At No. 2, Lane 262, Wuyuan Road, inside an old villa located in Shanghai's "plane tree district," rough-hewn wood, dried straw, and coiled vines are arranged in an orderly yet seemingly haphazard manner, attracting many visitors to come and "check-in." This place is named the "Interval Space," and this ostensibly crude exhibition is titled "Whale Song," showcasing the folk arts and customs of Jinshan, a far suburban area of Shanghai. According to the curator, Catherine, the whale skeleton-like wood at the exhibition's entrance, along with the handwoven local cloth and vases on display, were all transported from Jinshan. "Many people's impression of Shanghai might be that of a bustling metropolis, but Shanghai also has rural areas with pristine, rustic natural scenery. This kind of local culture is something we are very interested in and hope to bring to the city center." The origin of the exhibition leads to an art platform based in Jinshan—"gaibe隔壁" (Next Door). Its founder, Lin Li, is a native of Zhujing, Jinshan. Initially, she approached Catherine with a more modern concept, but Catherine was more interested in the rural land where Lin Li grew up. Thus, a collaboration on "suburban art" began.
This area, located in the southwest corner of Shanghai, seems a world away from the artistic atmosphere of the city center. Xinjing Village, where Lin Li is based, is a rural community predominantly populated by elderly residents. "gaibe隔壁" has grown precisely from this land, which might be considered an "art desert."
Can art really work in a village? In fact, since its establishment in January of this year, "Next Door" has been exploring this less-traveled path for a year. In her annual summary, Lin Li described it as: "The Unnoticed 2025 of 'Next Door'."
On a winter afternoon, the wind in Xinjing Village carries the scents of dry grass, earth, and a hint of smoke from cooking fires. We met Lin Li at the village grocery store, where she was walking a Border Collie named "Xixi." A post-90s art professional, Lin Li left her job a few years ago and, by chance, ended up living long-term in a renovated old family home. Every day, she walks her dog, strolls around the village with a camera hanging from her neck, sometimes capturing the village scenery, other times chatting with the elderly residents. Gradually, this unconscious recording transformed into warm, observant documentation.
"I studied television directing," Lin Li said with a smile. "People in our field always have a bit of sentimentality, a desire for expression. You start to feel that the things here are worth being seen." Lin Li skillfully turned into a small path and stopped in front of an old house being demolished. An elderly grandmother gathering wood scraps looked up, saw her, and pointed cheerfully towards a pile of old wooden planks in the corner: "There, saved them for you! If you don't take them now, I'll really throw them away." Lin Li bent down to pick them up, pointing out the faint but exquisite carvings on the wood. These were pieces she had spotted days earlier and specifically asked the grandmother to save. "This is how I collect 'trash' every day," she remarked.
Lin Li carries these old planks back to her "treasure room." Inside the storage space, straw is stacked into neat bricks, old wooden chests are filled with handwoven cloth made by elderly villagers, traditional weaving tools sit nearby, hand-painted wooden vases of various sizes are piled in a corner, and on a bed lies a stack of vibrant, naively styled peasant paintings. Unfolding one, Lin Li said, "This is a work by the Jinshan peasant painter Chen Muyun, who has passed away." Those wooden vases were also crafted by Chen Muyun. "In the latter half of his life, Chen Muyun became obsessed with woodworking. He often used found deadwood to create, sanding plain bases, mixing paints, combining the textures of traditional ceramics with the rustic quality of woodware."
These seemingly useless items salvaged by Lin Li, in Catherine's eyes, resonate strongly with the theme of the "whale fall." "These things, to many, represent processes of decay, death, or disappearance. But in the countryside, you see how everything is recycled—wood and straw are used for fuel, old cloth strips for tying up climbing plants," Catherine explained. "In Shanghai's rural fields, even withering possesses vitality."
We stayed in Xinjing Village for nearly four hours. The village is large; walking from one end to the other, aside from the occasional bark of a dog, a profound quiet envelops everything. "A rare moment of noise in the village is sometimes hearing 'fireworks' at night, which signals that another elderly person has passed away," Lin Li noted.
Amidst the prolonged silence, Lin Li felt an urgent need to *do* something. In March, she hung portraits she had taken of forty or fifty grandmothers in a pavilion by the fields. "At first, when I wanted to take their photos, some grandmothers would say, 'I'm old, not good-looking, don't take my picture.' But with a little persuasion, I found many of them actually did want to be photographed." On the day of the exhibition, she drove the grandmothers to see it. Seeing their photos displayed, they laughed and pointed at each other—"That's you!"—feeling both新奇 and happy. Later, Lin Li developed the photos and gave prints to every grandmother she had photographed. To her delight, a nonagenarian neighbor, upon seeing Lin Li with her camera, would proactively say, "Come take a picture of me!"
While the static exhibition fulfilled the elderly's desire to be "seen," the addition of part-time musician Mingming brought more vibrant melodies to the village. Mingming, a young woman from Zhujing, works in the city during the week and returns to Jinshan on weekends to teach guitar. After meeting Lin Li, they hit it off immediately, and Mingming became the music coordinator for "Next Door." In June, with an old chair, a guitar, and a microphone, a summer evening concert at the village entrance began with Mingming's soft singing, the melody of "Tomorrow Will Be Better" echoing through the village. By August, the village entrance concert had been "upgraded." Local university students volunteered spontaneously, co-planning with Lin Li and Mingming. They borrowed lanterns made by town artisans, and the public art partner "Xiangyi Shaoting Art Action" built a stage using bamboo and reclaimed materials. Performers included a cellist visiting from Germany and local musicians. New features were added: DIY handicraft stations, ring toss games, and even the village grocery store joined in, offering special limited-edition drinks. As night fell and lights illuminated the scene, they lit up the curious and joyful faces of the villagers. What remained most memorable for Mingming was an elderly person who lingered after the event ended, asking, "Will you hold this again? We'd like to hear you sing more." Months later, Mingming still vividly recalls that moment.
"We used to think they might not understand pop songs," Mingming said. "But actually, they don't necessarily need to understand the lyrics. If there's something lively happening in the village, they come to join in, stand for a while. For them, that in itself is a very important form of 'cultural life'."
Looking back on the year, Lin Li said the trajectory of "gaibe隔壁" has somewhat felt like being "pushed along." It evolved from personal documentation to creating exhibitions and performances, with its influence gradually spreading. The village committee provided unused space, and the town's Youth League Committee and the district's media center subsequently offered attention. "I really didn't expect it to get this big," she admitted.
On the day we met Lin Li, a young woman named Xiao Zhao from Shenzhen also arrived in Xinjing Village, pulling her suitcase. Xiao Zhao mentioned she was in Shanghai visiting relatives and Xinjing Village was the final stop on her trip. "Shenzhen doesn't have this kind of rural scenery." After coming across "Next Door" on social media, her keen interest led her to become online friends with Lin Li. Throughout the year, Lin Li has hosted many such visitors who have made the long journey.
After a year of exploration, the question "Can art work in a village?" has gradually ceased to be the central issue. However, more profound, realistic challenges have surfaced. Over the year, "Next Door" has mostly been about creative output, without clear profit channels. How long can purely "passion-driven" work last? The exploration is beginning to touch on more practical aspects. On December 20th, "Next Door" collaborated with the Jinshan Wangqin Craft Brewery's New Town Park store to host a ticketed event named "Haqiu!!! Ah Chill! Craft Beer Culture Night," with early bird tickets at 88 yuan and standard tickets at 98 yuan. This "trial run" was well-received; "At least we filled the venue," Lin Li said.
In her annual summary, Lin Li wrote that income and sustainability will likely be the biggest challenges for "Next Door" in 2026, a necessary lesson to face. However, "No matter what, we will continue doing this, continue paying attention to our surroundings, focus on the present, and initiate those small, concrete, and sincere actions."
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