Latest Publication with My Photos in China Report.
Andy Warhol, a Corpse in the Water, Opium, and a Botched Tribunal – if that’s not a gripping headline, what is? While everything in the story is true, it was less dramatic when it happened.
The immediate reason for this article is my photos and a text that will be published in the next China Report. Earlier short stories about my experiences were published three years ago by BACOPA (my contributions). [1]
Unfortunately, I lost most of my photos from my years in China and can only rely on a small collection left. I’ve converted these into black and white.
Before diving into the story of Andy Warhol and the corpse, I need to make a preliminary remark. This is long overdue, as my connection to China often raises eyebrows – not just online. Given my education, profession, and personal history, my interest in China, especially its magnificent, millennia-old culture, should not surprise anyone.
Since my teenage years, I have refused to adopt concepts that don’t make sense to me, just because they are mainstream. The reasons why our countries are friends or foes with others are mainly political, which we generally can’t influence. However, we can reflect on whether it is fair and sensible to see entire countries as enemies just because we disapprove of certain leaders. Currently, the list of disapproved leaders is quite extensive.
First Impressions, First Wonders
When I arrived in China in 1978 and made my first acquaintances, they were puzzled when I said that Albania, Yugoslavia, and Romania were not among the wealthiest countries in Europe. The government had portrayed these countries as models of socialism and progress, and everyone believed it. So far, so good!
After the US invaded Iraq and sought European allies, the Bush administration tasked the questionable Donald Rumsfeld with the job. When some countries were not happy with the proposal expensive French wines were poured down the drain, and “Freedom fries” replaced French fries. At the same time, Albania, Bulgaria, and Co. were promoted as the “good and progressive Europe”. This felt very familiar to me. Does anyone seriously expect me to do more than smile at this?
My first photo, taken right after arrival in Beijing, was of small children in beautiful old bamboo strollers. Chinese toddlers, like those throughout Asia, have always had a direct line to my heart.
The little girl with the cat is one of the daughters of my calligraphy teacher, Wang Jinhuai. I learned a lot from him, and he remained one of my most important mentors and friends until the end.
Small children wore trousers that were open at the crotch so they could attend to their physical needs quickly and easily.
Chang’an Avenue, Beijing’s Grand Boulevard
The photo of people jogging might seem insignificant unless you know it’s Beijing’s most magnificent street, now bustling with cars but sparsely populated by vehicles back then.
Along this avenue, there were wall newspapers where citizens could post notices, including grievances or, in this case, information about the newly founded Chinese-American Friendship Association.
Andy Warhol in Beijing
In 1982, during my second stay, a Swedish colleague came to breakfast one morning and said, “Hey, have you heard? Andy Warhol is in town. I’ve spoken to my embassy, and they’re trying to arrange a meeting for us students.” A few days later, it happened. Warhol was staying at the Jianguo Hotel, which had a breakfast room closed during the day. It was a long room with tables on either side of a central aisle.
Warhol sat at the third table from the back on the left. Years later, in 1987, during a business trip to China, I stayed at the same hotel. I sat at breakfast – the third table from the back, but on the right, and thought about how I had randomly chosen that table. Two Americans in their mid-twenties sat at the “Warhol table” next to me. One had bought a newspaper and said to his friend, “Know what?” “What?” “Andy is dead.”
A Unique Tuition Fee
My dear friend Zhang, a painter and teacher by profession, lived in a modest teacher’s residence. One late evening, as he was unlocking his door in a dimly lit hallway, a dark figure rose from a step in the darker part of the corridor. He was startled but then saw it was a teenage girl. She asked if he was the painter Zhang, and he confirmed. “I am X from village Y in province Z. My father sent me to learn painting from you. As a tuition fee, he gave me this pound of opium for you.” [2]
On the Yangtze
I was fortunate to travel through China when many cities were still manageable and it was possible to sail the Yangzi from Wuhan to Chongqing, which I did three times. In some months, it was an adventurous and somewhat dangerous river journey. On one of these unforgettable trips, I stood at the railing, looking into the water. Behind me were two Chinese travelers. Suddenly, a corpse floated by, and I heard one say to the other, “For us ordinary Chinese, this is probably the only way we can go abroad.”
The Botched Tribunal
During our honeymoon in the south, we needed permits for our destinations. One stop I was particularly excited about was Luoyang, famous for its Buddhist grottoes and sculptures. The long journey was exhausting, with an old bus and wooden seats. We checked into a hotel that had no experience with mixed marriages. Despite presenting all our documents, including our marriage certificate, we were given separate rooms. Well! I was eager to visit the caves. When we returned to the hotel in the early evening, the receptionist said, “Someone from security was here, but I told them everything is fine with you. No need to worry.” So, we each went to our rooms.
Surprise Action
I hadn’t even entered my room when I heard my wife calling for me in a panic. I rushed over and saw two plainclothes officers in unfriendly poses who tried to bring her downstairs. We were taken to a room with four tables arranged in a U-shape, creating an imposing tribunal. Several officers, some in uniforms, mostly in civilian clothes, were already seated, their tea cups filled, one sharpening a pencil. Up to this point, I found the situation somewhat entertaining.
Then the interrogation began. The chairman didn’t get far though. When he asked how and when we both met I lost my temper. I told him, “If you don’t stop this nonsense immediately, my first stop in Beijing will be your superior’s office. I’ll inform them that you are a counter-revolutionary, a rebel undermining your government’s decision. You have our marriage certificate in front of you and the stamps show who approved it. This matter is settled, and your behavior is that of a troublemaker questioning government laws.” That ended the evening’s program, which some of the attendees were likely looking forward to.
The Rest of the Photos
It was the era of bicycles, and I mostly got around by bike too. In the spring, strong sandstorms from the desert would blow into Beijing, darkening the sky or making it unusually bright when the sun met the fine dust.
During this period not only in private homes but also in public areas, coal was used for heating, which could be obtained from specific places. The little snow that occasionally fell would turn black immediately when it melted due to the soot.
I have already shown this unusual Daoist woman in another context (article) and here is a b/w version photo of her. However, it was only taken in Shanghai in 2015.
extra:
I promised Martha Kennedy [3] a photo after she shared her attempts to sketch the passing landscape during a train journey in my last article. She wrote: “We were on a train (one car; half passenger/half mail) going across Wyoming from Montana to Colorado. I sat on the train’s back ‘porch’ in a wooden chair and read that book while all of green Wyoming passed beside me. I have tried many times to paint that scene…”
As I had a similar experience I would like to share a piece of work related to it. (Sorry for the poor quality. I sold all the sketches from this trip long ago and didn’t even take photos of them).
In 1980 I was on a passenger ship that had seen better days, traveling on the Yangzi River from Wuhan to Chongqing, with hardly any passengers on board. On the second level at the bow of the ship, I found a quiet spot and unpacked my painting supplies. Suddenly, four Chinese musicians took their places directly below my deck and began to play. (A rehearsal for the evening serenade?). There I sat, as the most beautiful landscape with mist-covered mountains passed by in serene silence, painting to the touching music of the small group below me. It felt like the curtain rising at an opera, immersing us in a fascinating world with musical accompaniment.
footnotes:
[1] These stories will not appear in the China Report, they are exclusive to my WordPress readers.
[2] Opium was of course forbidden and not only the trade, but also the possession could be punished with the death penalty.
[3] Martha Kennedy is a blogger and artist who lived in China for a few years, teaching Chinese children. She was the first person I communicated with on WP.
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