Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

March 2010 & July 2014.

No matter where I am in the world, I always enjoy diving into a city’s street art. Indeed long-term readers may recall my guides to the street art of Malaga, the murals of Belgrade and the local artists of Siem Reap.

Back in the autumn of 2009, as I began settling into my new life in the Chinese capital, one of the things that struck me about the city was its almost total lack of street art. This seemed a pity, with many neighbourhoods packed with colourless high-rises that seemed to be crying out for a splash of colour and personality.

One evening, during drinks with a friend, I lamented Beijing’s perceived lack of art. To which he replied: “Sounds like you’re in need of a visit to 798”. I had not heard of 798, so, filled with curiosity, I did some online research before excitedly pencilling in a visit for a weekday morning in March.

Even back then, in the spring of 2010, 798 was fast becoming Beijing’s premier hub for traditional and contemporary art. Home to dozens of galleries, cafes, restaurants, bookshops, arts & crafts stores and several small museums, I definitely underestimated the size of the complex on that first visit. How big? I’m talking roughly 6000 square metres.

Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

What’s more, there is a fascinating history to the compound that set it apart from any art project I had ever seen. Its story begins in 1951 when the Chinese government announced the construction of a brand new factory complex for the production of advanced military and aerospace electronic components.

Photo courtesy of gongfu_king.

Acting on Soviet advice, China turned to East Germany for support with its new industrial venture. A socialist cooperative agreement was soon established, known as Joint Factory 718.

A team of East German architects arrived shortly thereafter, and by the spring of 1954, construction had begun in Beijing’s Dashanzi district—then a rural outskirt, now part of the city’s central Chaoyang neighbourhood. Today, some still refer to the site as Dashanzi Art District.

Enjoying great success, the facility grew and grew, culminating in the opening of Factory 798 in the late 1950s. This one was an absolute beast that incorporated a clutch of smaller factories churning out high frequency electronics, power supply units, military communication gear and radio equipment. Much of what they made went directly to the People’s Liberation Army.

What to See & Do in Beijing.

According to info boards onsite, the 1960s and 70s was 798’s golden era of production. During these decades, it also became a model socialist workplace with standards of worker care that became the envy of the rest of the country.

After all, a 798 employee would have one of the best salaries in China for a factory worker, while in some cases help was provided with housing and medical/education fees.

Photo courtesy of Charlie Fong.

The glory years couldn’t last forever. In the 1980s, 798 fell victim to shifting politics and new economic priorities. Under the leadership of Mao’s successor, Deng Xiaoping, China began transitioning from a Soviet-style economy to a more market-oriented model. As a result, factories like 798 were encouraged to pivot towards commercial production, something they were poorly equipped to do.

Moreover, the rapid modernisation of the global electronics industry soon left 798 behind. In came microchips, miniaturisation, and digital systems. 798’s bulky analogue hardware, of course, couldn’t compete. With facilities now technologically outdated, the Chinese government simply moved on. But the buildings, now free of thousands of laid-off workers, had not.

Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

Photo courtesy of Todddjay.

After a period of dormancy, artists, designers, and cultural organisations began trickling in, drawn by large, naturally lit spaces and rock-bottom rents. By the mid to late 1990s, a wave of high-profile artists—among them Huang Rui—had moved in, and momentum began to build.

Known for creating controversial artwork channeling social and cultural criticism, Huang Rui became instrumental in establishing 798 as a public art venue. Impressively, he also succeeded in saving the compound from demolition on multiple occasions across 2004-2005.

Photo courtesy of Khalid Albaih.

In 2006, after years of struggle, 798 became China’s first state-recognised and protected art district. From there, it never looked back, attracting more artists, more exhibitions, and a steady wave of entrepreneurs opening new businesses across the complex.

It was a pleasure to wander around 798’s wide streets, leafy squares and narrow alleys. A laid-back pace prevailed as I paused to admire the murals, statues, sculptures and installations. Suitably chilled, I stopped into a cafe for a cappuccino.

Exploring 798.

Following my nose, I wandered into a small workshop where a young man chiselled away at a terracotta figurine. On the wide wall behind his workstation, I spied a display of his many finished creations. Known as naïve folk art, these raw, unglazed pieces depict children in playful, whimsical and innocent poses.   

Back out on the street, I soon came across an arresting (and somewhat terrifying) installation called Wolves Coming! by the artist Liu Ruowang. This monumental piece consists of no less than 110 life-sized wolves cast in steel.

The artist portrays the wolves as fierce predators (naturally), fighting back against humanity’s relentless assault on nature — a stark reminder of the imbalance between civilisation and the natural world.

Behind the wolves, lining the façade of a large gallery, stands another striking Ruowang installation. Titled The East is Red, the collection takes its name from the iconic Chinese revolutionary song. The bronze, Terracotta Army-like figures resemble warriors from Chinese folklore, evoking themes of national identity and the effects of modernisation.

Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

Nearby, I came upon another terrifying installation, this one a warning of the impact on smoking on the human body. Essentially a forest of vertical cylinders resembling giant cigarettes, some are partially “burnt” or corroded—arranged like a squadron of warning signs. The staging certainly distills the act of smoking into a visceral metaphor: every cigarette systematically erodes health and vitality.

Even more gruesome were the images that sporadically flashed across the walls. I almost jumped when the first tumour-faced creature appeared — a bulging, distorted growth evoking the ravages of cancer, an aggressive beast that disfigures and consumes. Never had I been so glad to be a non-smoker.

After those awful tumours, I was definitely looking for something altogether lighter and fun. Happily, I got just what I’d asked for at a small garden square, where half a dozen sketch artists sat at work offering portraits and caricatures.

One dude must have been head and shoulders above the rest, as he had managed to attract an impressive crowd.

The more I explored, the more I realised that 798 always had another surprise around the corner. This surreal car, for example, stationed in front of Wenyun Time Coffee, was sculpted from polished metal. Its gleaming chrome-like surface gives the impression that it’s melting before your eyes. With no accompanying explanation, I could only guess that perhaps this was a comment on consumerism? The absurdity of status symbols and human appetite for luxury and glamour?

Industrial Dreams: Inside Beijing’s 798 Art District.

If I thought the melting luxury car was unexpected, how about this baffling mash-up of imagery and ideology? Playful and no doubt highly provocative, this jarring yet oddly cohesive arrangement is perhaps (and again I’m just guessing here) a comment on mass devotion and the effects of how power, charisma and belief systems function across contrasting contexts. Lordy.

I have to admit, one of the day’s biggest thrills was getting up close to the old factory ruins. Not everything had been converted into galleries and exhibition spaces, and there’s real value in leaving some structures standing just as they were left; reminders of the past.

One cool bonus that I hadn’t been expecting was this original JS Class locomotive. Manufactured in the late 1950s and used until around 1988, this handsome vehicle would chug up and down factory-linked rail lines that ran across northern China. Now it stands as a symbolic homage to the broader industrial logistics that once powered 798 and its surrounding factories.

My year living Beijing was always supposed to be a one-off experience. I never dreamed I’d be back. But in 2014, I found myself back in the Chinese capital for a fresh 16 month adventure. Naturally, I found time to revisit 798 and see how far the old place had come.

Four Years Later…

It had grown immensely, with seemingly hundreds more studios, workshops, cafes, eateries and bookshops. By this time the CFA (Central Academy of Fine Arts) had established a strong presence within the complex. I ended up sauntering into this cool Interactive Graffiti Chamber, where artists and indeed visitors can draw, paint, scribble and scrawl away to their heart’s content. 

It’s crazy—and a little depressing—to realise my second and last visit to 798 was over 11 years ago. Sladja has never been to Beijing, so I’d love to think I might squeeze in one last trip someday. If we do, I’m sure 798 will get another afternoon. Until then…

For more on this very cool Beijing attraction and for news on the latest resident artists, take a look at 798 Art District’s official website.

Want to read more about my time in the Chinese capital? Check out more reports from Beijing.

Like these? I’ve also written a zillion travel reports from all across China.

Or maybe check out my short story series Challenged In China!

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