全中國掀起博物館熱潮
摘錄自：天下雜誌 經濟學人電子報 2013/1/3
2014-01-02 Web only 作者：經濟學人
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| 圖片來源：flickr.com/photos/frans16611/ |
紅磚當代美術館位於中國北京五環外的何各莊村，一年多前落成，正好反映了美國哥倫比亞大學中國超級城市實驗室（China Megacities Lab ）主任傑佛瑞‧強森（Jeffrey Johnson）所說、充斥全中國的「博物館化」現象。不僅僅是北京和上海，中國境內許多二線和三線城市，爭相興建博物館，每天都有新的博物館落成，但許多博物館沒有任何收藏，也沒有館長。（圖為上海博物館）
1949年，中共取得政權時，全中國只有25座博物館，然而在文化大革命期間，許多博物館遭到破壞1978年採行改革開放政策之後，便開始出現修建博物館熱潮。如今每個省份都在興建新的博物館或是翻新舊博物館。有錢的收藏人更是熱衷於興建私人博物館，向大眾炫耀自己的收藏。
根據中國的十二五計劃，預計在2015年全中國將有3,500座博物館，但是這目標已在3年前達成。2012年，中國境內總共有451家新博物館落成，創下歷史新高，到了2012年底，全中國的博物館數量已達到3,866間。相較之下，在2008年金融危機爆發之前，美國每年新增的博物館數量僅有20～40座左右。
上海當代藝術博物館原本是一座發電廠，在不到一年的時間改建成現代化博物館，正好趕上2012年第9屆上海雙年展。但是雙年展結束後，大多數時候博物館都處於閒置狀態，因為沒有一件真正有價值的永久收藏品，而且至今仍找不到人可以全職擔任館長的職務。
中國人確實很擅長建設硬體，但是建設「軟體」又是另一回事，所謂的「軟體」包括蒐集收藏品以及經營博物館等所有事情。
中國政府的限制，是影響博物館經營的另一個難題，與法輪功、達賴喇嘛、六四事件等議題有關的展覽是被禁止的，另外如果有辱國家領導人或是公開展示私處的展覽，也同樣不被允許。（吳凱琳編譯）
©The Economist Newspaper Limited 2014
The Economist
China
Mad about
museums
By The Economist
From The Economist
Published: January 02, 2014
Dec 21st 2013 | From the print edition
China is building thousands of new museums, but how will it fill them?
THE RED BRICK CONTEMPORARY ART MUSEUM can be found beyond Beijing's
fifth ring road, in an area so recently urbanised it is still called Hegezhuang
Village. The street up to it is wide and dusty. Opposite, two dogs lie panting
outside the Orchard restaurant where workmen have put down their trowels and
are sipping tea in the midday heat. Despite the unpromising setting, the museum
looks as if it had been lowered into place that very morning. The brickwork is
shiny, the yellow lettering bright. Inside the air-conditioning hums throughout
the seven exhibition spaces and all the lights are on. Yet, except for a
handful of works in one small corner near the entrance, the museum has absolutely
nothing on display. It is like walking into an empty Olympic swimming pool.
The Red Brick was completed more than a year ago by an up-and-coming
property developer, Yan Zhijie, from Xingtai, a small town about 350km
south-west of Beijing. It exemplifies what Jeffrey Johnson, director of
Columbia University's China Megacities Lab, calls the
"museumification" of China: a building boom so frothy it is running
away with itself. Not just in Beijing and Shanghai but also in the second- and
third-tier cities beyond, new museums are hatching out every day, many of them
still without collections and curators. "We've seen museum-building booms
elsewhere," Mr Johnson says, "but nothing of this sustained magnitude
and pace."
In 1949, when the Communist Party took control, China had just 25
museums. Many were burned down during the Cultural Revolution of 1966-76 and
their collections dispersed. But the rapid growth and urbanisation that
accompanied Deng Xiaoping's "reform and opening up" policies after 1978
also launched a museum-building boom that did far more than simply replace what
had been lost. Every provincial capital now seems to be constructing a new
museum, or upgrading one it has already. This is seen as a good way to
kickstart a cultural programme, even if the building has nothing to display for
a while. Rich Chinese collectors are also putting up private museums to show
off their treasures.
According to the current five-year plan, China was to have 3,500
museums by 2015, a target it achieved three years early. Last year a record 451
new museums opened, pushing the total by the end of 2012 to 3,866, says An
Laishun, vice-president of the China Museums Association. By contrast, in
America only 20-40 museums a year were built in the decade before the 2008 financial
crash.
Public museums have not traditionally been part of Chinese culture. The
great imperial collections of Chinese jade, cloisonné and porcelain were kept
in the Summer Palace in Beijing's Forbidden City and seen by only a chosen few.
In 1948-49, after the Japanese invasion and the outbreak of civil war, Chiang
Kai-shek's Kuomintang forces shipped 230,000 of the best pieces to Taiwan,
where they remained after the communists gained power on the mainland. Some of
what was left behind can still be seen today in the National Museum in Beijing,
but no museum in China has anything like the treasures in the National Palace
Museum in Taipei.
Cultivating culture
Chinese officials want to change that. They point out that the great
cities of the world—New York, Paris, London—all have important museums, and
China should too. They want to show off their ancient culture to locals and
foreigners alike, and talk of the importance of remembering the past and of
educating the younger generation.
In 2009 a State Council meeting upgraded culture to the level of a
strategic industry. The current five-year plan for 2011-15 spells out
government policy in detail. Culture is the "spirit and soul of the
nation", it says, and a powerful force for the country's development. Over
time culture is to become a "pillar industry", loosely defined as one
that makes up at least 5% of the country's gross domestic product. That is
twice what it contributes now, even after a decade of expanding at 15-20% a
year. Museums are an integral part of this policy, and they are multiplying
rapidly—too rapidly in many cases. Building up and displaying collections,
planning exhibitions, training curators, conservators and other museum staff,
and devising educational programmes lag far behind museum-building.
In Beijing the government is planning to turn part of the Olympic park,
built for the 2008 games, into a culture hub, with three new museums, an opera
house and a new national library. One of the star attractions will be the new
National Art Museum of China (NAMOC). The current NAMOC in the city centre was
part of an earlier construction wave in 1958. Five storeys high and with 8,300
square metres of exhibition space, it is a third of the size of the Pompidou
Centre and has nowhere to expand. The new NAMOC, close to the 798 art district
in the north-east of the city, will be six times as big as the current museum.
The winning bid for its design, by Jean Nouvel, a French architect, is based on
the Chinese symbol for the number one. NAMOC's director, Fan Di'an, is thrilled
with it, but construction has not yet started.
NAMOC currently holds 110,000 works, mainly Chinese art made after the
fall of the Qing dynasty in 1911. The permanent display includes a selection of
these, some Qing-dynasty scrolls and, on the top floor, a show of about 100
indifferent foreign paintings donated by a German collector, Peter Ludwig.
Until recently culture was seen as strictly the party's preserve, but
now the boom in public-museum building is being echoed in the private sector.
Rich collectors want to put their treasures on display in expensive new
showcases. Many new museums are also being built as part of new property
projects to help get them planning permission. Some may never have been
intended for their stated purpose.
"We Chinese are very good at building hardware," commented
your correspondent's interpreter after leaving yet another half-empty museum,
this time in Shanghai. "Building software is another matter
altogether." In China's museum world, "software" covers
everything from building up collections to actually running the place. Private
museums that have succeeded in this include the Ullens Centre for Contemporary
Art (UCCA) in Beijing and two new museums in Shanghai, the Aurora (a treasure
trove of ancient bronzes and jades designed by Tadao Ando, a Japanese
architect) and the Rockbund Art Museum (a thriving contemporary-art centre).
The best of these satisfy a growing public demand for culture. The Mao
Zedong generation was taught that China's traditional art was backward and not
worth bothering about. Now young Chinese are interested in both traditional and
contemporary art. One area that has recently gained a following is contemporary
Chinese ink painting, a new take on an old tradition by young artists.
"Fresh Ink", a small exhibition of ten artists at the Boston Museum
of Fine Arts in 2010, and a bigger show, "Ink Art", which opened at
the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York earlier this month, have attracted
much attention in China.
What do we do for an encore?
But the boom is still somewhat hit-and-miss. The Power Station of Art
(pictured), a former industrial building similar to London's Tate Modern, was
converted in less than a year (a record in Chinese museum-building) and opened
in time to host the Shanghai Bienniale in 2012, curated by an energetic artist
and teacher, Qiu Zhijie. By the time that closed, though, the Power Station was
running out of steam: it had no permanent collection to speak of and found it
hard to recruit full-time curators. Now it is virtually empty much of the time.
Two huge new museums of contemporary art are about to be opened in
Shanghai: one by Liu Yiqian and his wife, Wang Wei, one of Shanghai's
"super-collector" couples, the other by Budi Tek, a
Chinese-Indonesian collector known for his trophy pieces by Maurizio Cattelan,
an Italian sculptor and installation artist. Both will open with much fanfare,
but may have trouble finding a role for themselves in the longer term.
One headache is dealing with the authorities, not least because so
little of China's cultural policy is made explicit. Private museums have to put
up costly bonds or obtain import licences to bring in art from abroad, even
temporarily. Mr Tek had hoped to place Mr Cattelan's seminal "Olive
Tree", a living tree planted in a cube of earth, in the entrance to his
new museum, but found himself stumped by China's phyto-sanitary inspectors when
he tried to import it from Spain.
Chinese sensitivities about history and politics can also be hard to
assess. Exhibitions about the Cultural Revolution, for example, are more likely
to be permitted in private museums than public ones, and far from Beijing
rather than in the capital; there is one in Chengdu and a smaller one in
Shantou, both in the south. And when relations with Japan became fraught just
before the Shanghai Bienniale in 2012, the Tokyo pavilion was abruptly cancelled.
At other times Japanese artists are often exhibited in Beijing's galleries.
In contemporary art, with its ironies and its multiple readings,
Chinese artists test the patience of officialdom. The boundaries are fluid, but
most Chinese know how far they can push them. Zhang Peili, the director of the
OCAT Contemporary Art Terminal in Shanghai, a well-established private gallery,
offers a list of prohibited items: "A show about Falun Gong, the Dalai
Lama or the Tiananmen Square uprising; anything that insults our national
leaders; or any art that shows private parts."
©The Economist Newspaper Limited 2014
