At the Star Museum,
artists and their works no longer follow linear arrangements,
nor are they defined by themes,
thus gaining the freedom to exist in their own time and as their own monuments.


If you stroll along the Xuhui Riverside Greenway, you’ll find a long, transparent silver-gray pitched-roof building not far south of the Lupu Bridge. Its structure is pure and clear, reminiscent of a train platform or an industrial warehouse. Above it, three rectangular terraces of varying sizes float in the air, standing alongside the green cranes along the Huangpu River. Along the path, reeds sway in the cold wind, their feathery white plumes softening the edges of the concrete and steel. Boats crisscross the Huangpu River, their horns and engine sounds drifting across the water. Closing your eyes, you might feel transported across time: in 1907, amid the modernization wave of the Hundred Days’ Reform, China’s first land-to-sea transfer railway platform, the "Rihui Port Freight Yard," was built here. In 1937, after the Japanese army bombed the original Shanghai South Railway Station, the freight yard gradually took over the cargo and some passenger services of both stations. After the founding of New China, the Rihui Port Station was renamed Shanghai South Railway Station and later Nanpu Railway Station... This space once carried the aspirations of countless Chinese people traveling far and wide, fueled Shanghai’s rapid development, witnessed severe environmental pollution, and ultimately transformed from an industrial ruin into the West Bund Cultural Corridor. Now, at the starting point of this corridor, the Star Museum, founded by art scholar and contemporary art collector Mr. He Juxing, has finally opened its doors to the public.

Designed by Pritzker Prize laureate Jean Nouvel, the Star Museum is the smallest project by his architectural firm in Shanghai, yet it holds immense depth. The architect team carefully designed layers to counteract horizontal forces, eliminating the need for beams in the lofty space, ensuring unobstructed views while maximizing the interior area. The building’s facade alternates between solid and void, with large glass walls connecting the inside and outside, drawing natural light and river views into the interior while boldly displaying the museum’s artworks to passersby, creating a interplay of reflections. The combination of terraces and skylights introduces a rhythmic play of light, allowing for free collection of diffuse light to protect the artworks inside.

Currently, the Star Museum’s opening exhibition, "START," has begun, awaiting visitors. Eighty-five artists (or groups) born between 1921 and 1988, from different countries and regions, present 88 works in this exhibition, sparking a multidimensional, multiperspective dialogue in contemporary art. The curatorial team aims to "reassert the spiritual value and contributions of Chinese art in the new historical timeline," breaking free from chronological constraints and thematic limitations to explore new footholds for thought beyond traditional art historical narratives and popular exhibition concepts.

Because of this, stepping into the Star Museum feels like entering a game of interpretation where "horizontal views reveal ridges, and side views reveal peaks." For instance, in Wang Gongxin’s installation Dialogue (1995), the surface of a black desk is replaced by a pool of ink, atop which two light bulbs, controlled by a motor, alternately rise and fall, casting warm halos on a white wall and creating ripples in the calm, ink-black reflection. Once assured the ink won’t overflow, the viewer can feel the calm brought by the rhythmic alternation. Nearby, Nam June Paik’s classic work Candle TV (1991) also uses light to draw viewers into meditation. Ink, white candles, Zen—we can interpret both works within the context of East Asian culture, but this need not be the only approach, as we can also observe the working motor and dismantled TV shell, engaging in a dialogue with ourselves while gazing at the light.

Moving forward, Chen Zhen’s Human Pagoda (1999), built with colorful candles and assorted chairs, depicts a tightly interwoven, mutually supportive multicultural landscape. Though it echoes the colors of Damien Hirst’s 3.66-meter-diameter circular spin painting across the room, the two reveal entirely different creative methods and attitudes toward life. Both artists work with childlike simplicity: Chen Zhen builds like stacking blocks, while Hirst employs techniques taught on children’s TV shows. Chen Zhen’s handmade candle pagoda is crooked, almost laboriously unpolished, while Hirst flings paint onto a rotating canvas, packaging it into a seemingly proper decorative piece. The candle pagoda inherits the consistent humanistic concern in Chen Zhen’s work—naive, resolute, and sincere—while the spin painting continues Hirst’s conceptual game of reflecting on art history, titled Beautiful, Cheap, Low, Easy, Anyone Can Do It, Big, Motorized, Spinning, Heaven, Rotten, Junk, Bad Art, Shit, Exciting, Attractive, On the Couch, Celebrating Painting (1996).

Walking through the Star Museum, countless hidden connections between different works abound. Opposite Xiao Feng and Song Ren’s Norman Bethune (1973–1974) is Zeng Fanzhi’s Warrior (2004), juxtaposing the harsh reality and romantic imagination of war and offering different definitions of heroism. After viewing Zhang Hui’s Blueprint - Gathering (2014) and its eight blue hard hats on the mezzanine, one might turn to see Fang Lijun’s *2008.8* (2008) on the first floor, a golden crown piled with fruit, flowers, branches, and jewelry. Ding Yi’s *Appearance of Crosses 2020-1* (2020) and Zhang Enli’s Temporary Space (2013) each hold their ground, gazing at one another. Some works can only be fully appreciated in the physical exhibition space. At the Star Museum, viewers can closely examine Shi Hui’s Compendium of Materia Medica No. 1 (2011), made with pulp and herbs, to feel its materiality, organic simplicity, and enduring handmade tradition, or admire the shimmering rhinestones on Mickalene Thomas’s Naomi Looking Forward (2013), smiling at the woman’s glance, the Black figure moving from the background to the center, and the delightful "bad taste."

All this is but a glimpse. So, what considerations lie behind the "non-linear, theme-free" curatorial logic? What stories unfolded during the Star Museum’s eight-year preparation? In early January 2023, OUIART visited No. 111 Ruining Road for an in-depth interview with He Juxing, director of the Star Museum and art scholar. From his tenure as director of the Yanhuang Art Museum in Beijing, to founding the Shanghai Minsheng Art Museum and preparing the Beijing Minsheng Art Museum, to the opening of the Star Museum, he shared forty years of personal journey behind art collecting and cultural research.

Q1

OUIART:
How did you first become involved with art? Could you share the story of your first art acquisition?

He Juxing:
I’ve loved reading since childhood. My father and five generations before him were educators, and my elder brother also taught in our hometown (Zhuji, Zhejiang). He often brought back books—Russian literature, Chinese classics—and I read them all. My mother once told me about her early days after marrying into my father’s family: there were seven boxes of scroll paintings at home, but due to historical reasons, they were all burned, leaving only seven empty boxes.

At 14, I published my first short piece in Qiantang River Review, a column in Zhejiang Daily. The article was tiny, and the fee was small—about 1.5 yuan—but it was my first earnings as a writer, which greatly encouraged me. Later, I joined the military and studied journalism at Nanjing Army College, then Chinese literature at East China Normal University. When I first arrived in Shanghai at 18, I was struck by its beauty and thought: How lucky I am to be in such a city; I must not waste this fate.

After graduation, I became an officer in the military with a salary of 57 yuan, which was high in the early 1980s. My first art purchase was a Li Keran painting for 600 yuan at the Friendship Store, which catered to foreign visitors, so I had to exchange RMB for special certificates. As a reporter, I often delivered manuscripts to the Wen Hui Bao office on Huqiu Road. After each delivery, I’d bike to the Friendship Store, drawn to that Li Keran painting. Later, I learned a similar piece would cost only 200 yuan at Rongbao Zhai in Beijing—prices were higher for foreign guests. China’s formal art market didn’t emerge until the 1990s, so back then, I had no concept of art as an investment. I was 21.

Looking back, I’ve worked in many fields—media, bookstores, banking, and now museums—but my connection to art has never broken. Instead, it’s grown tighter and deeper. What moves me most is that in my twenties (the early 1980s), I encountered an era where spiritual and cultural ideas could be freely proposed and debated, a time that tolerated boundless, even audacious imagination. That era was truly special; it shaped my cultural character and laid the foundation for my relentless pursuit of cultural endeavors. Later, as globalization surged, China assumed a role poised for takeoff. I’ve spent these forty years mainly in Shanghai, Beijing, and Hong Kong, including years abroad for research. These were the best times—if we’re to talk about collecting, I must start with this.

Q2

OUIART:
Your collection includes works by over 400 Chinese and Western artists, with thousands of classic and significant pieces. What threads or focal points guide your acquisitions?

He Juxing:
Early on, work introduced me to many Chinese painters. Though I was only in my twenties, we connected culturally without barriers, and my collection grew gradually. In the first two decades, I acquired important works by Xu Beihong, a significant number by Lu Yanshao, and exceptional pieces by Qi Baishi, Wu Changshuo, Fu Baoshi, Wu Hufan, and other modern masters. After Beijing won the bid for the 2008 Olympics, Chinese contemporary artists stepped onto the international stage. Western collectors and institutions were the first to notice and understand Chinese contemporary art, but I wasn’t far behind—only my perspective differed. They analyzed it through a Western lens, while I approached collecting through the fate of Chinese culture.

Also, perhaps because I was born in the 1960s, my collection often gravitates toward that era. The works in "START" also span from the 1960s to the present—a sixty-year timeframe.

Q3

OUIART:
The Star Museum took eight years to complete. What challenges did you face?

He Juxing:
Since assembling the team in Hong Kong in 2015, most members have stayed till today. As a non-profit, we can only offer modest salaries, so without passion and shared purpose, such continuity would be impossible. Yet the team remains highly motivated and creative, with exceptional knowledge and research skills, contributing significantly to global contemporary art and Chinese cultural studies. Without their support and confidence, I could never have realized such a grand vision.

Q4

OUIART:
The Star Museum was designed by Jean Nouvel’s firm. You traveled to France for discussions—could you share memorable moments from the design process?

He Juxing:
After initial agreement with Jean Nouvel’s studio, I flew to Paris to discuss the collaboration in person. Our first meeting was at his home, where I outlined five key points:1、The museum site was a railway station built in the last imperial dynasty, embodying Chinese aspirations for industrialization and modernity.2、During war, it was occupied by invading forces and bombed, witnessing historical turmoil and national resilience.3、Regardless of wealth, many dreamed of boarding trains here, carrying hopes of departure or return.4、The museum is just 100 meters from the river, a rare natural and cultural setting.5、I wanted a museum with international vision and vibrant creativity.Jean Nouvel’s imagination was astounding. He was deeply interested and immediately envisioned possibilities, sealing the collaboration.

Cost was unavoidable, especially with a master like Nouvel. I told him my budget was limited—even a million would be my donation to Shanghai. This moved him. As an architect with cultural passion, he said, "I understand. We don’t just do expensive buildings; great work can be done with little." He shared successful projects and his youth in France’s cultural movements. Our experiences mirrored each other, just across time and borders.

Q5

OUIART:
The Star Museum’s opening exhibition is the first of four sequential shows, each lasting five months over two years, featuring over 300 global contemporary artists and 300+ works. The first, "START," presents 88 works by 85 artists. What message does it convey?

He Juxing:
An opening exhibition defines a museum’s identity and future direction, offering a glimpse of its style and ethos. In "START," as curators, we set no dialogues. Artists and works follow no linear order or themes, free to exist as their own monuments.

Linear narratives, declaring who’s a monument or a stepping stone, are simplistic. Thematic exhibitions often crush artists’ individuality, reducing them to the theme’s components. Linearity is a trap; themes are a stranglehold. Before art, our best role is as researchers, expanding art’s cultural scope for its time, avoiding definitions, arrangements, or themes. This may not be right, but it’s an attempt. "START" embodies this "non-linear, theme-free" approach. Beyond artists’ backgrounds or methods, my selections share one trait: they challenge art history, whether in methods or definitions of art.

Q6

OUIART:
When you first saw the completed "START," was there a work or space that moved you? What are your hopes for the Star Museum’s future?

He Juxing:
Yes, I’ve entered this space many times—it’s deeply familiar. From Jean Nouvel’s first sketches, the Star Museum was envisioned as transparent, fluid, and inviting public engagement. Installing massive works without compromising the building’s openness or design is a challenge for any museum, but we strive for it.

The Star Museum is my gift to Shanghai—a monumental architectural sculpture, forty years of art research, and future internationally minded exhibitions. Admission is free for seniors over 70, children, active military, and the disabled. We see it as an urban art education hub, elevating public cultural literacy.

Shanghai is this era’s greatest city. Its people are gentle yet proud, worldly, and culturally minded. At Shanghai Minsheng Art Museum, I saw visitors queue quietly in summer heat, reading newspapers or shading themselves—such order and respect are rare. I hold deep affection and expectations for this city, believing it and its people will take pride in the Star Museum.