Lost Son of The British Empire
Chris P Gill was born in Burnley, England in 1970 but grew up in Johannesburg, South Africa. His mother left school to work at the mills at age 15 and his father was in the Merchant Navy. The family emigrated to Johannesburg, South Africa when Chris was 2 years old. He studied at Manchester School of Art and went on to achieve a degree in Politics at Newcastle University.
Chris, also known by his Chinese name “Li Yunfei” (Flying Cloud), worked in China for over 20 years. Over this period, he travelled around the country creating a personal diary of his life in China and the changing society around him, documenting and interpreting the reform process in his own style through his painting and mixed-media works.
In 2014 Chris had to return to the UK due to struggling with diminishing eyesight from MS.
He first came to China 1992 to study Chinese at the People’s University in Beijing.
There were very few foreign visitors to China in those days. It was an incredible environment and experience – Chris immediately immersed himself in the culture, connecting with like-minded local artists, whilst studying in rather austere conditions at the University.
Later that year, he opened his first studio in the ramshackle artists’ village of the Old Summer Palace, the focal point for the emerging Chinese artists at that time. Yuanminyuan Artist Village has now become very famous, but at the time, everyone was very poor….including Chris.
During his time at Yuanminyuan, Chris explored themes such as Buddhism, relationships & learned to work with Chinese materials, landscapes and language.
For him Beijing and China were an avalanche of sensations, and the work just came flooding out.
Photo: Chad Ingraham
“Chris Gill reminds me of the Jimi Hendrix quote ‘I used to live in a room full of mirrors. All I could see was me. I took my spirit and I smashed my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see.”
He exemplified the adage of ‘burning the candle at both ends’ – a common practice for most Shanghai residents in a time and place of great energy.
For Chris it was hard and confounding work at the office during the day; painting all night and ensuring he fitted in a tour of the local bars to keep his strength up…..then do it all again.
Soaking up these experiences (as well as soaking up plenty of booze) Chris, needed to maintain an output for his creativity and a space where he could paint as well as socialise.
He became a founding resident at 696 Weihai Lu, the Shanghai Artists district and was incredibly active in supporting, promoting and developing the local community of 50 artists.
Like most of the art districts, 696 was a derelict factory space. The artist collective lived, worked and interacted in this amazing (but frugal!) environment.
In 2006, Chris exhibited his work at a friend’s gallery. Much to his shock and delight, all his pieces were bought by one customer. Directly after, Chris received a mysterious offer to exhibit his work at the Shanghai Art Museum.
This was incredibly unusual – Chris was the only living foreigner to have a solo show at the Shanghai Art Museum.
The exhibition was called ‘The City of Gold”. Chris boldly took the opportunity to show some subversive and even openly anti-communist pieces, fully expecting the usual strict censorship... which strangely never materialized!
2006 was the year of Sino-Russian Friendship.
Across the next couple of years, Chris continued painting and exhibiting his art.
Notably, in 2009 he exhibited in Beijing and Shanghai a project named ‘Stolen Treasures of Modern China’. This depicted cultural appropriation and artist identity. Whilst the shows went well, it was at this time that Chris became ill with some strange symptoms.
Chris moved to Shanghai in 1997, to widen his influence on art and to experience the distinct difference of a new Chinese city. He was very busy exhibiting, caretaking and creating.
He worked as a journalist and writer, for both local and foreign publications and media. He was the China correspondent for the Guardian and was Asia correspondent for The Art Newspaper.
This naturally attracted some close attention from the Chinese Public Security Bureau. They began to court Chris through Bai-Jiao (potent rice wine)-soaked lunches, wherein they tactlessly tried to elicit information from him.
Whilst these attentions seemed relatively benign, Chris realised the depth of ‘interest’ and knowledge in both his professional and personal life was slightly disconcerting.
Subsequently, he began to question how much he should trust anyone at all.
Whilst building an independent news agency during the day, Chris was nocturnally creating his tapestry of influences and experiences in Shanghai.
At this time the city was incredibly vibrant, incessantly active and rapidly developing – both in terms of infrastructure, business and commerce; but also, in the widening social consciousness and dare we say – optimism. It was an amazing time to be in the city, eclipsing the heady 20’s and 30’s of Shanghai’s heyday.
Gill in his Studio at 696 Weihai Road, Shanghai. Photo: Chad Ingraham
Despite this, Chris continued to exhibit and participate in the Chinese art world – but his show in Beijing, called ‘China Dream’ was immediately shut down, demonstrating the fickle nature of the authorities.
He wrote articles for the art press and interacted with Ai WeiWei – Chris introduced him to Twitter during an interview.
Continually disconcerted by the attentions of the PSB & frustrated by his Russian bosses, he resigned from Interfax and began focussing purely on his art. To compound this, the authorities were closing in on 696 WeiHai Road.
With minimal notice (intended to disrupt), Chris and the other 49 artists who lived, worked and displayed at 696 were summarily evicted.
Chris wasted little time finding another studio to both create and store his work (some pieces being huge). Concurrently he had to find a way to deal with his worsening symptoms of MS.
After some brief searching, he managed to identify and rent a new space and established himself in a studio tucked away in a residential alley, looking out onto an old courtyard.
The studio had natural light, a soon-to-be-cluttered-and-spattered workspace, a cloud of Double Happiness cigarette smoke, an ancient cassette player and the most rudimentary form of toilet. The neighbours frequently amused themselves by pressing their noses at the window with the intense but innocent curiosity the elder city folk possess.
Chris continued creating paintings and mixed-media works, using different kinds of materials, including oil paint, collage, and photography.
Unknown to him and undiagnosed, Chris’ health was now in decline.
In 2010, Chris found he was dragging his foot and began having trouble with the vision in his left eye. A friend urged him to get checked for MS…. and unfortunately the doctors upheld this diagnosis.
The first attack hit hard in 2011.
Chris woke one morning in Shanghai and couldn’t see. His eyesight reduced to 0.1 in both eyes. He also had mobility issues, pain and of course absolute trepidation.It was devastating for a painter who had been blessed with perfect vision until this point in his life.
Chris was in denial for a period. Leaving home became a challenge. It was easier to ride a bike and he wanted to get around. So off he pedalled - Although it must be said, the natural chaos of the roads in Shanghai prioritises bikes (in a perverse way) and most people ride as if the anarchy of traffic was not there. He managed to get quite far, until he met a lamppost.
His friends had to remove his bicycle to stop him chancing a ride.
He continued to paint, not knowing when the next episode would strike.
At that time in China, an expat would likely have private health insurance as an essential part of their package. Modern ‘foreign’ (meaning joint venture) hospitals were available – if you had the considerable cash required for their fees.
The alternative was to navigate the Chinese health system. Whilst the standard of medical knowledge was often very high – this was not a route for either the faint-hearted or those not able to deal with language issues, dirt, crowds, bureaucracy, barriers, suspicion and the bizarre.
Chris had no choice but to choose the local public healthcare route.
Despite his affinity and experience with Chinese culture and his significant Mandarin and Shanghainese fluency, this was a challenging path to follow.
As a Non-Chinese, Chris shouldn’t have been there. He was viewed with astonishment and suspicion at 1st and then was eventually embraced, almost as a celebrity by the staff and patients.
He spent long hours sitting and chatting with patients (mostly old ladies) whilst hooked up to a drip to administer their medicines.
His book, The Dripping Rooms of Shanghai gives an amazing, touching and humorous insight into this experience.
Chris continued to paint, live and work in Shanghai, but his MS attacks were becoming worse and more frequent. He and his friends were deeply concerned with this and the uncertainty of the future of his condition.
He had no choice but to seek medical support from outside China. This meant he had to reluctantly leave Shanghai to return to UK in 2014.
Whilst MS does not improve, Chris has some medication to suppress the symptoms.
He continues to paint and remains active, creating some magnificent art despite, his illness.
He now lives in the same area he was born.
The Flying Cloud returns home.
