- Venue
- Centre for Chinese Conetemporary Art
- Location
- North West England
The gallery is darkened and a small performance space in the corner is marked by a semi-circle of chairs set at a respectful distance from a large mirror on the floor. Attractive reflections of light are cast on the walls, suggesting conventional theatre footlights. It is in this rather glamorous setting that Hao Lang performs as a super-kitsch figure in tight-fitting striped top and flower-studded bathing cap, his cheeks reddened with make-up so he is easily recognisable as the rosy ideal of countless garish propaganda posters and simultaneously recalling the camp of Busby Berkeley musicals.
The strident voice of an exercise instructor fills the space with motivational Mandarin, accompanied by rousing music to which Hao Lang starts his demanding routine. He stands directly on top of the mirror. And it is not reinforced or protected with a special coating to withstand the full force of his stamping, marching workout. It breaks with his first step. And he keeps on breaking it, until it is nothing but a slippery mess of vicious shards on which he persists with his routine.
The shattering, splintering sound contrasts horribly with the inspirational, perky music. It is chaotic, rude, uncontrolled noise laid over the relentlessly rhythmic and demanding exercise instructions. It is deeply unsettling and we have to watch with growing horror as Hao Lang slips and pitches forwards several times, coming close to terrible injury. There are many grimacing faces in the crowd. This is not an affectionate re-enactment of a happy childhood activity; the savagery of the breaking glass combined with the relentlessness of the exercise routine suggests punishment, humiliation, genuine endangerment and no fondness for the enforced physical workouts all schoolchildren in China have to endure. The mix of imagery and sound is nightmarish as all references are accessible and recognisable but unsettling when assembled in this way; the familiar seems unfamiliar and is made deeply sinister.
We see Hao Lang get breathless through physical exertion, we see flashes of fear in his flushed face as he stumbles and lurches frighteningly close to the splintered glass, we sit or stand horribly close to the shattered mess and try to inch away when the circle of shards begins to widen and threatens to exit the performance space in flying daggers towards us. However, we can't escape and we're trapped like Hao Lang in this menacing exercise, bound by an oppressive, invisible obligation to complete the task no matter what danger it puts us in. When it ends, we applaud with relief and can finally take pleasure in all those missed sessions at the gym: Hao Lang has proven that exercise really can be bad for you.
