

Just as you think China's contemporary art scene can't get any stranger, something comes along that makesdecapitated taxidermy and on-stage urination seem positively mundane.
Sold to us simply with the pitch of 'enjoy lunch from within an installation', we rolled up at Rockbund Art Museum hungry and ready to be treated to something special by outlandish artist Zhang Ding. Judging by the looks of the corporately dressed group around us, we weren't the only ones hoping for a nice lunch accompanied by a spot of – albeit unusual – afternoon art.
Upon arrival we were asked to sign a waver agreeing that a direct stream of our lunch experience could be broadcast live on the internet. This should have been our first warning, but in the name of art (or maybe food) we agreed. After signing, we were stamped on the arm with a number and told to stand up against the backdrop of a prison cell, where our heights were measured and our mugshots taken. At this point, we realised we were doing an excellent job of proving that there is very little we won't do when promised with a free meal.

On the fourth floor of the museum, we were told very briefly that now we would be locked into a cage and not be allowed to leave until we had finished the entirety of the lunch. We were forbidden to ask questions, and our photographer could stand outside of the cage, but not enter with us. We blindly followed a group of security who escorted us to the entrance.

As we entered the exhibition space, we were dazzled by a room full of eight huge metal, gold-painted cages, containing large, gold tables and benches, with gold chopsticks, cups and spoons laid out on the tables in front of us. It was as if someone had gathered together every ounce of garishness in all of the contemporary art in all of the world and squeezed it together in one room. It truly was impressively ostentatious.


Locked in one of the cages and sat on the hard benches, we were served five small, plastic (but of course, gold-coated) containers of food. We were then told each dish had been meticulously crafted by the expert team of chefs at the Peace Hotel (yay!), but, with the sole aim of recreating the type of food found in Chinese prisons (oh...).

The first dish contained what can only be described as a mixture of unidentifiable chewy, lukewarm street meat. Other highlights included a container of soggy cabbage, and dish number three offered four small pieces of fried fish that were more bone than flesh. A woman on our table reminded us we had to finish all five dishes before we were allowed to leave, and we started to wonder if we'd be taking the rest of the week off work. Dish number four was a slightly more acceptable beef and cold noodles combination, and dish number five, plain steamed bread, was thankfully, edible.


The doors to the cells are opened every 30 minutes to allow inmates who have finished their meals to leave – miss your chance and your stay is extended, so we'd highly recommend making the most of the water on the table and chowing down before you have time to think about what you're eating.

Why is everything in the prison gold? 'Because Zhang Ding loves gold!' ...or so we were told, which we suppose is as good an answer as any. Zhang Ding himself stood outside the cages, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, silently observing the visitors within. We were also told that many of the tables and benches have already been sold to visitors, at an undisclosed price, proving that for some, too much is really never enough when it comes to gold (coated) decor.
This experiment of social restriction certainly raises many questions, not least why sub-par school dinners should be worth 159RMB a ticket. But you are without a doubt paying for the theatrics and the atmosphere – and once you're released from the cage you're sent to the bar to celebrate with a 'free' beer.

Zhang Ding: Devouring Time is at Rockbund Art Museum until Sunday 11 September. Reserve your tickets two days in advance through the Rockbund app, or by contacting the gallery directly. Tickets are 159RMB.
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