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发表于 2008-8-11 23:20:32| 字数 2,790| - 日本 索尼商务解决方案公司
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The man behind the terminal is Lord Norman Foster, a British architect. The bird’s nest architects are Herzog & de Meuron, a Swiss firm. Their artistic adviser was Ai Weiwei, who is Chinese. But Mr Ai happens to be an outspoken critic of the games.
Ten hours before the games begin, Lord Foster and Mr Ai find themselves in a small lecture room in an art gallery opened last year by a Belgian couple, Guy and Myriam Ullens, on the north-eastern edge of Beijing. The gallery itself makes some Chinese uneasy. Some of them do not like the idea that foreigners are running what has become one of Beijing’s biggest non-profit galleries of contemporary Chinese art.
Chinese officials are in a particularly prickly mood. They fear the Olympics will be marred by protests against China’s human rights record and its policies in Tibet and the western region of Xinjiang. The Ullens Centre for Contemporary Art, like many other foreign-run concerns in China, has to be cautious. At the start of the talk, the audience is reminded that the topic is Terminal 3. People are not to raise questions about politics or the Olympics.
The opening ceremony of the games is hours away from being held in Mr Ai’s bird’s nest, but the speakers and audience keep to their instructions. The bird’s nest is far too sensitive a topic. Mr Ai has condemned the way the stadium and the games in general are being used by the Communist Party to show off. This time he confines his remarks to the new terminal (about the construction of which he has helped produce a book of photographs). The gallery is doubtless grateful.
The Ullens Centre is in a cluster of former state-owned factories that have been rented out to artists and galleries. It is swarming with security officials and Olympic volunteers this morning. Officials say 798—the name of this area, after the codename of one of its former military factories—has become one of Beijing’s biggest attractions for foreigners after the Great Wall and the Forbidden City. But like many parts of Beijing, 798 feels unusually devoid of visitors. China’s paranoia about protests has led to tougher visa restrictions, which have kept many foreigners away.
The opening ceremony at the bird’s nest this evening is spectacular, but with touches of the authoritarian. Zhang Yimou, a filmmaker who once pushed the boundaries of artistic freedom in China but is now an establishment favourite, directed the spectacle.
The display begins with 2,008 soldiers dressed in traditional (civilian) gowns banging in unison on drums. It sets an uncomfortably martial tone (more than half of the 14,000 performers this evening are troops). The uniformed goose-stepping soldiers who raise the Olympic flag do not help alleviate this.
Neither do China’s leaders, who watch impassively from a podium in the sweltering heat dressed in near identical suits. Performers move in perfect unison or in regimented choreography in a way that would make North Korea, a master of such extravaganzas, envious.
China is missing its chance to smash stereotypes: the opening ceremony displays a nation marching in lockstep. It avoids overt political references, but does little to refute Mr Ai’s criticisms that the Beijing games are, for China, about politics. A normally vibrant city feels stifled. Dissenting voices are subdued |
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