Beyond the mainstream:

Xiangjie Peng’s Journey Through China’s Subcultures

By Tulsi Swarna Lakshmi

“I am interested in the so-called non-mainstream people, those that tend to get overlooked. In Chinese photography, the mainstream consists of politically correct subjects – those that match the government ideology. I am wary of such constraints and reject those sanctioned subjects.

– Xiangjie Peng, Chinese Photographer

These words by Xiangjie Peng encapsulate the ethos behind his latest book, Qin Man, which includes three compelling series: the Dwarfs Empire (2011-2012), Twins (2014-2015), and Cosplay (2014-2016).

Peng’s work offers a refreshing and unconventional perspective on contemporary China, standing in stark contrast to mainstream Chinese photography that often aligns with Chinese government ideology and promotes a sanitized version of socialist reality. Instead, Peng’s lens delves into the overlooked corners of Chinese society, presenting a more nuanced and multifaceted view of the nation.

This approach is a deliberate departure from what Peng describes as “politically correct subjects.” By focusing on what he terms “non-mainstream people” – individuals and communities that exist on the fringes of Chinese society – Peng paints a diverse and authentic picture of China, one that acknowledges the complexities and contradictions within its rapidly changing social landscape.

The genesis of ‘The Dwarves Empire’ series is particularly intriguing. Peng approached this project with a desire to “shoot portraits of people in their environment, abandoning an emphasis on the past, and instead drawing out the subjects’ inner spiritual temperament and dignity.” The series focuses on a theme park that employed people with dwarfism, a project that Peng describes as “another example of China’s (perhaps pathological) pursuit of economic growth.” It is said to have cost two billion yuan (approximately $157 million US) to set up, attracting the criticism of International media.

Despite the contentious nature of the park, Peng took an art-documentary approach, allowing the audience to form their own opinions. He explains, “This was a project approved by the local government, so I would never be allowed to report it as a newspaper exposé. Instead, I took an art-documentary approach to make the park known. But I did not want to pass judgement, I wanted the audience to make up their own minds about whether this was a good or bad thing. I think this is in line with the principles and ethics of documentary photography.”

His conversations with the performers revealed the complex reality of their situation. For many, there were clear advantages to working at the park: it provided self-reliant employment not available to them at home, and a community where everyone was the same, avoiding some of the social discrimination they had previously experienced. However, Peng also acknowledges that for the tourists who visited the park, the performers were still regarded as a form of spectacle.

One particular photograph from this series, ‘The King and the Guard’, left a lasting impression on Peng. Shot between performances, he recalls being “shocked by how real he appeared to me to be. He seemed more than just someone wearing a costume. It was incredible. That blend of the majestic and funny, the realistic and surreal, was unforgettable.”

The ‘Cosplay’ series, on the other hand, emerged from a chance encounter at a Comic Con exhibition in Chengdu in 2014. Peng met a young woman named Zhu Zhu, a cosplay enthusiast who asked him to send her the photos he had taken via WeChat. Inspired by this interaction and Zhu Zhu’s passion for cosplay, Peng began to explore this vibrant subculture, regularly traveling to Chengdu from 2015 to photograph at Comic Con events.

Peng views cosplay as “an extension of the virtual world of online animation and video games into urban reality,” a phenomenon that has captured the imagination of many Chinese teenagers. He observes that cosplayers “self-organise online and bring the characters and costumes into the real world in a kind of spontaneous carnivalesque release of energy.” However, he also notes that “urban economic and cultural managers have been quick to recognise the economic potential of this scene and develop a service industry around it.”

His photographs reveal how cosplay allows people to express different gender roles and sexualities, creating “colourful spaces full of imagination and symbolic rebellion.” Peng points out that cosplay is a cross-cultural phenomenon, with participants drawing inspiration from animation and video games from Japan and South Korea as well as China. He also highlights unique sub-genres within cosplay, such as women dressing in military uniforms, which isn’t derived from any specific anime source but has become its own cosplay category.

A memorable subject from the cosplay series is Uncle Doraemon, “who is a security guard in daily life and a drag queen in Cosplay. He is famous among the anime community in Chengdu for his many skirts.” Peng’s fascination with Uncle Doraemon’s transgender costumes has even inspired him to begin a new project on the Chinese drag scene.

Cosplay © Xiangjie Peng, 2014 – 16

Xiangjie Peng’s “Twins” series is a notable work in contemporary Chinese photography. This project explores the concept of identity and similarity through portraits of identical twins. Peng photographs pairs of twins, often dressing them identically and posing them in similar ways, which highlights both their striking similarities and subtle differences. The series gained attention for its artistic approach to examining the interplay between genetics, environment, and individual identity. Peng’s work in this series is characterized by its clean, minimalist aesthetic and the thought-provoking nature of its subject matter, inviting viewers to contemplate questions of individuality and shared identity.

It’s important to note that while these series form the core of the book, Peng’s earlier project, ‘The Wandering Tent’, is not included. That project, which focused on itinerant circuses and performance troupes, had already been completed and had addressed “the hardships of life and the embarrassing situation of Chinese history and culture in the pursuit of economic change.” This earlier work provides context for understanding the evolution of Peng’s photographic interests and style. And, not including them in the latest book, marks his departure from ‘conventional documentary approaches’ that are often explicitly issue based.

What sets Peng apart in the contemporary photography scene is not just his choice of subjects, but also his technique. In an era dominated by digital photography, Peng continues to produce silver gelatin prints, a practice that has become increasingly rare. This choice roots his work in the documentary tradition while allowing him to bring a fresh, non-judgmental eye to his subjects. The richness and depth of silver gelatin prints lend a timeless quality to his images, bridging the gap between China’s past and its rapidly changing present.

Peng’s approach occupies a unique space in the landscape of Chinese photography. Unlike photographers like Wang Qingsong, whose large-scale, elaborate setups critique China’s rapid commercialization, or Zhang Xiao, whose “Coastline” series documents the impact of economic development on China’s shoreline, Peng turns his lens to communities often invisible in the narrative of China’s economic rise. His work also stands apart from the documentary tradition exemplified by Lu Guang, whose stark images of environmental and social issues directly challenge official narratives.

In the broader context of contemporary Chinese photography, Peng’s work stands out for its gentle subversion. He doesn’t directly confront political issues like Zhang Dali’s graffiti art or Ai Weiwei’s provocative installations. Instead, he quietly expands the boundaries of what’s considered worthy of photographic attention in China, challenging viewers to reconsider their notions of normalcy and beauty.

While photographers like Liu Bolin use surrealism to comment on social issues (his “Invisible Man” series features him camouflaged against various backgrounds), Peng finds surrealism in everyday life, particularly in subcultures like cosplay. Unlike the nostalgic rural scenes captured by Wang Yong or the glamorous urban youth portrayed by Chen Man, Peng’s subjects exist in a liminal space between tradition and modernity, between the margins and the mainstream. His work on twins and people with dwarfism echoes Maleonn’s “My Mobile Studio” project in its celebration of diversity, but Peng’s approach is less theatrical and more intimately documentary.

Peng’s photography shares some similarities with Hua Yong’s documentation of migrant workers and other marginalized groups. However, where Hua’s work often highlights hardship and injustice, Peng finds moments of joy and serenity even in challenging circumstances.

Twins © Xiangjie Peng, 2014-15

What’s striking about Peng’s photography is its tone and view. Unlike some American photographers who have focused on the grittier aspects of society, Peng’s China is quieter, more whimsical, and often tinged with an air of unreality. While there are similarities to photographers like Diane Arbus in his focus on marginalized groups, Peng’s approach is distinctly his own.

This is evident in his various series, where he captures slices of Chinese life that feel almost out of time. Through his images, we see both the hardships and the sense of community within these groups. Peng’s work presents a version of China that is both unfamiliar and fantastical, showcasing his ability to find magic in the margins and offering a perspective on China that is less about rapid industrialization and more about the persistence of wonder and imagination in unexpected places.

What truly makes Peng’s work interesting is his approach to his subjects. Rather than exploiting or sensationalizing, Peng seeks to lend dignity to those he photographs. This empathetic approach allows Peng to create images that are both honest and respectful, challenging viewers to see beyond stereotypes and preconceptions. It’s a stark contrast to the work of photographers like Ren Hang, whose provocative nude photographs challenge social taboos but often objectify their subjects.

Throughout the book, it becomes clear that for Peng, photography is a deeply personal pursuit. Despite facing criticism and lack of official support, he remains committed to his vision. “Photography has changed my life trajectory and the way I know the world,” he says. “Every time I set out, I don’t know what kind of things and people I will encounter. Every time I shoot it’s an adventure.” This sense of adventure and discovery permeates the book, inviting readers to join Peng on his journey through a China that is rarely seen but deeply felt.

Reflecting on his three decades of photographic work, Peng notes, “I have experienced the most significant and dramatic changes in my country. In China, the so-called ‘mainstream’ photography is regarded as a mode of image-making that emphasises the official ideology in a positive way. But as a person who wants to use photography to pay close attention to and observe his country in depth, I actually don’t think that the people I photograph live outside the mainstream. Perhaps their lifestyles are just different from the socialist values that are usually encouraged and promoted.”

Peng’s photo-book is not just a collection of images, but a window into a China that exists beyond headlines and official narratives. Through Peng’s lens, we are invited to see a country that is diverse, complex, and often surprising. This book is an essential read for anyone interested in contemporary photography and in understanding the many faces of modern China. By focusing on the overlooked and the unconventional, Peng not only enriches our understanding of China but also pushes the boundaries of what Chinese photography can be. His work serves as a testament to the power of photography to reveal the extraordinary in the ordinary, and to find beauty and dignity in unexpected places.

Disclaimer: THE BOOK IS NOT AVAILABLE FOR SALE IN INDIA. The quotes attributed to Xiangjie Peng in this article are sourced from an interview conducted by Alasdair Foster, which was published in a book. These quotations should be considered in the context of that specific interview and publication date. For the most current views or statements from the artist, please refer to more recent sources or direct communications.