Cai Guo-Qiang

titled, signed in Chinese and pinyin and dated 2004

Washington, DC, Arthur M. Sackler Gallery and Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution,  Cai Guo-Qiang: Traveler, October 30, 2004-April 24, 2005

Cai Guo-Qiang - On Black Fireworks, Institut Valencia d'Art Modern and Generalitat Valenciana, 2005, p.212
Wang Ting-Mei, Cai Guo-Qiang, Taipei: Artist Publishing Co., 2005, p. 131

Please note that there are rather major creases found consistently along the side edges of the work, features which are natural features of the medium. There are areas of paper loss and flaking from burning that is inherent to the working method of the artist and the resultant effect on the paper. There are also minute pinholes running along the edges of each panel due to the exhibition of this work. Otherwise, the work is generally in good condition.
"In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective, qualified opinion. Prospective buyers should also refer to any Important Notices regarding this sale, which are printed in the Sale Catalogue.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF BUSINESS PRINTED IN THE SALE CATALOGUE."

The acclaimed land and fireworks artist Cai Guo-Qiang sets off gunpowder explosions on specially made Japanese hemp paper; he is well known for the events, which are in fact much more controlled than they seem to be when watched live or on video. Actually, the heavy paper partly contains the explosion, which is also directed by stencils, wood, and rocks. The explosion is set off by Cai's lighting of the gunpowder at one end of the drawing's design. People at that moment move away quickly from the impact, being respectful of the power of the ignited gunpowder. Assistants run up to the still smoking drawings, extinguishing any further burning of the paper. After the event ends, the drawing is transferred from the ground and attached to a wall, where the artist can see the finished product. (1) It is to be noted that the process of making the gunpowder drawings is analogous to a performance, seemingly much of it brought about without intervention on the part of Cai. Yet it is clear from videos and photographs of his participation that Cai directs much of what happens; his drawings of dragons and China's Great Wall demonstrate to what degree he is accurate in working out something that can be figuratively read.

Cai's directed experimentations in exploded drawings may also be seen as a recognition of Chinese accomplishment - gunpowder had originated from China in the ninth century. The artist has made a remarkable career of using Chinese history and myth as the materials of his subtle, usually intuitive presentation of his art. Indeed, Cai follows his resolve to offer his audience fragments of historical greatness. In keeping with what amounts to a vision of China's former, present, and future achievements, Cai beguiles his viewers with an eclectic, very mixed bag of art that shifts from dynasty to dynasty with aplomb. As a result, his works must be considered not only pieces that celebrate the artist's vision, they must also be known as illustrations of cultural attainment, whose success brings to contemporary life some of the verve and power of Chinese civilization. Unlike the Western figure of the highly individualized artist, Cai finds strength in his broadly cultural offerings, which celebrate anonymous accomplishment as much as the hand of the artist. Indeed, the silent celebration of mass culture is intrinsic to Cai's vision, responsible for extending the Great Wall by 10,000 meters, surely a nod to the myriad unknown persons responsible for its construction.

In Drawing for Spider Web - Project for the British Museum 250th Anniversary 2003 (Lot 623), it is easy to see to what degree Cai is in control of his image: numerous circular, tightly spaced lines build a web that is supported by a few straight strands emanating from its outer circumference. It is a very large drawing, 300 by 400 centimeters. As an image it possesses genuine power, reminding us of the spider's ability to paralyze and kill its prey. But perhaps the drawing is symbolic as well of the destructiveness that lurks behind a seemingly innocent design. One is shy to draw broad political and cultural conclusions in this case; the sheer beauty of the image is sufficient unto itself. At the same time we might easily be prey ourselves, mistakenly reading a picture of doom as something esthetically enjoyable. Yet that reminds the viewer of something intrinsic to Cai's vision, namely, a view of violence as a force of its own, as beautiful as it is destructive. His audience may well think of his event at Hiroshima Central Park in 1994, when more than one hundred helium balloons, arranged in a descending spiral, were exploded; referring to the nuclear blast that devastated Hiroshima in 1945, the spectacular beauty of the event may be regarded as an ironic comment about our ability to destroy.

(1) The description of Cai's exploded-drawing process draws extensively from Alexandra Munroe's essay "Gunpowder Drawings," in Thomas Krens and Alexandra Munroe, Cai Guo-Qiang: I Want To Believe (New York: Guggenheim Museum, 2008), p. 91.