Cai Guo-Qiang: Falling back to earth

152 153 As part of our drawing lessons, Wenhao and I draw portraits of each other every year. While we do them we have to observe each other closely to discover details that are not readily apparent. From the time she was four until now, the Wenhao I drew subtly changed. Because I am her father, she will always be so perfect and adorable. In her drawings, I have changed a lot. Once she drew my head, added a tail to it, and called me a merman. If we continue to draw each other, her techniques will advance. While she no doubt begins to draw more realistically, she may gradually lose her whimsical imagination, but her drawings could show other unpredictable evolutions and transformations. As I become older, my family has begun to rely on each other more and more. Art has become our common language, despite our varied mother tongues. This way of communication helps drive away loneliness. When I was younger, my children were like my works of art. Now, they are the sources of energy in my life. Art has enabled us to understand each other and tightly ties our lives and souls together. It is not easy to bridge two generations, and I cherish this shared interest. My daughters My oldest daughter Wen-You was born in 1989, when my wife Hong Hong and I were living in Japan. When Hong Hong and I installed exhibitions in different museums, we would leave Wen-You on a bench or in a stroller in the gallery. Visitors often mistook the baby to be a work of art. I also took her on my trips whenever I travelled for my social projects, such as Salute in Salvador and Man, Eagle and Eye in the Sky in Siwa. My expectations for Wen-You are similar to that of my father’s for me. I don’t want to lay out what she should do with her life, and she grew up looking for a path different from mine and tried to avoid my influence. So, even though she was interested in contemporary art, she avoided pursuing it and ultimately set out to be a designer. After Wen-You graduated from college she spent a year writing a book on our relationship to examine how her upbringing and my career influenced her. I know that making art for museums is not where her heart is, and that she wants to create objects to be sold in stores and possessed by the masses. She continues to consider how she can balance design and art, thinking about all possibilities. Recently, her interest is in opening a hybrid gallery–boutique. I neither intended for Wen-You to be interested in art nor imagined her pursuing a career in art. Yet, as she grew up, art became the topic of discussion at our dinner table. On weekends, we see exhibitions together; sometimes she goes alone and discusses her experience with me afterward. Often we agree upon the work we find interesting. My second daughter Wenhao is much younger and was born in 2003. When Hong Hong and I had Wen-You, our economic situation did not allow us to hire a nanny, so we brought her with us wherever we went, regardless of the occasion. We frequently had to assure our hosts that she wouldn’t scream or shout. Wenhao is more vocal than Wen-You, who was very placid. She created a sign for her bedroom door that declared the room ‘Wenhao’s office’, announcing to the family that the room was her territory and a place where she could work without disturbance. Once, Wenhao called me to her ‘office’ and said, ‘There is something I would like to discuss with you. My friend Tiffany is not very good at art. I want you to teach her art, and I will learn with her.’ We agreed to practice drawing every weekend. She has always been interested in learning how to draw. For a time she kept complaining to me that the drawings she made ‘looked like a child’s’ and that she wanted her drawings to ‘look real’. I then realised she wanted to learn how to sketch with perspective. Together with Wenhao and her friend, we drew teapots and apples, and I taught them how to contour and how to crosshatch the shades of light and shadow. Falling back to earth At the Queensland Art Gallery in 1999, I invited children to design bridges, creating a hands-on experience. Nearly 15 years later, for ‘Falling Back to Earth’, I will use a different approach to give participating children more room for creativity and imagination. As part of the exhibition’s social project, I invite children to observe the giant tree Eucalyptus 2013, think of its past and future, and contemplate their own philosophy and poetic conception about it. This proposition opens the doors for children to explore a wide range of topics, such as the relationship between man and nature, the fate of the tree and fundamental questions of life and death. Using these questions as starting points, children are encouraged to make art using the tree as inspiration. In the Children’s Art Centre exhibition, I introduce my experiences through an animated story of a boy named Cai — this tale encourages every child to be a curator and an artist. Based on my work and methodology, they can plan their own explosion events and gunpowder drawings. I want to share with them my experience as an artist, allowing them to understand and participate in-depth in an artist’s practice. ‘Falling Back to Earth’ will accommodate each child’s perception of time, space and being. Cai at home in New York in 2004 with his wife, Hong Hong Wu, and two daughters, Wenhao Cai and Wen-You Cai Courtesy: Cai Studio Cai Guo-Qiang (pictured with daughter Wen-You Cai) conducting a test for The Century with Mushroom Clouds: Project for the 20th Century , New York, 1996 Photograph: Hong Hong Wu. Courtesy: Cai Studio