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Although also a result of Shen Shaomin’s “domestic turn,” Bonsai doesn’t concern itself with contemporary Chinese politics or economics, or the artist’s own memories, but instead delves into an even more essential layer of traditional Chinese culture. In our interview, Shen Shaomin traced the origins of this work back to an even earlier project based on “foot binding.” In the process of creating the skeleton series, he found a book that introduced foot binding and included photocopies of X-rays showing how the form of women’s feet changed. In the end, he didn’t put his original project into effect because he found an even more effective means of displaying this tragedy. A book introducing the art of bonsai led him to realize the resonance between the “abuse of limbs” and “abuse of plants,” which was made even more acute by the fact that both foot binding and bonsai are products of traditional Chinese culture. In some sense, the mistreatment of plants is even crueler as its traces of abuse are more deeply concealed within a pretense of “naturalness.”

Shen Shaomin began to systematically investigate the technique of bonsai, and even went to the regions of Anhui, Ningguo, and Xuancheng to visit bonsai workshops. All the scenes he encountered there shocked him. To make tree branches into twisting braids, the center of the tree trunk was cut open—“penetrating the intestine, and smashing the stomach”—then fixed into bending, coiling, and interwoven shapes. Two methods were used for giving the appearance of age to the tender bark: one required hacking the bark with a knife and waiting for the scars to form. In this way, one small sapling could simulate a hundred year old tree. The other method entailed coating the tree trunk with honey to attract tens of thousands of ants, which would gnaw its bark black and blue. After removing “superfluous” branches, the plant was burnished and scorched to give it an aged look and to help prevent rotting. These procedures all seem to replicate the surgical operations carried out in medical practices. The apparatuses used on bonsai trees, appearing in every shape and color, are comparable to the assortment and diversity of medical instruments available. But, there is an important difference here: a medical operation is performed in order to cure a sick patient, but bonsai takes a living healthy plant and distorts it into an abnormal state. But, it’s like foot binding in that people consider such abnormality “beautiful.” Conscious of this kind of latent cruelty, Shen Shaomin turns this invisible violence into a tangible form in his Bonsai series. Bonsai makes us reconsider the brutality in daily life, particularly that which has been transformed into kinds of aesthetic perception or concealed within nature itself. This group of works achieves its efficacy not because it displays the results of these man-made transformations, but makes apparent the process of transformation itself. Shen Shaomin uses two means for achieving this. First, the bonsais themselves display a sudden halt in the “process” like a freeze-frame in a movie, where all the small trees have been imprisoned in ironware, and hang like prisoners chained and shackled. Shen Shaomin calls these works “living installations.” Collectors can choose to let them return to their original state or maintain this process. Even when the bonsai dies, these installations will still record the process and mechanisms behind their transformation. The second means is through texts: every bonsai is accompanied by a meticulously designed course of study. Dense passages and illustrations record how bonsais are made, and the procedures and matters needing attention. Alongside of this, every tree also has an “official portrait,” documenting its condition during exhibition.

From an even broader standpoint, Bonsai reveals an introspective look on the notion of “control.” Control can take place in the abuse of the physical body, like foot binding or bonsai, and it can also be performed through a distortion of intellect and psychology, such as training children to become filial sons, faithful wives, and “war heroes.” Reviewing these four works Kowtow Pump, Tiananmen, Fighter-X, and Bonsai, we see that what they share are different methods and different perspectives on opening up a space for imagining and deciphering contemporary art. Although each work addresses subjects with which Chinese people are familiar, their power is in their excavation and display of the hidden qualities and mechanisms concealed within these familiar forms. Or, as Shen Shaomin puts it, “uncovering secrets.” The result is that these concrete forms become “allegories” for rethinking universal problems. These four works also share a focus on “process.” Even simply based on the appearance of these forms as static objects, it’s clear that they aren’t sculptures or installations in the conventional sense. The reason for this is that they all demonstrate processes of investigation, design, and manufacturing. Lastly, the completion of these works brought together a large number of resources; not only the artist’s own accumulation of knowledge and imagination, but also numerous social relations, realistic operations, and long-term relationships with international galleries and collectors. These resources often exceeded the field of conventional art criticism, yet the realization of these projects remained an indispensable condition and constitutes one reason for why experimental Chinese art possesses such competitive power in the world today.