Rainbow Village (彩虹眷村) is a former military dependents’ village and a well-known landmark in the southwest corner of Taichung’s Nantun District (南屯). On Saturday, most of the village’s colorful murals were painted over by personnel of Rainbow Creative Co, which has managed the village for several years under contract with the Taipei City Government.
After receiving a report of the incident, the police detained 14 members of the company’s staff, including its director, and held them for questioning.
News media reported that Rainbow Village had been under the company’s management for the past 10 years, but in the past few years, the parties to this arrangement have been engaged in a legal dispute about how the village’s profits are divided. The case is under investigation by the Taichung District Prosecutors’ Office, while Rainbow Creative Co’s contract to operate the village was terminated on Sunday.
Rainbow Creative Co CEO Wei Pi-jen (魏丕仁) on Sunday said that his company had spent millions of New Taiwan dollars to restore Rainbow Village during its decade of operation, and that 80 to 90 percent of the village’s murals were created by the company’s employees, whom it calls the Rainbow Creative Team. Therefore, Wei claimed that the paintings were the company’s intellectual property.
Wei said that all the art that was painted over was originally created by the team. He said that the Taichung City Government had instructed the company to restore the village to its original state, and they had done so by painting over the later designs as part of its protest against the city government’s sudden termination of the contract.
If Wei was being truthful about his company creating the paintings, does that not mean that all Taiwanese and overseas tourists who have visited the village over the past decade have been fooled into thinking that all the paintings were done by 99-year-old “Rainbow Grandpa” Huang Yung-fu (黃永阜)?
From a wider perspective, the phrase “cultural and creative” has been commercialized in Taiwan and turned into a kind of embedded marketing. It echoes the craze about painter Hung Tung (洪通) 50 years ago. Like Huang, Hung was a self-taught painter whose style was typified by freehand strokes and bright colors.
“Art” encompasses a wide range of creations, but are Hung’s paintings and Huang’s murals the work of “artists” or “cultural creators,” or even just a crystallization of media and business hype?
Further research might be needed to provide a clear answer. Take Pablo Picasso, for example. His abstract paintings might be incomprehensible to many people, but his style is praised by artists, masters and specialists all around the world. Collectors and galleries have paid exorbitant prices for Picasso’s works, making them nearly priceless.
A true work of art has a hidden soul beneath its outward appearance. In contrast, some might say that Rainbow Village merely puts its stamp on goods that could be found in a hardware store.
Many of Taiwan’s cultural and creative parks and former military dependents’ villages have become clusters of souvenir shops and snack vendors. This is an expression of the typical Taiwanese lifestyle that revolves around food.
Real cultural and creative enterprises should have the vision that it takes to become leaders in their fields and become globally recognized, rather than grabbing any opportunity for online marketing and short-term profiteering. This only makes Taiwan look like a cultural desert.
Fang Fu-chuan is an international trader.
Translated by Julian Clegg
A gap appears to be emerging between Washington’s foreign policy elites and the broader American public on how the United States should respond to China’s rise. From my vantage working at a think tank in Washington, DC, and through regular travel around the United States, I increasingly experience two distinct discussions. This divergence — between America’s elite hawkishness and public caution — may become one of the least appreciated and most consequential external factors influencing Taiwan’s security environment in the years ahead. Within the American policy community, the dominant view of China has grown unmistakably tough. Many members of Congress, as
The Hong Kong government on Monday gazetted sweeping amendments to the implementation rules of Article 43 of its National Security Law. There was no legislative debate, no public consultation and no transition period. By the time the ink dried on the gazette, the new powers were already in force. This move effectively bypassed Hong Kong’s Legislative Council. The rules were enacted by the Hong Kong chief executive, in conjunction with the Committee for Safeguarding National Security — a body shielded from judicial review and accountable only to Beijing. What is presented as “procedural refinement” is, in substance, a shift away from
The shifting geopolitical tectonic plates of this year have placed Beijing in a profound strategic dilemma. As Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平) prepares for a high-stakes summit with US President Donald Trump, the traditional power dynamics of the China-Japan-US triangle have been destabilized by the diplomatic success of Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi in Washington. For the Chinese leadership, the anxiety is two-fold: There is a visceral fear of being encircled by a hardened security alliance, and a secondary risk of being left in a vulnerable position by a transactional deal between Washington and Tokyo that might inadvertently empower Japan
After declaring Iran’s military “gone,” US President Donald Trump appealed to the UK, France, Japan and South Korea — as well as China, Iran’s strategic partner — to send minesweepers and naval forces to reopen the Strait of Hormuz. When allies balked, the request turned into a warning: NATO would face “a very bad” future if it refused. The prevailing wisdom is that Trump faces a credibility problem: having spent years insulting allies, he finds they would not rally when he needs them. That is true, but superficial, as though a structural collapse could be caused by wounded feelings. Something