It happened two years ago, but art aficionados in Shanghai still talk about French artist Bernard Cathelin's exhibition here, and his vast, passionate rouge canvases. Szeto Lap's tranquil, mysterious depictions, recently on display at the Shanghai Art Museum, had the same long-lasting effect.
For all these, Catherine Kwai is thrilled. It has been the goal of this Hong Kong curator to introduce French contemporary art to China, and with the introduction of marquee names like Cathelin, Lap and Marcel Mouly, she has the beginnings of success.
Dressed in a beautifully tailored black ensemble, Kwai, in her 40s, looks more like a movie star than a gallery owner who had to work long and hard to achieve her goals.
When Kwai opened her Hong Kong gallery in 1991, artists from the Chinese mainland were hot. Yet she chose to go against conventional wisdom and specialized in her personal passion, Western art.
There was not much of a market at that time, however, she admits. "A decade ago, few Chinese were interested in French contemporary art."
Neither was it easy to convince arrogant French artists to trust an unknown Asian woman with exhibitions in far-off Hong Kong. But Kwai pursued her targeted artists with a dogged persistence that eventually paid off.
"Every year, I paid three visits to my favorite French artist, Bernard Cathelin. It took me five years, but he finally agreed to work with me, and now we're close friends," she says.
With no formal training in art, Kwai selected her artists the old-fashioned way -- with her heart. "An art piece must touch the deepest recess of my heart. Sometimes the technique or the subject is not as vital as a kind of natural feeling wafting over the canvas that comes directly from the artists," she explains.
Kwai reveals that her agenda in bringing French art to China is twofold: She wants not only Chinese people to know French art, but also the French to know China's.
"They were just amazed with Shanghai," she says. "I am sure that the visit inspired their art."
Although Kwai herself is an accomplished painter, she never pursued formal training, yielding instead to parental expectations to "get a real job."
After high school in Vancouver, Canada, the Hong Kong native selected economics as her college major in the United States. "My parents thought art wouldn't be able to feed a girl," she explains.
Kwai went into banking, and worked for an overseas bank for years.
"I was surrounded with statistics, clients and meetings," Kwai recalls. "I felt as if I was imprisoned in a huge cage. So one day, I decided to give myself a long vacation, and allow myself to do exactly what I like."
Kwai went to Europe, where she lingered at museums and galleries for a year. "I have an emotional tie with Europe for no reason," she says. "Sometimes it's romantic, and sometimes it's sad, like my personality."
Kwai considered becoming a professional artist, but had enough self-awareness to realize that she didn't have what it takes.
"I don't have the driving passion for my art that would enable me to endure the solitude and suppress material desire," she reveals.
Reluctant to abandon art, Kwai decided to become a gallery owner.
Now with a gallery, an art consulting company and a print studio in Hong Kong, Kwai's schedule is even more hectic than it was during her banking days.
"That's funny," she laughs. "I thought that being a gallery owner would mean a more relaxed life -- but I was totally wrong."
But she is quick to add that she has no regrets.
Next on Kwai's agenda are plans to open an art salon in Shanghai. It will be a traditional salon, she explains, an exquisitely designed place where artists and art lovers can meet and discuss the issues of the day.
"I am now quite content with what life has given me," she says. "I am especially glad that 10 years ago I took this unorthodox path. Art has enriched my days."
And the lives of those to whom she brings her artists.
(Shanghai Daily January 16, 2003)
