I find, reading in The Economist, that museums in China are clogged with young people. Hordes, apparently: noisy, disorderly, and, perhaps most worryingly, little interested in art.
What would be causing this invasion is a very recent phenomenon known as “wanghong” — something that, according to the magazine, can be understood as “viral” or “internet fame” (I translate from the original in English, since my Mandarin is rusty …).
I’ll explain quickly: an entire generation is appreciating art not exactly for its content, but for the possibility that, when using an interesting work as a backdrop for their selfie, the visitor’s profile goes viral.
Before judging, confess: you’ve already done it! If you were, for example, at the Os Gêmeos show at the Pinacoteca de São Paulo, there’s no denying it.
I’m ahead of you: I did use amazing works I found in museums and galleries in Europe for Instagram posts. And, I admit, I chose works that could draw a lot of attention in a universe as volatile as that of social networks.
The most recent example I can cite was in the exhibition by the great Anselm Kiefer, earlier this year, set up in the Grand Palais Éphémère, on the Champs de Mars in Paris, a replica of the original gallery (Grand Palais) while it is being renovated.
There I was, all hot, with a huge dilapidated plane, a kind of Kiefer’s trademark, which rested dramatically in the background. Result: 27.2 thousand views!
On second thought, I’d even say I started long before this kind of “wanghong” even existed.
I have selfies with bodies floating in Antony Gormley’s 2019 exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. With the giant heart of Jeff Koons in the retrospective he won at the Center Pompidou (Paris) in 2017. And with the petulant forms of Anish Kapoor scattered around the Palace of Versailles, also in France, in 2015.
Older records? Matisse at the MoMA in New York in the early 1990s; Olafur Eliasson’s sun at Tate Modern in 2003; Jenny Holzer at the opening of the Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, in 2004; eu in 2008, supported by Yayoi Kusama’s huge pumpkin, in the Benesse Collection, Naoshima, Japan.
In my defense, I’ll just say that I was, yes, connected with all these works. Passionate about art since forever, I made these records to celebrate the joy of finally being able to admire those works up close.
It’s true that, like the “wanghong” generation in China, I also wanted to show off in a way, but immersing myself in the art I saw. It was never just a scenario.
Would my experience be more valid than that of the “wanghongs”? From what I’ve read in the Economist, museums aren’t complaining. The box office is fat and visitors really interested in art don’t seem to mind.
I’ve already written here about a visit I made to Michelangelo’s David at the Fine Arts Gallery in Florence (Italy) in 2019, when tourists only seemed interested in a selfie by placing their hands on the statue’s genitals. Artistic experience: zero.
However, as the Economist suggests, this is perhaps a new way to visit museums. If the relationship with human creations is superficial, so much the better. At least the tourists went there and saw that.
I think even a bump with art is already important. And I bet that even if it is in a handful of visitors, this encounter can transform at least a fraction of the thought of those who experienced it.
Who knows, maybe one day it won’t even be that, this greater mission of art, that goes viral?
