"And You, Comrade"

            I knew so little before I visited the Propaganda Art Museum. As I traveled through the periods of art plastered on the walls, however, I was able to taste even a spoonful of Mao’s reign in China. After gleaning so much information about Mao and his laws, he does not seem real to me. How could he be real? He seems like a villain in a storybook. He has all the necessary quirks—a red sun, symbolizing his power and presence throughout the country, a Big Brother-esque array of posters and coins depicting his watchful gaze, a little red book of his personal quotes. He said, “Knowledge is power,” and burnt books and halted education. He commanded the death of birds. He encouraged people to give constructive criticism of the government, and then targeted the individuals who did. He was an intriguing villain, a character that should have been confined to the pages of 1984 by George Orwell. And yet, he truly existed. The posters on the walls of the Propaganda Art Museum testify as much.

            The art is full of symbolism, and children. Children everywhere, laughing beautifully under the red sun of Mao Zedong. Children with guns. Advocating the end of U.S. Imperialism, though they couldn’t have known, really, even the definition of the word “imperialism.” The posters depict Chinese enemies as subhuman: small, greenish gray monsters of shame and mockery. No logical minded Chinese citizen could possibly choose the side of such abominable beings! Even the colors were chosen specifically to invoke emotion against enemies. As the periods progressed, for instance, the colors grew more bold and angry. Splashes of red and black dominate the works during the Cultural Revolution. It is obvious that the artists reached deeply within and produced these works of passion and hate, although—to be honest—I wonder at the true direction of that passion and hate.

            The owner of the art museum said he created the museum for the future. He created the museum so that the future generations could know his story, and China’s story. He said others with the same story have refused to tell it out of fear or weariness. According to him, though, the story must be told. It has to be told, so that the future can see and know the past, and learn from the past, so that artwork like this can remain a relict, and characters like Mao Zedong can remain villains trapped in the texts of history books and fairytales. The story must be told.