Just like many fellows in this class, I have a deep emotional connection with Beijing. To be honest, Beijing is definitely not a love-at-first-sight city for me. It is rather chaotic and uncouth compared to other first-tier cities like Shanghai or Shenzhen. Having lived in Beijing for four years and gradually picked up the local accent, from time to time I recalled an imaginary city called Anastasia in Italo Calvino’s book Invisible Cities: “The city appears to you as a whole where no desire is lost and of which you are a part, and since it enjoys everything you do not enjoy, you can do nothing but inhabit this desire and be content.” Is Beijing such an indifferent metropolis? I wondered.
In my junior year at college, I initiated a documentary project called “BJ Dreaming” (aka “Dreaming of Peach-Blossoms in Beijing”), aiming to explore what this city means to the residents, both the local and the migrant, the young and the old. The Peach-Blossom Visionary Land refers to a prototypical Utopia to dwell upon in the traditional Chinese context. I pondered the question that whether Beijing could become a modern “peach-blossom land” for diverse communities to celebrate their lifestyles and fulfill their dreams.
To complete the documentary, I traversed the city and explored almost every corner of the four districts (Haidian, Chaoyang, Dongcheng, Xicheng) in the urban area, interviewing people and recording lively moments at a food market, a Buddhist temple, a theater, a gay bar, and several parks, cafes, and bookstores. The sites I selected were not merely for tourists to consume and take pictures; instead they were public places both distinctive and daily for local people. (See the distinction between Nanluoguxiang and Wudaoying made in Emma’s post.)
During filming, I witnessed proper “togetherness” occurring in these public places illustrated by Jane Jacobs in The Death and Life of Great American Cities— “bring together people who do not know each other in an intimate, private social fashion” (p.56). It is through such conviviality (or casual, public contact on certain occasions) that energies and connections between strangers can be sparked. A vivid example is Changpu River Park, where older citizens could gather and date with each other. Besides, people would feel at home in very public places: old souls could search for antiquarian books about traditional Beijing in a very low price in Zhenyang Bookstore; foreigners could find fresh seafood and condiments from their hometowns in Sanyuanli Food Market; queers could feel free to perform themselves and make friends in Destination Bar. For the last case, it is noteworthy that the bar achieved a subtle balance between openness and privacy in terms of spatial practice, for it functioned as a temporary socio-cultural asylum that harbors queers from the everywhere homosexual gaze in this city. And this is exactly the biggest fascinating part of Beijing in my observation: though far from perfect, it is really a big city, inclusive enough to leave some space for history, for weirdos, and for the underprivileged.
Here are some snapshots of Beijing taken by me in May 2018.
