text / Ar Cheng

Let me describe for readers a brain process: we see an image, our retinae take the image to the thalamus, and the thalamus converts it into code (as a computer would turn the same image into binary code of ones and zeros), it is then saved in the hippocampus (which is shaped like a seahorse, whose scientific name is Hippocampus). At the same time the Amygdala (which is shaped like an almond, whose scientific name is Amygdalus) saves correlated emotional memories such as fear or joy. Thus when we see a wolf, for example, we feel fear. If the Amygdala of a certain person is removed or damaged, when such a person sees the same wolf their brain will not produce fear, they would only know that there was a wolf. The normal person would run, but this person would not. We ordinarily call people whose emotional response is different than ours a “fool.”

Our brains are linked to the images we see, and many memories are correspondingly stored, smells, tactile sensations, sound and temperature for example.

Under normal circumstances, our judgment of images and emotions is linked; the issue is really, what emotions are associated with which images. We often talk about childhood emotions and experiences, they influence us our entire life––this is where they come from. The Chinese have a saying: “It’s apparent who you are by the time you are three years old.” Childhood is the golden era in which we begin to link all categories of images with memory.

Accordingly, we have “Red Nostalgia,” which is the rolling over and over of childhood memories in our hearts. They are thick and heavy like wine.

Taking cultural themes, no small amount of photography in recent years invokes and searches for the existence of a Chinese lifestyle, of scraps and relics like old streets, old hutongs and old homes. Wang Di shows us a Beijing different from that of a hundred years ago, and it’s Westernized residential harbors; the utter Sovietization of the city in the 1950s is another kind of Westernization.

Wang Di has very precisely named the fruits of this process “red architecture.”

But this red architecture was really isn’t simply the design of Soviet engineers, Chinese architects were working under Soviet specifications, for example, they were building on the basis of principals such as a certain amount of square footage would be allotted per capita. Ideologically, these were equivalent to the new Soviet architecture. They were designed for functionary organs of the national government, and built upon Soviet communal. They were impossible to popularize for a widespread public, at least in Beijing, because they exceeded the average income of commoners.

They may not be as luxurious most of the exquisite courtyard homes in the city, but they were brand new, and were composed of modern materials; they were a symbol of power for the new China––red architecture. They were the new Beijing.

But time passes on, already half a century, and things have changed. In his new novel Discussions With our Daughter the writer Wang Shuo describes the city districts with red architecture: “…a few old military compounds are concentrated by Hongshankou near Fuxing Rd., several old cadre dormitories by Sanlihe, Baiwanzhuang, and Hepingli, look really down and out these days… whoever wants to see the fundamental changes that have happened in China over the past several decades, I take them to west Beijing to see how the former cornerstone of the regime lives nowadays.” Moreover, “…look at the kids walking out of there these days, there’s not a single pair of bright, confident eyes, the very kind of spirit that used to be everywhere on Fuxing Rd., in the absence of that spirit the west capital has become so mediocre, the boys are girls aren’t even cute.”

I’ve said it before, our childhood influences our entire life, it is the emotional background that colors our lives, the people that lack this particular background color have imbalanced value judgment. I personally think that it is difficult for Wang Di to possess them both. He has photographed and accurately captured the red nostalgia buried in this red architecture. This word “nostalgia” has its roots in agricultural culture, in Francois Truffaut’s film “Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959)” and the continuous images of the Eiffel Tower we can see industrial nostalgia. From the images of Wang Di’s red architecture I can feel the disjoint of half a century, and homesickness for the central power like only Beijing knew. Its strange, can we really be nostalgic for power? Only people who grew up in Beijing could possibly produce such feelings of homesickness, and only such a person could so earnestly photograph it, he has earned my respect.

So ruined, and yet thus once there were standards. So helpless, despite being blown hither and yon. Bleak autumn winds still blow, but the once ceremonious red has faded.

The large extent of Beijing has been demolished, destroying the childhood evidence of a generation of Beijing residents. Whether or not this red architecture will also be demolished remains to be seen. I personally think that it should not be. The history of a city is proven through the architecture of various eras. We cannot pick and choose our history. Today we protect ancient relics by virtue of their traditional significance, and thus know the past. Extending that, there are movements to protect the early industrial architecture of Beijing, red architecture should be included among their efforts, because in Beijing’s history, they are the only remaining documentation.

Perhaps this red architecture will eventually be demolished, in such a case we will only have Wang Di’s precious images.

Image and essay are both included in Ego / Structure * Red Dwellings published by Timezone 8 and Xin Beijing Gallery, March 2008