The internationally renowned Chinese artist recalls a life of resistance and oppression.
In this graphic treatment of his life, with illustrations by Italian artist Costantini, Ai blends manifesto and fairy tale for an audience made up of his young son. The first lesson involves cats and mice, the former of which do not figure in the Chinese zodiac, while mice are recognized as resourceful and smart—if also pests. Ai recalls trapping mice to keep them away from the scarce grain that his family, in exile, managed to grow on unforgiving terrain. This memory occasions an aside about how those in power trap their subjects, and he honors murdered Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi in that connection. “Like the cats,” Ai writes, “we have to keep the door that we call freedom of speech and thought open.” That kind of sentiment will lead to trouble in a totalitarian regime, and such has been the case with the often-jailed artist. In one episode, a police officer who looks suspiciously like Xi Jinping admonishes him, “If you call yourself an artist, you are arrogant. You should say art worker. That is the Party’s idea.” The fairy tales have a political dimension at every turn, as when Ai tells of a white snake who becomes a human in order to marry a scholar, only to be betrayed by a false monk; he adds, “our false monk was that water snake, Mao Zedong.” Art is a struggle in any society where it’s not recognized, as during Mao’s reign. At the same time, “Art is wrestling with yourself.” Finally allowed to leave the country, Ai continues to resist the Chinese regime, closing with the pointed observation, “Any artist who isn’t an activist is a dead artist.”
A welcome introduction to the life and work of an exemplary artist.