柳：你是哪里人？在哪里长大的？

　　王：我自己也搞不清楚。我老家是江苏的，但我又生在大庆油田。在老家待了两年，在大庆又待了两年。在湖北江汉油田长大，从小学到中学永远接受油田那个圈子里的东西。有时候自己也不太清楚自己到底属于哪个地方的人。

　　柳：是家里工作的原因而到处变动住处的吗？ 

　　王：对，我父母在油田工作，所以流动性很强。

　　柳：你从记事开始对哪件事情的印象比较深刻？

　　王：我觉得印象最深的可能就是我在石油钻井队工作的那些年。

　　柳：你还钻过井啊？

　　王：对。那时候我父亲去世，对我们打击非常大。我母亲乞求院长把我从钻井队调回来，可是院长没有同意。这件事对我影响很大，我告诉母亲：“我们不要求别人”。后来我坚决要求到我父亲工作过的钻井队工作。

　　柳：你什么时候开始学艺术的？跟你的家庭生活环境有关系吗？

　　王：没关系。我母亲不识字，父亲只上过小学。我真正的学艺术是上高中后。1981年在一所离家差不多5分钟的学校上学。有一天，我在地上捡了一张纸，纸上画了一个老农民扎着一条头巾。我看着挺好玩的，就在家描啊描，那时候就开始对绘画有了兴趣。到1997年的时候我才知道这是侯一民的一张素描。

　　柳：那等于侯一民是你的启蒙老师了。

　　王：对。但那时候，可能是一个大学生临摹的，有A4纸那么大，对我印象特别深，我觉得他临摹的特别好。也许他们俩都是我的启蒙老师。

　　柳：那你学画画家里人反对吗？

　　王：当时我妈不管我，她只是想我可别变傻了，因为我父亲的去世对家里打击特别大。她想即使每天把孩子们关在房子里也没用，所以那时候她想别刺激我们就好了。但她肯定不相信我在画画。后来我出国办画展了，她也不信。于是我就在国外拍了很多到此一游的那种照片。这样我妈临去世前才相信我开始有点儿名了。

　　柳：很多艺术家都比较内敛，会独立一些。你从上大学的时候就开始做一些自己的创作了吗？从什么时候开始有这些想法的？

　　王：我当时期望在大学可以学些技巧。但上大一以后，感觉很无聊的，根本就学不到技巧。那时候的思想理念是最差的，甚至比现在还差。当时很混乱，老师换届，都不讲课。总希望可以和老师像朋友一样交流。当时没想到将来会去创作。

　　柳：你最早是从什么时候开始用摄影作为一种艺术创作方式去进行创作的？还是最初有一些别的尝试和探索呢？

　　王：1996年开始用摄影的方式做些图片拼贴的作品。最初感觉摄影离艺术太远，所以不想把自己当作是搞摄影的。2000年才明确自己做的就是摄影。选择摄影就是因为我希望表达一种很现代的感觉，不想再用绘画的手段了，而摄影跟现实更近一点。

　　柳：你觉得有什么人或者事情对你成为艺术家很重要吗？是不是你妈？

　　王：我希望我妈能看到家里还有一个孩子是很上进的。妈妈在单位被叫作王嫂，感觉挺可怜的。我希望跟她一起工作的人能看到她的儿子在北京活得不错。明天回老家扫墓，我带儿子回去，希望让我们邻居看看，我挺好的，娶的老婆还是博士。我觉得生活中还是有很多虚荣的东西……

　　柳：你觉得是生活上难，还是其它方面？

　　王：当然在生活上了。我没有想到在艺术上会成功，要怎么怎么样。就是生活上很难，吃饭是个大问题。我记得有一年过年，特想去老栗家坐坐。看着15块钱一箱的桔子，我就想买还是不买，身上也就几十块钱，算了，就不去了。但那时他们说今年过年老栗家有很多吃的，很多人都去了。其实也很希望在老栗家坐坐，做些交流，但没有这个机会就算了。当时的确住在宋庄是饿疯了。春天来了，很快院子里的水管子的冰解冻了，我一下子觉得今年很暖和。我要离开这个地方，住到城里去，哪怕很小的房间，在这里实在没有交流的地方。搬到城里后，我就对社会有了新的看法。憋在宋庄的屋子里是很难受的，我不知道整天在做什么。

　　柳：其实是很闭塞的。

　　王：对，宋庄那个时候太闭塞了。我觉得艺术需要开放，哪怕是逛街，也会找到一种感觉。那时候比较肯定的想法就觉得应该进城。

　　柳：做摄影之后，你在物质世界里获得了比较大的成功，你现在享受这种生活吗？或者说你迷恋物质生活吗？

　　王：我觉得没什么太大的感觉。当然吃饭可以去餐馆了，创作上也不那么去顾虑钱了。我就希望创作上能像雪球一样去滚，希望是1加2加3的那样。将来可能滚一件很大的作品，不一定是照片，也可以去做别的。现在筹备做一些更有意思的东西，这个我觉得是很重要的。创作上的资金倒不是很愁，包括一些基金会也说可以赞助我创作，但现在我希望自食其力，可以心安理得一些。因为别人一旦赞助你，你会觉得万一弄砸了，会有一种对不起别人的心态。我生活比较简单，当然能在城里买房也挺好的。车就是一般的普桑。买车的时候，销售员说这个车跑工地比较好。我想他们把我当包工头了。

　　柳：你什么时候卖出了第一件作品？

　　王：买我作品的第一个人是赵旭。那天他请吃饭，花了100块钱。他说：“买你张作品”，我说“行啊，买吧，100块钱拿走”，2米的大画他真拿走了。喝完酒我醉了，100块钱揣兜里走了。后来别人就骂他，“你怎么回事？不是欺负人么？”第二天可能他觉得不对劲了，又把画还给我了，说钱就不要了，算是资助我。但我真正卖作品是在98年参加台湾双年展时，当时展丝绒布上的作品。收藏我作品的是策划人南条，他自己要买，给我1200美元一张。我觉得那图很大的，有点便宜。我问能不能再贵点？他说买我5张，我有点舍不得。我总共只有六七张作品，刚做出来，一下子就卖没了。我说卖你一张吧，就是《最后的晚餐》那一张。那时我是把照片当画卖的，不知道照片还有编号。他觉得挺贵的，但没给我解释什么意思。如果他跟我说照片是有复制的，我肯定就无所谓了。所以当时就答应卖一张2600美金。

　　柳：那有你特别看重的收藏吗？

　　王：最早欣赏我作品的是美国国际摄影中心的策划人菲利普，他没有什么钱，只买过一张小尺寸的《老栗夜宴图》。后来他建议国际摄影中心收藏我的作品，包括他们四个最重要的董事会成员也全部收藏了我的作品。当时觉得菲利普能够认可我的东西，对我后面创作的影响非常大。现在国外已经有十多家美术馆收藏过我的作品，而且也有了更多喜欢我作品的个人收藏家。

　　柳：等中国美术馆有当代馆时，也许有好的机会。

　　王：中国美术馆当然不一样，毕竟是国字头的。我其实希望国内其它美术馆也能逐渐对收藏摄影更加专业一些。

　　柳：你觉得你是哪一种类型的艺术家？或者说你愿不愿意让批评家或策展人把你归类？是观念性的艺术家还是别的类型的？

　　王：当然希望有一个名称，就像一个人希望有一个名字，这对当初的我来说是很重要的。但后来有了名称以后，别人就会给你扣帽子，我就烦了。现在已经无所谓了。但我一直觉得我不是艺术家，我更像个记者，永远在拍社会纪录性的东西。我特别喜欢记者的工作方式。

　　柳：这就是你想在作品当中表现的东西？

　　王：对，我老觉得我的作品就是新闻照片，而不是什么观念摄影。新闻照片是有可读性的，我希望大家像看图识字一样了解我的作品。中国变化太快了，比如刚住在这里，第二天房子就没了。你肯定会想，这房子为什么没了？大家都必须很直白地面对生活。再加上身为外地人，会用这种客观的眼光看待这个社会的发展，也会在乎别人怎么看我。

　　柳：那说说你作品的个人语言，你觉得有一个风格在里面吗？

　　王：我觉得没什么风格，我对内容更感兴趣。我觉得我根本没有什么个人语言，比较杂。有一次在国外，人家说我的作品像谁谁的作品，我很高兴，其实像谁都无所谓。我开玩笑说像很多人。举一个例子，就像我在整容，整得这个眼睛像这个人，那个眼睛像那个人，鼻子像一个人，嘴巴像另一个人。整容后，尽管身上可能有无数人的影子，但还是很容易识别。有一次，一个杂志封面登了我作品的一个局部，朋友打电话跟我说他一眼就认出来是王庆松的作品。

德国路德维西科隆美术馆的人过来跟我说，“你跟德国那几个摄影大师可以相提并论，完全可以放在一起展览、碰撞”。我觉得很可笑，我也没打算要改写或者碰撞什么东西，可能我们跟他们面临的问题不太一样，身边生活就是我最感兴趣的，而不是想跟他们文化碰撞。社会的变化太复杂了，所以特别迷恋中国自身的这种变化。

中国跟西方的现代化不一样，西方是从基点慢慢往上，中国的变化是跳级的，什么似乎都有道理，到处开花，但是又解释不清楚是好是坏。今天觉得好的东西，明天可能就没有了。每天都在变。就像房地产一样，房子的价格在出草图的时候，打地基的时候，出地面的时候都不一样，盖了一层之后又不一样。所以中国这种情况会特别吸引我去抢在前面，观察这种变化。

　　柳：你对时政很感兴趣，为什么还经常用一些传统的元素？

　　王：我本身就是一个很传统的人，只是造了一个假相，比如留个很奇怪的发型，这都是很虚假的东西。我骨子里是很传统的，很排斥现代的东西，可能跟生活的环境有关。那时候生活在荆州，一个很老的小城，只有十几万人口。虽然小，但是它有很多传统的东西。刚到北京的时候觉得它太大了，足有一百个荆州那么大。92年南巡之后，全国真的是发生了实质性的变化。刚来北京的时候挂面只要五毛钱，后来涨到七毛、九毛、一块一。因为中国在过节的时候物价很容易涨的，但是年后到“五一”还没有降下来，这才知道物价真的彻底涨了。村里边的公用电话迅速增加，小吃店一两年之内突然变成大餐馆。农民开始盖房，隔成一间一间的小房子出租。回老家看的时候发现荆州也在变，小时候的老街没有了。传统的、现代的东西搅和在一起，很混乱。倒不是想研究它，其实我原来不看传统的东西。可是当身边的东西没有了，它就会触动你，就会怀念，让你去比较究竟是原来的好还是现在的好。有时觉得老的好，现代的也很好，越来越矛盾，我不知道为什么要在作品中用传统的东西，但至少我是想怀疑，这种变化到底是不是对的。

　　柳：谈谈你的《鲁迅》那件作品，我觉得跟其它的作品不太一样，似乎没有那些反讽、调侃和幽默。

　　王：我觉得鲁迅是一种精神，而不是一个人，我总在想，他如果活到现在会怎么样，还敢不敢说真话。所以我就拍了一个他在雪地里的情景，想他会不会冻死。我总想他的那种精神现在还会不会存在。过去我们提到鲁迅真的是觉得他什么话都敢说。现在就不一样了，什么话都不敢说，连你的邻居都不敢指责。过分的中庸，会活得很压抑。

　　柳：在同辈的艺术家里面你最欣赏谁？

　　王：庄辉。可能因为生活的经历相似，他的作品里也有工人的情结，有劳动价值的体现。他做的那个带钢车间，我看到特别感动。他的那么冷静的工厂，让我想到我以前在钻井队工作的时候，面对那种巨大的铁机器，每年都可能有很多人死伤……

　　柳：在艺术史上你最喜欢的艺术家是谁？

　　王：西方做摄影的托马斯?迪曼（Thomas Demand），做那种卡纸办公室、电话什么的，我很喜欢他，他那种现代化的文明中也有很多矛盾冲突。我从来没看过有关他作品的解释，但是给我的感觉就是令人惊讶的。当时我在伦敦做个展的时候，同一天他也在Serpentine Gallery做画展。有些人好像就等着看我们两个的展览反响会如何。但是后来，起码从表面上来看，两个人的展览效果都很好，我的展览评论比他还要多一点。他做现场的感觉非常好。说白了，我还是喜欢那些让我感动的艺术作品。

　　柳：平时关不关心理论界的事情？

　　王：在圆明园的时候经常关心。现在觉得无所谓。如果是朋友，即便他是评论家，不谈理论也很好。

　　柳：平时在家干什么？看电视？

　　王：不看，现在我家里没有电视。原来倒有电视，但我看电视上瘾，一直要看到“再见”。

　　柳：你那么关注生活的人，没有电视怎么行呢？

　　王：就是逛街。有时候在公交车里，地铁里，吃饭的时候，坐出租车的时候，都听旁人聊天。各色人物，乱哄哄的，这才是真正的生活。电影更不敢看，因为我一直以来就有一个梦想，想拍一个哪怕是短一点的小电影。现在一直在整理一些生活片断，每天有好玩的东西，就记一点，最后把这些碎片联系起来，可能会串成一个故事。

　　柳：有没有喜欢的演员？想选什么样的？

　　王：我还是想找模特，当然一是便宜，还有就是更容易沟通，他们很容易明白你想表达的意思。演员太专业了，就有点装腔作势的感觉。我本来想2008年之前拍的，但是现在看来不太可能了，自己还没想清楚。

　　柳：你觉得你最大的优点是什么？

　　王：就是脑子转不过来吧。因为从小家里人就觉得我比较笨，跟人说话的时候总是想不清楚人家是什么意思，或者过了一天才忽然明白过来，总是慢。现在看来可能也是件好事，不是有“笨鸟先飞”的说法嘛，我这种情况大概是“笨鸟后飞”。“笨鸟后飞”其实是有好处的，可以观察很多，就像翅膀没长硬的鸟一样，一出去肯定很容易被猎人打死了。我想十年以后可能大家看我的作品的时候会觉得，还是有那么三、四件作品是非常好的，这就够了。

　　柳：你平时喜欢购物吗？穿衣服有什么讲究？有喜欢的牌子吗？

　　王：没啥牌子，如果有，也是杂牌子，乱穿。

　　柳：你怎么看市场？你的作品现在市场这么好，你有什么想法？

　　王：市场好的时候你就希望它慢一点，没有市场的时候你就希望它快一点，但这不是你所能控制得了的。市场你是管不了的，也许再过五年之后正常了。只要你的创作正常，不用去干涉市场。现在各方面也会慢慢趋于稳定了。

　　柳：你关心现在艺术潮流以及年青艺术家吗？

　　王：1970年代出生的艺术家离1960年代比较近，受他们影响比较大。而1980年代出生的要更好一点，他们是在真正的改革开放之后出生的，1980年后的每个人都是有独特的个性，或者说是自私的。他们肯定都是个体呈现，而不会像原来出现整体的，如政治波普、玩世现实主义、艳俗艺术之类大的潮流，现在已经没有当初那种环境了。除非有大的社会变革，大的灾难，才可能再出现类似以前大的潮流。现在的年轻人的东西挺好玩的，有的真的是像写日记，没有那种苦大仇深的感觉。

柳:现在创作跟十年前有什么不一样吗？有没有质的飞跃？

王:从规模上来说肯定是大了，但是想法上不会有太大的变化，可能会用不同的方式去创作。我还是会关注人的状态、生活，不同的是范围更宽泛了。现在矛盾更复杂了，没有正确与否。有的作品会更复杂，或者说场景有点更拼贴化了。我想做电影，还有雕塑，很多都想做。

柳:最近工作进展怎么样？有什么计划吗？

王:还要拍两年吧，我希望总结一下城市和人的关系，想拍一个没有人的城市，让人们看一看将来的城市会是什么样子，看似很熟悉但又特别陌生。还想拍一个跟奥运有关系的，毕竟奥运是一件大事，不可能对它无动于衷。还有就是今年可能拍一个关于病人的作品，为了纪念我母亲。她病逝的时候我是亲眼看着的，需要医生时他们却不在。我想对中国的医疗体制从我个人角度来做一个表达，也可能会很幽默，或会很假，这些都无所谓，至少我希望做这样一件事情。现在有国内的画廊帮助好了一点，因为原来与西方画廊合作，沟通上会有问题。希望能把画廊这个资源利用起来，而且大家合作得也非常快乐。

Dummy bird starts flying late

A Talk Between Liu Chunfeng and Wang Qingsong

Liu Chunfeng: Where are you from? Where did you grow up?

Wang Qingsong: I'm not very sure myself. My ancestral home is Jiangsu but I was born in Daqing Oilfield. We spent two years at home in Jiangsu, and then another two years in Daqing Oilfield.  I then grew up in Jianghan Oilfield in Hubei and throughout primary and middle school things from the oil fields always surrounded me. Sometimes I'm not really sure which place I can truly call home.

　　Liu: Was it because of your family's work that you moved around so much?

　　Wang: Yes, my parents both worked in the oil fields so we were on the road a lot.

　　Liu: From your childhood memories, what is it that has left the deepest impression?

　　Wang: I think the deepest impression is maybe from those years I spent drilling oil wells.

　　Liu: You've drilled wells?

　　Wang: Yes.  When my father passed away, it was really tough for us.  My mother begged the foreman to bring me back from drilling the wells but he refused.  This had a huge influence upon me, I told my mother, "We won't ask for help from anyone ever again". I then asked firmly to be placed in the drilling team where my father had worked before me.

　　Liu: When did you start studying art?  Was your family involved with it?

　　Wang: No they weren't. My mother was illiterate and my father only finished primary school. I only really started studying art after finishing high school.  In 1981 I was studying at a college five minutes away from our home.  One day, I picked up a bit of paper from the ground with a picture of an old peasant tying up a handkerchief on his head.  I thought it was great fun and sketched a little at home.  That was when it first interested me.  It wasn't until 1997 that I found out this sketch had been one of Hou Yimin's.

　　Liu: That makes Hou Yimin the teacher who first inspired you.

　　Wang: Yes. But I think it was probably a copy done by a university student on a sheet of A4; it really did leave a mark on me; I think he'd imitated the original really well.  Perhaps both of them count as the ones who inspired me.

　　Liu: Did your family mind that you were studying painting?

　　Wang: My mother didn't try and control me back then, she just hoped I wouldn't lose my mind. My father's death had an enormous impact on our family.  She thought that even if she kept the kids at home every day, it still wouldn't help, she felt that if she didn't irritate us, things would be better.  But she certainly didn't believe in my painting.  When I would go abroad for exhibitions, she wouldn't believe me either.  So I took lots of those touristy style photos abroad to show her.  That way, just before she died, she was able to believe for the first time that I was starting to make a name for myself.

　　Liu: Many artists are quite composed, quite independent.  Did you start doing your own artwork right from when you started at university? When did you start to form your own ideas?

　　Wang: I hoped to be able to learn some techniques at university but after the first year I was already bored, I didn't really learn any new skills.  The ideology at the time was awful, even worse than today. It was chaotic, teachers would always be leaving schools and never really lecturing. I always wanted to communicate with the teachers like friends would.  I never thought I'd go on to produce work myself.

　　Liu: When was the first time you used photography as a method for artistic creation? Did you experiment with any others before?

　　Wang: In 1996 I used photography to make some montages. At first I felt that photography was far from being art and didn't want to brand myself as a photographer.  It was only in 2000 that it became clear that what I was indeed using the medium of photography.  I chose photography because I wanted to express something very modern, I didn't want to use painting any longer, photography is just that bit closer to reality.

　　Liu: Are there any people or events in your life that have been important in your becoming an artist? Perhaps your mother?

　　Wang: I hope that my mother can see that there's still one child in the family that's making progress. My mother was called Sister Wang at work, she felt so pitiful.  I hope that her colleagues can see that her son is now doing very well for himself in Beijing.  Tomorrow I'm going back to our hometown to sweep the graves; I'm going to take my sons too. I'd like our neighbours to take a look, to my boys, to see that I'm fine, that my wife has a doctorate.  I think there are still many vain things in life...

　　Liu: Do you think that it's living that's most difficult, or are other things worse?

　　Wang:  It's definitely got to be living.  I never thought that I would be successful in art.  It was living that was difficult; having enough to eat was a big problem.  I remember one New Year; I really wanted to go to Lao Li's house.  I saw some oranges for sale at 15 yuan a box and thought about whether I should buy them or not.  I had 30 yuan or so on me but said, forget it, and I didn't go.  They told me there was loads to eat at Lao Li's that year, and lots of people went.  I would have really liked to go over there to hang out and chat but didn't have the opportunity at the time. I really was starving when I lived out in Songzhuang.  When spring came, the water pipes in the courtyard quickly thawed, suddenly I felt the year was warming up.  I wanted to leave here, go to the city, perhaps live in a small room; there was nowhere to meet people here. After I moved into the city, I got a whole new look at society.  Being locked up in your house in Songzhuang is hard to take; I didn't know what to do with myself all day.

　　Liu: It's really very closed off.

　　Wang: Yes, Songzhuang was too closed-off in those days.  I believe art needs to be open, even if it's just shopping, one can still feel some kind of emotion.  At the time I was pretty sure I needed to go into the city.

　　Liu: Since you've turned to photography, you've seen quite a lot of material success; do you enjoy this kind of lifestyle now?  Do you indulge in material goods?

　　Wang: It doesn't have that large an impact on me I think. Of course I can go to restaurants to eat now and don't think too much about production costs for my work anymore.  I just wish that my work rolls on like snowballs, that it's 1 plus 2 plus 3 etc. In the future it might roll into a really large piece, not necessarily a photograph, I could go on to do other things.  At the moment, I'm preparing to do some more interesting things; I think this is really important.  Money needed for working isn't a much of a worry, there have been some foundations that said they could support me but for the moment I'd like to stand on my own two feet.  That way I can feel more at peace with myself.  As soon as other people support you, you might end up feeling like you've failed, you might end up apologising to people.  My life is fairly simple; of course it would be great to be able to buy a house in the city.  The car is just your average Santana.  When I bought the car, the salesman said that it would be a good car for driving through construction sites.  I think they thought I was a labour contractor!

　　Liu: When did you sell your first work of art?

　　Wang: The first person to buy my work was Zhao Xu.  That day he invited me to dinner, spending 100 yuan.  He said: "I want to buy that painting of yours", I said, "OK, you can have it, for 100 yuan" He really did take it away that night, a two-metre high painting.  After finishing off the alcohol I was drunk, and walked away with the 100 yuan tucked into my pocket. Later people swore at him, "How could you do this? That's bullying isn't it?" The day after he maybe regretted what he'd done and returned the painting to me, saying he didn't want the money back, it was to support me. 

The first time I properly sold a piece of work was when I took part in the Taiwan Biennial in 1998.  I exhibited some work on velvet for the show.  It was the curator Fumio Nanjo who collected the piece. He wanted to buy it for himself and offered me US$1200 for it.  It was a big picture and I thought that was slightly cheap.  I asked if he could up the price a bit.  He said he'd buy 5 of them and I didn't know what to say.  I only had 6 or 7 pieces at the time, that I'd just finished and to sell them all off in one go... I offered to sell him just one, it was "Last Supper".  Back then I was selling photographs like paintings, I didn't know photos had numbered editions.  He thought it was pretty expensive but didn't explain to me why.  If he'd told me photos could make different edition numbers, I certainly wouldn't have minded selling them to him. So finally I came away with selling one piece of "Last Supper" at the price of US$2600.

　　Liu: Do you have any avid collectors of your work?

　　Wang: The earliest person to appreciate my work was the curator of the American International Centre of Photography, Christopher Phillips.  He's not a particularly rich man, but bought a small print of "Night Revels of Lao Li". Afterwards, he was to advise the International Centre of Photography to collect some of my work, including four of their most important trustees.  Phillips recognising my work had a huge influence on my later work.  There are now over ten international art museums that have collected my work.

　　Liu: When Chinese art museums establish contemporary collections, maybe there will be good opportunities.

　　Wang: Chinese art museums of course are not the same.  After all, they're state owned. I hope that some other Chinese art museums will gradually become more professional in their collection of photography.

　　Liu:  What kind of an artist do you think you are?  Are you willing to let critics and curators categorize you at all? Are you a conceptual artist, or another sort?

　　Wang: Of course I'd like to have a name, it's like people wanting to have a name; I think it's particularly important in the beginning.  But later on once you've already got a name, others start putting labels on you and that annoys me. I don't care anymore.  But I've never thought of myself as an artist, more like a journalist, eternally shooting a film of society.  I really like how journalists work.

　　Liu: Is this what you're trying to express in your photographs?

　　Wang: Yes, I've always thought of my work as press shots, not some kind of conceptual photography.  You can read into press photographs. I hope that people understand my work like learning to read with pictures. China is changing too fast; when we moved here for example, only the next day and the house was gone.  We're obviously going to think, why isn't this house here anymore?  Everyone is forced to face life very pragmatically. On top of this, being an outsider here makes me look onto this development in society with a kind of objective perspective, and also makes me care more about how others look at me.

　　Liu: Now, tell us about the individual language we find in your work, do you think it has its own style?

　　Wang: I don't think there's any style as such, I'm more interested in the content.  I don't think I have any kind of 'individual language' either; it's pretty varied.  Once when I was abroad there was someone saying my work was like so and so's work, I was really happy. I don't mind who's work mine is compared to.  I have fun by saying it’s like lots of other people's work.  It's like having a face-lift; maybe one eye will resemble this person, the other that person, the nose like one person and the mouth like another person.  After surgery even though they might contain countless reflections of other people, they're still very recognisable as themselves.  Once, a magazine carried a part of one of my photographs as its front cover.  A friend called me to say that as soon as he'd seen it he knew it was one of mine.  Someone from the Ludwig Museum in Cologne told me once, "You're on a par with any of the great German photographers, you could easily go head to head with them in an exhibition." I found this funny, it's not my intention to rewrite or provoke anything.  Maybe we're not faced with the same issues, this is simply an interest for me; I'm not trying to provoke anyone.  There are so many things going on around me, I really indulge myself in this change.  Modernity in China and the West are not the same.  It rose gradually from the ground upwards in the West; in China the change has skipped a few levels.  It seems almost anything goes; it's opening up everywhere but without any clear explanation of what is right or wrong.  Things we think of as good today may be gone tomorrow.  Things are in constant flux.  Like the property market; the prices of a house when the plans are first released, when the foundations are laid and once the ground floor is constructed are all different.  It changes again once the first floor is completed.  Living with this kind of situation in China really encourages me to produce my work quickly, to keep up with surveying this rapid change.

　　Liu: With you being so interested in current politics, why do you often employ traditional elements in your work?

　　Wang: I myself am a very traditional person.  I have a really strange hairstyle - this is all so empty to me.  In my bones I'm very traditional and try to reject modernity. I guess it's all related to my living environment.  Back then I lived in Jingzhou, a very ancient small town of just over one hundred thousand people.  Although small, it had many traditional things.  I felt Beijing was far too big when I first arrived here; it was 100 times bigger than Jingzhou! 

After the Tour of the South in 1992, there was a substantial change that took place the country over.  When I first got here a bowl of noodles cost 5 jiao, then 7, 9 and finally 1 yuan and 1 jiao. In China prices often go up during Chinese spring festivals but when prices don't drop until the May Holiday, I realize that the cost of living has actually fundamentally increased.  For several years, the number of public telephones in the countryside has rapidly increased. Small cafes have suddenly become large restaurants in the cities within a year or two.  Peasants have started to build houses and rent them off room by room. 

I see the same changes taking place when I go back to my hometown; the old High Street is gone now.  Tradition and modernity are thrown together randomly.  I didn't used to care much for tradition but when things close to you disappear, it moves you and makes you wonder whether they were better as they were before, or as they are now.  Sometimes I think the past is better, but at others modernity seems really good too, I'm more and more confused.  I don't know why I like to put traditional things in my photos but at the very least I suppose I'm suspecious as to whether this change is for the better or for the worse.

　　Liu: Tell me about your painting "Lu Xun-2004". To me it seems a little bit different from the rest of your work. There's none of the irony, the cant, or the humour of your other works.

　　Wang: I don't see Lu Xun as a person, but as a state of mind. I'm always wondering: if he was around today, would he still dare to speak up the truth? So there he is in the harsh snow. I'm wondering whether or not he would freeze to death there. I just don't know if that spirit of his really exists these days. When we talk about Lu Xun we always say that he was daring and brave enough to say anything, but it's not like that any more. Nowadays no one dares to say anything. They won't even complain about their neighbours. Sticking too much to the middle path can end up feeling oppressive.

　　Liu: Which of your contemporaries do you admire the most?

　　Wang: Zhuang Hui. Perhaps because we've had similar life experiences, his pieces also tell the stories of the workers and embody the values of hard labour. His piece Strip Steel Workshop really stirred something in me. That cold, calm factory reminded me of when I was a miner, coming face to face with those enormous iron machines, knowing that each year lots of us might be injured or killed.

　　Liu: Who is your favourite artist from art history?

　　Wang:  The photographer Thomas Demand, who does those offices and telephones made of cardboard; I really like him.  His kind of modern civilisation is also full of contradiction.  I've never seen any explanation of his work but that's the feeling it gives me; it's astounding.  Once when I was in London doing an exhibition, he was there the very same day for his exhibition in Serpentine Gallery; our itineraries had clashed.  There were some people there looking forward to seeing us measure up to one another, but at least on the surface it all went by very smoothly.  The exhibition reviews for my exhibition was perhaps a little more than for his, but he had a really great presence on the scene.  To put it bluntly, I just love things that move me. 

　　Liu: In general, do you follow developments in the theoretical field?

　　Wang:  When I was living in the Old Summer Palace area I did, but these days I don't really care much.  If it's a friend, even if they're a critic it's great to talk about things aside from theory.

　　Liu: What do you generally do at home? Watch TV?

　　Wang:  No, we don't have one at home.  We used to have one but I became addicted to it, I'd always want to watch until the close of transmission.

　　Liu: Being someone so interested in life, how is it you can get away without a TV?

　　Wang: It's just like shopping.  Sometimes on the bus, on the underground, eating lunch, riding in a taxi you hear people chatting.  All sorts of people, nattering away, that's what real life is about.  I dare even less to watch films because I've always had a dream to shoot a film, even just a short one.  I don't like going to see other people's things. Recently I've been arranging some snippets of life; every day there's something fun. I just need to jot it down and one day with all these snippets brought together, I  might be able to produce a story.   

　　Liu: Are there any actors you like?  What kind would you select for your future films?

　　Wang: I'd still prefer to use models.  Of course it's cheap, but it's also easier to communicate with them, they understand what I’m trying to say.  Actors/actresses are too professional; it feels like they're a bit stuck up.  Originally I wanted to film a story before 2008 but now that doesn't look too likely; I've still not thought about it clearly enough.

　　Liu: What do you think is your best attribute? I guess you must have a very nice temperament.　　Wang: Maybe that I'm a bit slow. Since being small my family has always thought of me as slightly stupid.  When talking to people I've never been quite sure of what other people mean, or perhaps I have done but only a day later it becomes clear, always very slowly.  Looking at it now I realise it's also a good thing, I'm not the " dummy slow bird that starts flying early"; I'm the "slow bird that starts flying late". The slow bird that flies late has benefits too: he can study things thoroughly, just as the bird without fully formed wings will certainly be quick to be killed by the hunter.  I think that in ten years time people will perhaps say that three or four of my works are still excellent.  That would be enough.

　　Liu: Do you like shopping? What kind of clothes do you like to wear?  Are there any brand names you like?

　　Wang: I don't have any brand names, if I do, they're just random ones, I dress pretty randomly.

　　Liu: How do you view the market?  The market for your work is so good at the moment, what do you think about that?

　　Wang:  When the market is good, you hope it slows a little; when the market is bad, you hope it picks up a little but these aren't things that you can control.  You can't manage the market, maybe it'll normalise in five years time but you've just got to produce your work as normal. You can't try and second-guess the market.  At the moment many factors are tending towards it slowly stabilising I think.

　　Liu: Do you follow the current so-called 'art trend' and activities of young artists?

　　Wang: The generation born in the seventies is pretty close to that of the sixties, they've been heavily influenced by them.  Those born in the eighties are a bit better, they were born truly after the reforms and so they're sure to be different.  Everyone from the eighties has their own individuality; you could say they're egoistical.  They're definitely emerging individually, not in groups like before.  They don't have the same environment like with the major trends of Political Pop Art, Cynical Realism, Gaudy Art, and they don't need it either.  Only when there's major social change or major disasters will massive movements emerge like before.  Young people's work is really fun, some of it really seems like the writing of a diary; it doesn't have the same feeling of suffering and hatred. 

　　Liu:  Are there any differences between your current work and that of ten years ago?  Has there been a qualitative leap?

　　Wang: In terms of scale, there certainly has been but in terms of the general conceptual ideas the change hasn't been huge though maybe I use different methods of production now.  I'm still focusing on people's lives and conditions but now on a broader scale.  Because the conflicts have become more complex, there isn't right and wrong.  Some pieces are more complex now, that is to say that their settings are more thought out, pieced together.  I'd like to do film, maybe sculpture too; there are lots of things I'd like to do.

　　Liu:  How has your work been progressing in recent years? Would you like to tell me anything about your future projects?

　　Wang:  I'd still like to do photographs for another two years or so; I'd like to summarise a little the relationship between man and the city.  I'd like to photograph a city void of humanity to show people what cities may be like in the future - both very familiar and yet extremely strange. I'd also like to shoot something related to the Olympics, after all, they're such a huge event, it's impossible to remain indifferent to them.  This year I might also produce a work related to the sick in order to commemorate my mother.  I was by her bedside when she passed away and when she needed the doctors, they weren't there.  An expression of my stance towards China's health system might be amusing, it might be quite pretentious, I don't really mind either way but at least I'd like to do something like this.  I've many plans at the moment, just got to take one at a time.  With the support of a gallery at home now things are better.  Working with Western galleries in the past, it has always been difficult to communicate.  I hope that we can use the resources of the gallery to their full potential, and that working together can be really fun.