ArtAsiaPacific — May-June 2017

(National Geographic (Little) Kids) #1
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Essays


Essays artasiapacific.com^63

Seeking Beijing’s creative clusters in traditional hutongs


In Close Quarters


BY THOMAS MOUNA

If you are in the center of Beijing and find
yourself in an inconveniently narrow
alleyway, flanked by low, gray-colored,
traditional-style buildings, then you are
in a hutong. These special alleyways are a
uniquely Beijing phenomenon, and so then
are the art spaces within them. On talking
to those behind some of these art spaces
I discovered that there is no overriding
reason for deciding on a hutong location
and that while there are benefits, there are
also, usually, disadvantages. One certainty,
however, is that the life of a hutong art
space is markedly different to that of other
galleries, museums and art spaces in Beijing
and beyond.
First, it is useful to understand the history
and current sociocultural resonances of
Beijing’s hutongs. As far back as the time of
the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368), Marco Polo,
in awe of the linear precision of Beijing’s
hutongs, wrote that the city was structured
“like a chessboard.” The gangway-like
hutongs were formed by multiple clusters of


siheyuan, which are quadrangles enclosed by
low houses, save for a central gate that opens
onto the alleyway. The siheyuan are the
archetypal Chinese housing structure, dating
back several thousands of years. In China’s
earliest ancient dynasties, it was common
for large extended families to occupy a single
siheyuan. With the arrival of socialism in the
1950s and ’60s these siheyuan were parceled
out to dozens of families at a time. Brick
partitions and ancillary structures were
then added to these compounds, resulting
in intensely cramped conditions. One by-
product of this was the formation of tight
communities, within which the line between
public and private life often blurred. This
aspect of daily life, spilling out into the
hutongs, is still visible today.
Beijing has lost many of its hutongs in
recent times, whether through natural
events such as the 1976 Tangshan Earthquake,
or, more commonly, government-led
regeneration schemes, most famously in
the time leading up to the 2008 Beijing

Olympics, in which more than 1.5 million
people in inner Beijing were required to
leave their homes. In 1949, there were 6,074
hutongs; in 2004 there were 1,200. In 2017,
though there is no official number, this
downward trend has continued. Now the
hutongs and siheyuan exist as multiple
liminal possibilities: fetishized tourist
novelty; cramped and often dilapidated
homes for communities of Beijing families;
or as romanticized and renovated digs for
foreigners, who like to stay within walking
distance of their favorite hutong bar or
restaurant. It is in this conflicting context
that some of Beijing’s most avant-garde art
can be found. The intimate environments
are especially suited for community-driven
artistic practices, and have birthed a variety
of spaces.
However, just as many of the hutongs
have disappeared, so a number of its art
spaces have also come and gone. HomeShop
and Jiali Gallery are two notable, now
extinct ventures. Both represented a type

Interior view of Institute for Provocation (IFP) in Beijing. Courtesy IFP.
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