This is mostly an excuse to look around Yinchuan on Baidu's street view. I read about mosque architecture Sinicization, then spent an hour or so looking at Yinchuan mosques. I have no conclusions. Some of the pictures are interesting. This is the Xinhua Mosque 新华清真寺...
From memory, it was built in the early '50s by a local entrepreneur, fell into disrepair, and was renovated into the more international style above sometime in the '90s. Two years ago, it was restored to what you see below. They switched handset sponsors, too.
This is a view of the Nanguan Mosque 南关清真寺. It was rebuilt mostly from scratch in 1982, the original structure having been heavily damaged in the 1960s. I've never come across a clear explanation of why Yihewani mosques tend toward more international architecture...
...or what's called "Arab-style mosque architecture" 阿拉伯式清真寺建筑. Maybe it suited local officials—a key source of funding for this mosque—interested in mosques as potential tourism draws. Maybe it suited or was imagined to suit the tastes of international funding sources.
That passage above goes on to describe a Kuwaiti delegation visiting the Nanguan Mosque but electing to give their funding to the Central Mosque, dominated by the Gedimu, who, unlike the Yihewani, are usually described as preferring Chinese-style mosque architecture.
Built in '37 the Central Mosque 清真中寺 escaped major damage during the Cultural Revolution because factories were put inside, but it was renovated in '79. It's experienced its own recent renovations: the picture above is from 2019 and the picture below from 2014.
Back to Nanguan... It's used as an example of the wicked trend of Sinicization. Perhaps this is religious architecture showing Chinese characteristics 宗教建筑要体现中国特色. I feel worse about the 1979 Central Mosque gate facade being turned into typical tourist zone facade.
It's disappointing that we can really only see the gates. It's not a lot to go on. This is the Xiguan Mosque 西关清真寺. I've never seen this much advertising on mosque gates. It's nice that Baidu offers us these historical shots, since you can see each year's sponsors change.
I wonder what caused that change. Was it the mosque's own management committee, some directive from the city about beautification, sponsors discouraged? This really is the most amateur of investigations. But, again, maybe the pictures are interesting.
I got interested in this after someone sent me a story about a mosque located in a part of the city called Yuehai 阅海. It's being Sinicized also! But the architecture looked quite modern, more like the Sino-Arab Axis (a bold architectural project/international tourist site)...
And, yes, it was only built a couple years ago, part of a massive development on the outskirts of the central city. Baidu's street view has plenty of pictures with scaffolding up. With this sort of thing, I'd lean toward it being some local real estate conflict...
But I have no idea. I can't find any reporting on this to share even a half-informed opinion. So, our only source is a picture of scaffolding on a site run by Catholic fascists known for defending murderous cults. Who knows! There's the other half of the complex, completed 2017.
This is about twenty miles downriver from Yinchuan. It's called the Taizi Grand Mosque 台子清真大寺. It was rebuilt in 1980. I could spend all day looking at these. But that's it. I should also recommend 宁夏回族建筑艺术 by 刘伟, for providing some historical details.
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When talking about Taiwanese literature, it's usually imagined as a more ideologically free space, compared to Mainland literature. That impression and the literature written during the Cold War were the result of the US Information Service's own ideological project in East Asia.
The concept of a "U.S. aid literary institution" 美援文艺体制 comes from Chien-Chung Chen 陈建忠, who contrasted it with the national arts and culture institution 国家文艺体制—both pushed an anticommunist message, but the American institution was a soft system 软性体制...
...developing Taiwanese literature in a direction that would allow it to match up with the world view and esthetic point of view of the United States, breaking the author's connection to society, turning it into pure esthetics.
No sex work under communism: by 1951, all the brothels were closed and the workers sent to be rehabilitated and retrained. Love in the Wasteland 遗落荒原的爱 (1994) is about some of those women, made at a time when market reforms and social chaos had revived the profession.
In the '50s, a group of women liberated from brothels has arrived under assumed names at a reclamation settlement in the Northeast. One of the agricultural workers named Ji Gang 纪刚 (Chen Xiguang 陈希光) falls in love with one of the women, Wen Xiu 文秀 (Song Jia 宋佳).
One of the other women is unlucky enough to run into a former client, who recognizes her. Wen Xiu is also exposed. She's already pregnant with Ji Gang's child, but he rejects her. She ends up marrying the mute Wu Qi 吴起 (Li Xinmin 李心敏), who dies soon after.
Guan Hu's 管虎 Dirt 头发乱了 (1994) was made possible by hundred grand from a trading company attached to a state-owned chemical manufacturer, eighteen grand of which was paid to an obscure state studio to claim the film—but it was still held up for over a year before release.
Yingjin Zhang gives us the financing story in "Rebel without a Cause? China's New Urban Generation and Postsocialist Filmmaking." Compared to earlier films like, say, Rock Kids 摇滚青年 (1988), which celebrated within the boundaries, this was an attempt at a countercultural film.
Unlike Beijing Bastards 北京杂种 (1993), it's not a celebration of provocation, but a sad, nostalgic film. A young woman (Kong Lin孔琳) returns to Beijing after leaving for Guangzhou as a kid, reuniting with her old friends: one a rock musician (Geng Le 耿乐), the other a cop.
Comfort Women Unit 74 慰安妇七十四分队 (1994) (Douban suggests "Prostitute 74th Branch") is not a well-known movie. I wonder why a Russian man has chosen to produce a deadpan amateur dub. But it's still interesting...
The only alternative is a degraded Youku clip. An interesting film, which I expected might be like Doomsday Killer 末日杀手 (1993) (campy guizisploitation) or Death Camp Escape 冲出死亡营 (1993) (a dark, critical look at human nature, coincidentally set during the war).
This is very slightly more ideologically and spiritually sound, with the message of feminine solidarity undercut only slightly by the very 1990s scenes that invite the viewer to ogle the comfort women.
When I saw Lou Ye's 娄烨 Don't Be Young 危情少女 (1994?) was a horror film available with English subtitles, I moved it down the list until I could watch it with my girlfriend. I wouldn't subject her to Summer Palace 颐和园 and I couldn't sit through it again—but this is better.
Qu Ying 瞿颖 (we just saw her in Flying Centipede 飞天蜈蚣 from the same year) is a mental patient in love with a doctor (You Yong 尤勇), who is himself being lusted after by a nurse (Nai An 耐安). In her dream, her mother that killed herself reveals the location of a map.
There's a side story about the murder of a doctor, a cover up by a nurse, and a blackmail attempt, but most of the film is taken up by Qu Ying's character trying to figure out why her mother killed herself, and where her father is. You know I'm bad at recounting plots.
Leftist fantasists are good with critiques of the Western media and intelligence but struggle to lay out actual facts. A history of Xinjiang that starts on June 4th, 1989 and skips quickly to September 11th, 2001 makes it very hard to come to an understanding of the region.
Take 1979 as the start date, and there are attempts to reestablish central control combined with protests for ethnic self-determination, most notably in 1985 and 1988. The inciting incident for protests in May of 1989 was a book—Sexual Customs 性风俗—seen as insulting Islam.
Though the '80s, the local secular elite was pushed to get family planning on track. Han population was dropping. And Han in-migration and divisive agricultural policies were seen as possible solution to underdevelopment in the Tarim Basin, which was seen as a cause of unrest.