Song Dong, Waste Not, 2005. Exhibited at MoMA. Photo: Andrew Russeth
WASTE NOT
Chinese conceptual artist Song Dong is sitting amidst what one could easily mistake as the remnants of a serial hoarder’s house. An installed array of ten thousand quotidian pieces inhabit the surrounding fabricated village; mountains of cascading cardboard boxes teeming with toys, pots and pans placed into stepping stones amongst a sea of porcelain bowls, mounds of clothing engulfing old furniture, plastic bags methodically folded into a pile of triangles, and a pathway finally ending to a central reconstructed frame of a traditional timber home. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the sheer range and display of taxonomy. Yet what Song has created is essentially a surreal and poignant portrait of his late mother, the conserver of every single item in the work.
Song’s mother Zhao Xiangyuan was one the 800 million people who experienced the tyranny and deprivation during Mao Zedong’s merciless Chinese Cultural Revolution. The period of peril, terror and uncertainty for the Chinese people, spanned from 1966, the year of Song’s birth, to 1976, resulting not only in the persecution and starvation of an estimated 40 million people, but further reigniting and reengaging with a process called “wu jin qu yong” – waste not. Consequently, she developed an infatuation of hoarding ordinary, mundane objects, haunted by the abject destitution that had already wracked so much of her nation. From soap, shoes, to blankets and buckets, Zhao saved everything she owned to the extent of her passing. In her caching of the quotidian, she was able to grapple with the suffering of the past and prepare for the uncertain future, ultimately creating a collection of objects that encompasses the experience of the Maoist era.
For decades this accumulation had not been scrutinized, until the sudden death of Song’s father in 2002 that brought about a dramatic escalation in her hoarding to cope with her affliction. For Song Dong, this brought about the opportunity to reconnect with his mother and to support her through her grief in a collaborative, therapeutic, artistic way.
"I understood her need to fill the space with those objects of daily life rather as a need to fill the emptiness left after my father's death”, Song explains. Together, they created Waste Not, the installation that has graced the galleries of the world from New York’s MOMA to Carriageworks in Sydney. The work, filling the entire floor space, is arranged with care and precision to allow patrons to walk through a path in order to engage with objects relevant to different rooms within the original family home. Through these neat groupings often gridded out to highlight aesthetic lines, viewers gain an orderly understanding of just how ten thousand non-art materials can inhabit under one roof, specifically Song’s family’s one that has been reconstructed in the centre of the installation. Further, the prominence of the boxes built into peaks alludes to traditional Chinese art depicting mountain ranges and streams.
This conceptual practice is very typical of Song Dong, who often crafts his concepts to have greater significance over a traditional aesthetic and material approach. By taking simple, quotidian objects and giving them new meaning and context, what could be considered clutter is now a collected, creative concentration on high concepts and low materials, exploring his family story and fulfilling filial duty.
One of the most remarkable and moving aspects of the artwork has been the physical inclusion of Song’s mother Zhao who coexisted as an artist, as a piece of the artwork, and as the actual subject of the work. In her final years, she shared her insights on her life as represented through her items by placing herself in the midst of the installation. As John McDonald describes in his Sydney Morning Herald Arts article, “Her presence gave a personality to things that would usually be regarded as rubbish.” After her death in 2009, this personality has continued to comfort and resonate with the thousands who have experienced the work. That is the beauty of this artwork. It allows potential for self-examination, the possibility of discovering remnants of oneself in the smallest details and objects. Resonance is everywhere. For me, the rows of shoes sitting silently, knowing that loved ones will never wear them again brought to mind identical images of my grandmother’s house, where my late grandfather’s slippers remain at her door.
Waste Not also challenges the detrimental consumption our modern society today tends to foster, and the examination of what materialistic goods we leave behind. TheNew York Times articulates this as “…as much about loss as it is about muchness”. This theme of consumerism and accumulation in such a permanent enduring way contradicts Song Dong’s usual transitory artworks such as Writing Diary with Water.
Since 1995, Song has kept a daily diary of writing water onto stone, an ephemeral practice he was engaged in as a child as an alternative to using precious paper and ink. Though the artwork has been documented in photographs for exhibition purposes, the diary ritual remains fundamentally personal. Its purpose is to release emotions and meditate without a trace, and Song celebrates this evanescence both physically and personally as the words literally and metaphorically disappear. This subtle combination of traditional transient Chinese water calligraphy and his own surfacing conscience is a great contrast to Waste Not’s sheer amount and overwhelming presence. Song actively demonstrates an impressive capacity for art making, evident through the many forms his works take. From performance art inStamping the Water, to video projection in Father and Son Face to Face with a Mirror, and installations with biscuits in Eating the City, Song Dong continually surprises and leads as one of the world’s most moving and appealing modern conceptual artists. It will be interesting to see what he too leaves behind, whether that be a room displaying his own vast range of possessions, or a greater understanding of how we as a society will grapple with ephemeral fading of our ever evolving world.
Song’s mother Zhao Xiangyuan was one the 800 million people who experienced the tyranny and deprivation during Mao Zedong’s merciless Chinese Cultural Revolution. The period of peril, terror and uncertainty for the Chinese people, spanned from 1966, the year of Song’s birth, to 1976, resulting not only in the persecution and starvation of an estimated 40 million people, but further reigniting and reengaging with a process called “wu jin qu yong” – waste not. Consequently, she developed an infatuation of hoarding ordinary, mundane objects, haunted by the abject destitution that had already wracked so much of her nation. From soap, shoes, to blankets and buckets, Zhao saved everything she owned to the extent of her passing. In her caching of the quotidian, she was able to grapple with the suffering of the past and prepare for the uncertain future, ultimately creating a collection of objects that encompasses the experience of the Maoist era.
For decades this accumulation had not been scrutinized, until the sudden death of Song’s father in 2002 that brought about a dramatic escalation in her hoarding to cope with her affliction. For Song Dong, this brought about the opportunity to reconnect with his mother and to support her through her grief in a collaborative, therapeutic, artistic way.
"I understood her need to fill the space with those objects of daily life rather as a need to fill the emptiness left after my father's death”, Song explains. Together, they created Waste Not, the installation that has graced the galleries of the world from New York’s MOMA to Carriageworks in Sydney. The work, filling the entire floor space, is arranged with care and precision to allow patrons to walk through a path in order to engage with objects relevant to different rooms within the original family home. Through these neat groupings often gridded out to highlight aesthetic lines, viewers gain an orderly understanding of just how ten thousand non-art materials can inhabit under one roof, specifically Song’s family’s one that has been reconstructed in the centre of the installation. Further, the prominence of the boxes built into peaks alludes to traditional Chinese art depicting mountain ranges and streams.
This conceptual practice is very typical of Song Dong, who often crafts his concepts to have greater significance over a traditional aesthetic and material approach. By taking simple, quotidian objects and giving them new meaning and context, what could be considered clutter is now a collected, creative concentration on high concepts and low materials, exploring his family story and fulfilling filial duty.
One of the most remarkable and moving aspects of the artwork has been the physical inclusion of Song’s mother Zhao who coexisted as an artist, as a piece of the artwork, and as the actual subject of the work. In her final years, she shared her insights on her life as represented through her items by placing herself in the midst of the installation. As John McDonald describes in his Sydney Morning Herald Arts article, “Her presence gave a personality to things that would usually be regarded as rubbish.” After her death in 2009, this personality has continued to comfort and resonate with the thousands who have experienced the work. That is the beauty of this artwork. It allows potential for self-examination, the possibility of discovering remnants of oneself in the smallest details and objects. Resonance is everywhere. For me, the rows of shoes sitting silently, knowing that loved ones will never wear them again brought to mind identical images of my grandmother’s house, where my late grandfather’s slippers remain at her door.
Waste Not also challenges the detrimental consumption our modern society today tends to foster, and the examination of what materialistic goods we leave behind. TheNew York Times articulates this as “…as much about loss as it is about muchness”. This theme of consumerism and accumulation in such a permanent enduring way contradicts Song Dong’s usual transitory artworks such as Writing Diary with Water.
Since 1995, Song has kept a daily diary of writing water onto stone, an ephemeral practice he was engaged in as a child as an alternative to using precious paper and ink. Though the artwork has been documented in photographs for exhibition purposes, the diary ritual remains fundamentally personal. Its purpose is to release emotions and meditate without a trace, and Song celebrates this evanescence both physically and personally as the words literally and metaphorically disappear. This subtle combination of traditional transient Chinese water calligraphy and his own surfacing conscience is a great contrast to Waste Not’s sheer amount and overwhelming presence. Song actively demonstrates an impressive capacity for art making, evident through the many forms his works take. From performance art inStamping the Water, to video projection in Father and Son Face to Face with a Mirror, and installations with biscuits in Eating the City, Song Dong continually surprises and leads as one of the world’s most moving and appealing modern conceptual artists. It will be interesting to see what he too leaves behind, whether that be a room displaying his own vast range of possessions, or a greater understanding of how we as a society will grapple with ephemeral fading of our ever evolving world.