I published another photograph in Time Magazine this week. Apparently it can be found in the international version and some of the domestic ones as well. They used a photo from my recent series New South China Mall: The Empty Temple of Consumerism for a China investment story entitled China Dreams. I also took some portraits for Time Magazine in Guangzhou last month for a story that should be published in the near future (can’t talk about it yet). However, the rebellion in Libya and disasters in Japan are consuming most news outlets right now and a lot of scheduled features are being pushed back. It was great working with the editors at Time Magazine. Hopefully more of my work will be in print soon.

A local billionaire built it, and they did not come. The South China Mall was the most ambitious and largest retail space every conceived in China, if not the world, when it opened in 2005. Constructed smack in the middle of the Pearl River Delta between Shenzhen and Guangzhou, about 4 million people live within six miles of it, 9 million within twelve miles and 40 million within sixty miles. Nonetheless, six years later, the South China Mall only maintains a 1% occupancy rate at best. This unabatedly empty temple to consumerism remains unfinished on top floors and is only sporadically visited thanks to the attached amusement park, Amazing World. For the time being dust and dismembered mannequins reign over the 6.5 million square foot venture. Although China might be the fastest growing consumer market in the world, the South China Mall reveals the vulnerability of this burgeoning economic giant. Also, check out this short film done on the place by Sam Green.

In another outlandish attempt to draw tourists and locals to the Olympic Green, the World Chocolate Wonderland theme park opened just north of the Bird’s Nest stadium to a mixture of awe and bewilderment. The strange assortment of exhibits and objects made of chocolate defies description. Ranging from individual showcases of the history of chocolate in countries famous for chocolate production, to an entire room of various chocolate reconstructions of household and consumer items, the focus and scope of the theme park is haphazard at best. Walking past the chocolate Terracotta Warriors, a Great Wall of Chocolate, and a life-size chocolate BMW, I couldn’t help but feel the theme park represented another exercise in postmodern irony. The visual feast was also picked up by the BBC and Salon. God knows what the Beijing municipal government will think of next to lure people up to the Olympic Green as they continue to struggle to support its grand infrastructure investments for the 2008 Olympic Games.

The art of telling stories using caricatures dates back to prehistoric man. Although cave paintings didn’t survive Beijing’s urban upheaval, new and more subversive forms of pictorial narration now issue forth from the comic underground. The once popular bison and ibex motifs of yore gave way to more pertinent contemporary themes such as teen angst, social detachment, and disgruntled robots. One of Beijing’s leading cliques of illustrators, aptly dubbed Cult Youth, take innovative strides with such matters in their newly minted anthology of graphic shorts.

Whether you like it or not, comic books and graphic novels are turning into one of the most widespread and influential forms of popular culture. Although China is far from eclipsing Japan’s manga scene, younger generations in Beijing with unprecedented access to foreign media are getting hooked. Cult Youth stands at the forefront of this movement. Guoqi (郭麒), one of twenty plus Cult Youth affiliated artists, noted, “that caricatures from any historical period are very valuable, but this generation in China saw many comics from different countries while growing up and now understand their important nature. People no longer believe comics are for children only.” Everyday occurrences enter the illustrator’s palette and take on new forms that fascinate both the young and old.

The most appealing nature of Cult Youth’s newest anthology is the eclectic array of themes presented in each graphic short. In many ways, it mirrors the kaleidoscope of often-conflicting interests, desires, and traditions that exist in modern China. Ca (擦), one of the founding members of Cult Youth, expounded, “We don’t say exactly who we are. We don’t pretend to represent any particular thing about China. Rather, our work grows out of our own personal interests. We have a wide range of opinions and aren’t primarily interested in any sort of pure documentary effort or work that invokes a feeling of social responsibility.” The unparalleled multiplicity of people in China defies any generalization and Cult Youth mirrors that chaos with their unstinting and often trenchant conceptual takes on life in the Middle Kingdom.

Still, many of the Cult Youth artists claim to grapple with a materialistic void growing within society and therefore feel their influence is gaining momentum. “China’s masses deal with an impoverished mainstream culture. Many are hungry for more, and it seems Cult Youth’s free and willful comics is what they need,” asserted Songqi (宋麒), Guoqi’s (郭麒) twin brother. With more dedicated readers, the anthology certainly resonates in a particular manner – the witty and insightful strips draw you in with their arresting and sometimes grotesque illustrations.

Cult Youth personifies the increasing number of Chinese becoming aware of the impact of international media on their country and the disjunction it represents from the experience of previous generations. “Older people had a world of their own,” Ca (擦) continued, “Such things cannot be passed on. The new youth access everything.” Many of the artists expressed the need to lead people to a new understanding of the information explosion occurring around them and therein present new outlets for individual expression while underhandedly capturing the pitfalls of modern China. According to Heilichi (黑荔枝), “Independent thinking leads to happiness.” There is a growing sense among the Cult Youth illustrators that even if they get labeled as outsiders, their work will continue to speak for itself.

In the end, Cult Youth still agrees on one thing: they want people to laugh and appreciate the absurdities of life. There is a mischievous air about the group as they reinterpret the already convoluted world surrounding them in Beijing. Not many of them know what the future holds, but they love their work and produced a unique anthology of graphic shorts that present a small but captivating window into contemporary China.

As urban residents wield greater purchasing power, sophisticated shopping becomes an ever-important status symbol. Those at the top of Beijing’s increasingly stratified income brackets constantly seek to distinguish themselves from the rest of the pack. Conspicuous consumptive habits thus provide instant prominence and luxury companies are scrambling to cater to and expand upon every whim and desire. Designer clothing, sports cars, and jet-set vacations become necessary additions to any ostentatious parvenu enjoying the taste of once forbidden fruits.

This weekend I bore witness to the star-studded opening of Lane Crawford’s department store in Beijing. It’s a four-story behemoth in a glitzy mall and only stocks vogue international fashion designers. Apparently Beijing has stepped into the sartorial big leagues. Whether or not the store will make money is another question. Beijing doesn’t exude pretentious airs quite like Shanghai or Hong Kong yet. Local shoppers prefer to browse the racks and then hit the streets in search of similar black-market counterfeits. Still, this won’t stop major luxury brands vying to cash in on Beijing’s nouveau riche and their swelling materialistic obsessions. Too much is at stake in this potential market.

Unfortunately sipping on Moet all evening and ogling $5,000 USD Raf Simmons leather jackets can only provide so much enjoyment. Such prices smack of insolence considering the average income of rural farmers in China still tops out at around $225 USD per year according to the Xinhua News Agency. Even most city dwellers who average $750 USD per year would be left out of the commodity feeding frenzy occurring in department stores across Beijing. Many disenfranchised economic groups are starting to take action though, and the Chinese state is starting to realize the vast potential of widespread social unrest if income gaps continue to widen in favor of those already lining their closets with Givenchy, Paul Smith, and Prada. Even though the potential for a luxury backlash looms ever on the horizon, for now nothing seems to stand in the way of these corporate giants.

See “China’s hunger for luxury goods grows” for an excellent description of Chinese yuppies aka chippies.

The first major leg of my Kunming to Tashkent journey came to a close yesterday after safely arriving in Lhasa. For eight days I rode along the haphazard roads of eastern Tibet, crossing passes reaching over 17,000 feet and dropping into subtropical gorges with glaciated massifs rising over verdant slopes. The area, traditionally known as Kham, spouts some of the most pivotal rivers in Asia – the Mekong, Yangzi, and Salween all find their headwaters amidst this geologically variegated landscape. Stunning vistas aside, Kham also represents one of the last frontiers in Tibet that the Chinese state has keenly targeted for development as described in its Tibet’s March Toward Modernization report commemorating the “50th anniversary of the peaceful liberation of Tibet” in 2001.

The preamble from Tibet’s March Toward Modernization:

Modernization has been an important issue confronting countries and regions worldwide in modern times. Since the invasion of the Western powers in the mid-19th century, it has been the most important task of the people of all ethnic groups in China, the Tibetan people included, to get rid of poverty and backwardness, shake off the lot of being trampled upon, and build up an independent, united, strong, democratic and civilized modern country. Since the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, and especially since the introduction of reform and opening to the outside world, the modernization drive in China has been burgeoning with each passing day, and achieved successes attracting worldwide attention. China is taking vigorous steps to open even wider and become more prosperous. China’s Tibet, with its peaceful liberation in 1951 as the starting point, has carried out regional ethnic autonomy and made a historical leap in its social system following the Democratic Reform in 1959 and the elimination of the feudal serf system. Through carrying out socialist construction and the reform and opening-up, Tibet has made rapid progress in its modernization drive and got onto the track of development in step with the other parts of the country, revealing a bright future for its development.

This year is the 50th anniversary of the peaceful liberation of Tibet. Looking back on the course of modernization since its peaceful liberation, publicizing the achievements in modernization made by the people of all ethnic groups in Tibet through their hard work and with the support of the Central Government and the whole nation, and revealing the law of development of Tibet’s modernization – these will contribute not only to accelerating the healthy development of Tibet’s modernization but also to clearing up various misunderstandings on the “Tibet issue” in the international community and promoting overall understanding of the past and present situations in Tibet.

While the Chinese state’s continual insistence on referring to their militant subjugation of Tibet as a “peaceful liberation” remains dubious at best, their reference to a “law of development” guiding Tibet’s modernization now appears just as disconcerting. Imposing a socioeconomic developmental aim and spinning it as theoretically indubitable is overbearing in the extreme, especially as it begins to lock Kham into a consumer cycle of wage earning and spending. Activists might continue to push the Chinese state for a truly autonomous Tibet, but the real transformation is well underway as commercial goods slip in with the paved roads slowly branching between Lhasa, Kunming, and Chengdu.

These stable trucking routes established commodity markets replete with utilitarian products such as plastic washbasins, kitchen utensils, tools, and the now requisite electric blender used for churning various yak products. Thoroughfares in major Kham towns were lined with shops purveying such goods – provincial youths would walk amongst them in awe while local residents blithely smoked cigarettes and busied themselves with cell phones. Even though many of these implements represented a substantial benefit for many rural families, they also cloaked the arrival of less vital commodities slowly working their way onto store shelves. Traditional wool-lined overcoats now gathered dust behind overpriced t-shirts showcasing Western name brands.

As the trip continued toward Lhasa it became clear that this “law of development” aimed to prop up commercial markets reliant on more centralized economic systems that, in turn, were dependent on subsidies provided by the Chinese state. The towns I passed in the most advanced stages of development, such as Pomi and Bayi, were flooded with supermarkets, designer clothing stores, beauty parlors, and upscale restaurants. These products and services engender a consumer-oriented dependency that the Chinese state finds easy to manipulate or threaten to withdraw. In the end, I cannot help but see the Chinese state’s “law of development” as an important tool for incorporating Kham into its own particular standard and vision of socioeconomic development that essentially undermines any semblance of ethnic autonomy within the region.

While this growth certainly benefits impoverished areas at first, its adverse effects become even more drastic as the commercial boom continues to attract and largely benefit immigrating Han Chinese who have the requisite business skills to take advantage of free market reforms. Their presence is growing by the year and already dominates major urban centers such as Lhasa and Shigatse. Many Tibetans already feel left behind despite promises of a “bright future” by the Chinese state. Continued grumbling about the lack of autonomy and political reform in Lhasa now seems irrelevant as the Chinese state’s “law of development” draws rural Tibet into homogenizing consumer trends already sweeping across mainland China.

Six years ago I stepped off the bus in Dali, a provincial town five hours outside of Kunming. An appealingly antiquated road lined with curious shops and small guesthouses stretched out before me. For years backpackers were drawn to Dali’s laidback feel and the welcoming climes of the province in general. I was drawn to the possibility of eating a decent stack of pancakes at one of the cafes flaunting their newfound western culinary expertise. Although I only stayed for two days, the place stuck with me over the years and I looked forward to my eventual return.

Six days ago I stepped off the bus in Dali, what is now a major stopover on Yunnan Province’s tourist circuit stretching from Kunming to Zhongdian. The quiet lane fit for afternoon strolls had completely disappeared beneath a cobblestone pedestrian mall lined with indistinguishable storefronts and punctured by lurid guard towers fashioned after medieval counterparts found elsewhere in China. The town had undergone massive cosmetic surgery – bordering on a complete sex change. Decent stacks of pancakes still abounded but little else shown threw this once charming town.

China’s burgeoning middleclass and their surplus wealth has led to an unprecedented domestic tourism boom throughout the country. Unfortunately, such demand tends to overwhelm and eventually reshape the architecture and surrounding landscape wherever it manifests. Many areas of Yunnan Province have been particularly susceptible to the lure of such a cash heavy industry and Dali fell in quick succession. Its high concentration of tribal cultures, officially designated as “ethnic minorities” by state legislation, easily became an exotic and alluring foil for the rest of China.

Despite the growth of these tourist rackets that seek to cater to ever broader and more lavish tastes, such leisurely devices cannot be completely dismissed considering the vagaries suffered by many of these same people over the last fifty years. A wizened old couple wandering wide-eyed through the streets of Dali approached me to take a snapshot with them (group photographs with random foreigners are still a highly prized memento for many Chinese vacationers). I talked briefly with them but will never forget the startling strength of the old man’s grip when I shook his hand to depart. His slender, sinewy arm concealed a lifetime of toil in tiered fields and this trip represented one of his first leisurely respites to a tourist destination – something I too often take for granted. It’s hard to deny him such an experience even if I felt he was wandering around a farcical tourist trap.

Trying to repress nostalgic whims for untrammeled locales does not come easily in my travels, even while observing the enjoyment that many Chinese tourists take in these cultural theme parks. A disconcerting tendency still emerges as these destinations become washed out due to the massive influx of clamoring sightseers and their desirous gazes. Lijiang, the next town on the Yunnan Province tourist circuit, is probably the worst case. Its once mesmerizing downtown dominated by winding streets crisscrossed with bubbling streams are now subject to an enforced lighting scheme. The area resembled a movie set and massive buses spat out an illimitable flow of bobbing heads led by tour guides with megaphones and company pennants. Although I still found some peace and quiet on the fringes of the chaos, I still secretly indulged my wish for this tide to ebb.