An Interview with Wang Guangyi (in English and Chinese)
In the current AMAM exhibition Conversations: Past and Present in Asia and America, a painting titled Chanel (below) by Chinese contemporary artist Wang Guangyi is on view. To demonstrate Wang’s “conversations” with art and artists from the past, Chanel is paired with an anonymous propaganda poster from the Cultural Revolution, Thoroughly Criticize Lin Biao and Confucius!, and a lithograph titled Crak! by Roy Lichtenstein, one of the leading figures in the Pop Art movement in the US.
Wang Guangyi first gained wide critical acclaim with his Great Criticism series, which included Chanel. The works juxtaposed propaganda imagery from the Cultural Revolution with brand names and motifs from Western advertising, which were flooding into China during the Reform Era of the 80s and 90s. Like Pop Art, Wang appropriated elements of mass-produced commercial advertising; however, by adding exaggerated, heroic figures from political posters he slyly suggests that advertising and propaganda are equally manipulative. Recently, Zimeng Xiang, the AMAM Student Curatorial Assistant in Asian Art, interviewed the artist.
* Below, you can find a transcription of the interview in Chinese.
Wáng Guǎngyì 王广义 (Chinese, b. 1956), Chanel, from the Great Criticism series, 1994, oil on canvas, 149.2 x 119.7 cm. Oberlin Friends of Art Fund, 2001.20. Allen Memorial Art Museum
Q: The shift from your early works in Northern Art Group to the Great Criticism series was extraordinary. What was the change in your opinions on art that caused such a huge shift? What triggered such a change in your mind?
Wang Guangyi 王廣義, Post-Classical: Gospel of Matthew, 1986, Oil on canvas, 100cm x 100cm. (Fig. 1)
A: My works created before the shift of my focus had almost nothing to do with my life experience. They were just my imaginary issues: the Post-Classical series (1986) was my own correction to the classical culture and the Frozen North Pole series (1985) was about an imaginary “northern culture”. Not until I started painting Mao (1988,1989) did my artistic practice begin to mature; not until then did I realize what was really connected to my life experience and my educational background.
Wang Guangyi 王廣義, Waving Mao Zedong, 1989, Oil on canvas, 150cm x 120cm. (Fig. 2)
Apart from that, the formation of the Great Criticism series was somehow accidental as well. Despite the poor artistic qualities of propaganda images made by amateur painters during the cultural revolution, I used to find in them a unique kind of power which I wished to exploit in my works. I enlarged and copied one of those images of workers, peasants and soldiers onto a canvas, setting it in the corner, and had no idea how to deal with it. Several days later, I happened to have a chance to drink a can of Coke. This was in those days when lots of Western consumer products (such as Coca-Cola and Marlboro cigarettes) had just entered China, but coke was still a “luxurious” drink. Incidentally, I set the Coke can on the ground, suddenly coming up with some interesting ideas.
Since the Great Criticism series, my attention shifted from the form to the imagery itself. The form is entangled with art historical contexts and elements of individualization, which I was trying to get rid of. I tried to free art from the hands of artists, to make it possess more power—the power that came from people as well as the leader. In the Post-Classical series, with the aid of old masters I told a myth about art history; in Mao’s portraits, with the aid of photography and printing presses I told a myth about the leader; in the Great Criticism, with the aid of people I told a myth about people.
Q: The Bold outlines and exaggerated figures of the Great Criticism series bring to mind a series of Cultural Revolution-era posters, such as “Thoroughly Criticize Lin Biao and Confucius!” (ca. 1970), that are themselves reminiscent of the work of the Modern Woodcut Movement of the 1920s-1940s. Were you referencing either of these in your series, or Cultural Revolution imagery more broadly?
A: Yes, I was referencing the Cultural Revolution-era posters. Basically the prototypes of the Great Criticism series are such imagery created by the “people”. I was juxtaposing these two kinds of imagery coming from different eras—figures of workers, peasants and soldiers, and images from imported advertisements that had permeated contemporary life.
Wang Guangyi 王廣義, Great Criticism: Coca-Cola, 1990-93, Oil on canvas, 200cm x 200cm. (Fig. 3)
Q: How did you feel about the widespread propaganda posters during the 60s and the 70s when you were young? What was the impact that the swelling consumer culture brought to your life in the 90s? How did you come up with the combination of propaganda images and Western commercial advertisements?
A: The cultural revolution lasted only for ten years, during which Chinese people subverted politics, as well as history and art. We lived in a political metaphysics. Elimination was regarded as creation. Chaos was believed to be order. The Cultural Revolution is usually understood as a mythmaking movement, but I consider it more like a kind of Dadaism. This is Mao’s political metaphysics—a unity of mythmaking and Dada. Under the influence of such metaphysics, we embraced the negative, with an unprecedented audacity, as if they are actually the positive. A particular image system was built when the practice of “Great Criticism” was invented. As the Cultural Revolution ended and Mao’s utopia vanished, commodity fetishism became popular in China where true religious belief was submerged. Chinese speedily switched to another image system—a system about signs of consumerism. Everything but my cognitive system was changing dramatically. I was trying to look for a meaning behind the conflicts between my haunting memories and this burgeoning new imagery.
Q: The whole series of Great Criticism includes both prints and oil paintings. Is there any difference in ideas between works made in these two kinds of media?
A: They express the same idea, just different in the ways they could be spread.
Q: Could you tell us about how you created those strings of numbers on the painting Chanel and other special techniques you applied?
A: I stamped those numbers. I also used an altered traditional glazing technique.
Q: Besides the Great Criticism series, many of your other works, such as the sculpture series Materialist made in around 2002 and the painting series Methodology of People’s War made in 2004, also make reference to images from woodblock prints made in the Great Leap Forward or Cultural Revolution period. Why are you interested in employing images and visual effects originally generated for reproducible media in your works that were made in non-reproducible media?
Wang Guangyi 王廣義, Materialists, 2001-2002, Sculpture (Fiberglass and Millet), Approximately 180cm x 120cm x 60cm. (Fig.4)
A: There was a transformation happening there when I modulated and recreated the existing prints. Through such a process of transformation, artists would amplify or even distort the original meanings of the material. My Great Criticism series tended to flatten and simplify (the source material) by removing those medium tones in colors and shadings. It might relate back to the original image style of “Great Criticism”, which was redolent of woodblock prints, but I indeed intentionally pursued that kind of effect in my later works. Plenty of Cultural Revolution imagery, including some of those propaganda images, retained more or less some sense of space; those were created by professional artists, in a Soviet art style. However, they simplified the forms to make images speak to people. I call that a thorough conceptualization. Interestingly, it is exactly those conceptualized images that possessed a unique power.
Q: Because of your Great Criticism series, many critics and art historians consider you as the founder of Chinese Political Pop art. What do you think of such an identity (or rather, label)? Did it have any unexpected effect on your later artistic practice? Do you think that it might restrict the ways viewers read your works?
A: Of course, my Great Criticism series should belong to the category of Pop art, whereas my Pop art has probably included some issues related to politics and ideologies. Pop art is defined as a popular art concerning mass culture, but to a country like China, the most “popular” would be politics.
It certainly had some impact (on my later artistic practice), both positive and negative, but this was not something that could be determined according to my individual will. My works and my words became productions of the world of pop as soon as they left me. Maybe that is the reason why contemporary art approaches everyone’s life so closely. Contemporary art seems to be a reconstruction of the synchronic experience of the public. It involves everyone and forces them to participate, like a huge “game”. At first glance, they are unsure about what exactly this game is, in the same way as they are about the evening news on television. But one thing is clear: contemporary art always reminds the public of a most basic matter—both news and games lead us to real life.
Q: In a previous interview, you mentioned that “the core of art is something spiritual”. Could you choose one word to describe the “spirit” of contemporary Chinese art? What do you think is the biggest difference between the “spirit” of contemporary Chinese art and that of ’85 New Wave?
A: The only way I could talk about ’85 New Wave is from my own experience of it. History is just a random product. When we were actively participating in ’85 New Wave, we had no idea that it would be eventually remembered this way after thirty years. What’s more valuable and substantial is the process of re-thinking the spirits and thoughts of those individuals involved in this piece of history. As far as I’m concerned, it was still a great period of time back in the 1980s, when my numerous dreams and imaginings about art were constructed during those salad days of mine. ’85 New Wave offered me a starting point—a point that related to my feelings about Shamanism in the northern area where I grew up—of my artist’s career. All those major themes of Shamanism—pantheism, mysteries, agnosticism and indeterminacy—still mean a lot to me. Today I still believe that we are agnostic about art, and what artists express are no doubt some kinds of thoughts—but such thoughts are indeterminate.
Q: Most Western audiences nowadays as well as Chinese students of my generation would probably not respond to your “Great Criticism” series as you expected since they did not have the same experience that people of your generation had during the Cultural Revolution, either as participants or foreign spectators. What kind of role would you like your work to play at AMAM, a Western academic art museum? What kind of impact would you like it to have on students of my generation?
A: Essentially, China is a somewhat utopian country. In its long history, the shifts in state power influenced people profoundly. Nowadays such influences are gradually fading away from the memories of younger generations, but something remains the same—something that has never changed except that the way it happens may be different now. Since the early years during which I was born, I’ve had strong feelings that the state was trying to brainwash people with its utopian ideas through propaganda imagery. Meanwhile, when I finally grew up and became an artist, I found that in some Western, developed countries, the state power was used to stimulate people’s ardor for commodity fetishism. As an artist having these two mechanisms superposed, I stood in the intermediate realm, presenting the result to audiences of different ages from different places. As for the role I would like my work to play at a Western academic art museum, I wish that it could guide audiences to learn about issues I’ve been interested in, issues that essentially transcend the concept of nation and time.
Wang Guangyi 王廣義, The Last Supper, 2011, Oil on canvas, 1600cm × 400cm. (Fig. 5)
Q: Images of Western political or religious leaders, as well as Christian icons, started to emerge in your works after 2010. What are your major ideas behind these recent works? Earlier you said that you are more interested in expressing collective notions rather than personal feelings in your works, and that your works are usually created by “the public’s hands”. What are the collective notions that you would like to convey in these recent works?
A: Those works are from the New Religion series. About this series, earlier I said, “The presence or absence of various rituals, icons, relics and commandments, etc., are not something we are able to control. We can only obtain a sense of history’s existence through the figurative reproduction of memories. We looked at everything, but from the backside. We observed the existing human civilization, but with a veil covering on it. Since our childhood, we’ve been exposed to all kinds of things by accident. Those things are like negative films that will re-emerge once they are activated, again, by accident, at some point. Today everyone’s life is affected by such “negative films” carrying a certain density of time and memories which would influence the way we see the world.” What I mean by “collective notion” is that my works rarely involve issues that only I, an individual, have been faced with; instead, they concern issues that most of us have been faced with.
Q: Could you tell us about what you are working on currently (or where you are among different stages of the art making process)?
A: Currently, I’m preparing for a show that will take place in Wuhan this November (2016), and the other one in Prague next year (2017). Both of them will present my works from different time periods as well as those made most recently.
Regarding my recent thoughts on art making, I’m trying to find the source of all my artistic practice. Last year (2015), I made a new installation The Origin of the Gods through which I connected other works of mine, including those made in the early period. This work could be related back to my childhood experience in the northern area. When northern kids are sick, they would probably be sent to a shaman instead of a doctor. I thought this was nothing more than superstition when I was young, but as I grew up, I found that behind such a phenomenon there is a particular significance of those original religions, which interested me a lot.
Such habits came from the legacy of Northern Shamanism which originated from Northern China, Northern Russia and some European areas, but mainly Northern China. To some extent, what we are faced with are so-called “religious” matters—Buddhism and Christianity undoubtedly came from foreign areas; only Shamanism is indigenous. Curious about it, I wanted to find its root, the most basic thing about our spiritual life.
What that is in my works, in which I tried to find that “root”, is exactly an attitude of Pantheism—an emphasis on accidental encounters rather than assigning everything their unique values. As I’ve mentioned before, if someone was tripped up by a rock when walking at night and the next morning he found that the rock had actually saved his life by keeping him from falling down the cliff, this rock would be his savior—from a Pantheist’s perspective. This sounds very interesting to me. Pantheism regards everything around you, such as rocks, ropes, crows and other things we could encounter in our daily life, as potential saviors; accompanying inadvertent circumstances, it determines whether this particular thing would show such a value and meaning. If we look at Western civilization from a Pantheist’s perspective, we would find that this rock, in absolute terms, is the same as what Nietzsche has said in Ecce Homo.
Interview transcription in Chinese:
从您“北方艺术群体”时期的作品到“大批判”系列是一个非常大的转变，在这个过程中您对艺术的看法发生了怎样的转变？是怎样的契机促使了您的艺术观念发生如此大的转变？
在这之前我的东西应该说和我的生活经验都是没关系的，是我想象出的一个问题。“后古典”是我对古典文化的修正，“北方极地”是我想象出的一个北方文化，实际上和我的经验和我的生活，和我整个的教育背景都没有关系，实际上我真正成熟是从画毛泽东这件事开始的，我接下去就更明确了，和我经验相关，和我艺术整个教育背景相关，大概是这种产物。《大批判》的产生，除了这个之外，也具有偶然性，那个年代，大量的西方商品刚刚进入中国，像可口可乐、万宝路烟，而文革期间大量非专业的人画的一些很幼稚的报头来表达他们的态度，从绘画语言上非常拙，形也不准，但确实有一种力量，我也想找到怎么来使用它，我先是把其中一个工农兵的《大批判》报头打格放大成一米乘一米，画到画布上原样临摹下来，放到墙角儿，好几天也不知道怎么处理。很偶然，在那个喝可乐挺奢侈的年代，我偶然喝了一罐可乐，把可乐罐放到地上，突然觉得很有意思。
从大批判开始，我的注意力从图式转到了图像。图式有太多艺术史和个性化成分。我想努力地摆脱它，我想把艺术从艺术家的手中解放出来，让它更具有力量。力量来自人民，来自领袖。我创作了毛泽东和大批判。在后古典那里，我借古代大师说话，讲了一个艺术史的神话。在毛泽东那里，我借照相术和印刷机说话，讲了一个领袖的神话。在大批判那里，我借人民说话，我讲了一个人民的神话。
“大批判”系列中夸张的粗线条人物形象让我们不禁联想到文革时期的宣传海报，例如（AMAM收藏中的）“彻底批判林彪孔老二”。而这些宣传海报本身又令人回忆起20年代至40年代的新木刻运动。在“大批判”系列作品中，您是否有暗示这两者中的其一，或是广义上的文革图像？
和前者（宣传海报）是有关系的，或者说我的《大批判》作品的原始图像，就来源于前者这些“人民”创造的图像， 我将这些工农兵的形象与今天我们生活中的那些引进的、渗透到大众生活中去的商品广告图像相结合，将这两种来源于不同时代的图像因素并置。
六、七十年代时随处可见的带有宣传性质的图像曾带给当时的您怎样一种感受？九十年代至今的消费主义文化对您的生活又产生了怎样的冲击？为什么会想到把这两者联系在一起呢？
文革只有短短的十年的时间。十年中，中国人颠覆了政治，颠覆了历史和艺术。中国人生活在玄学政治中，破坏就是创造，天下大乱达到天下大治。人们常说文革是一种造神运动，依我看来，文革更像是一种达达运动。造神和达达的统一，就是毛泽东的政治玄学。在这种玄学的影响下，中国人以一种空前的魄力，相信负面的东西更具有积极性，他们发明了大批判，建立了一套特殊的图像系统。随着文革的结束，随着毛泽东乌托邦的破灭，拜物教在信仰空缺的中国盛行。在图像上，中国人迅速地接受了另一套系统，一套关于消费的标识和数字系统。社会的一切都在剧烈地转换，我的认知系统却未能适应。残留的记忆和新兴的图像发生了冲突。我试图在我的艺术中却寻找这种冲突背后的意义。
整个“大批判”系列中既包含版画作品，也包含油画作品，使用这两类不同的媒介所创作的作品背后的意义有什么不同吗？
请问Chanel这幅作品上一串串的数字是怎样弄上去的？您在创作这幅作品时还使用了其他什么特别的方法/技巧吗？
上面的数字是我用印章印上去的，同时我还使用了改变了的传统罩染方式。
“大批判”系列之后，您的许多其他作品似乎也借用了大跃进或文革时期版画中的人物形象，例如02年左右的雕塑作品“唯物主义者”系列，以及04年的作品“人民战争方法论”系列。为什么会对使用不可复制的媒介（油画/雕塑）来再现原本由可复制媒介（版画）所产生的图像这种创作方式产生兴趣？
我对已有的印刷品进行再加工、创作， 是一个转换的关系。艺术家通过转换，把原来那个东西的意义放大了，甚至也可能是扭曲了。我的《大批判》倾向于平面化，逐渐去掉了中间调子，不论是素描关系还是色彩关系，越来越倾向简单。这虽然与那些大批判的原始风格有关，那些东西有木刻的感觉，但我在后来的画面上一直有意追求这种效果。文革中的不少画面还是有一种立体感和空间感，基本上是苏联艺术的风格样式，还是出于专业艺术家之手，即便是一些大批判的报头画，也是他们画的，但当他们在向人民述说的时候，他们在形式上就做了简化了的处理，我把这种简化称之为“彻底的概念化”。有趣是，恰恰是这种概念化的图像，有一种特别的力量。
您因为“大批判”系列而被许多评论家及艺术史学者公认为中国政治波普艺术的创始人，请问您怎么看待这样一种身份（或说是一种标签）？这种标签是否对您之后整体的艺术创作产生了影响？您是否认为这从某种意义上来说束缚了观众对您的作品的解读？
当然，我的“大批判”毫无疑问应当属于波普艺术的范畴，只是我的波普艺术可能包含了政治和意识形态的一些问题。波普的定义是一种流行的通俗艺术，但是对中国这样一个国家而言，最流行的应当是政治。
影响肯定是有的，有正面的也有负面的。但有些事情是不能以个人意志来决定的，我的作品和我所说的话一经离开我，就成为一个波普产物了，也许，正因为这样才使得当代艺术逼近了每一个人的生活。其实就当代艺术来讲，它似乎应当是一种公众共时性经验的一种重组的实现，它涉及到所有人，它是一场大型的“游戏”，它迫使公众参加进去。从表面上看，公众似乎弄不清楚这个游戏的真面目，这有点像公众在晚间观看电视新闻节目一样。有一点是清楚的，那就是当代艺术总是在提醒公众注意一个最基本的问题：新闻和游戏引导我们走向真实的生活。
您曾经在一次采访中说过，“艺术的核心是精神性的东西”，那么您认为当下的中国当代艺术的“精神”，与85新潮时期的“精神”相比，最大的不同是什么？如果请您用一个词来形容中国当代艺术的“精神”，那将会是什么？
我只能从自己经历的85去真实的谈论这段历史，任何一件事情成为历史其实是非常偶然的，就像我们当时参与到其中，不知道这会成为历史，如今三十年过去了，我知道这是历史了。在这个过程中，回到参与历史具体的个人精神思想的历程可能更具有价值、更真实。以我个人而言，我仍然觉得80年代是一个美好的年代，我的青春年华是在那个年代度过的，我的无数梦想、无数对艺术的想象是在那个年代建立的。 85为我的艺术道路提供了一个起点，那个起点和我小时候生活在北方对萨满教的感觉有关，萨满教的泛神论、神秘感、不可知、不确定这些词语对于今天的我来说依然有巨大影响，我今天仍然认为艺术是不可知的，艺术家所表达的毫无疑问是一种思想，但是这个思想是不确定的。
大多数西方观众以及正在海外留学的这一代中国学生由于并没有您那一代人年轻时的经历 （不论是作为参与者还是西方旁观者），对您作品中的政治元素都无法产生感同身受的体验，很可能会对您的作品产生一些您预料之外的回应。您希望自己的作品在AMAM这样的西方学术性美术馆中扮演一个什么样的角色？ 您希望您的作品对我们这一代的学生产生什么样的影响？
本质上讲，中国是一个乌托邦国家，在它漫长的历史进程中，国家权力的变化对人构成了很深的影响。虽然在今天，这些影响也在慢慢改变、淡出了更为年轻的一代的记忆。但有些东西是恒定的，其实从未改变，只是方式不一样了而已。从我出生的年代开始，我深深感受到国家权力将“乌托邦”的想法通过宣传画的方式对人进行“洗脑”。当我漫长的成长为一个成年人，成为一个艺术家之后，我发现，在西方一些发达国家的国家权力在利用商品的商标设计去刺激人的“拜物”的热情。我作为艺术家，我把两种东西重合在一起，我站在中间地带，把它呈现给不同地域不同时代的观众。要说我希望我的作品在西方学术性美术馆扮演什么样的角色，那我希望通过我的艺术所呈现的问题，能够引导观众去了解我所感兴趣的问题，这些问题在本质上又应该超越于国家和时间的概念。
2010年之后，您的画面中开始出现许多现实中的西方政治、宗教领导人以及基督教圣像，可以谈谈这些作品背后的想法吗？早些时候您曾说过“我不太适合表达自己的很私密的感受，这不是我的强项，我更适合表达公共的概念……我的艺术常常是借人民之手来完成的”那么在这些作品中，您想传达的是怎样的公共概念呢？
你说的这些作品，是《新宗教》的系列，关于这些作品，我曾经说过：“各种仪式、偶像、遗物、戒律等是否在场，是我们所不能掌控的。我们只能靠‘记忆的表象复制’来获取一种历史的存在感。我们看到的所有东西，都是在背后。我们观看人类已有的文明，都是隔了一层的。从小时候开始，我们接触到的一切东西都是偶然的。这些东西像“底片”一样在我们心中存在，在某一时刻它们又被“偶然性”激活，就会浮现出来。我们今天人的生活，都受到“底片”的影响。而“底片”所承载的时间和记忆的厚度，又会影响我们观看世界的方式。”我所说的公共，是我的创作极少指涉我作为一个个体所面对的问题，而更关心更为普遍的“我们”所面对的问题。
愿意透露一下近期在准备什么样的作品，或是正处于一个什么样的创作阶段吗？
目前我正在准备我今年（2016）11月份在武汉的美术馆的展览，还有就是明年（2017）在布拉格的美术馆的展览，这些两个展览都将呈现我各个阶段包括最新的创作。
另外，我近期在创作上的思考，就是我试图要找到我所有的创作的一个根源。去年（2015），我创作了新的装置作品《众神的起源》，通过它将我其他的作品，包括早期的作品串起来。这件作品和我童年小时候生活在北方的经历有关。北方小孩生病了，不一定找医生，可能用一种巫术的方式弄好，小的时候知道这是迷信行为，不知道这里很复杂的含义。随着年龄的增长，我发觉这里面有一种比较朴素的原始宗教的意味，这个是我特别有兴趣的。
事实上这些行为来源于北方萨满教，萨满教主要的发源地是中国的北部和俄罗斯的北部，以及欧洲的某些地方，但是以中国北部为主。所以从某种意义上讲，我们所面临的和遭遇的是所谓“宗教”这些事情，像佛教、基督教毫无疑问都是外来的，惟有萨满教是非常本土的东西。我觉得这个事挺有意思的，我想找到它的根源，找到属于我们精神生活中最基本的一个东西。
我做这个作品找到那个东西，就是一种泛神论的态度，对所有的事物不赋予唯一性的价值，而是去强调这种偶然的遭遇。就像原来我谈过一个人在夜晚的时候走路，被石头绊倒了，早上起来发现如果不被石头绊倒就会掉下悬崖摔死。对他而言，这个石块就是他的拯救者，这是经典的泛神论说法，我发现这是非常有意思。泛神论把你周边所有的物都赋予了一种拯救者的身份，像石块、绳索，包括乌鸦等等这些我们日常常见的物体，伴随着偶然发生的境遇，决定这个物体是否会凸显这个价值和含义。如果我们也以泛神论的立场来看待西方文明，我们会发现，这个石块和尼采所说的“瞧！那个人”在绝对意义上是一样的。
Fig. 1. Wáng Guǎngyì, Chanel, from the Great Criticism series, 1994, Oil on canvas, 149.2 x 119.7 cm. Oberlin Friends of Art Fund, 2001.20. Allen Memorial Art Museum, http://allenartcollection.oberlin.edu/emuseum/view/objects/asitem/id/11046 (accessed February 7, 2017).
Fig. 2. Wang Guangyi, Post-Classical: Gospel of Matthew. 1986, Oil on canvas, 100 cm x 100 cm. Asia Art Archive, Hong Kong. From: Asia Art Archive, http://www.aaa.org.hk/Collection/CollectionOnline/Details/29792 (accessed February 6, 2017).
Fig. 3. Wang Guangyi, Waving Mao Zedong. 1989, Oil on canvas, 150 cm x 120 cm. Asia Art Archive, Hong Kong. From: Asia Art Archive, http://www.aaa.org.hk/Collection/CollectionOnline/SpecialCollectionItem/12153 (accessed February 6, 2017).
Fig. 4. Wang Guangyi, Great Criticism: Coca-Cola. 1990-93, Oil on canvas, 200 cm x 200 cm. Asia Art Archive, Hong Kong. From: Asia Art Archive, http://www.aaa.org.hk/Collection/CollectionOnline/Details/29830 (accessed February 6, 2017).
Fig. 5. Wang Guangyi, Materialists. 2001-2002, Sculpture (Fiberglass and Millet), Approximately 180 cm x 120 cm x 60 cm. Asia Art Archive, Hong Kong. From: Asia Art Archive, http://www.aaa.org.hk/Collection/CollectionOnline/Details/29864 (accessed February 6, 2017).
