Dissident artist Ai Weiwei's unapologetic, anti-establishment commentary

Ai Weiwei's "Life Vest Snake" (2019) on view at the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art's exhibition, "Ai Weiwei: Defend the Future" / Courtesy of Ai Weiwei Studio, Lisson Gallery and neugerriemschneider, Berlin

By Park Han-sol

Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei / Courtesy of Ai Weiwei Studio

A 22.5-meter-long serpent floats up by the ceiling of the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art (MMCA) in Seoul, ready to slither away at the slightest provocation. As viewers travel down the hall, they find it almost impossible to take their eyes off the creature hovering overhead with its peculiar blue and red scales.

Its scales, they soon realize, are made up of 140 life vests, both small and large. But whose, exactly?

When refugees and asylum seekers, many of whom are of Syrian, Afghan or Somali origins, arrive on the Greek Island of Lesbos ― one of the busiest crossing points for migration into Europe ― the first thing they do is to take off the very jacket that protected their lives while crossing the ocean and throw it into a massive pile.

Ai Weiwei, the Beijing-born artist and activist known for his unapologetically anti-establishment commentary, saw the hundreds of life vests left on the shore as the shed skin of a snake. Since the mid-2010s, he began following such traces left behind by the refugees, many of whose fates are unknown, through thought-provoking installations and documentaries.

In addition to "Life Vest Snake," they include "The Navigation Route of the Sea-Watch 3 Migrant Rescue Vessel, June 2019" recreated with LEGO bricks, as well as a tower of blue-and-white porcelain vases depicting sceneries of destruction, war and migration instead of traditional patterns of peaceful nature.

"Porcelain Pillar with Refugee Motif" (2017) / Korea Times photo by Park Han-sol

This "historical testimony" of unresolved human tragedies and ongoing suffering also reflects the artist's own status as a person drifting from one place to another ― Portugal, Italy, the United Kingdom, Germany, among others ― due to being persecuted by the Chinese government.

"If art doesn't change in the face of such a huge spiritual and social crisis for humankind, it's basically like a zombie, and there's no need for it to exist," Ai told the press in a recent email interview to mark the opening of his first exhibition at the Korean national museum, "Ai Weiwei: Defend the Future." The show hosts more than 120 pieces of his sculptural and LEGO installations, photos and documentaries.

Ai's political outspokenness and activism to promote greater freedom of speech in regard to universal human suffering ― which earned him the title of China's most "controversial and dangerous" artist ― are influenced by his father, Ai Qing, a famed modern poet.

In 1957, the frenzy of the Anti-Rightist Campaign in China, which soon launched a purge of intellectuals, branded the poet a "rightist." His whole family was soon exiled first to Heilongjiang in northeast China, then to Xinjiang. Ai grew up watching his father scrub toilets, while being forbidden to read or write freely.

Although the family was eventually able to return to Beijing at the end of the Cultural Revolution in 1976, his childhood experience forever shaped the subversive nature of his artwork, as well as his openly critical remarks against the Chinese government.

"I think the so-called art scene in China [has been] a defective community since the day it was formed," he said. "Seeking the truth through artistic language and other means is the most important way to protect art, but the Chinese art scene has changed its stance on that in order to survive. There is in fact no future in that."

He highlighted freedom of speech as an "important attribute of life" that must be protected at all costs.

Adhering to his life philosophy, Ai has refused to shy away from documenting the uncomfortable truth of social injustice, as well as the authorities often complicit in human rights violations.

Thus, the sources of inspiration for a wide range of pieces displayed at the exhibition come from both the artist's attempts to question established authority and his inevitably troubled relationship with the Chinese government.

"Study of Perspective, 1995-2011" / Courtesy of Ai Weiwei Studio and neugerriemschneider, Berlin

One series of such works on view is the photography series that launched the artist to global stardom, "Study of Perspective." In the images that mimic classic tourist photos, he extends his left arm to give the middle finger to historically renowned monuments and landmarks, including the fraught Tiananmen Square.

The series recently made headlines, as Hong Kong's M+ Museum, which opened its doors to the public last month as the city's premiere institution dedicated to contemporary visual culture, announced the removal of Ai's images from its website and gallery, citing the National Security Law.

Another notable piece is the bright golden wallpaper that covers the entirety of one gallery space, titled, "The Animal that Looks Like a Llama but is Really an Alpaca." An elaborate pattern is created via a combination of surveillance cameras, handcuffs and birds symbolizing Twitter.

"The Animal that Looks Like a Llama but is Really an Alpaca" (2015) / Courtesy of Ai Weiwei Studio, Lisson Gallery and neugerriemschneider, Berlin

Although it could be read as a general commentary on the rise of the surveillance state, the work also hints at numerous personal experiences of the artist.

In the aftermath of the catastrophic Sichuan earthquake in 2008 in China, where it was suspected that poorly constructed schools resulted in the deaths of more than 5,000 children, he launched a "Citizen's Investigation" to interview the victim's families and public officials. He also recorded the names and number of dead children on his blog ― information that the state refused to provide citing "state secrets" or "a matter of social stability."

When his blog was forcibly shut down, he soon found Twitter to be the platform to host his thoughts. "Twitter is the people's tool, the tool of the ordinary people, people who have no other resources," he said in "Weiwei-isms," a book presenting a selection of his quotes.

But the closure of his blog did not mean the end of governmental repression for him. A year later, when Ai was visiting Chengdu to testify at the trial of the social activist Tan Zuoren, who was involved in researching earthquake fatalities, two police officers appeared at his hotel door at 5 a.m. and subsequently assaulted him. A mirror selfie blown up as large as wallpaper, "Illumination," taken at this very moment, is also displayed at the exhibition.

"Illumination" (2009) / Courtesy of Ai Weiwei Studio, Lisson Gallery and neugerriemschneider, Berlin

Then in 2011, Ai was arrested at the Beijing Capital International Airport before boarding a flight to Hong Kong. He was placed under 81 days of illegal detention, and even after his release, was monitored closely at all times through 25 cameras installed around his studio.

But the artist wasn't afraid to wield his art as a tool for change once again. A day before the anniversary of his arrest, he subversively commented on his status under 24-hour police surveillance through the self-surveillance project, "WeiweiCam." He installed webcams throughout his home and broadcasted a live feed of his daily life, which recorded more than 5.2 million views.

"I am a global issue myself. My life, my understanding of life, and the situation I am currently facing ― they are all part of global issues," he told Korean reporters. "I think art itself is an effective way to reflect upon problems and contradictions. If an artwork cannot be created in a harsh political environment, the artwork does not have any value of existence."

The exhibition, "Ai Weiwei: Defend the Future," runs through April 17, 2022 at the MMCA.