Karen Smith: What was you first experience of art?
　　Xiang Jing: My experience is fairly typical of the majority of artists in China. As a child, I liked to paint and draw, but did not receive any formal training. I was a good student, especially at Chinese language. When I decided to apply for the preparatory school attached to the Central Academy of Fine Arts in Beijing, my junior high school teachers thought it was a waste of my ability. It was generally assumed at that time that those pupils who went to art schools did so because they did not excel in any other area. However, I liked the idea very much, and was happy to win a place. It changed my life.
　　KS: Can you describe your memories of the 1980s, and how the experiences you accrued relate to the way in which your artistic expression evolved?
　　XJ:The 1980s had a huge impact on me, so much so that I can still its influence at work in my outlook today. I was younger then. I think the best way to make a comparison is to say that my experience of the 1980s was as life-changing as being part of the swinging sixties. It was a time when Chinese culture began to re-emerge, to reform, and to grow on all levels. It was as if we had suddenly awakened after a long sleep, and entered a new world, at once familiar and unfamiliar. At that time, we wanted to experiment with everything and believed we could do anything. The preparatory school was a boarding school, so I spent my entire time with my classmates, and we loved to hang out with students from the Central Academy. The school was near to the National Art Museum of China, and was also close to the People's Art Theatre and the Central Academy of Drama. I often went to see plays, both traditional and avant-garde. In terms of Chinese culture, the 1980s was a golden era; at least, to an observer like myself. To have these experiences at such an impressionable age had a profound impact on me: it shaped the way I think.
　　KS: Was part of this influence connected to your upbringing. I know that through your parents' jobs you were exposed to many cultivated people, and heard discussions on ideas which people outside of intellectual or artistic circles would have encountered. 　　
　　XJ:My father worked in the film world. He majored in theoretical research, and was assigned to the film magazine People's Film, which was the only magazine devoted to films then. It was later renamed Popular Cinema—I also worked at the magazine for three years after graduation. He had many friends in the film world, including directors of the fourth, fifth and sixth generation. Later, he also wrote scripts. Then there were my mother's writer friends. Growing up, I thought that everything revolved around culture.
　　KS: As part of the student life in the academy at that time there was also a growing number of talks and extra-curricula events that you must have been aware of?
　　XJ:Yes, but many things were encountered following my own instincts, or courtesy of the moment and the location of the school. My awareness and love of music began at school. Behind the school there is a street called Longfusi. It was one of the first commercial streets in Beijing. It was one of the first places where you could find shops selling products associated with popular culture, like music cassettes. Often, when we were in class, if the windows were open we could hear the strains of popular songs from Hong Kong or Taiwan coming from the shops outside. One of my classmates had a brother who was in the United States, and who was always sending him music tapes of foreign groups, like the Beatles and Michel Jackson.
　　KS: Was this the general mood amongst the students?
　　XJ:It seemed to me that the years above, including that of Hong Hao and Liu Xiaodong worked very hard. They painted every day. In my first year, the school began holding dances, discos. That was amazing, and encouraged us to want to have fun. I was up for anything then—dancing all night, going off to attend activities organized by Wen Pulin. It made me so happy to be part of the crowd of students at these events.
　　KS: Was this a general response by young people to the moment?　　
　　XJ:Not exactly. I feel that my experience was unique for that era. Those of my classmates from junior high school found their studies at normal high schools very strenuous, and uninspiring.
　　KS: Compared to many experiences I have heard discussed amongst other former students of the school in the 1980s, you do sound unusually precocious. You were after all very young at the time.　　
　　XJ:Yes, that's true. But I can only say it was a different era. It would not have been possible without the tolerance of our teachers. There were strict rules in the school, what time to be in, lights out…we were often locked out and had to climb over the walls to get in. Our teachers learned to ignore it. Having worked as a teacher myself for a few years, I know that today it is impossible to be as tolerant of students now. It was really a time of innocence then.
　　KS: So, having—to use a contemporary phrase—more or less partied your way through high school, in your final year you came to decide your future direction. That meant usually meant applying to the Central Academy. How did you come to choose the sculpture department?　　
　　XJ:As I entered my final year, I was an extremely confident person. Overly confident, one might say. I felt that since I had painted every day at school, I wanted to learn something new, something I had not yet experienced so I chose the printmaking department.
　　KS: Why print specifically?　　
　　XJ:My choice was made out of curiosity. I had never studied printmaking, so it appeared a fresh new field to me. Our school library was very good. Students could borrow six (imported) art books a week—of course, most of the content of these books was limited to Impressionist and before—and I borrowed six books a week during my entire time at the school because I really wanted to know art. Although I read them all I really didn't acquire any real depth of knowledge at that time. Certainly I could not appreciate the breakthroughs that works in the China/Avant Garde exhibition represented. I experienced the show superficially. It was weird and fun, and I could not begin to guess at its meaning.
　　KS: So you chose printmaking?　　
　　XJ:Yes. To be precise I chose etching. This was because I had become fascinated by Xu Bing's work. I had followed the progress of his 'Book from the Sky', and knew of course that he had graduated from the printmaking department. It seemed to me that the teachers in the printmaking department were producing extraordinarily interesting works that were experimental, different; certainly more progressive in approach than that evident on the oil painting department.
　　KS: Were you familiar with the work of any other staff from the department?
　　XJ:Tan Ping. He taught us rudimentary printmaking at the preparatory school. I was one of only four students from my class who applied. Tan Ping was sure that if anyone of us would succeed it would be me. I had done well in both drawing and painting at school, which were the areas to be tested during the examination. It was quite a shock to learn that I was the only one who didn't pass the exam. First time round, I had just become aware of modern art. When I came to take the examination, I drew a particularly strange painting. At that time I really liked German Expressionism. The topic for the examination was 'instant'. I painted a street where rain had just started to fall causing all the people to run for cover. It had a strong psychogenic dimension. It was not well received.
　　KS: What was your reaction when you learned you had failed the exam?　
　　XJ:It took me aback. Out of all the students from the preparatory school, only a handful failed to get a place at the academy. I was proud to the point of being arrogant. I decided I would never study printmaking—certainly never apply to the department again. Next time round I chose sculpture. As with my choice of printmaking, I knew nothing about sculpture, which is what lent it appeal. Naturally, when I took in the examination the following year, I had lost a lot of confidence: more so when I failed to pass practical exam again. However, by the third year, I had become completely relaxed about it all. This time I succeeded.
　　KS: During the three years before you entered the academy, how did you spend your time everyday? Did you continue to study and to broaden your knowledge of art?
　　XJ:I was preoccupied with how to prepare for the examination…until I realized that this was not the right way to approach it. The exam doesn't really test anything individual about the person. It all hinges on a perfect replication of a plaster bust. Most examinees make drawings of these day after day to perfect their skills. My mistake was to ignore this aspect. But I also found it very boring. Instead, I chose to work directly from life models with students who were applying to the oil painting department. When I finally sat the exam, I achieved one of the highest examination results. It made me realize that the system is completely faulty: that examination results do not mean anything. How could someone fail two years and then come almost top the next. I was still the same person after all. Still, at that time, on the positive side, the examination included an oral interview with the applicants. Today, teachers are reduced to making snap judgements as to individual ability from amongst several thousand applications dossiers spread on the ground; a year's worth of preparation by the students decided in a few moments.
　　KS: You entered the sculpture department in 1990. How many students were selected that year?　　
　　XJ:Only six. I soon found the daily routine extremely boring.
　　KS: Of the six, how many were female students?　　
　　XJ:I was the only one. In spite of my exam results, my teacher thought that a girl studying sculpture was pointless. He had no faith in my abilities. It was unsettling. The studio practice was geared towards producing monumental, commemorative public sculpture works, or statues and busts: the Soviet model. Again, I spent my time working directly with the human figure.
　　KS: Would you say you were producing your own work at this time?　　
　　XJ:Not really. But then as the time for graduation approached, together with some of my girlfriends, it was decided to hold an exhibition in the gallery at the preparatory school. I had no idea what to do, until one day it suddenly came to me. What interested me most, what had made the deepest impression upon me was my experience of growing up, adolescence: that golden era of my own life. Having delayed entry to the academy, by the time I graduated I was almost twenty-seven. I realised that my youth would soon be gone; and that I had spent the entire period in school, which also prolonged the feeling of childhood, dependence. So I started trying to capture an expression of youth. I found my practical skills to be horribly lacking, which was astonishing having spent five years working at it day after day. This issue of practical application is something I was to become very aware of: how techniques and skills are transformed into a language, and applied in my personal expression. This has been an ongoing concern.
　　KS: Yet you produced a group of works for the show. What material did you choose to work with?　　
　　XJ:Bronze. At that time I had no money really, and had only previously worked with clay and plaster. We (my boyfriend—now husband—and I) had a Nikon camera; my husband suggested that we sold it and use the money to fund my work. A friend of my mother also loaned me some money so I could complete the seven or eight small pieces for the show.
　　KS: What scale were you working with? It must have been dictated by available funds, but beyond that how did you select the proportions?　　
　　XJ:It shows how traditional my training was: I had only ever made figure sculptures of 80-90 centimetres in height. I believed sculptures came with a plinth! Naturally, at this time, I followed that approach. But when I surveyed the results, they looked strange—not how I had anticipated. I had never liked traditional materials. Bronze has such strong inherent language that there are only a few possible ways of working with it. The experience gave me much to think about.
　　KS: When you graduated, you were left to find your own way. I know your father helped you to find part time work in his danwei, but what did you do about practical facilities for your art work? You surely needed the kind of equipment only the academy could provide?　　
　　XJ:True, but it was not an option. Again, my father helped me. He has a friend who owned an empty apartment. My father told him that his daughter was getting married and needed private quarters. So I got married, and moved into the place. I could work there.
　　KS: How did you progress?　
　　XJ:That year in which I produced the small scale works for the exhibition was the most painful year of my life. I was constantly aware that this was not I wanted to do. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew what I didn't want. It was very painful.
　　KS: What was the response to the seven or eight small sculptures you showed?　　
　　XJ:Through friends (Yu Hong's sister Yu Gao participated in the exhibition, so Liu Xiaodong (Yu Hong's husband) brought lots of friends from the art circle to the exhibition) a surprising number of people came to see the work, including Li Xianting and artist Fang Lijun. At that time, there were so few exhibitions, and this one was held by a few young girls, so people were supportive of us. That was a real encouragement. It even led to my first experience working with a gallery. So, in spite of the bad experiences, it was a good start.
　　When the opportunity arose, I rented a yard in countryside, just outside Beijing. The studio space was huge. With the gallery connection, I was able to sell works to maintain it. However, I now found myself under pressure to create a certain type of work—small 'cute' pieces like those in the show, which I already knew was not 'me'.
　　KS: So how did you then approach sculpture again in the light of this experience?　　
　　XJ:The encouragement created a lot of pressure. For example, that first experience of working with a gallery. It was simply buying and selling works. It did not help me to grow up. Also, between 1995 and 1998 I was working with the theme of youth and adolescence, but I was already passed that age myself. A thirty-year-old still trying to maintain the mindset of a teenager is only deceiving themselves. As the contemporary art scene in general began to evolve, I began asking myself if my work had any real meaning.
　　KS: But you continued to produce new work. I know that in 1999 you participated in the Shenzhen Sculpture Exhibition.　　
　　XJ:That is an interesting example. I think the main reason I was selected is because there were so few female sculptors, not because my work was impressive. However, it was my first opportunity to participate in large-scale professional exhibition, and permitted me to work on a one-to-one scale.
　　KS: What do you think your figure sculptures gained in the process of enlarging their size? You also added colour to them. What difference did this make?
　　XJ:I immediately knew that this effect was what I had been seeking. The change in scale immediately altered the experience of viewing the work. The process of enlarging the scale channelled the work into my views on real-life. The process began with two busts, which were the opposite of everything that I was being told was beautiful and collectable. One featured a young girl in an office. Here, I used a couple of ready-made objects—a disposable cup and an ornamental bird. This prompted a whole new direction in my work. Also, in 1999, we decided to move to Shanghai. That allowed for a whole new beginning in my work, and provided enough new factors—a significant direction—that could be expanded upon.
　　KS: What were was so important about Beijing that would be different in Shanghai?　　
　　XJ:Although China was opening up in the 1990s, much experimental art remained underground. China is unusual in the degree to which mainstream culture dominates cultural life and values for so long. There is little of the diversity of the West. In China, all people have a uniform set of values. This makes is virtually impossible for diversity to flourish within a community. Artists are faced with a stark choice: mainstream or underground. This paradox was felt intensely. Young people who study art naturally veer towards non-mainstream art. In the 1990s, as the economy developed its own vigour, in my view, tangible cultural progress actually receded, or began to be pushed out by a generic, bland popular culture. This dominated my experience of Beijing, and became the dominant factor of my experiences. When I moved to Shanghai in 1999, I found it hard to become accustomed to its limited cultural dimensions.
 　　KS: It is here that you found your direction though, and laid the foundations for this group of new works. We can see that since you first began to apply colour, the surface of the figures is essential to realise its full expression. The sense of real skin, and features produces a powerful sense of the sculpture's internal state beyond its purely physical presence. Can you describe your intention here?　　
　　XJ:Even when I began to study art, it was only a means to an end. What I am really interested in is humanity. People ask me why I like sculpture. Having thought about this for some time, I realise I am interested in what it can convey, even though I think of it less as pure sculpture and more an exploration of the human condition. My understanding of art is very open. I am willing to experiment, with form, scale and idea. Although I create sculptures of the female form, my real concern is the psychological qualities I can impart to them.
　　KS: In your recent works, we are confronted with the relationship of the body to the self. The results are however, quite disturbing. Is this what you intended?　　
　　XJ:From my first works, what I wanted to achieve was not to make art, but to express an emotional state. I was not interested in the female body per se; certainly not interested in a standard aesthetic or value system pivoted upon a woman's body. I never intended to create female bodies in line with conventional expectations. But by working with the human form, I am constantly dealing with the problem of how to confront the body. My breakthrough came in opening up the female body, exposing it in a way that is direct and unflinching. It is my way of confronting myself. I think that if an artist can confront themselves in this way, then the problem can be thrown open to general discussion. The body is a universal issue.
　　KS: What was the majority response to your work in Shenzhen in 1999? How did that affect your thinking?　　
　　XJ:Most people seemed to find it amusing, cute. The Chinese art world is very much a man's world. I always felt myself an equal at home with my father and brother, and in the relationship with my husband too. Shenzhen alerted me to the fact of being identified as a woman first, and artist second, in a male-dominated society like China.
　　KS: How did this affect your next phase of work?　　
　　XJ:I knew that I had to be strong. Only when you make good work do you gain respect—I felt a strong need to be respected. It also made me self-conscious; conscious of the fact that I am a woman. But I think perhaps contemporary art circles around the world are the same. If you want to enter this circle, you must make a lot of work. You must learn to deal with people of all kinds. Initially my inability to do so cost me a lot of opportunities.
　　KS: It strikes me that the majority of successful female artists in China are strikingly beautiful. Do you think this is a factor that works in your favour?　　
　　XJ:(Laughing) Maybe some opportunities did come for this reason. Less recently now that I'm older! I hope that now the opportunities come because of my work.
　　KS: The first work to tackle the new monumental scale was Your Body created in 2003, and shown in (exhibition title) in Hangzhou, where I first saw it. It left a deep impression on me for reasons of the scale and posture, the facial expression and general mood. I was very surprised to see this new development at the time. What prompted it?
　　XJ:I had been thinking about how to achieve it for a long time. I have long wanted to make work which would stun the viewer into silence when they encountered it. I had arrived at a certain stage of my career, and felt I ought to make an exhibition of new works. To show people what this woman was capable of! I intended to do dozens of pieces, but then I became consumed by questions about 'contemporary art', and suspicions of experimental art. I decided I needed to see as much contemporary art as possible, and spent much time visiting artists' studios. I slowly came to the idea that my work should focus on a mental or psychological state. That's was how I came to create Your Body. It was the piece that allowed me break away from mere personal experiences, to have the confidence to carry on and to realise this exhibition.
　　KS:  It is a huge piece, and must have required assistants to complete?　　
　　XJ:Right. I produced the clay model, and had assistance with casting the piece in fibreglass. Then it sat in my studio for nearly half a year. I did not know what to do with it, especially the surface. Many people saw it, and were surprised and shocked by it. No one asked to include in an exhibition. The more I looked at it, the more I realised that it was the result of my response to conceptual art. At that time, it seemed artists were obsessed with concept. I began to feel that it was no longer necessary to see their work: to hear their explanation was enough. Surely art should not be so simple? I decided to create a work without any concept, just straightforward and strong in feeling. I felt like a larvae transforming into a moth. It was very uncomfortable. Having finished the initial work, I did nothing with the piece until 2004. I remember that it was spring. The work had been left outside for some time and the surface had become marked. One day, I decided to clean up the surface and apply some colour. Suddenly I had an impulse. I first climbed up to paint the eyes. As I finished, it seemed to me as if 'she' had come to life; had opened her eyes out of a coma. I felt she was watching me. We were watching each other. It was an amazing feeling. Then I painted the entire body without stopping.
　　KS: How do viewers react to the finished work?　　
　　XJ:Very well on the whole. The media response has been good too. Maybe I challenged the audience to think about reality, or gave them something they could relate to.
　　KS: Can you describe how you approached the other group of works that you brought together in this exhibition?　　
　　XJ:There are elements in these works which represent extensions of previous works, yet now the mental or spiritual states of the figures had transcended daily experience. As a medium, sculpture allows viewers to stop and view the figures without fear of the gaze being returned. It is a direct way to explore a mental state once all outward signs of identity have been removed. The viewer can approach the works without any constraint, or any inhibition; because they are one and the same as the viewer. There are also some new works that reflect human relationships, and explore the possible extension of individuality in terms of pure animal nature.
　　KS:  Although the focus of the exhibition is psychological states, the physical aspects, the visual portions, remain centred on the female form. Do you think that some of the physical poses might distract from the intangible aura of each work?　　
　　XJ:The body is very simple. I am always looking for a language. Although I am largely anti-concept, the two main elements of the work 'women' and 'the body' are two simple concepts that are all one needs to know about the work. The point is what point I am trying to make here. For this reason the work is highly detailed, with nothing fabricated or invented. The approach is something anyone can understand, even though everyone sees different things in the work. That is the difference between concept and content. These are life-size works. When I began, many things appeared to be a challenge. I wasn't taking a radical position against anything, but sought to achieve some kind of universal value. However, when I confronted the nature of my existence, I realise that this introduced a recurring sense of provocation into the work.
　　KS: Do you think there has been a change in people's attitudes towards your work?　　
　　XJ:Yes, I think people now look at me through my works, and not the other way around. I feel the audience has more respect for what I do. I worked hard to put myself through a personal revolution. Contemporary art has a very strong vocabulary, which I needed to confront. I realised that to ignore its language meant that I would not be accepted. But, I also became aware that when I really want to say something, as long as I say it loud and clear, I will achieve the desired effect. That's the reality of the art world today, but it is also the raison d'être of my art.