Creating Democracy Through Art: How the Taipei Biennial Emerged from Political Transformation

On a humid evening in October 1998, the lights of the Taipei Fine Arts Museum blazed late into the night as workers rushed to install artworks for the inaugural Taipei Biennial. The exhibition—titled "Site of Desire" and co-curated by Japanese curator Fumio Nanjo—marked a pivotal moment in Taiwan's cultural history. Yet the story of how this biennial came to exist goes far beyond the contemporary art world; it's inextricably linked to Taiwan's remarkable democratic transformation and its complex quest for cultural identity in the shadow of geopolitical tensions.

Just eleven years earlier, Taiwan had been under martial law, with artistic expression tightly controlled by an authoritarian government that viewed contemporary art with suspicion. "The museum itself was originally conceived as a space for nationalist art that would promote a particular vision of Chinese cultural identity," explains Lin Chi-Ming, former TFAM curator and witness to the institution's transformation. "The idea that it would one day host radical international contemporary art exploring themes of identity and democracy would have seemed impossible."

The roots of the Taipei Biennial can be traced to Taiwan's "quiet revolution" of democratization that began with the lifting of martial law in 1987, followed by the first direct presidential election in 1996. This political opening created space for artistic experimentation and critical discourse that had previously been suppressed. Artists who had been working underground or in exile returned to Taiwan, bringing international influences and a determination to forge a distinctly Taiwanese cultural identity separate from both Chinese nationalism and colonial legacies.

"What made the Taipei Biennial different from the beginning was that it wasn't initiated as a tourism project or a showcase of national prestige, as many biennials are," notes cultural theorist Chen Kuan-Hsing. "It emerged from a genuine need to create a platform for dialogue between local and international artists at a time when Taiwan was struggling for recognition on the world stage."

The biennial's first iteration reflected this ambition through its focus on urban Asian experiences. Fumio Nanjo's curatorial framework brought together artists from Taiwan, Japan, Korea, and China to explore shared concerns while highlighting their distinct contexts. This regional approach was strategic, creating a platform where Taiwanese artists could engage as equals with international counterparts, circumventing the diplomatic isolation that prevented Taiwan's participation in many global cultural forums.

The political significance of the biennial was not lost on participants or visitors. "There was an electricity in the air during that first opening," remembers artist Mei Dean-E, whose work examining Taiwan's complex relationship with Japan and China was featured prominently. "We were not just showing art; we were performing democracy—demonstrating that Taiwan could host a world-class cultural event featuring controversial, critical voices that might have been censored just a decade earlier."

This democratic impulse has remained central to the biennial's identity even as its scale and ambition have grown. The 2004 edition, "Do You Believe in Reality?" curated by Barbara London and Wang Jun-Jieh, became a watershed moment, directly engaging with Taiwan's contested political status and exploring how art might address the gap between lived reality and official narratives. The exhibition coincided with heightened tensions with China and featured works that obliquely addressed Taiwan's ambiguous sovereignty—a theme that would have been unthinkable during the martial law era.

Over subsequent editions, the biennial has continually evolved, reflecting Taiwan's changing position in global politics and culture. The 2008 edition, "When Histories Collide," explored Taiwan's layered colonial history and its contemporary repercussions. The 2014 edition, "The Great Acceleration," examined ecological crisis through Taiwan's experience of rapid industrialization. The 2020 edition, held during the COVID-19 pandemic, provocatively titled "You and I Don't Live on the Same Planet," used Taiwan's successful pandemic response as a launching point to explore divergent realities in a fragmenting world.

"What makes the Taipei Biennial fascinating is how it reflects Taiwan's unique position as a democratic society with unresolved questions about sovereignty and identity," observes art historian Joan Kee. "Unlike biennials in authoritarian contexts, it doesn't need to avoid sensitive topics. And unlike Western biennials, it doesn't take democracy for granted—there's an awareness that democratic culture must be actively maintained and defended."

This democratic ethos extends to the biennial's organizational structure. Since 2000, it has operated through international curatorial collaborations, pairing overseas curators with local experts to create exhibitions that bridge global art discourse and Taiwan's specific context. This model ensures that the biennial remains connected to international developments while maintaining its distinctive voice.

"The Taipei Biennial reminds us that contemporary art institutions don't emerge in a vacuum—they reflect the political and social conditions of their creation," concludes Chen. "In Taiwan's case, the biennial exists because democracy created space for artistic expression and international dialogue. It's not just an art event; it's a demonstration of cultural democracy in action."

As the biennial prepares for its 14th edition in 2025, it continues to navigate the complex intersection of art, politics, and identity in a region where these questions remain urgently unresolved. In doing so, it offers a powerful example of how cultural institutions can emerge from political transformation and, in turn, help shape a society's ongoing democratic evolution.