thechinesephotobook

Despite having been around since the beginning of the nineteenth century, photobooks have only quite recently been gaining momentum with the general public, not least thanks to Martin Parr’s restless work of research and collection in the field, displayed in his three volumes of The Photobook: A History. It didn’t come as a surprise to find his name along with the one of Dutch photographic duo WassinkLundgren on the cover of The Chinese Photobook: From the 1900s to the Present, a visual and written history of the Chinese photobook unique in its genre, delineating the way China has been depicted and has portrayed itself in the past century.

The publication is accompanied by a homonymous exhibition, currently on display at The Photographers’ Gallery in London (until the 5th of July), which divides the history of Chinese photobooks in six sections. The journey starts with the early and often orientalist representations of the country by foreign superpowers, passes through the contrasting description of the Sino-Japanese War by both Japanese and Chinese publications, documents the evolution of State propaganda from its naivety in the early years of the PRC to its full-blown capacity during the Cultural Revolution, and ends with the return to independent, non-State publishing.

Elsewhere has met with Thijs groot Wassink, one half of WassinkLundgren, to talk about their incredible work of collection and editing.

Why did you decide to do an exhibition about photobooks – Chinese photobooks in particular?

Ruben [Lundgren] and I have been working together since 2005, when we graduated in the Netherlands with a BA in photography. We were already very interested in photobooks then and a while after we made a photobook called Empty Bottles. Martin Parr saw the publication and got in touch with us. We were both big fans of his work at that time and we received an email from him saying that he really liked our work, it was shocking for us. Shortly after that, I moved to London to do an MA at Central Saint Martins and Ruben moved to Beijing to do an MA at Cafa – the Central Academy of Fine Arts. Martin went to Beijing at some point and asked Ruben if he could help him finding some photobooks for his own collection. At the beginning his main interest was the die-hard propaganda, but over the period of almost 8 years the research grew into a massive collection that we then edited down together.

Do you have a favourite section of the exhibition or a favourite photobook?

There are so many bits that I find fascinating. I think La Chine: à terre et en ballon is great. It collects the first aerial shots of China and it was done by the French army. In a way the use of a book like that is very functional – to see where the roads are, what the country looks like – but as an object is done very beautifully.

There is also Peking Studies by Ellen Thorbecke. She married a Dutch ambassador and moved to China, where she had enough freedom, money and time to wander around. She worked together with Friedrich Schiff, an illustrator, to make a photobook about Beijing. Throughout the publication there are always two characters, a European guy who is always amazed by everything that happens and Mister Wu, the Chinese guide who explains things to him. It’s such a playful way of integrating design with photography.

The examples from the early years of the PRC are also fascinating. In these two chapters [of The Chinese Photobook, from about 1949 to 1979] photographs become increasingly controlled by the state and it is possible to see how, even after its publication, an image can eventually become controlled again. What happened to the copies of Chairman Mao is the Red Sun in Our Hearts is a very beautiful example of, on one hand, the image that the Chinese state wants to show you and, on the other hand, of the paranoia that lived among the people who were under that state. These people have censored the books themselves, going through them and obscuring the image of Lin Biao after his death. Most of the copies of this book have that bit of censorship, it’s quite rare to find a copy without it.

Do you think the exhibition will be perceived in a different way from an international audience and a Chinese audience?

It will. The historical component in London is very important, because to understand some of the publications you need to understand the history of China. A Chinese audience doesn’t need to be told that Beijing is the capital of China, it doesn’t need to be told who Lin Biao was per se. So the exhibition in China focuses less on the historical component and it is more about how photography is never neutral, but always used for several purposes.

What about the more contemporary part of the exhibition?

Photographers are able to publish under their own name, there is individual expression again. In this period a group of photographers formed the April Photography Society, exploring photography and what it can do for you rather than what it can do for the State. It’s fascinating what a mix bag of work the exhibition presents at this point, there is not a very particular focus. We have the more documentary aspect with The Chinese by Liu Zheng, who is trying to subvert the conventional image of China. Then there are artists like 223 – Lin Zhipeng – who comes from a blogging background. His work is much more about personal life and it represents quite a journey from what we have seen during the propaganda era.

What do you aim for with this exhibition and what would you like people to go home with?

Possibly a bit of excitement about what’s going on in photography, how it can be used and a better understanding about the complexity of history. I think that would be a beautiful thing to take from it. The exhibition is only a starting point, I hope people will be inspired to bring more information and material to the table.