Lawrence Wang 王治钧
#instagram #shanghai Thx for the invitation from @powerstationofart amazing firework art! #Caiguoqiang #九级浪 #powerstationofart
Cai Guo-Qiang, Fireworks for the Opening of Cai Guo-Qiang: The Ninth Wave”, realized outside the Power Station of Art, Shanghai, 5 pm, Aug 8, 2014 (duration: 8 minutes)
The actual pyrotechnics of the opening started out at 5 pm. The PR agency hired by Cai Guo-Qiang’s studio popularized the hashtag “bairi yanhuo” (“白日焰火”, or roughly, “daylight pyrotechnics”) on WeChat, explaining that setting off black fireworks in daylight signified not celebration but mourning, reflection, and solace. From afar, thick green billows of smoke hung from the sky, drifting from PSA’s large smokestack. Those unaware might have thought it a poison gas leak; those blessed with imagination bellowed, “Ultraman is coming!”
On the river front, the same views were observed from both the white VIP tents and the public viewing area on the side: smoke bundles of pink, purple, yellow, and green rose up wave after wave, with the overall form contained within a “canvas” in the sky. One thinks of the “Sky Art” of Otto Piene and Dennis Oppenheim (who traced white smoke with an aircraft in the sky), but this was more all-engulfing by far. The din was particularly striking—at times a steady drum beat, at others a lupine howl, the clamor of the explosions, the intermittent silence in between, along with that smell of gunpowder lingering in the air all forged a gloomy tension.
#instagram #shanghai Thx for the invitation from @powerstationofart amazing firework art! #Caiguoqiang #九级浪 #powerstationofart
Cai Guo-Qiang, Fireworks for the Opening of Cai Guo-Qiang: The Ninth Wave”, realized outside the Power Station of Art, Shanghai, 5 pm, Aug 8, 2014 (duration: 8 minutes)
The actual pyrotechnics of the opening started out at 5 pm. The PR agency hired by Cai Guo-Qiang’s studio popularized the hashtag “bairi yanhuo” (“白日焰火”, or roughly, “daylight pyrotechnics”) on WeChat, explaining that setting off black fireworks in daylight signified not celebration but mourning, reflection, and solace. From afar, thick green billows of smoke hung from the sky, drifting from PSA’s large smokestack. Those unaware might have thought it a poison gas leak; those blessed with imagination bellowed, “Ultraman is coming!”
On the river front, the same views were observed from both the white VIP tents and the public viewing area on the side: smoke bundles of pink, purple, yellow, and green rose up wave after wave, with the overall form contained within a “canvas” in the sky. One thinks of the “Sky Art” of Otto Piene and Dennis Oppenheim (who traced white smoke with an aircraft in the sky), but this was more all-engulfing by far. The din was particularly striking—at times a steady drum beat, at others a lupine howl, the clamor of the explosions, the intermittent silence in between, along with that smell of gunpowder lingering in the air all forged a gloomy tension.