Ai Weiwei

If the world is a chess game, then the players, the rules, and the ideology behind it have all dramatically changed — abruptly and intensely, far beyond most people’s expectations. From my perspective, this change is unavoidable. Looking at the world’s political landscape and cultural developments, human society has reached a period that requires strategic adjustments, including how we cope, develop, distribute resources, and break through into a new global order, a new paradigm. As individuals, we are also experiencing a special period of redefining and reassessing. Yet this torn-open window and its impact on human society’s development remain difficult to estimate.

Yesterday I did the photo shoot. The process was smooth and pleasant because the photographer was very spiritually attuned.

This is a great challenge for anyone in any profession. As art has always existed on the margins of society as a practice, conflicts and ruptures do not disrupt the rhythm of my work. In fact, this kind of thinking and practice gives these contradictions and crises deeper meaning in my life. If we talk about recharging, it means we as individuals must become even more conscious and alert. Being conscious and alert means confronting the challenge of perception, as all perception ultimately leads to behavioural change.

My understanding began from the time I was born. When a society is extremely politicised and fraught with conflict, it is nothing new. I cannot say that I am hopeful about the world’s current state because the world is a political entity beyond individual will or change. When a highly autocratic regime emerges, it is simply moving from a latent to a prominent state. No-one can live permanently in times filled only with celebration and parties. Human survival inherently involves struggle and division. From this perspective, nothing surprises me.

“Water Lilies” requires two hundred and fifty thousand toy bricks and is extremely time-consuming, labour-intensive, and materially demanding — almost simple, repetitive labour. This work shares meaning with the production of “Sunflower Seeds” and “Straight”, highlighting repetitive manual labour and accumulated time. This is undoubtedly what people refer to as using an action to concentrate a thought in meditation, but at the same time evolving into individual meaning. The process itself is the artwork; what we see as its manifestation is only a fragment.

I didn’t have TV, electricity, or anything we would nowadays consider a toy because we lived in a dugout. Besides the earth around us, we had nothing at all. Poverty and life’s constraints seemed to engulf our entire society, but looking back, my childhood held far more valuable experiences than those of today’s youth who live in abundance. From a young age, we learned how to struggle — for survival, for ideological beliefs, and even physically. This was a simple yet profound effort. My childhood was materially restricted and impoverished, yet I sought happiness and attempted to use my abilities to confront and overcome difficulties. There are many more things worth remembering from that time. The games I played back then would not be recognised today. Even if I described them, no one would understand.

Despite the world being messy, complicated, often violent, and filled with trauma and ruin, ultimately the problem is simple. Does our behaviour protect humanity’s most fundamental goodwill, or merely satisfy the insatiable desires of a certain group of people? From this perspective, the world is not complicated. What we see clearly is a world divided by interests and profits. All behaviour — whether from politicians or individuals — is rooted in identity and the value system that identity carries. Thus, the fundamental question is: what is life’s truest value? How can we establish a commonly understood value, achieving the most fundamental and direct recognition? This is both an urgent and eternal question.

A society’s greatest tragedy is not only its creation of anti-human political trends but also its creation of an opposition similarly lacking in imagination, passion, and coherent political methods. Usually, these groups express themselves violently. Whether due to political suppression or the opposition’s helplessness, this violence doesn’t help protect humanity, basic dignity, or free expression. Ultimately, these demonstrations fail to meaningfully affect human rights or political development.

When I created “Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn”, I didn’t consider it an act of protest. Rather, I wanted to use an action to transform an existing, established value. This relates to Duchamp’s fundamental understanding of art’s essence.

The problems confronting young people today are not passive; rather, from my perspective, they reflect the outcome of long-term conditioning. Young people cannot adequately handle society’s political shifts or changing survival methods. Being a victim is itself disastrous. Education has long tried to instil a false sense of security: if you do certain things, you’re guaranteed a safe spot in society’s competition. Clearly, this is largely a lie overshadowing our values and education system. Nowadays, it’s obvious that this comforting facade has burst, and many realise their knowledge and efforts may be discarded. I’m not saying education is useless — but rather, what they’re learning is useless. When they dedicate nearly two decades of their most precious time to relentlessly training their minds to operate as mere components of a machine, they risk being moulded into something akin to a discarded relic. What they ought to contemplate more deeply is how to liberate themselves from the vast, repetitive machinery and emerge as autonomous individuals — a task that is evidently fraught with difficulty. The youth of today, it seems, will confront even more unfathomable challenges.

When Twitter transformed into X, I reacted clearly. I posted an image on both X and Instagram depicting the image of X in the process of evolving into a symbol of Nazism. It was not my intention to disparage a social media platform which was once my favourite and that I referred to as my country, my homeland — one that remains among my favourites. Rather, I believe that when technology and elites strive to interpret the world through a singular narrative, we encounter a profound danger. What I mean to convey is that, even now, Twitter/X stands as the most robust and dynamic of all social media platforms. It functions much like a societal plaza, enabling rapid access to information and expression of opinions — undoubtedly a cornerstone of any thriving civil society. Given its convenience, I find no need to explore other social media alternatives. Twitter/X and Instagram fulfil all my requirements. Furthermore, when it comes to Twitter/X’s Grok 3, particularly in comparison to other AI systems, Grok 3 surpasses its counterparts by a wide margin. Its objectivity, precise use of language, and engaging interactivity far exceed what ChatGPT offers. In this regard, the least impressive platform is DeepSeek, a much-lauded Chinese AI that, in reality, operates as a severely limited system. When an AI platform seeks to sidestep political perspectives or imposes filters and restrictions on expression, it ceases to be a tool of insight and instead delivers distorted or misleading information.

First and foremost, I never truly set out to become an artist. What is commonly termed artistic expression, I regard as the very essence of life — a testament to one’s own existence. The pursuit of free expression, or the endeavour to secure the right to it, inevitably becomes the vital force that upholds art as its most essential foundation. Long before I decided to become an artist, I was already a person steadfastly committed to free expression. This commitment naturally extends to freedom of thought, an element that permeates every aspect of the work I create, reflected in all my artworks.

I hope that, a century from now, people will still know what a film is.

I no longer teach at the university, but the numerous interviews I’ve given, beyond offering insight into my own understanding, also carry a distinct message for young people. From students, I perceive only a space defined by how individuals think and aspire to refine what they possess, yet remain unawakened. I believe the true essence of education lies not in the mere transmission of knowledge, but in the pursuit of enlightenment.

In truth, all my time is free time. Everything I do springs from a deep curiosity about life itself, unfolding as a natural extension through actions that bring life into focus. Much like our planet hurtling through the universe at tremendous speed, surrounded by other planets in their own orbits, this motion does not stem from the planet’s own volition but from an incomprehensible natural force. I believe human behaviour, though often vastly overstated as being solely the product of individual will — much like the intoxicating notion ingrained in today’s schools — is not entirely governed by our own choices. Instead, it is shaped by an invisible force at work, influencing even what we hold as the most precious expressions of individual thought and will. To a large degree, our behaviour lacks the distinct imprint of personal character. I enjoy cooking because I take pleasure in eating, and I am quite particular in this regard. I also find great satisfaction in walking and working with my hands. To me, a person unable to create with their hands lacks the capacity for true thought. I consider the ideas of those who cannot craft something tangible with their own hands to be mere empty thoughts devoid of substance or meaning.

Under many circumstances, the realisation of my artworks emerges from a prolonged process of contemplation. Their appearance may seem random or impulsive at times, yet this spontaneity remains inseparable from an enduring thread of thought. The artwork “Fairytale”, for instance, demanded a sustained commitment. I am delighted to hear that you appreciate this piece, and I, too, regard it as one of my most significant creations. It situates both myself and the community I inhabit within the cultural collisions between China and the West, capturing the nascent stages of China’s globalisation. Even today, it stands as a work that would be challenging to replicate. How did it come to be? It was born from a blend of my impulsive nature and steadfast persistence. When you find something captivating and strive to address every layer of challenge it presents, the artwork, in essence, completes itself. Its most exquisite quality lies not in a tangible form, as with most artworks, but in its existence as a legend — one that language struggles to fully articulate.

I give relatively little thought to external considerations when creating my artworks. As for certain controversies surrounding specific pieces, I find them utterly absurd. These reactions have taught me that even within the most contemporary cultural spheres, many still cling to sanctimonious religious and moral excuses to justify their actions and shield their fragile, fabricated political-moral bubbles. The majority dwell within these illusory spheres, perpetually anxious, treading carefully to prevent their bubbles from bursting. My artworks, in most cases, exist precisely to shatter such delusions. An artwork devoid of controversy, in truth, has no purpose for being. Yet if controversy is its sole essence, its reason for existence risks becoming warped and skewed.

“Fuck Off” stands as a grand-scale artistic discourse, encapsulating the spirit of the year 2000. At the close of the 1990s, Chinese art lingered in an exploratory and bewildered phase. What followed, however, was a descent of Chinese contemporary art into a mere courtesan of capital, akin to a hired companion serving wealth’s whims.

Extreme demonstrations resemble a bullet already fired. In cultural wars, a bullet cannot resolve conflicts; it merely embodies an attitude and a trend. Far more significant is our comprehension of weapons and adversaries. Only when our understanding of war and its preparation reaches perfection can a bullet fulfil its purpose.

My family is an integral part of who I am. I consider myself incredibly fortunate to say that they are as essential to me as my left arm is to my right. There is a deep, unspoken bond between us, and I am simply an extension of the values they hold dear.

I believe colonialism is merely an extension of Darwinism — its darker side. When people fully grasp the competition and brutality inherent in life, it becomes clear that colonialism has always been about the existence of power and the necessary boundaries of rulers. In the past, this was called colonialism. When the term became tainted with negative connotations, people rebranded it as globalisation or the new world order. These are, without a doubt, merely substitute terms for neo-colonialism. The core concept and objective remain the same: an increasingly frantic exploitation and brutal competition. What is happening today in the US, as we can see, cannot be fully explained by the term colonialism or any other term, for it aligns more with Lenin’s definition of imperialism as the highest stage of capitalism. In today’s politics, it is little more than a fight for survival. Colonialism, on the other hand, is a necessary condition. As the former US Secretary of State, Antony Blinken, famously said: “If you’re not at the table of the international system, you’re on the menu.” This blunt use of an English idiom reflects the US politicians’ views of political reality.

Whether by luck or misfortune, I had the chance to visit Gaza while shooting “Human Flow” in 2016. There, I witnessed a scene that shames humanity and stirs profound anger: in the 21st century, a group of people are still regarded as less than slaves. What is happening today, unfolding before the entire world and exposed by social media, cannot be hidden — the killing and brutality are there for all to see. In the past, we could only see a crude, simplistic portrayal of such realities through media, a delayed report of events. Today, such tragedies are broadcast in real-time. The disaster facing Gaza is not just a humanitarian catastrophe; it is an ongoing, brutal humiliation of all humanity. It makes clear that our values and arguments today are being eroded beneath the weight of bombs and bloodshed. As Adorno says, “To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbarism.” Today, even discussing Gaza is seen as evil and shameful. This reality is etched into the very fabric of our dignity and intellect, pulling us back into a state where we resemble lowly animals, for even most animals do not kill their own kind.

A nightmare is something that disappears once we wake up and face reality. The true nightmare, however, is when we are awake and realise that reality is far worse than any dream. Or perhaps we could say that we no longer have the ability to dream, because we are already living in a nightmare. Only when people come to understand that life itself is a nightmare will consciousness truly emerge.

My collaboration with Lisson Gallery over the years has been a very positive experience. Under all circumstances, they have consistently supported artists’ freedom of expression. Of course, there is one exception to this all circumstances — I have no intention of putting their position or stance in a difficult situation. I appreciate the gallery’s unwavering sincerity and the opportunity to present an argument. In most cases, such opportunities are suppressed or overlooked. All brutality stems from arrogance, but my relationship with Lisson is one of equality, and they have been honest and sincere in their engagement with my true thoughts. Thus, our collaboration remains a positive one.

Humour arises when you feel that the lines of your thinking must be bent. Without this curve, you would face unimaginable and insurmountable obstacles. Hence, humour is often a curving activity; its twists and turns make the path more interesting and unpredictable.

My concern for refugees stems from my own experience. In my own country, from the very day I was born, I became a political refugee. The definition of a refugee is simple: it is someone who, due to war, poverty, or ideology, is classified as lower-class and is forced to make an intuitive choice for survival, without truly having a choice. No one would willingly leave their home unless that home is already harming them. If our politics and culture continue to misunderstand or deliberately contradict this reality, it is not those who are harmed who suffer, but rather those with a sense of superiority who attempt to protect their own boundaries. These individuals only reveal their narrow-mindedness. Ultimately, these borders cannot be maintained. All the borders we draw, if one side holds an advantage, inevitably lead to unfair treatment. On this planet, there are no borders — only rivers, seas, and mountains, which are what physically connect us all.

My most recent film is called “Animality”. It is a documentary that explores the real relationship between animals and humans in different societies.

More than ninety percent of museums are victims of the capitalist system. To a large extent, their role has become about decorating a birthday party or organising kindergarten-style activities. Today, real thinkers and artworks with true influence or a distinct identity struggle to survive in contemporary museums. I am a certain kind of exception, but my exception is not the norm, and this situation is always fragile. Yet, this also gives me a certain confidence and has made me realise the true essence of art: it is not about massaging or comforting the public, but rather about reminding people to be conscious, alert, and then to take action.

This society applies multiple standards when evaluating artworks. Under most circumstances, if an artwork meets all these standards, its very meaning is, in fact, diminished or even negated. In reality, this is precisely what is happening. It’s akin to examining every ingredient to determine if it harms our health — there would be countless metrics and theories debating whether the beneficial ones are actually harmful, and whether the harmful ones could be beneficial. Many contradictory theories exist as well.

This memoir is, in fact, written for my son. These memories, whether related to his grandfather or his father, are an essential part of him. If this legacy is not passed down from one generation to the next as a matter of genuine importance, it would be a dereliction of duty. What we face today is a widespread refusal to accept or a deliberate forgetting of memories — an issue that, in the age of AI, may seem even more pronounced.

It held no true meaning because, at that time, it was merely an attitude — there was no genuine consciousness that had yet emerged.

Whether left-wing or right-wing, both exist simultaneously. Like the left and right foot, they are indispensable and necessary for movement. The body must adapt to this way of functioning, or it will cease to move forward. The issue lies in people’s ability to maintain balance and avoid stumbling under extreme political atmospheres. This is a challenge everyone must face.

I don’t actually care much about that.

Once a form has been explored and its reason for existence clearly established, it is time to abandon it.

Every time power or the regime puts pressure on me, it paradoxically affirms the necessity of my existence. Each time I feel like stopping, the reasons to continue emerge naturally.

The support of others, whether in China or elsewhere, only influences me externally, not internally. Ideally, a person’s actions should not be overly influenced by the outside world. Like a tree, even when the wind is strong, it remains rooted to the earth.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that authority or power primarily seeks to eliminate the possibility of others’ existence. In my encounters with power, I’ve found that arrogance and disregard are the most common reactions I receive.

It’s interesting that you mention this. I’m probably the furthest from being a music expert, but I’m still trying to get closer to it.

Life in New York shifted me from an extremely politically enclosed socialist state to the extreme capitalist society. Both of these societies, in their essence, could be seen as forms of imprisonment or exile. I don’t read a lot of books, and at the same time, I’m somewhat of an omnivore, so most of my information comes from the internet. I find literature to be the profession I respect most.

When I think of my father, I smile remembering how, unintentionally, he planted a seed that is still alive and growing.

The weather is wonderful. At night, you can see a sky full of stars, and during the day, the sunshine is something to enjoy. It’s the most precious wealth one can receive.

Don Quixote’s identity and his efforts resonate with me. His endeavours are full of imagination, often surpassing reality, while waiting for results that are often ridiculous or laughable.

When a large ship is heading toward an iceberg, the question is not whether it will collide, but whether you have the ability to swim and survive in cold waters. That is the problem.

Thank you for your preparation for this interview. This has likely been one of the longest interviews I’ve ever done.