Two recent arts projects organized through the Chinese Cultural Centre (CCC) in Vancouver embarked on forays into cultural space: SELF NOT WHOLE: Cultural Identity and Chinese-Canadian Artists in Vancouver in 1991, and Racy Sexy in 1993. Self Not Whole was an ethno-specific exhibition that explored ideas of heritage and authenticity. Self Not Whole was both a celebration and critique of identity politics from the inside; it addressed issues of displacement, otherness and racism, asking what it meant to be of Chinese descent in Canada. Out of this experience developed Racy Sexy, a multidisciplinary series involving coalition-building with other community and cultural centres in Greater Vancouver. Artists of diverse backgrounds from across Canada were presented within a thematic focusing on the intersection of race, culture, and sexuality. As an attempt towards intercultural collaboration, Racy Sexy signalled a shift in the exploration of community to the outside.

The mandate of the Chinese Cultural Centre is to promote Chinese language and culture. Activities range from language classes to conferences, workshops, exhibitions, Tai Chi Chuan, and Cantonese Opera. For the most part, Chinese culture there has been interpreted as traditional culture. What is traditional culture anyway? Is this a way of life from another land in the past, a nostalgic status quo? Does this mean Chinese art consists of ink on paper landscapes and calligraphy? What is Chinese, as opposed to Chinese Canadian, as opposed to Canadian? For that matter, what is a Chinese cultural centre? Is that where one goes to find cultural space, Chinese space?

What is cultural space? Is it the place of identity, where the promise of commonality beckons? Is it the banner around which the individual can rally in identification and solidarity with others? Or is it the site of subjectivity, the intervention of memory within official history, the refuge of the personal, the alternative? Then there is the perception of safety, of shelter, a place to shed one's vulnerability. Perhaps cultural space is home, away from the foreign outside, the alien, the different.

Cultural space is ambiguous and constantly shifting; reflecting, not representing those who define it. It is the site of social exchange and intercourse, of contest and paradox; it is the promise of democracy. Too often, cultural space is the claim of the institution; protected, controlled and so seldom shared.

It was questions such as these that originally drew me to the CCC. As a visual artist, much of my artwork has been involved with the politics of identification, particularly issues around Chinese Canadian identity; therefore, when I came across this organization, it quickly became apparent that the CCC was a very strategic site in which to investigate ideas of community and representation. This vision developed into the exhibition, SELF NOT WHOLE Cultural Identity and Chinese-Canadian Artists in Vancouver in 1991.

There have been many other arts projects in recent years in Vancouver employing difference as a theme: In Visible Colours, Yellow Peril, Queer City, to visit the tiger, and first Ladies, to name a few. One of the goals similar to these projects was to stake out territory in which to speak about culturally—and/or sexually-specific experiences, without fear of homophobic, racist, sexist or self-righteous liberalist dominating reaction. They were consciously positioned in relationship to perceived centres of power, aimed at empowering those who had been historically erased or marginalized, validating voices and sensibilities dismissed by the dominant cultural gaze.

Curated by community activist Lorraine Chan and myself, Self Not Whole functioned as an interventionist, site-specific exhibition. In the Chinese space of the CCC, nontraditional, western art (and thus arguably non-Chinese) was presented to an audience that perhaps might not be familiar with contemporary avant-gardist art practices, but were the most likely to understand the artists' culturally-specific references.

Self Not Whole consisted of a month-long visual art exhibition with installation, video, painting, and photo-based work, with a program of readings, performances, arts educators' workshop, and panel discussion. In all, the work of 16 artists and collectives was presented. The bilingual catalogue (in English and Chinese) contained commissioned essays discussing ideas about community, identity, and identification, as well as providing a social and historical context for cultural production by Chinese-Canadians in Vancouver.¹Self Not Whole was presented from November 2 to 30,1991. The visual artists were Ana Chang, Diana Li, Mary Sui-Yee Wong, Paul Wong, Kiki Yee, Sharyn Yuen, and the Pender Guy Radio Collective. Readings were by Jamila Ismael, Larissa Lai, Corinne Lee, Sky Lee, and Wong Wing Siu, performances by Number One Son, Lee Su-Feh, River Sui, and Sebastian Yeung, coordinated by Lance Lim, and catalogue essays written by Heesok Chang, Rosa Ho, and Karin Lee. CCC Exhibition coordinator was Saintfield Wong.

Self Not Whole as a title does not translate easily into Chinese; after much deliberation, we chose mi, meaning 'search,' alluding to a journey or exploration for some thing or place that was perhaps not the self, but a centre, be that existential or cultural.

In 1990, Lorraine Chan and I approached the CCC's exhibitions coordinator Saintfield Wong, with the idea to exhibit contemporary Chinese-Canadian artists whose work engaged questions of cultural identity. Lorraine and I were interested in presenting artists situated outside of the canons of Chinese art, artists who had not been represented in In Transitions, a local survey show of mostly traditional Chinese art²The term "traditional Chinese art" used here is unavoidably problematic, but I use it to refer to work that is situated within the art historical traditions of Chinese formal and aesthetic strategies. Calligraphy and watercolours dominated In Transitions, although some oil and acrylic paintings, sculptures, and a few installation and photo-based works were included. organized by Saintfield Wong in 1989. Saintfield saw that our proposed project would take the next step beyond In Transitions, and agreed to host the exhibition at the CCC. As guest curators, we would conduct the research and apply for the funding.

In many ways, the CCC was the ideal site for staging Self Not Whole. If we were to address notions of identity and difference from a Chinese-Canadian perspective, where better to do this than in a space that by location (in the heart of Chinatown) and by name (The Chinese Cultural Centre) claimed to be the centre of Chinese culture?

First and foremost, the CCC provided a highly desirable audience for the work, that is, Chinese-Canadians. Secondly, it gave the promise of home, temporary or artificial as it may be; the artists in Self Not Whole were validated, their ethnicity, or difference due to ethnicity, suddenly made invisible. Exhibiting at the CCC was entry into their own community.

We were not concerned about attempting to define some sort of Chinese-Canadian aesthetic, nor to authenticate experience. It was not about where east meets west; after all, we too are the west. But if one speaks English as the language of comfort, and cooks Italian better than Chinese, are we the east as well? Would we be seen through Chinese eyes as thereby foreign? Afterall, it was the western historical avant-garde that the work showed the strongest links to—it just so happened that the artists we found consciously investigating cultural identity were involved in this practice. And given that contemporary work often crosses many cultural barriers in alienating the non-art publics, we were hoping that within the apparel of these 'modern' ('western'?) art forms, the ('Chinese'?) viewer would find access in the matter of the subject, if the subject was speaking about topics and experiences they could share.

These strategies proved to be successful. Providing a multilingual gallery attendant as well as artists' statements near each of the works in Chinese and English also helped. On more than one occasion, I observed people reading the Chinese and English texts separately, then engage in a dialogue about the work. Self Not Whole attracted viewers mainly from the 'mainstream' arts community, mostly white, and the regular users of the CCC, such as those coming to see Chinese traditional dance who would encounter the exhibition, recent immigrants on their way to English as a Second Language classes, and Boy Scouts who would run around and through the installations during and after their meetings every Saturday afternoon.

For the promotional campaign, two publicists were hired, one targeting the English mainstream and alternative arts media, and the other, the Chinese. However, the linguistic bias for the project was obvious—the overwhelming majority of the artists were primarily anglophone-based, and the performances, readings and the artists' tour of the exhibition also reflected this.

Throughout the development of the project with the CCC, Lorraine and I were confronted by conflicting ideas around art and organizational procedure. We were not familiar with their working methodology and decision-making process; at times, we could not understand their logic (and vice versa). Confrontations arose over matters such as proper procedure in order to use their stationary, and the delegation of responsibility. In turn, some of our ideas were mystifying for them, such as the consideration of artists as professionals (i.e. being entitled to fees for presenting their work), the curatorial process (i.e. research and studio visits and the encouragement of new, especially site-specific work), and exhibition/presentation standards. Grassroots organizations do not operate like art venues, and not surprisingly, personnel were not trained to facilitate contemporary artistic practices.

What we eventually realized was that there existed two main factors that created a gap between us and the CCC. One was that we were strangers; neither Lorraine nor I had had much previous contact with the CCC, and our families were not prominent members of the community with a long history of involvement with the organization. The other factor was cultural difference. We were westernized, Canadianized, and just because we called ourselves Chinese did not mean we were one of them. Our values, our world view was not only not the same, it was sometimes perceived as alien. We were clearly outsiders, members of the even further marginalized nontraditional art community, no less.

So why were we drawn to this place where we felt, aside from occasional twinges of peripheral ethnic kinship, like foreign bodies? Was it the name, the promise of an authentic version of what is truly Chinese?

Ana Chang's site-specific installation Journey Into the Centre (Beyond the Western World) both overtly and discreetly addressed these concerns. Her interventionist text (in English) was applied onto the street-level glass windows of the CCC complex, enveloping the architecture as reified Chinese culture. "Dis place, this place.. We are not, have not." The fractured narrative shifted from public to private, formal to personal, Chinese then Canadian then elsewhere. "On Location: Vancouver, Beijing, etc. 'Where are you from?' 'Canada.' 'No. Where are you really from...'" So successful was the installation in fusing with the existing built environment that many viewers did not perceive it to be art, or overlooked it entirely.

We received some criticism that problematics around identity did not represent everyone's experiences. The suggestion was that Self Not Whole comprised of a special interest group (of nontraditional artists). What this more accurately reflected was the marginalization of these artists from mainstream Chinese-Canadian cultural values. They were confronting the idea of a monolithic Chinese tradition by speaking of contradictions within Chinese-Canadian experience, that there was not and could not be a singular perspective of community, that there was difference within difference in this cultural space.

Paul Wong's video-installation Ordinary Shadows, Chinese Shade spoke about such contradictions in an eloquent and matter-of-fact manner. His approach touched upon nerves still raw for many, and drew attention from individuals in the management and the Board of the CCC. They were afraid that certain elements would be misinterpreted, and as a result, on the morning of the opening, the room in which his work was situated became locked.

Paul Wong's installation alluded to the idea of China as homeland, and exposed a sensitivity to specific local community politics, in particular, communism. Given the CCC's aims and alliances in its formative days in the early 70s, it was no longer deemed desirable to raise these nationalistic red lanterns once again. One component of the installation consisted of flags of China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Canada hanging next to each other. The CCC requested that three of the four be taken down (guess which?) for fear that offence would be taken by such juxtaposition. Near the flags were windows in front of which curtains were hung. The curtains were made up of repeating portraits of former P.R.C. leader Zhou En-Lai, a moderate during the Cultural Revolution. A bolder gesture was a large image of Mao Zedong overlooking the central courtyard from the second-floor windows of the Multipurpose Hall. For an organization that had, over time, declared itself 'apolitical,' the appearance of the Great Helmsman was indeed an ironic reminder of the CCC's socialist-informed past. The final and most contentious element was a flag of the Peoples' Republic draped over a footstool in front of an ornate, kitschy dragon throne on which sat the video monitor. The flag could be construed as lying on the floor, a sign of disrespect, and worse yet, could potentially be stepped on, an insult beyond repair. Hours of negotiation with the Chairman of the Board and the General Manager prior to the opening reception succeeded in reaching a compromise. The irreverent flag of China on the footstool was eventually replaced with a red cloth. The other questionably offensive elements were allowed to remain. In this manner, with all sides, the artist, organizers, and management agreeing to changes, face was saved.

In hindsight, the risk that the CCC took in exhibiting Paul's work was minor, but the concerns raised were very real. They feared offending what they called their 'grassroots' base.³I have yet to understand what this ambiguous and unidentified term means, in this and other cases. As organizers, we were either too wary or too indifferent to the CCC's possible reaction to the exhibition, and with if proper protocol had been followed, the subject matter of Paul's as well as the other artists' works could have been discussed in advance (not that the censorship issue would have been averted entirely). In our desire to urge the artists to create new work and to claim the space as best they could, to see if such outsiders would find comfort in such an environment, we neglected to inform our host, the CCC, what the artists were planning. Our project could be interpreted as an act of cultural imperialism, an imposition of cultural values alien to those of many of Chinese descent, or at least those of the CCC. After all, we were their guests—guest curators, guest artists, guest organizers— and guests have responsibilities.

It was interesting to note that Paul Wong's Ordinary Shadows, Chinese Shade proved to one of the more successful and popular works in the show, for the videotape component depicts his relationship to his ancestral village, contrasted by the ever-changing mid-'80s urban China. It found its ideal audience in the CCC, in particular with old men and women who would sit through the entire 90 minutes mesmerized by an insider's journey to Toisan.

Response overall to the exhibition was extremely positive, and attendance for all events were very high, bolstered by the strong press coverage we received in English and Chinese media. Many Chinese- and other Canadians made their first visits to the CCC. Self Not Whole succeeded in traversing cultural, linguistic, and generational boundaries among the diverse Chinese communities.

Support from the CCC for Racy Sexy was garnered through a process that sharply contrasted that of Self Not Whole. The latter exhibition had been presented to the Board at the last minute by the CCC coordinator Saintfield Wong, resulting in confusion about who the curators and artists were, what the theme was, and overall, what to expect. The confrontation over Paul Wong's work was the result of miscommunication and fear of the unknown. The CCC Board at that time had felt no control or ownership over the show, and too late, the then-Chairman reacted to reclaim it. After weathering such an experience, we took great pains to ensure that with Racy Sexy, protocol was dutifully followed. Lobbying individual Board members created a safer environment when the project was formally presented, and subsequent updates kept the project alive at the Board level.

Self Not Whole was an intervention in the normative function of the CCC, where ideas and ideals of essential Chinese forms and languages are promoted. It brought together, without attempting to synthesize, the contemporary and the traditional through the voices of local artists, while resisting a definitive representation of Chinese-Canadian experience. It also proved threatening to CCC, for the politics of identity questioned Chineseness, homeland, and nationhood. Self Not Whole was an insertion of conflicting and confronting views of Chinese Canadian culture. It was an irritant, it created discomfiture; it hit home.

1. Self Not Whole was presented from November 2 to 30,1991. The visual artists were Ana Chang, Diana Li, Mary Sui-Yee Wong, Paul Wong, Kiki Yee, Sharyn Yuen, and the Pender Guy Radio Collective. Readings were by Jamila Ismael, Larissa Lai, Corinne Lee, Sky Lee, and Wong Wing Siu, performances by Number One Son, Lee Su-Feh, River Sui, and Sebastian Yeung, coordinated by Lance Lim, and catalogue essays written by Heesok Chang, Rosa Ho, and Karin Lee. CCC Exhibition coordinator was Saintfield Wong.
2. The term "traditional Chinese art" used here is unavoidably problematic, but I use it to refer to work that is situated within the art historical traditions of Chinese formal and aesthetic strategies. Calligraphy and watercolours dominated In Transitions, although some oil and acrylic paintings, sculptures, and a few installation and photo-based works were included.
3. I have yet to understand what this ambiguous and unidentified term means, in this and other cases.