Above is a shot of Cao Chang Di village.
I made it to Beijing. After a late night at the Hotel in Seoul, followed by a very early morning (which proved completely unnecessary) I arrived. I honestly have nothing to complain about. Did I just write that? Perhaps I should reexamine. Customs was pretty simple although we all had to walk through some machine that monitored body temperature. I imagine if it was above a certain threshold you were dragged aside and probed for swine flu. There was an area to the side that was curtained off. I heard several people talking from behind it (rather excitedly I might add) so I figured they were detained for our safety, or course. What was interesting is that, while waiting to clear immigration, we were separated into two groups: Chinese nationals and foreigners. While the Chinese were waiting in line at immigration, or security, or whatever he was, would walk up and down the lines of people waiting and shout at them. Seriously…SHOUT at them. To do what, I have no idea. And then when I got to the counter to hand in my entrance form the guy stopped me, made me stand in a particular spot and matched my passport photo to my face. I was kinda offended. Do I look that much older than the photo? Or do all of us white people look alike?
Anyway, I had a map to the Caochangdi Workshop with directions in Chinese and English. I handed it to the cabbie, who took a moment too long looking at it. I started having flashbacks to Seoul. But it was cool. I think. We were stopped leaving the terminal by cops. I guess they stop all the cabs and take note of where they are taking foreigners. I was hoping this was to stop me from being taken for a ride (literally) but now that I am writing this I wonder if they are tracking me. Hmmmm. Anyway, I truck along in the cab. It is actually much nicer than many Boston cabs I’ve been in. We drive and we drive and we drive. Finally we enter into a little village and I start seeing art galleries and the like. Cool, I’m thinking, we are getting somewhere. And then he keeps driving. This time I say something right away. I don’t care if he doesn’t understand me we are driving past where I think we should be. He stops looks at the map and realizes he went the wrong way as well. We turn around and he finds the little tiny road where we should have turned. Well, calling it a “road” is a bit grandiose. It is a track into a walled village space. There are people in the road, people digging up the road, bricks and a cement mixer, just a whole lot of crap. We come to a point where we can’t go any further. The driver starts freaking a bit. I pull out my phone (yes! It works here!) and call the woman who is meeting me. She has me hand the phone to the driver. They talk for a bit and then here comes Odette from out of nowhere shouting at the cabbie. I have made it. Extremely relieved I grab my shit and head out with her. We walk a block away from the chaos of the village, enter a big metal gate and into silence.
The space is amazing (picture is above). One half is an old factory. This houses the studios and living spaces. The other half of the space is made up of homes designed by the noted Chinese architect and troublemaker Ai Wei Wei. He was set to be in residence at MIT this fall but had a run in with the authorities and is now in a hospital in Germany with severe head injuries. He is a friend of Wu Wenguang, the artist who owns and runs Caochangdi. There is a large black box theatre, a library and a kitchen. I drop my stuff off in my room – pretty much a dormitory space – but not bad. Comfortable. Odette gives me the tour and I learn that the showers are, how shall I put this, rustic? It is two little shower berths with a wooden wall between them, and a shower hose. I think I might just have to be dirty for a couple of days. Yeah….
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