pengfei – Cow Head (牛头)

Nayonggang’s (那永刚) “Untitled” (pictured at top) forms the centerpiece of the show. This sculpture of a caged and angry head, carved from a single piece of wood and a carefully-honed collection of rough branches, seems to depict an individual struggling against self-imposed constraints. It sits on a pedestal that would otherwise be unobtrusive, daring you to look at it. This was the focus on discussion among attendees.

Although the show intrigued me more than any art exhibition I have seen in China in some time, this is not to say that it is without its weak points. The inclusion of twenty-eight artists in a small exhibition space means that no one has much room to show off their range, nor are most of the works presented especially impressive. The majority consist of the usual sweeping pastoral scenes, done in a blandly realist style, that dominate Xinjiang art. There are some forays into cubism, pop art, and hyperrealism, as well as some experimental work with calligraphy, but none of it seems especially unique. (I should give a nod, at least, to Dong Jian’s (董建) impression of an angry Georgia O’Keeffe.) I do believe that this may have been a result of the over-inclusive scope of the show, which, by limiting display space, forced artists to present not their best work, but their most “representative”. This crowdedness is a common problem, it seems, at art exhibitions in China. There were paintings on display by Dabuxilite, for example, whose earlier exhibition we reviewed here back in March. However, none of the paintings most favored as his (quite successful) previous exhibition were shown at Artist Base.

The majority of contemporary Chinese art, as I see it, still looks more like illustration than art, something you would see in a book or an advertisement. It is often blatant. I am attracted to the more iconic images at this exhibition because they seem transcendent, as though they are not just depictions of a standardized form, but representations of eternal forms in a different kind of group psychology, a different vision of an understandable and fluid world. To paraphrase some of the artists presenting their work, this sort of art is more a process of discovery than of depiction, a slow journey through one’s own unique world, incidentally making it communicable. I like that.

(All photographs of paintings were originally published in the freely-available exhibition program. They are used with permission. They are also scanned very poorly.)

Most of the placemarks on this map are bars and restaurants — I don’t, personally, know much about Urumchi’s hotels, and I haven’t got the personal capital to investigate. There should be more hotels marked in the future. I have also endeavored to mark points of interest to both tourists and residents, though several sites from recent history are still missing. Currently, of city services, only the main police station is marked, but I will get down to adding a couple of reliable hospitals in the near future. Several main traffic arteries are also marked off using yellow lines; if you click on them, you will get the pinyin for the Chinese name of the road. Markets, including night markets, are blue squares, as are some other pleasant places to sit around outside. As always, I welcome reader input on the content of this map! If there is anything that should be added, please don’t hesitate to mention.

I have used GoogleDitu, by the way, because GoogleMaps and GoogleEarth just don’t have Chinese roads, yet. If you try to port this map to either, it won’t line up properly with the satellite data. Oh, and I’m sorry this is so small — we’re working on it.

在较大的地图中查看Urumchi Tourism Map

Located on a side street just off of Nanhu Nan Lu (南湖南路), slightly south of the Ürümchi Museum and Library and near Carrefour, Ani Muqin Cai Sibe Restaurant provides a good selection of well-prepared, tasty, and overall spicy dishes made in the style of the Sibe (Sive, Xibo, Xibe) people of western Xinjiang. The setting is attractive, on the second floor, with a large outdoor porch area and a clean interior with views of Nanhu Park. The staff are very friendly, and the atmosphere is warm and fairly inviting.

The Sibe are descendants of a Manchu garrison sent to what is now the Chapchal Sibe Autonomous County, near Ghulja (Yining), in the eighteenth century. As such, their food somewhat resembles the Manchu dishes found in some specialty restaurants in Beijing (like Shaguoju 砂锅居) and Dongbei 东北 Han Chinese dishes from Manchuria. Several dishes feature suāncài “sour pickled vegetables”, including the very Dongbei suāncài fēntiáo ròu (pork with pickled vegetables and rice noodles, 22 RMB) and a cold dish, xībō huāhuācài (Sibe-style chopped vegetables, 8 RMB).

The house specialty, however, is dòujī “fighting chicken”, a dish similar to dàpán jī or jiāomá jī. Dòujī, however, is much meatier than either of these dishes, apparently made with the strongest and most competitive of chickens. I am not kidding – read the posters on the walls. Half of a dòujī (70 RMB) would have been a meal for two or three on its own. I shudder to think how many people a whole one (122 RMB) would have fed. One of the unique byproducts of dòujī is a 65-proof alcohol infused with the juice of the chicken itself. A small glass (a little more than a shot) of the yellow liquid costs 5 RMB; a larger glass costs 10 RMB. It tastes like chicken soup, but with a baijiu kick. I recommend it as an after-dinner drink.

We also tried and approved of lăocù huāshēng (vinegar peanuts, 8 RMB), gānguō cháshùgū (long mushrooms in a hot iron pot, 18 RMB), and básī hóngshŭ (candied sweet potatoes, 12 RMB). No Sibe meal is complete, however, without Sibe bĭng (pancakes, 2 RMB/cake) with a delicious hot sauce (làjiàng, 2 RMB/bowl).

The menu is extensive and features a wide range of essentially Dongbei Chinese dishes, house specials, and even a selection of hot vegetarian dishes. Spice levels are adjustable by request. This is a branch of a main restaurant located way to the north in Ürümchi on Kàshí Xīlù.

Food: 8/10

Service: 7/10

Environment: 4/10

Price range: 8-25 RMB for most mains, 70+ RMB for house specials

Directions: From the Ürümchi Museum and Library, walk south a short distance. (Facing away from the museum towards Nanhu Park, make a right.) At your first street, make a right. It is the second building on your right.

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Chinese Words used in this Review

dòujī 斗鸡, dàpán jī 大盘鸡, jiāomá jī 椒麻鸡, suāncài fēntiáo ròu 酸菜粉条肉, xībō huāhuācài 锡伯花花菜, lăocù huāshēng 老醋花生, gānguō cháshùgū 干锅茶树菇, básī hóngshŭ 拔丝红薯, bĭng 饼, làjiàng 辣酱