The Open Way

Ren Hang’s photographs hit the same way Mian Mian’s early novels do—that unguarded look at young Beijing, the version of being alive that the government would rather burn. He shoots people without the shame they’re supposed to carry, and you can feel the refusal in every frame.

Why should we hide our bodies? Why should we hide anything? Simple question. But ask it in China and it costs you. His work gets pulled down constantly. Galleries show him in Copenhagen, Rome, Frankfurt—the international world picks him up—while at home he’s being systematically erased. To young people in China he’s this figure of defiance, someone who won’t look away, won’t apologize for his own body.

What complicates it is what he’s been writing online. Years of depression, the constant weight of being watched, knowing everyone’s eyes are on him. The whole thing became paradoxical: he’s a symbol of rebellion precisely because he’s breaking under the weight of it. He’s a hero to a generation while admitting he can’t sustain it anymore.

His photographs still say what needs to be said. But I think about what it costs to be the one making them.