This is the report that was submitted to the MIT Science and Technology Initiative following a field study in Beijing, China, on contemporary Chinese piano music that took place 21 May 1997 - 10 June 1997.
A Beijing streetside billboard. The upper sign urges citizens to be more civic-minded. © EC 1997.
Since its beginnings in the 1930s, Chinese piano music has grown and blossomed into a genre with its own history and unique character. The early Chinese composers, returning from the conservatories of Europe and Russia, drew inspiration from the numerous folk sources of China, as well as their foreign schools, to create a new and nationalistic class of music. As in other fields of art, the Cultural Revolution dealt a heavy blow to the members of this movement. But their momentum continued and has since picked up speed.
More than half a century later, anthologies of pieces have been compiled and essays written about the composers of Chinese piano music. Unfortunately, most of this material is not available outside of China, and the literature is in Chinese. Much of the music, once published, are now out of print and hard to find. Only a select few pieces have been reprinted in new collections.
After a visit to Shanghai when I collected some Chinese piano pieces, I presented a concert of Chinese and Russian piano music at MIT in April of 1996. I quickly realized that my collection of Chinese piano music was far from complete and I knew next to nothing about the pieces or their composers.
My goals for this trip to Beijing, China, were twofold. I wanted to establish contact with musicians and scholars in the field of contemporary Chinese piano music; and, I wanted to collect music scores, recordings and literature on this genre.
I learnt very quickly about the proverbial guanxi (connections) which greases the wheels of all contact between people in China. Through such an arrangement, I managed to get relatively inexpensive (160 yuan per day which is cheap for "foreigner" rates) accommodations at the Foreign Experts Quarters of the China Radio Station, literally right across the main thoroughfare (Fuxingmenwai Dajie) from the Central Conservatory. I was billed as the "personal guest" of Mr. Yu, who was the friend of Ms. Zeng, who was a family friend of Prof. Kwei, who was a friend of my father. I all but met Mr. Yu for the brief 5 minutes in which he put in an appearance on the day I checked in.
Mindful of this custom, I had contacted Cathy Chan (Tan Jialing) of the Foundation for Chinese Performing Arts based in Lincoln, MA, before I embarked on my trip. She sent me a personal letter of introduction to Mrs. Jiang Wenye (widow of the famous composer), as well as a package for her containing compact disks and recent concert programs of events sponsored by her organization. Cathy also gave me several names of US-based Chinese musicians, through whom I further gained contact names and phone numbers of their friends and family members in Beijing.
Professor Kwei Xiang Yun, now retired professor of the Institute of Applied Mathematics and Academia Sinica and former vice-president of the Operations Research Society of China © EC 1997.
Mdm Wu Yunzhen, standing in front of a portrait of her deceased husband, composer Jiang Wenye (a.k.a. Bunya Koh) © EC 1997.
Cathy Chan's introduction got me a meeting with Mrs. Jiang Wenye (Wu Yunzhen) on my very first day in Beijing. Jiang Wenye (1910-1983) was one of the vanguard of contemporary Chinese music. Born in Taiwan and schooled in Japan (Taiwan was then a colony of Japan), he eventually settled in Beijing. As professor of composition at the Central Conservatory, his modern and forward-looking compositional techniques are astonishingly advanced even in retrospect today. Unfortunately, because of his affiliations to Japan and Taiwan, he and his family suffered greatly during the Cultural Revolution.
A woman who carried herself with dignity and poise, Mrs. Jiang met me at the gates of the Conservatory and received me warmly into her home with special maojian tea. We took an instant liking to each other and chatted for hours before her daughter, Xiaoyun, came home for lunch and we dined at the Conservatory's cafeteria.
I was to return several more times to sip maojian tea with Mrs. Jiang and chat about everything under the sun. I learnt that there was no such thing as a personal question in China. Boundaries, like personal space, do not exist here. She wanted to know everything about me: Why was I here? How old was I? Was I married? Why not? In turn, she generously shared everything about her life with me. She told me about how she met her husband, their romantic moments by the lake right after the first snowfall, her husband's generosity towards his children, his love for life and photography, her refusal to meet the various important officials that her friends tried to fix her up with after his death, her daughter's marriage, her son's struggle with depression. I felt like we had known each other for years, to be entrusted with all this personal information.
I never felt her many questions to be intrusive or callous. Perhaps I sensed that she was genuinely interested and shared equally, listening with the same intensity as when she spoke. I grew to greatly respect her honesty and the inner peace that emanated from her whole being in spite of her troubles.
Mrs. Jiang lent me music scores of her favorite works by her husband. One of them he had composed as a gift to her when they first met. I made xerox copies of all this music. The day before I left, I saw her one last time. My last memory was of her standing on the steps of her apartment building, sending me off with tears in her eyes.
Professor Liang and me at the Central Music Conservatory. © EC 1997
One of my contacts through Cathy Chan was Liang Lei, a young Chinese composition student at the New England Conservatory. Liang Lei's father, a professor of modern Chinese classical music, Liang Maochun is a benign and scholarly, if slightly rotund, man with glasses. During the period of my stay in Beijing, he was conducting a graduate seminar on modern Hong Kong classical music at the Central Conservatory. I attended a couple of these sessions. These were my only meetings with him in person during my stay in Beijing.
The first such seminar I attended featured a young Hong Kong composer by the name of Joshua Chan (Chen Jinbiao). We heard three of his sample works after which he gave a short speech about his compositional philosophy and process. The students had much to say about his works, not all of which were very meaningful. The main criticism they, and the faculty present, had was that Chan's works lacked a distinctive character. It was a smorgasbord of east and west, and even within the east, it was unclear from which region of China he drew his inspirations. For example, the celebrated young Chinese composer, Tan Dun, makes frequent and clear references to the traditional music and shamanistic rituals of his home province, Henan.
Professor Liang with Christopher Hamm, PhD candidate at
PhD candidate in East Asian Studies from
UC Berkeley. © EC 1997.
Professor Liang was not able to schedule another composer in the second session, so he invited a visiting graduate student from U.C. Berkeley, John Christopher Hamm, to speak on Hong Kong's popular culture. Christopher conducts research on the genre of kungfu stories, in particular, the works of Jin Yong. He was insecure about his command of the language and read from a script, which I thought took away from the content of his message.
Professor Liang proved to be an invaluable help in setting up meetings with other musicians. He knew everybody, or so it seemed. Despite his busy schedule, he called Zhou Guangren (pianist) and Wei Tingge (musicologist specializing in Chinese piano music) on my behalf to make the proper introductions.
Graduate seminar on HK music run my Professor Liang. © EC 1997.
Wei Tingge, Musicologist at the Music Research Center.
I had acquired two anthologies of Chinese piano music edited by Wei Tingge while in Beijing, and so was quite looking forward to meeting this musicologist in person. His are some of the first comprehensive and objective compilations of skillfully written contemporary Chinese piano music since 1979.
The last such anthology of Chinese piano music (published in 1979 by the People's Music Publishing House) was compiled by the Musician's Society of China and contained only works between 1949 and 1979. It is highly doubtful that the selections in the 1949-1979 anthology were comprehensive or objective, and certainly, many more exceptional compositions have been written since then. The other competing recent collection of Chinese piano music, also published by the People's Music Publishing House, was edited, in typical bureaucratic style, by the entire piano faculty of the Central Conservatory.
A researcher at the Music Research Center of the Chinese Arts Research Institute, Mr. Wei looked young and energetic for his fifty odd years. He had the dark swarthy looks of a southerner and irreverent shoulder-length hair uncommon amongst men in China. He was very concerned that I knew clearly that his first love was playing the piano.
A cynic and skeptic, I found I had a challenging time convincing Mr. Wei that I was not one of the many rich and pampered qianjin1 from Taiwan or Hong Kong, living in the lap of luxury. At the end of our meeting and lunch, he was somewhat convinced that I possess decent pianistic skills and was a serious scholar. We traded criticisms about various music compositions, pianists and competitions. He even walked me to my bus stop and waited until I boarded.
Professor Zhou Guangren with her husband, Professor Liu Shuoyong, formerly a research librarian at the Tianjin Music Conservatory. Photo © EC 1997.
On asking around, I learnt that the two premiere piano professors at the conservatory were Zhou Guangren and Li Qifang. Li Qifang left for Shanghai to judge a piano competition the very next day after I contacted her. So I did not have the opportunity to meet her. But I did get together with her star pupil, Huang Yamong, a couple times for lunch and to hear her play some Chinese piano pieces.
Professor Liang had contacted Zhou Guangren on my behalf, greatly facilitating our meeting. Prior to our encounter, I was delighted to find that Professor Zhou had an entry in my recently acquired four-volume Encyclopedia of Contemporary and Modern Chinese Musicians edited by Xiang Tingsheng.
Born Ursula Chou in Hanover, Germany, and raised in Shanghai, Zhou Guangren was the first Chinese pianist to be placed in an international piano competition. Electing to remain in her homeland in spite of invitations and offers to do otherwise, Zhou Guangren has become almost a legendary name connected to piano music and music education in China. She survived the many vicissitudes of her life: her parents' objection to her choice of profession, her husband's suicide during the Cultural Revolution, her hand injury while working on the farms, a crushed hand when a piano collapsed on her. Each time she recovered, triumphant and determined. Today, she is happily remarried to a longtime family friend, Liu Shuoyong.
Like Mrs. Jiang, Professor Zhou welcomed me with open arms into her home. A warm and energetic woman brimming with laughter, she looked young and vibrant for her sixty-nine years. Like all my other appointments, this one with her began in the morning and lasted well past lunchtime, into the early hours of the afternoon.
Professor Zhou was tickled pink that my name sounded just like her daughter's; she threw herself into my Chinese-French music concert project and was soon sparking ideas for pairs of Chinese-French pieces. Her husband, who was also present was trying to show me his Boston Pops collection, inspired by the recording I had brought them as a gift. They were a fun-loving couple and I observed with great delight their playful banter with each other.
Professor Zhou very generously gave me a couple of compact disks featuring her playing and a large collection of Chinese piano music books, the ones which she had bought more than one copy. The others she lent to me to make xerox copies. Many of these scores are no longer in print, which made her gift all the more valuable.
Professor Zhou and me at her home. © EC 1997.
Xeroxing
Xeroxing music was a nightmare. Self-service a la Kinko's had not yet been discovered except near embassy-land on the eastern side of the city. Although Jiang Xiaoyun, who works as a research librarian at the Conservatory, assures me that the library had recently acquired a brand new xeroxing machine, the sample copies I saw resembled documents which had been run over by truck tires. I deduced that either these were made using the old machines or the person on duty had no idea how to adjust the exposure on the new machine.
After encountering much indifference at several privately-owned printing shops, I decided that inefficiency at close proximity was more manageable than inefficiency across town and opted for the local printing shop. I had to return multiple times to ensure all my copies were made in the correct order, no lines of music had been accidentally amputated, and to search for Jiang Wenye's score of his Taiwanese Dances which they had carelessly lost. I managed to get all my copies made and returned before I the end of my stay, but only after many frustrating encounters, heart palpitations and, no doubt, some reduction in my lifespan.
Gathering Resources
A good part of my time in Beijing was spent seeking out music bookstores, scouring them for Chinese piano music, recordings and related literature such as musician biographies and music dictionaries. I also attended several concerts at the Beijing Concert Hall, which featured at least one performance every day. I was very glad for this opportunity to explore the city by all modes of transportation ranging from private taxis to public buses and the subway.
Orbit Music Publishing House
Mrs. Jiang Wenye took me to the Conservatory bookstore, the Orbit Music Publishing House, my first day in Beijing. A modest establishment with an enormous wealth of the newest Chinese piano music scores located by the gates of the Central Conservatory, it was staffed by a petite and slightly bossy woman by the name of Xiang Yuchun. I bought over 600 yuans' worth of books that first day, and returned to purchase more the following week. Their address is: 43S Baojia Jie, West City, Beijing 100031, China; the telephone numbers: 6605-3531 x552, 6603-5044; and fax: 6603-5044.
Hua Cai Music Bookstore
Before I left for Beijing, Yang Yong, another Boston-area Chinese composer, had told me about the Hua Cai Music Bookstore and the Xin Hua Music Bookstore. What used to be the Xin Hua Bookstore in Wangfujing had been demolished and a construction site stood in its place. But I found the Hua Cai Music Bookstore easily in photogenic Liulichang. Here was where I found Wei Tingge's hardcover anthologies of Chinese piano music and the Encyclopedia of Contemporary and Modern Chinese Musicians. I bought approximately thirty pounds of books that day! The address is: The People's Music Publishing House - Hua Cai Culture Service Company, 36 Liulichang West Street, Xuanwu District, Beijing; and their telephone numbers as: 6303-4781, 6303-4057.
Beijing Concert Hall
While in Beijing, I attended several performances at the Beijing Concert Hall. My first concert there was a gala event for the 55th anniversary celebration of Mao Zedong's poetry and prose. These were grandiose arrangements and melodramatic performances of Mao's writings which are reputedly quite well done. I received complimentary tickets to another similar event from Huang Yamong who was accompanying a singer. Apparently this art form of combining recitation and vocal singing is a popular way to express poetry here: first the text is recited, then the singer begins, both are given equal importance. Other performances I attended at the Beijing Concert Hall were by a visiting chamber music group from Geneva who performed an avant garde Chinese piece; a student concert featuring some Chinese piano pieces; and, an evening at the Laoshe Tea House nearby.
Wan Sheng Bookstore
While at the Beijing Concert Hall, I had much time to browse in their bookstore. The store sells music scores (disorganized and chucked in a corner shelf behind the cashier) compact disks and mainly literary books. I found some books here which were already sold out at other locations, as well as a Chinese music dictionary. The address is: Wan Sheng No. 1 Branch Store, 1 Beixinhuajie, Liuibukou (inside Beijing Concert Hall), Beijing 100031; telephone number: 6605-0157. The main store (including the mailing department), Beijing Wan Sheng Book Garden is located at: 60 Chengfujie, Haiding, Beijing 100080; and their phone number is: 6261-2799; fax: 6262-1606.
The People's Music Publishing House
Even though a few independent publishing companies are gaining some foothold on the market, practically all music scores I had seen were published by the People's Music Publishing House. I got their address from a visitor from the Music Teachers' Training College who was auditing Professor Liang's seminar. Located approximately 25 minutes' walk from the Gongzhufen subway stop, it was nestled deep inside a hardly noticeable hutong off Cuiwei Road.
My first time there, the employees had all left work by 4 p.m. that Friday for a company sports event. I returned the following week to find that the Chinese piano music selection at their warehouse compared quite unfavorably to that of the other bookstores I had frequented. However, they did have a much larger proportion of classical Chinese instrumental pieces and I found an arrangement of Chinese cello-piano duo pieces -- few Chinese composers have ventured far from violin and piano compositions, so this was a rare find indeed. The address of this establishment: 2 Cuiweilu, Fuxingmenwai, Beijing 100036; telephone numbers: 6821-0002 x 3066 or x 3074. Xin Hua Bookstore
I eventually located the illusive Xin Hua Bookstore. It had been temporarily moved to the fourth floor of the Foreign Language Bookstore in Wangfujing. Here I struck a mother lode of Chinese classical compact discs. The only recordings of the piano music I had acquired were by the established and more elderly faculty of the Conservatory. It was important to find these valuable recordings of the same pieces performed by masters on traditional Chinese instruments. The phone numbers of the Wangfujing Xin Hua Bookstore are: (third floor, recordings) 6525-1946, 6525-2592; (fourth floor, books) 6512-0678, 6525-3775.
Zeng Xiaozhuang with her husband, Pan Jiaren (vice-president of the Design Institute of the Ministry of Radio, Film and TV) and their daughter, Pan Jian.
On the fifth floor at the China Radio Station's Foreign Experts Building, my neighbors were mainly foreigners who had, at some time or other, worked for the radio station. Across the hallway was an Italian-Japanese family and a Nigerian family. The furnishings were old but were more than enough for my purposes -- I had a refridgerator, a television, a room with two single beds, a bathroom and a living room to receive guests. Each day, a young woman would bring hot water for my thermos flask, and once a week, she would mop the floor as well.
A minor glitch occurred the day before I checked out. The agreed-upon price of 160 yuan per day had been raised to 200 yuan when I asked for the bill. On further questioning, the office worker insisted that 200 yuan was the official fee. I refused the pay the sum and called Mr. Pan, Ms. Zeng's husband as she was away in Xinjiang on a business trip. After half a day of phone calls tracking down Mr. Yu, the fee returned to the original contract sum.
One of my goals was to acquire contemporary Chinese piano music scores and literature related to this genre. My acquisitions at the bookstores mentioned in section 4 and the generous gifts and loans from Professor Zhou Guangren and Mrs. Jiang Wenye are documented in Appendix B. I returned with approximately 140 pounds of music books. Fortunately, the airport was packed on the morning of my flight and my luggage was not weighed. The MIT music library now owns a third of this collection.
My other goal was to established contact with musicians involved in contemporary Chinese piano music. I feel honored to have met and spent considerable time with the following: pianist Zhou Guangren; wife of composer Jiang Wenye, Wu Yunzhen; Chinese piano music researcher, Wei Tingge; modern Chinese musicologist, Liang Maochun and others. I plan to maintain these professional and personal friendships for a future time when I will return to Beijing.
I have newfound respect for the role of personal relations. Relationships are of importance to varying extent in business and career everywhere. In China, the role of personal relations is well-defined in all human interactions. This time-honored tradition sets up a bartering system by which favors are given and owed. In my brief immersion in this system, I have seen the strength of these friendships which transcend time and are often cultivated over generations. I left with a sobering thought, wondering at the extent of the debt I have incurred on this trip.
One of my first goals after the trip to Beijing is to learn and present the music I have acquired to the public. As part of the advanced music performance scholarship program, I will be working on selected piano pieces from China. This work will culminate in a piano recital at MIT in the spring. This same recital will be repeated at the 1998 Singapore Arts Festival Fringe. In preparation, I am currently learning the music and translating biographies of the composers.
To provide a context in which to understand the music, I plan to have a parallel exhibition of some of the photographs I took while in China. I have a total of approximately 600 photographs, both color as well as black and white, taken with a Pentax K1000 camera. I had a very favorable meeting with the director of the MIT Art Association, Ed McCluney; and he has approved my request to have approximately 80 of these pictures exhibited at the Weisner Student Art Gallery in conjunction with the recital. I am currently applying for a grant to enlarge and frame the photographs.
Most of the pieces I have collected have not been heard outside of China except at international piano competitions when Chinese competitors are required to present a piece from their home country. Even more rarely are they available in recording, and then, only in China, Hong Kong or Taiwan. I hope to fill this gap in the American music scene by getting the public radio stations interested in recording and airing some of these Chinese piano pieces. Eventually, I hope to record this music for wider distribution.
One of my longer term goals is to return to Beijing with a team to document further interviews with pianists, musicologists and composers involved in the development and research of contemporary Chinese music. I strongly believe that they have a fascinating and multifaceted story which is well worth telling.
Stone lion outside the Forbidden City. © EC 1997.
Appendix A: Calendar of Events
Appendix B: List of Books and Compact Disks
This project was made possible by the MISTI China Program.
Created 4 August 1997. © EC 1997. Last modified 22 September 1997.