This year, 1991, seems to be of special meaning in the arts world.

It has been exactly ten years since the founding of the first institution exclusively responsible for culture--the Council for Cultural Planning and Development (CCPD).

The first national arts academy to be established since the government moved to Taiwan is entering its tenth year. In May of this year, the National Institute of the Arts said goodbye to its provisional home in Luchow, Taipei County, and formally moved to its new site at Kuantu. A series of performance activities were held to celebrate "Kuantu Year One."

In society the New Aspect Company, which has beep important in introducing refined arts and has made great contributions to the arts in Taiwan--after thirteen years of frequently having to start from scratch because of financial problems or objective limitations--this year is holding its "Tenth International Art Festival," with ten types of performances from ten different countries.

The leader in the magazine industry, Commonwealth--the first journal specializing in economics--reached ten full years this June.

Similarly putting ten years behind them are the Lan Ling Theater, a pioneer in experimental theater in Taiwan, and the "New Wave" of filmmakers who represent "Taiwan consciousness." Both have already darkened after resplendent periods, but their impact on Taiwan's culture still ripples, so that after them there has been a flourishing of "one hundred schools of thought."

That all of this comes together is no coincidence.

The 1980's were a "great leap forward" in Taiwan's three hundred year history. The political system was liberalized, the economy grew rapidly, and civil society exploded with a vitality that was irrepressible. Given these events, cultural affairs, which had always had a weak foundation in policy terms and which did not get much attention from anyone, were raised up with the tides, mixing with politics, economics, and society, and producing dramatic changes. These changes came in many forms, and it is hard to grasp them all at once. Those who are worried say they are chaotic phenomena. Optimists say that amidst the hurly-burly there is a force leading in the right direction.

In terms of the political impact, since the Kaohsiung incident in 1979, the strength of the opposition has grown steadily. In the middle of the 1980's a series of breakthroughs were finally made in the prohibition on parties, martial law, the ban on new newspapers, and the ban on exchanges between the two sides of the Taiwan Straits, which permitted the forces of civil society to be released even more thoroughly. Cultural activities also gained more room to exist.

With the beginning of the New Wave in filmmaking at the beginning of the 1980's, the growth of Taiwan over the past thirty years--including previously unmentionable bitterness, grievances, and chaos--could gradually appear in a relatively realistic way on the silver screen. The passion and self-consciousness of intellectuals for Taiwan's own traditions and land gradually escaped from the "hat" of "Taiwan independence traitors" and gained release. Although the "New Wave" withered for a variety of reasons, its spirit was maintained, and reached its peak in the winner of the 1989 Venice Film Festival Award: City of Sadness, a film depicting the February 28 incident.

After the New Wave got started, a series of political liberalizations further stimulated the "native consciousness" and search for roots of Taiwanese. Taiwan folk opera and Taiwanese language culture, scorned in the past, became the "new nobility" of culture. On university campuses, clubs to study Taiwan history and the Taiwanese language sprang up. "Everyone say that you love Taiwan" and "What is native is beautiful" became the watchwords of culture.

Happily, the vitalization of "folk" and "native" forces meant that culture was no longer a slogan raised by the government, only to be met by popular apathy. It was able to set deep roots in the lives of the next generation. The Hsin Ho Hsing Taiwanese Opera Troupe, which last year won the National Heritage Award, offered classes in several middle schools in Yuan-lin Township which were very popular. Hsi-chih Township in Taipei County, which emphasizes itself as a "cultural strongpoint," has included nan-kuan and pei-kuan music, the Cart Drum chen, shadow puppetry, and other popular arts in the primary school curriculum.

As part of this growing awareness, from the founding of the "Hsin-kang Cultural Foundation" in 1987, self-developed "local cultural foundations" have gradually spread to many rural townships and small cities. They are not only committed to preserving Taiwan's traditional folk culture, but also bring culture from China's other regions, as well as more modern things, to small towns. This type of local self-sponsored cultural capability will be an important force in promoting domestic culture in the future.

On the other side of "native consciousness" came a shock produced by cultural exchange with the mainland. After the work Chess King, Tree King, Child King by the mainland novelist Ah Cheng was serialized in Taiwan in the middle 1980's, mainland novels were all the rage in bookstores. And not just novels--mainland paintings, films, dramas, folk dances, handicrafts, and even scholarly works brought Taiwan artists to the mainland to "search for their origins" and "uncover treasures." This fever has still not receded, and has enriched the content of culture on the island.

Since the political system has moved toward democracy, it has brought a comprehensive change in the posture of cultural policy. A number of agencies with official authority over culture, such as the Ministry of Education, the CCPD, or the Government Information Office all decided to move from being "cultural policemen" to being "cultural babysitters." A case in point: The "Script Review System" which caused such a stir two years ago was quietly scrapped last year.

Like the series of street demonstrations and movements that arose after the lifting of martial law, the broadening of the official dimensions for culture has also induced several cultural protests. But unlike the subtlety of the New Wave cinema when it first started out, the cultural protests of the late 1980's were naked, and explicitly critical. For example, between 1987 and 1990, there was the brief but intense small theater movement. You can see something of their "protest" nature just from titles like October or "Mangpatan and Wei Jingsheng." Rock Records released the Taiwanese language album Song of Insanity produced by the "Blacklist Workshop." Bookstores and kiosks were packed with "critical biographies" of all manner of political figures. Even the relatively quiet arena of fine arts had some "protest exhibitions" like the May 20 Fine Arts Exhibit, with works full of barely concealed anger.

Yet, paradoxically, in the course of political liberalization many "new voices" took advantage of the cracks in the system to cry out. But as politics has come closer to total openness, with virtually no taboos, many cultural workers suddenly lost the focus of their protest performances, and had to take a quiet period off. Political democratization gave culture new opportunities. But because many people had their first taste of "it's my right," and hadn't learned democratic principles, the phenomenon of "nobody is afraid of anybody around here" led people to be anxious, and indirectly killed the profound introspection that is part of art, and distorted the nature of its expression.

National Institute of the Arts (NIA) professor Yao Yi-wei, who often tells students, "don't think you can bring the play offstage with you," could not help bemoaning when she saw legislators in the Legislative Yuan fighting and putting on a show for the media every day. "When you've got this type of living farce going on, who needs the drama on stage?" Yao Yi-wei argues that the most artistic, refined drama is one that meticulously "makes the unreal real," whereas "making the real unreal" is rampant in society. Legislators who throw fists in front of the cameras can be amiable and laughing the instant they are out of the lens. This type of even more bizarre, more stimulating "performance" has diverted society's attention. Who's around to appreciate the real artists giving their all on stage?

One cultural policy official threw up his hands and revealed that it's just like twenty years ago when Peking opera was to serve the "Chinese Cultural Renaissance"; after martial law the extreme politicization tendency exists, only now it's on the side of the accusers.

The scope of politics has liberalized with astonishing speed, yet economic change has been equally eye-popping. In not more than ten years, Taiwan's per capita income has more than tripled, from US$2669 in 1981 to an estimated US$8619 today. This has meant a rapid increase in the number of people with money and leisure time. This is extremely "bullish" for culture and especially for more "high-brow" culture.

"Taiwan is rich, and can pay high prices. This is a great temptation for any performance group," says director Hsu Po-yun of New Aspect, which is this year holding the "Tenth Annual Arts Festival." After the rapid development of Japan and the "four dragons," European and American arts groups which rarely came to the Orient in the past now see their "Asian Tour" as an important part of their annual itinerary. And when they come to Asia, their managers never forget to take the initiative to see if there is any interest in inviting them to Taiwan. Unfortunately, there are too few locations to perform in Taiwan, so that often they have to "give it a miss."

In the past three years, many leading performers and troupes including Placido Domingo, Chick Corea, and the Martha Graham Dance Company have stopped in Taiwan, greatly broadening the perspective of local audiences. One of the biggest events was opera superstar Pavorotti and his "super price" of US$50,000. Tickets for the event ran from NT$3000-20,000 (US$120-800)!

With money the superstars began coming to Taiwan in droves. And Taiwan's cultural workers, with the help of the CCPD and various cultural foundations, began to go abroad in large numbers to study. When the NIA was first founded, three out of the four department chairpersons did not even have backgrounds in the given area, but this kind of situation is no longer seen. These days even the ordinary art lover can take advantage of the educational tours popular the last three years--like the European Music Tour or Japanese Museum Tour, to expand their cultural horizons.

Also after the arrival of wealth, the government could subsidize "big ticket" items. The expenditure of more than NT$60 billion on the National Theater and National Concert Hall, which opened in October, 1988, is representative. Moreover, beginning last year, the CCPD began to subsidize each county and city cultural center to the tune of NT$10 million per year. This year, the Department of Motion Picture Affairs of the Government Information Office is preparing NT$50 million to subsidize five films. In the "Six Year National Construction Plan," there is the goal of "one library for every town." All of these reveal the government's determination to achieve "a fair distribution of cultural wealth," and a society of "wealth and manners."

At the same time, the habit of assisting culture is gradually taking shape in the business community. For example, the Paolita Company budgets NT$8 million per year to support its "Paolita Artists Chorus." The Hsu Wen Chih Cultural Foundation and the CCPD cooperate to assist Kuo Hsiao chuang's Ya Yin Ensemble. President Enterprise's 7-Eleven shops subsidize the Screen Theater. There are countless other examples.

In June of this year, New Aspect brought Hello Dolly to Taiwan for the first time. Of the estimated NT$10 million pricetag, Yue Loong Motors paid two million, while Cathay Pacific Airlines gave free air tickets. "Frankly speaking, if we hadn't found big corporate sponsors, we wouldn't have taken the risk on this large scale performance," says Hsu Poyun. He agrees that this is one of the best changes in the arts world.

With relations between business and culture increasingly close, it was just this year that the CCPD proposed to amend the tax laws so that the total amount a business gives to cultural activities could be deducted at tax time. There was also no longer to be any upper limit. This provided timely encouragement to the trend. However, abroad, most arts groups rely on the three pillars of government subsidies, corporate assistance, and ticket sales. In Taiwan, the situation of the former two has already improved greatly, but there has been no sudden upsurge at the box office. It is not easy to expand the audience, and this has become a major Concern.

Taking the performance arts, "these last ten years both the quality and quantity of programs has gone up greatly, but supply exceeds demand and the audience has increased too slowly," points out Chou Tun-rern, general manager of Arts Formosa, who has six years experience in arts management. Hsu Po-yun adds, "These last three years, the National CKS Cultural Center, using its vast financial resources, has not only held a large number of activities, it has also done its utmost to keep ticket prices low. This has lowered the willingness of New Aspect's audience to buy tickets. On average, the box office is off by 20-30%."

You only have to take a trip to the National Theater or Concert Hall to discover that most ticket buyers are young people under 30, who can only afford mid- to low-priced tickets. Of them, university and high school students constitute a considerable proportion. This situation has not changed much in the last decade.

"Abroad, the main supporters of arts activities are a group of the middle class who regularly buy books or paintings or see performances. Culture is a part of their life, and they are its best supporters. It is sad that it has been impossible to develop such a 'cultural middle class' in Taiwan at any time," says Nan Fang-su, a writer for the Journalist newsweekly and an in-depth observer of cultural affairs.

The difficulty in developing a "cultural middle class" is related to the widespread habit of "rich man's purse, poor man's mindset."

One young person who is a planner in the publishing industry takes herself as an example. In university, there were always some "artistic youth" who loved art and would always get their friends to accompany them to all types of cultural activities. But once they left school, and entered society, they had their own families and quickly were infected with the traditional "work ethic." It seems that the pressures of real life have forced them to do nothing but focus on making money.

"Abroad, a young couple would rather not be able to save any money this month than miss an exciting performance," says this publishing planner. "But in Taiwan, if you don't make your anticipated deposit, most young couples would choose to give up the 'extravagant' budget for performances. This arises from a totally different value system."

If you look closely, you can see this "rich man's purse, poor man's mindset," everywhere in cultural activities. Arts Formosa's Chou Tun-jrern notes, "After a baptism of so many years of performing arts, it seems that the domestic audience still prefers 'big time foreign orchestras and dance troupes.'" Unless it is a performer with which the Taiwan audience is especially familiar, no matter how outstanding their artistic achievements, a "solo performance" or "solo album" usually ends up "well received but poorly patronized."

Despite the fact that Taiwan's cultural consumers are still mostly stuck in the "outsiders checking out what all the fuss is about" stage, it is not necessary to be pessimistic. This is because the tastes of the European or American cultural middle class have taken one or two hundred years of accumulated development, whereas Taiwan has had no more than 20 or 30 years of stable wealth. The vast majority of persons over forty had no chance to come in contact with refined culture when they were young, and their frugal habits cause them to be rather distant from the arts. As for those below forty, most are still in the phase of struggling for their families or companies. "Wait for these young people who were 'artistic youth,' and get into middle age and become a real middle class with money and leisure time, then Taiwan's culture should see a whole new climate," says our publishing case study confidently.

The economic takeoff is helpful for raising the quality of culture. But from another angle, some people believe that the roots of culture in Taiwan are weak. Sudden wealth at this time is by no means an unmixed blessing. This is especially true with the percolation of a "get rich quick" attitude into the arts, which will do even more to erode the roots of cultural development. For example, two years ago, with money games rampant, "arts in vestment" also boomed. The "arts appreciation classes" offered by the Taipei City Museum of Fine Arts were packed, and even needed a lottery to determine entrance. But of those who signed up, few were lovers of refined culture. Most were hoping to "cram" in order to get on the investment train.

During that period, prices for paintings went up crazily. A very small work by a famous painter could claim over a million, and was hard to get even then. Many of the older Taiwan painters who had worked in obscurity for a lifetime suddenly became hot property, "and some, thinking it wouldn't last, thought to make a bundle at last. It was common to see someone producing twenty or thirty canvasses a month. Anyway, the 'investors' only considered the painter's name, and not the quality," says one gallery owner sadly.

Similarly, the situation of "taking culture as a money tree" could also be seen in other fields. Nan Fang-su points out that, "Now almost no one publishes because they truly wish to write a book. The books that come out are either collections of previous articles or to take part in a competition. Anyway, all are supplementary to some other objective."

Fortunately, after the collapse of the stock market and real estate market last year, society has gradually begun to wake up from all variety of speculative money-making dreams, and the oldfashioned work ethic is once again winning acclaim. That the Biography of Sun Yun-suan, a life story with a moral of hard work published last year by Commonwealth, could be the top selling book at New Year's reflects changes in the way society is thinking.

One close observer of culture points out that since Taiwan cannot avoid traveling the path of development of a capitalized society, looking forward to the future. "cultural commercialization and popularization" are inevitable trends. "But at least you can do two things: One is to raise the cultural tastes of the public, and the second is to rely on the strength of the government and various public-minded foundations to insure that there is room for those especially, artistic, or experimental cultural works."

"Our government, society, and cultural workers should have a consensus on these two points, so that they should be able to reduce the ill effects of capitalism and the profit motive to a minimum," says this observer.

Looking at the overall picture, the broad environment of political democratization and economic prosperity has in the final analysis been a positive stimulus for culture. In these ten years, all kinds of domestic arts groups have shown startling growth: the number of galleries has increased from thirty-something in 1981 to nearly 150 today. The publishing industry sent 16,000 new books to the National Central Library in 1990 (not including children's books or textbooks), an increase of 25% in one year. Small-scale drama companies, dance troupes, chamber orchestras and so on are showing unprecedented vitality.

Taking dance for example, as early as 1975, the Cloud Gate group was formed. In 1988, director Lin Hwai-min announced that Cloud Gate would temporarily cease. His reason: "The larger environment has not seen any improvement, and I was worn out by it all." The cultural community was shocked and despondent for some time. But two years hence, according to Lin's own observations, Taiwan's dance community has been no means left up in the air by Cloud Gate's dissolution. On the contrary, with the activ e support of the CCPD and other institutions, a new generation of dancers--including many who were originally first-generation Cloud Gate members--have broken through old molds and made their way one by one. The only problem is that they still have no way to be financially self-sufficient, and to become truly specialized professional dance troupes. This is the main problem to be overcome in the future.

Not only are the new generation of dancers more numerous and of higher quality, they have an open, vibrant style. Lin Huai-min points out that all cultural development in China over the past hundred years has vacillated between traditional and modern, Chinese and Western, trying to find what it is that belongs to "modern China." But as far as the new generation of dancers are concerned, they carry no "historical baggage," is how Lin puts it. They don't care if it's Taiwan, China, or the West, nor do they distinguish between traditional and modern, everything provides them with creative raw materials. There is no conflict among them, nor any need to reconcile them.

This type of freedom and self-confidence is shared by the new generation of cultural workers in other fields. This fact is helpful in creating even more room for development of culture in the future.

Of course, over the past decade, the nurturing ingredients in the larger cultural environment have been richer than in the past, but there are still many bottlenecks. For example, promotionism in the schools lowers the quality of humanities education, the arts education system has not been fully put in place, the gap between the city and country persists, there is still not enough room for specialized and professional groups, and financial assistance has not reached an ideal level, and so on. However, at least these problems are all getting broad attention and discussion. In particular, the era of "the economy is king," which lasted forty years, is already passing. There is already a developing consensus that "culture is king."

The Cloud Gate company, which is seen as a "leading indicator" of Taiwan society, after a two-year period of hibernation, announced in February of this year that it would be re-forming, providing evidence for this view.

Lin Hwai-min indicates that over the past year he has felt that Taiwan is really changing. Political disputes are gradually receding, the great "money game" dreams are dissolving, and cultural topics are taking the stage--it seems this society is already showing the possibility of some clarity after a murky process. Even taxi drivers have said to him, "Good luck, and get going!" This has let him know he should not wait any longer.

No longer waiting to enter the 1990's, what will Taiwan's cultural face look like? It's going to take everyone to write a chapter of vibrant cultural history.

[Picture Caption]

At the age of ten, the National Institute of the Arts put on a new face by staging "The Little Prince." (photo by Huang Lili)

With the stimulus of the "small theater" movement, young students attract an audience doing street theater revolving around environmental protest. (photo by Arthur Cheng)

One of the major topics of the New Wave cinema in Taiwan is to depict the process of passing through childhood in the countryside. The still is from A Story of Light and Shadow. (photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation)

(Below) The contents of Blacklist Worshop's Taiwanese language album Song of Insanity were highly critical. The photo shows Chen Ming-chang, one of the founders. (photo by Diago Chiu)

The Taipei city Social Affairs Department sponsored the "Touring Youth Theater." The play "Mencius' Mother 3000," directed by Chung Ming-teh, was targeted at land speculation. (Sinorama file photo)

One of the most important things to happen in culture in the last ten years was the flourishing of Taiwan folk culture. The photo is of Ilan County's "Taiwan Drama Hall." (photo by Huang Lili)

Children's theater, which has blossomed only in the last few years, attracts packed houses. This reveals the extent to which parents hope to inculcate a love for the arts in their children. (Sinorama file photo)

When New Aspect brought in the US National Symphony Orchestra in 1983, it was a rare chance to see a first-rate orchestra, and many music lovers waited all night for tickets. (photo by Vincent Chang)

Fortunate to have corporate backing relieving it of worries, the Paolita Artists' Chorus is seen here rehearsing. (Sinorama file photo)

From the National Theater Box Office, you can see that most supporters of performance arts are still young people under thirty. (photo by ArthurCheng)

The husband and wife team of Wu Hsing-kuo and Lin Hsiu-wei are both artists with outstanding achievements in Peking Opera and dance. The photo shows rehearsals for "The End of the Century Myth." (Sinorama file photo)

The "People's Theater," held for many years in Taipei and Kaohsiung, gives young people a rare chance to come in contact with traditional folk art. (photo by Diago Chiu)

A Decade of Major Cultural Events

With the stimulus of the "small theater" movement, young students attract an audience doing street theater revolving around environmental protest. （photo by Arthur Cheng）

At the age of ten, the National Institute of the Arts put on a new face by staging "The Little Prince." （photo by Huang Lili）

（Below） The contents of Blacklist Worshop's Taiwanese language album Song of Insanity were highly critical. The photo shows Chen Ming-chang, one of the founders. （photo by Diago Chiu）

One of the major topics of the New Wave cinema in Taiwan is to depict the process of passing through childhood in the countryside. The still is from A Story of Light and Shadow. （photo courtesy of Film Library of the Motion Picture Development Foundation）

One of the most important things to happen in culture in the last ten years was the flourishing of Taiwan folk culture. The photo is of Ilan County's "Taiwan Drama Hall." （photo by Huang Lili）

The Taipei city Social Affairs Department sponsored the "Touring Youth Theater." The play "Mencius' Mother 3000," directed by Chung Ming-teh, was targeted at land speculation. （Sinorama file photo）

Children's theater, which has blossomed only in the last few years, attracts packed houses. This reveals the extent to which parents hope to inculcate a love for the arts in their children. （Sinorama file photo）

When New Aspect brought in the US National Symphony Orchestra in 1983, it was a rare chance to see a first-rate orchestra, and many music lovers waited all night for tickets. （photo by Vincent Chang）

From the National Theater Box Office, you can see that most supporters of performance arts are still young people under thirty. （photo by ArthurCheng）

Fortunate to have corporate backing relieving it of worries, the Paolita Artists' Chorus is seen here rehearsing. （Sinorama file photo）

A Decade of Major Cultural Events.

The husband and wife team of Wu Hsing-kuo and Lin Hsiu-wei are both artists with outstanding achievements in Peking Opera and dance. The photo shows rehearsals for "The End of the Century Myth." （Sinorama file photo）

The "People's Theater," held for many years in Taipei and Kaohsiung, gives young people a rare chance to come in contact with traditional folk art. （photo by Diago Chiu）