THIS YEAR'S Tiananmen Square memorial on June 4 in Victoria Park was reportedly the biggest and most important since the handover. What wasn't widely reported was that it was also the most creative. The candlelight vigil, which lasted about twice as long as usual, was a slickly produced multimedia bonanza. Rather unexpectedly, '6 4' has become something of a showcase for original local filmmaking, dance, stage direction, illustration and musical composition.
The floodlights over the football fields flashed on and off in time with a soundtrack of erhu solos and pounding dance beats. The lights dimmed dramatically as a montage of news clips and voiceovers filled a giant projection screen over the main stage. Huge pieces of hand-drawn white-on-black calligraphy ringed the venue, while vendors sold T-shirts, posters, stickers and umbrellas decorated with an endless selection of political cartoons.
There were also short dramas, humorous skits, a cappella performances, even contemporary dance, as three white-clad women abstractly acted out the feelings of the victims' mothers. A song by a local composer drew applause from the crowd, who sang along while reading off lyrics sheets. The crowd laughed and cried. It was better than Cats.
While June 4's protest art was a little rough and ready - in the same way that faux tombstone and the Pillar of Shame are not exactly the best executed sculptures - it highlighted the increasingly political nature of the city's creative types. 'Of course, this is art, too,' says veteran curator and art critic Oscar Ho Hing-kay. 'It fulfils the function of political art: to create collective symbols that arouse the people's passions.'
That same night, the Hong Kong Arts Centre (HKAC) held an event called Fifteen Years on: Special Programmes on the Remembrance of June 4th, 1989 Incident. Programme director Connie Lam Suk-yee says the centre has been holding June 4 memorials for years, has never been pressured to stop, and will continue, despite Beijing's recent hardline stance in Hong Kong. The HKAC is different from most other arts organisations because it takes no direct government subsidies. And although Lam feels confident in her work there, she worries that others are not. 'The most crucial thing for the local arts scene is that artists don't give in to self-censorship,' says Lam. 'There's no use in being afraid.'
There's growing concern among artists in Hong Kong - where an inordinate number of arts and performance venues are government-run or funded - that riskier, controversial art is getting pushed aside for works that are more politically correct and mainland-friendly. And as the arts community becomes more involved in politics, a debate has arisen about whether or not there is censorship or self-censorship.