Introduction

In the early 1990s, China underwent significant socio-economic changes as part of its urbanization process. Simultaneously, the art scene experienced a transformation following the ’85 Art New Wave, which witnessed the emergence of various unofficial art groups seeking to break away from traditional artistic standards. Some artists began experimenting with different mediums, and some, often due to poor financial conditions, migrated to villages with subpar hygiene conditions away from city centers to create their art. Beijing’s East Village was one such village that attracted many young artists exploring various mediums. Even if some of them later became well-known, they were poor and considered themselves socially exiled at the moment. Among these artists was Zhang Huan, an early pioneer of performance in Chinese contemporary art, who experimented with the limits of his own body through acts of self-infliction. Intriguingly, he invited Rong, a fellow artist and photographer he met in the East Village, to document his performances. An examination of Zhang Huan’s performance alongside Rong Rong’s photography prompts a reassessment of their relationships, particularly in how contemporary audiences perceive them. Do the photos faithfully capture the extent of Zhang’s suffering during the performances, or should they be viewed as the photographer’s creative work?

This study delves into whether Rong Rong’s photography primarily serves as documentation of Zhang Huan’s performance or had a more nuanced relationship with the performance, using Zhang’s 12 Square Meters as a case study. Through a comparative analysis of their interview clips, writings, and perspectives, this research aims to unveil the intricate interplay between performance art and photography within the unique artistic landscape of the East Village. This environment was pivotal in establishing Chinese performance and contemporary art with its distinct experimental dynamics.

Observations of the Photography and the ‘12 Square Meters‘ Performance

In the performance piece 12 Square Meters, Zhang Huan engaged in a provocative act where he stripped naked, applied fish oil and honey to his body, attracting a swarm of flies, and sat in a squalid public toilet near the East Village for an hour. Following this, he cleansed himself in a nearby river, removing the flies. Rong Rong photographed him throughout the entire performance.

Figure 1: 12 Square Meters, East Village, Beijing, 1994. Photographed by Rong Rong

Upon initial inspection, Rong’s photograph of this performance may seem insufficient in conveying the extent of Zhang’s suffering. This assessment is rooted in several factors: firstly, photography captures a mere moment and does not encapsulate the entirety of the hour-long ordeal. Secondly, the visual medium cannot transmit the sensory aspects of the performance, such as the oppressive heat and pungent odor. Lastly, once incessantly active on Zhang’s body, the flies appear motionless in the photograph, diminishing the viewer’s perception of his discomfort and the flies’ painful stings. This critique hinges on the assumption that the photograph was intended as a documentation of Zhang’s suffering, prompting inquiry into Zhang’s perspectives regarding the relationship between photography and performance- did he view photography to document his suffering, and did he care about communicating that suffering to the viewers of the photographs in the first place?

Authentically Conveying His Suffering or Not- Did Zhang Huan Care?

Zhang Huan holds a multifaceted view of photography in relation to his performances. While the critique of the photograph falling short in communicating the performer’s suffering is predicated on the assumption that the photograph serves as a mere documentary tool, Zhang Huan perceives photography can also be an “independent expressive style conceived with its formal features [aside from] recording my performances” (Robecchi 2006). Since photography’s role as documentation and independent style can coexist harmoniously, in the case of 12 Square Meters, when assessing photography as an expressive style, it is crucial to conceive it in its distinct formal features rather than using the features to discredit shortcomings in the documentation. Regarding whether Zhang cared about communicating his suffering to the photograph’s viewers in the first place, it is essential to note that performance is a deeply personal experience for him. Firstly, he decided to use his own body as the site for the performance because of his experiences and struggles of not being welcomed in public spaces by others due to his appearance. He recalled, “With my dress style, I was never welcomed by others. Sometimes, in a bar, somebody would come up to me and shout [at my face], ‘Get out!’ Sometimes, when I would walk by myself along the street at night, I would suddenly be attacked from behind by strangers.” He realized that all these troubles happened to his body, making him acutely aware of his body as “the only direct way through which [he] come to know society and society comes to know [him]. The body is proof of identity, the [most direct] language.” To Zhang Huan, other mediums could not make him feel the existence of his body in my work, and “any medium beyond [his own] body seemed too remote from [him]” (Qian 1999). Thus, he decided to use his own body as the site for performance.

The performance is also personal in the way that Zhang wanted to “measure [himself] against insurmountable limits as his “inner strength pushed [him] to come out of [himself] to explore the limits of [his] body,” and acts of self-affliction is a way to achieve this objective. (Robecchi 2006). In 12 Square Meters, for example, Zhang cited how he tried to forget himself and separate his mind from visceral pain. Yet, he was “pulled back to reality again and again” (Chiu 2007). Given that Zhang Huan thinks performance is a way for him to explore his body’s endurance in combatting corporal pain, the performance is intimate and personal. Thus, he highlighted that he was the only person able to “completely understand the work.” Regarding the relative impossibility for a spectator to understand the performance, Zhang commented that since he was the only person able to understand his work, “seeing a reproduction of one of my performances or seeing it live makes little difference” (Robecchi 2006).

In summary, for Zhang Huan, photography is a distinct art style. Whether the photograph understates his suffering did not matter to him, as his focus is not on authentic representation but on self-experimentation during the performance, regardless of the medium of representation. However, this perspective raises questions about the role of photography in his performances and how it relates to the viewer’s understanding of his work. If photography did not just serve as complementary documentation, then what, in the opinions of both Zhang Huan and Rong Rong, is the essence of photography in the context of performance art? How were their respective viewpoints reflected in 12 Square Meters specifically?

Zhang Huan’s Perspectives on Photography and Photography-Performance

Zhang Huan’s perspective on performance in relation to photography encompasses the idea that photographs can serve as documentation of the performance or exist as an independent artistic style. His early engagement with performance art in the East Village reflects a time when he, like many of his peers, was actively exploring this new medium. He recalls, “No one was doing performance art, and there was little knowledge about it” (Qian 1999). This collective commitment among East Village artists was directed towards understanding non-traditional artistic mediums by undertaking group projects incorporating multiple mediums. They aimed to explore and reveal the potential interactions between these mediums, fostering a deeper understanding of each medium individually and its possibilities (Wu 2003). For Zhang, photography became a platform through which he could initiate his exploration of performance art as he began his foray into this nascent artistic form.

Examining ’12 Square Meters’ provides insight into the interplay between performance and photography from Zhang Huan’s perspective. Upon initially viewing Rong Rong’s photographs of the performance, Zhang commented that they made the performance “more abstract and dense” (Wu 2003). In this context, “abstract” implies a focus on the formal qualities of the photograph, such as color and composition. The word “dense” means that, specifically in the photograph, the elements appear to harmonize with one another. In the live performance, Zhang’s interaction with the flies and the physical discomfort he endured were central components.

Nevertheless, the flies remain motionless in the photograph and seamlessly integrated into Zhang’s body, achieved through the composition and formal features like color. Zhang remarked on this integration, suggesting that the photographs “conveyed a Zen Buddhist spirit of [him] that transcended [his] original plan” (Wu 2003). His original plan was to experiment with his bodily limits, allowing for moments of vulnerability during the performance, such as his comfortable facial expressions. This vulnerability was integral to demonstrating the performance’s experimental quality. However, the photograph’s unchanging formal qualities freeze the elements, making the flies appear immobile and integrating them into Zhang’s body while freezing Zhang forever into the Zen-like stillness. This static representation of him does not capture his reactions to the discomfort during the performance. As a result, Rong Rong’s photographs subverted the experimental quality of the performance by presenting it as a static and serene composition, devoid of the visceral reactions and discomfort experienced during the actual performance.

In summary, Zhang Huan perceives photography as a means for Chinese artists to explore the dynamic relationship between performance and other artistic mediums. In the case of ’12 Square Meters,’ photography accentuates the formal aspects of the performance, rendering it more abstract. However, this emphasis on formal elements ultimately subverts the experimental quality of the performance, as it captures a static, unchanging representation that does not convey the full scope of Zhang’s responses to discomfort during the performance.

Rong Rong’s Perspectives on Photography and Photography-Performance

Rong Rong viewed photography as so essential that he not only “[recorded] their (the East Village artists’) performances” but also had his own ideas and opinions. Holding a camera enabled him to move away from reality (Chambers Fine Art). In 12 Square Meters, Rong Rong’s description of his feelings during the performance conveys that photography enabled him to be pulled away from the harsh corporal reality as he immersed himself in photography. During the performance, Rong was similarly experimenting with his bodily limits, stating that he felt he “could not breathe [and] it feels like the end of life. Everything was so still, one could only hear flies flapping their wings and my camera clicking.” As time passed, Rong said he continued photographing and forgetting about reality as “there is only one sound in the world, Click! Click!” (Wu 2003). Rong tried to forget everything else, the corporal pain he similarly experienced, through the action of taking photos. In this way, he parallels Zhang, who tried to forget himself by separating “[his] mind from the flesh” but was pulled back to reality repeatedly. Meanwhile, Rong also separated his mind from the corporal pain by taking photos. In this sense, Rong Rong, the photographer, can also be a performer, experimenting with his body’s endurance.

Furthermore, to Rong, photography reveals the hidden side of the performer’s performance. In 12 Square Meters, Zhang emphasized a lot about experiencing his essential existence in the toilet but did not mention the bathing part, or the part where he submerged into the pond to wash off the flies, in his project statement. However, Rong photographed him walking into the pond, which Rong thinks “foretells something hidden and unseen” (Wu 2003). While he did not explicitly clarify what he considered hidden and unseen, this analysis suggests that the “hidden part” Rong Rong refers to may represent Zhang’s vulnerability and physical reactions during the performance. The photographs highlighted that Zhang was not a perpetually serene figure but someone with limits, as evidenced by his need to cleanse himself of the flies and alleviate the corporeal pain and stinging. Rong Rong’s photos thus heightened the experimental quality of the performance because the photos show other possible reactions of the performer to the experiment and self-affliction through sequences of photos.

To sum up, Rong regarded photography as essential for distancing himself from reality, positioning himself as a performer alongside Zhang Huan, specifically in 12 Square Meters, as both sought to escape corporeal reality. Additionally, he believed photography revealed the hidden facets of a performer’s artistry, as demonstrated in 12 Square Meters by capturing Zhang Huan’s process of washing away the flies, thereby emphasizing the experimental nature of Zhang’s performance through a sequence of images.

Comparative Analysis of Zhang’s and Rong’s Perspectives, and the Significance of Their Convergence and Divergence for East Village Art

Comparing and contrasting Zhang and Rong’s perspectives illustrate their convergence in recognizing photography as a medium for understanding performance art and its interplay with other mediums. However, they diverge in their perspectives on 12 Square Meters. Zhang believes that the static nature of individual photographs subverts the performance’s experimental quality, whereas Rong argues that a series of photographs can enhance it. Moreover, Rong Rong demonstrates that a photographer can also be a performer, as seen in Zhang’s endurance test and Rong’s photographic immersion—both attempting to escape reality and experiment with their limits. These findings indicate that photography can not only subvert or highlight the experimental quality of performance art but also reveal that a photographer can be a performer, reinterpreting the boundaries of two artistic practices.

Regarding the significance of these similarities and differences in their perspectives on the photography-performance relationship, Professor Wu argued that the significance of East Village photography is “historical, artistic, and autobiographical,” extending beyond mere documentation (Wu 2003). This essay proposes another significance of East Village Photography, specifically Rong’s photos, in that they are pioneering. Although self-experimental performances were not novel globally, China was new to performance art in the early ’90s, with only a few practitioners. Zhang, one of the earliest practitioners, actively explored performance art without being informed about Western practices. He remarked, “I only got to know Marina Abramovic and Chris Burden’s work later on, around 1995 (one year after 12 Square Meters was created), and my performance went in this direction [of experimentation] for other reasons- [personal] reasons of wanting to experiment with my body’s limits” (Robecchi 2006). Rong’s photographs are pioneering because they helped performers like Zhang discover and affirm the experimental quality of their performances by observing how the performance interacted with photography. The photographs also blurred the boundaries between photography and performance or between different mediums, which was essential for Chinese contemporary art to flourish independently.

The East Village artists have separated since the East Village was destroyed and incorporated into Chaoyang Park. However, their exploration of the performance-photography relationship is ongoing. It is recommended for future studies to trace how these artists, who formerly resided in the East Village, continue to explore, and develop new ideas of what their performance art can be. Rong Rong began to perform explicitly for the camera, while Zhang Huan started photographing his performances—partly due to copyright issues. However, did his experience in the East Village influence this decision? If so, does this suggest a further development from the idea that the photographer can also be a performer—that one person can simultaneously proclaim these two roles?