Tianli Zu
Tianli Zu: The Power of the Shadow
Luise Guest, April 23, 2013 | the art life
Luise Guest spoke with Sydney-based, Chinese-born artist Tianli Zu on the eve of the exhibition ‘In Possible Worlds’ at 4A Centre for Contemporary Asian Art...
Luise Guest spoke with Sydney-based, Chinese-born artist Tianli Zu on the eve of the exhibition ‘In Possible Worlds’ at 4A Centre for Contemporary Asian Art...
Tianli Zu, White Shadows (installation view), 2012-13. Acetate film, painted with acrylic, hand cut and installation with multiple animation projections. Dimensions variable. Image courtesy the artist
Our conversation ranged across many topics, from Zu’s childhood during the Cultural Revolution, to her experiences of learning paper cutting from peasants in Shanxi Province, through to the challenges she faces today juggling the different roles required of contemporary women. She spoke of her interest in Taoism, and the philosophy of yin and yang - the tensions inherent in the binary opposites which make up our world. These are symbolised in her work by light and dark, projection and shadow. As we spoke about her early life she pointed out key images as they moved slowly across the walls of the space. I see squadrons of fighter planes and slowly falling bombs, in reference to a cousin who fought in Vietnam. A bamboo bird cage and the figure of an axe-wielding pigtailed woman come from dark folk tales. The work reminds us of all the most frightening aspects of childhood: the monsters lurking in the darkness; the fear of the unknown.
Zu sees the shadow as a metaphor for things which are repressed or hidden in the everyday world, especially aspects of femininity and female desire. She works directly, cutting the paper by hand without sketches or preparatory drawings. The act of cutting is performative and cathartic. Themes of opposing forces, hidden truths and dark shadows emerge throughout our conversation. Zu’s intellectual parents (her mother a celebrated documentary film-maker and her father an editor) had a vast library of books. At the front of the bookcase were the volumes of Maoist and Leninist theory, but hidden behind these was another layer, which included much Western literature including Shakespeare and Dante. “It was wonderful!” she said. “I would just read – I got the chance because school was not too hard for me, I was the best student. I lived up to my parents’ expectation.” She had considerable freedom in this period of her childhood. She remembers climbing trees, having adventures, even getting in a few fights. “I had a slingshot, I was just like a boy! They cut my hair short, I wore boys’ clothes.” Binaries of masculinity and femininity, sex and death, eros and thanatos, play out in all her imagery.
Our conversation ranged across many topics, from Zu’s childhood during the Cultural Revolution, to her experiences of learning paper cutting from peasants in Shanxi Province, through to the challenges she faces today juggling the different roles required of contemporary women. She spoke of her interest in Taoism, and the philosophy of yin and yang - the tensions inherent in the binary opposites which make up our world. These are symbolised in her work by light and dark, projection and shadow. As we spoke about her early life she pointed out key images as they moved slowly across the walls of the space. I see squadrons of fighter planes and slowly falling bombs, in reference to a cousin who fought in Vietnam. A bamboo bird cage and the figure of an axe-wielding pigtailed woman come from dark folk tales. The work reminds us of all the most frightening aspects of childhood: the monsters lurking in the darkness; the fear of the unknown.
Zu sees the shadow as a metaphor for things which are repressed or hidden in the everyday world, especially aspects of femininity and female desire. She works directly, cutting the paper by hand without sketches or preparatory drawings. The act of cutting is performative and cathartic. Themes of opposing forces, hidden truths and dark shadows emerge throughout our conversation. Zu’s intellectual parents (her mother a celebrated documentary film-maker and her father an editor) had a vast library of books. At the front of the bookcase were the volumes of Maoist and Leninist theory, but hidden behind these was another layer, which included much Western literature including Shakespeare and Dante. “It was wonderful!” she said. “I would just read – I got the chance because school was not too hard for me, I was the best student. I lived up to my parents’ expectation.” She had considerable freedom in this period of her childhood. She remembers climbing trees, having adventures, even getting in a few fights. “I had a slingshot, I was just like a boy! They cut my hair short, I wore boys’ clothes.” Binaries of masculinity and femininity, sex and death, eros and thanatos, play out in all her imagery.
