CHINA, NATIONAL, FEATURES: Capture of a Lifetime
By Li Mu
Thirty years ago, straddling on the shoulders of his six-foot eldest brother and supported by his second brother, Wang Wenlan, then a photography enthusiast in his twenties, pressed the shutter of his Seagull 120 at a most memorable picture of his life.
What he captured was an unusual moment in China's history, as critics later remarked. None of the people – thousands of them – in the picture stares at the viewer, but they all look solemnly at the monument towering above them, with its base buried in wreaths. A cluster of balloons carry a slogan reading "Cherish the memory of the Premier."
The image of mass mourning of the late Chinese premier Zhou Enlai (1898-1976) at the Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China's capital, in April 1976, critics say, best records the Chinese people's silent rage at the radicals then in power. This rage finally led to the end of the decade long Cultural Revolution in October that year, a revolution later described as a "catastrophe" that dragged China to the verge of collapse.
The picture later went on the frontpage of China Youth Daily, one of the most influential newspapers in China, bringing fame to Wang Wenlan and his brothers.
Now an established photo journalist, Wang Wenlan has taken thousands of pictures for China Daily, a leading English language newspaper in China. Remembering the picture that has launched him on this career, Wang said he did not realize the significance of what he had taken until years later.
Yet he did defy the authorities' ban on going to the square with thousands of others to mourn Zhou, who passed away in January 1976. "People loved the Premier who always cared for the people," Wang said. "Yet the radicals in power at the time forbid people to express their sorrow and respect for Zhou openly." In anguish, citizens in Beijing spontaneously went to the Tiananmen Square around the Qingming Festival, traditional Chinese memorial day, in early April 1976, to vent their sorrow for Zhou and anguish at the radicals.
"My brothers and I were there because we thought the scene should be kept," recalled Wang. He also remembered how the people at the Tiananmen Square clashed with the police. who tried to disperse the gathering and took away all the wreaths.
The mass movement, now known as the April Fifth movement, might not have been captured in the way the Wang brothers had done by professional photojournalists, who were officially banned from covering the issue. The mass mourning, labeled as "counter-revolutionary" in mid April 1976, was suppressed down, followed by a nationwide purge on anyone who got involved in the mass mourning. Wang’s films, if uncovered by officials, could brought him into real trouble.
By the time Wang was serving as a photo reporter in a unit of the People's Liberation Army stationed near Beijing. "I had just developed my rolls in my darkroom upon my return from Beijing when I was summomend by security officers, who inquire if I had been to the square. I fooled them, saying I only passed there on board of a bus," Wang Wenlan said. Then he rushed back to his darkroom, blew-dried his films and quickly handed them to his brother Wenbo, who was serving in another regiment.
"His work had nothing do to with photography and nobody would suspect him. So my rolls were safe in his place and with both kept our mouths shut," Wang smiled. His picture came to light only when the movement was rehabilitated as a "revolutionary act" two years later in 1978.
Wang Wenlan attributed the picture to his experience in the Cultural Revolution and his hard-core photo-enthusiast brothers. Born as the third of the four boys in a family of party cadres, Wang Wenlan was intrigued by black-and-white photos taken by his uncle Han Xuezhang, a first-generation photographer of the People's Republic of China. Together with his brothers, he began photographing with a borrowed camera in their teenage.
While the Cultural Revolution deprived their father of freedom, the political turmoils gave the kids a lot of free time to indulge themselves in the hobby as the school was halted and their parents occupied with struggles. Before they were forced to leave Beijing in 1968, Wang Wenlan and his brothers spent more than a year on photography, taking hundreds of photos at Beijing's historical sites including the Great Wall and the Imperial Tombs. The Wang brothers converted the family storage into a darkroom, and spent nights developing photos, using hand-rolled films cut down from a domestic product of cinematographic films, paper of blank margins of Chairman Mao's photos, and bowled developing agents. As they each had 15 Yuan of monthly living fee—about half of an average worker's monthly income at the time—they managed to save money from their food and clothing to buy two-Yuan-per-kilo paper and rolls of films.
Wang spent some three years in a village in Shaanxi Province, "harvesting wheat, plowing rice fields, herding cows and sheep, butchering pigs and driving horse carts," before he and his brothers resumed their favorite hobby upon their return to Beijing later in 1971. Then he joined the army, serving in a unit stationed in Hebei province, and became its photographer as he had desired.
Wang's efforts were rewarded with recognition from leading photographers of the country. Gong Zhimin, a renowned photography critic in China, describes Wang as "a truly exceptional photographer with a personal style."
One of the visitors to Wang Wenlan's photo weblog admits that he was "really moved" at Wang's images of the past. "These photos remind me how ignorant my generation is to national events of the past."
Preparing to co-write a book of pictures and stories of what he and his brothers experienced in the past decades, Wang said: "My only regret is that I let too many precious moments slip away from my camera lens during the Cultural Revolution, a historical event that will never come back again."
Special thanks to Xiong Lei, a China Features editor who helped editing the story. To see Wang's photo taken in 1976, please click here.
Thirty years ago, straddling on the shoulders of his six-foot eldest brother and supported by his second brother, Wang Wenlan, then a photography enthusiast in his twenties, pressed the shutter of his Seagull 120 at a most memorable picture of his life.
What he captured was an unusual moment in China's history, as critics later remarked. None of the people – thousands of them – in the picture stares at the viewer, but they all look solemnly at the monument towering above them, with its base buried in wreaths. A cluster of balloons carry a slogan reading "Cherish the memory of the Premier."
The image of mass mourning of the late Chinese premier Zhou Enlai (1898-1976) at the Tiananmen Square in Beijing, China's capital, in April 1976, critics say, best records the Chinese people's silent rage at the radicals then in power. This rage finally led to the end of the decade long Cultural Revolution in October that year, a revolution later described as a "catastrophe" that dragged China to the verge of collapse.
The picture later went on the frontpage of China Youth Daily, one of the most influential newspapers in China, bringing fame to Wang Wenlan and his brothers.
Now an established photo journalist, Wang Wenlan has taken thousands of pictures for China Daily, a leading English language newspaper in China. Remembering the picture that has launched him on this career, Wang said he did not realize the significance of what he had taken until years later.
Yet he did defy the authorities' ban on going to the square with thousands of others to mourn Zhou, who passed away in January 1976. "People loved the Premier who always cared for the people," Wang said. "Yet the radicals in power at the time forbid people to express their sorrow and respect for Zhou openly." In anguish, citizens in Beijing spontaneously went to the Tiananmen Square around the Qingming Festival, traditional Chinese memorial day, in early April 1976, to vent their sorrow for Zhou and anguish at the radicals.
"My brothers and I were there because we thought the scene should be kept," recalled Wang. He also remembered how the people at the Tiananmen Square clashed with the police. who tried to disperse the gathering and took away all the wreaths.
The mass movement, now known as the April Fifth movement, might not have been captured in the way the Wang brothers had done by professional photojournalists, who were officially banned from covering the issue. The mass mourning, labeled as "counter-revolutionary" in mid April 1976, was suppressed down, followed by a nationwide purge on anyone who got involved in the mass mourning. Wang’s films, if uncovered by officials, could brought him into real trouble.
By the time Wang was serving as a photo reporter in a unit of the People's Liberation Army stationed near Beijing. "I had just developed my rolls in my darkroom upon my return from Beijing when I was summomend by security officers, who inquire if I had been to the square. I fooled them, saying I only passed there on board of a bus," Wang Wenlan said. Then he rushed back to his darkroom, blew-dried his films and quickly handed them to his brother Wenbo, who was serving in another regiment.
"His work had nothing do to with photography and nobody would suspect him. So my rolls were safe in his place and with both kept our mouths shut," Wang smiled. His picture came to light only when the movement was rehabilitated as a "revolutionary act" two years later in 1978.
Wang Wenlan attributed the picture to his experience in the Cultural Revolution and his hard-core photo-enthusiast brothers. Born as the third of the four boys in a family of party cadres, Wang Wenlan was intrigued by black-and-white photos taken by his uncle Han Xuezhang, a first-generation photographer of the People's Republic of China. Together with his brothers, he began photographing with a borrowed camera in their teenage.
While the Cultural Revolution deprived their father of freedom, the political turmoils gave the kids a lot of free time to indulge themselves in the hobby as the school was halted and their parents occupied with struggles. Before they were forced to leave Beijing in 1968, Wang Wenlan and his brothers spent more than a year on photography, taking hundreds of photos at Beijing's historical sites including the Great Wall and the Imperial Tombs. The Wang brothers converted the family storage into a darkroom, and spent nights developing photos, using hand-rolled films cut down from a domestic product of cinematographic films, paper of blank margins of Chairman Mao's photos, and bowled developing agents. As they each had 15 Yuan of monthly living fee—about half of an average worker's monthly income at the time—they managed to save money from their food and clothing to buy two-Yuan-per-kilo paper and rolls of films.
Wang spent some three years in a village in Shaanxi Province, "harvesting wheat, plowing rice fields, herding cows and sheep, butchering pigs and driving horse carts," before he and his brothers resumed their favorite hobby upon their return to Beijing later in 1971. Then he joined the army, serving in a unit stationed in Hebei province, and became its photographer as he had desired.
Wang's efforts were rewarded with recognition from leading photographers of the country. Gong Zhimin, a renowned photography critic in China, describes Wang as "a truly exceptional photographer with a personal style."
One of the visitors to Wang Wenlan's photo weblog admits that he was "really moved" at Wang's images of the past. "These photos remind me how ignorant my generation is to national events of the past."
Preparing to co-write a book of pictures and stories of what he and his brothers experienced in the past decades, Wang said: "My only regret is that I let too many precious moments slip away from my camera lens during the Cultural Revolution, a historical event that will never come back again."
Special thanks to Xiong Lei, a China Features editor who helped editing the story. To see Wang's photo taken in 1976, please click here.
