Something felt amiss as I watched an elderly man being shooed from a quiet corner in Beijing’s 798 Art District. Visitors averted their eyes as 2 police supervised him packing away his paintings. So I guess, only those who can afford not to sell their work are allowed to sell their work.
There is something enchanting about antique clockwork, the logical precision of something that spans infinite time. As we tick into the future, it makes us acutely aware of the present, and grounds us to our past.
Mass-produced shadow puppets, dancing to pop rap songs in the street, surrounded by tourists and shoppers. A single dance capturing the direction in which China is moving.
Preparation for my cousin’s wedding lunch banquet in his old village home. 40 tables, 8-10 guests per table. Dinner and lunch the day before consisted of the organs and less tasty food. Dinner after consisted of the extra uncooked food. Plastic bags provided with every meal for take away. Nothing is wasted.
As the number of tourists increase to China, both of local Chinese and international visitors, more and more Chinese ancient villages are turning into theme-park-like attractions. As hard as you might try, it is impossible to ignore the streams of large coaches delivering the snap-happy masses. Chattering incessantly over their guide’s handheld booming loudspeaker, they follow their chaperone’s tour flag through reconstructed streets designed to sell them as much as possible, regardless of whether it was produced locally or not. Wandering far and deep, you may be able to find snippets of authentic visual delights, the camera editing out the noise and cropping out the construction.
True, tourism is bringing economic gains to these areas, but perhaps development should be planned with more sensitivity to the soul of the villages and the villagers. The sad thing is, for most of these places, it is too late. The remaining gems of what gives these places character already caught in the tide of change.