China, China, China, this year, is everywhere. You will not have escaped it - the dragon has exhumed its consumptive breath upon all corners of the capital, devouring each aspect of cosmopolitan life. Familiar icons deemed unmistakably "Eastern," deck the halls of Liberty while HSBC is running an ad campaign marked by the hackneyed image of a red paper-cut design.

On another front, it has already been extensively acknowledged that Beijing has recently recognised the advantages of cultural promotion - that an apparently tolerant political attitude toward the arts furnishes a favourable public persona. The arts, it seems, are no longer confined to traditional brush painting; architecture is more than the Forbidden City and Temple of Heaven.

What is important here is the shift in precedent notions of what makes something sufficiently Chinese. We are still far from witnessing a complete disposal of the tacky branding of what construes the Oriental. We have simply moved from one brand of acknowledged art-form to another, and  it is our process of acknowledgement which confers artistic status, rather than anything internal to the works, or even culture.

Thus we find ourselves in the situation in which our subject, China, is forced into a position of gratitude for our gaze. In an era of globalization, the issue of what makes something ‘itself' treads upon increasingly slippery terrain. Sure, you may come from China, but you might have been schooled in Europe, or have simply watched too much MTV. In short, though your ‘nature' is indubitable, your ‘nurture' is the result of a mish-mash of competing cultural influences. To put it bluntly the question is: are you, and is your work, "Asian" enough?

Such questions dogged my viewing of China Design Now, the exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum. The link is one of label, of the legitimacy of an exhibition which at once emblazons itself with the category "China" whilst at the same time adopting a premise that seems to posit the latter's demise. Namely, that the East is "less" East - and more West, more like us - than we thought.

Under our fetishist gawp this showcase of Chinese work becomes a slightly sickening feast of "foreignness". What we are engaging with is a variety of cultural tourism shot-through with all the promise of the Orient Express: passengers from the West, we buy our tickets and watch non-comprehending through the glass. We are able to see only our own image reflected, superimposed over the but-glimpsed externality.

What we have is an Orient-delivered-to-your-door; a made-to-measure magnolia version of reality over which we, like the spectators of some freak show, take charge of the content. We see the spectacle that we want to see - that we have, quite literally, bought into - and nothing else.

Having already decided that China is ‘modernising, we should note the malicious undertone in the synonymising of this term with increasing ‘Westernisation'. Our check-mate stare actually fixes China's identity and terminates any movement away from these boundaries. One need only acknowledge the lingering presence of Mao, whose image unfortunately continues to deck the majority of Chinese-design book sleeves.

To import ‘China' or ‘Chinese design' into a museum is like an act of taxidermy; for, rather than celebrating the life - the ‘platform' or ‘showcase' which we provide coincides with the object's death. Many viewers, I'm sure, will have noted the hint of imperialism which runs stealthily undercurrent to this show. By turning China into an ‘object of study,' the curators draw boundaries where there are none.

This is cultural fetishism in its most pronounced sense: it provokes but an "ooh, look at that" response. Supermarket aisles, city flyovers, market sellers, television advertisements and magazine covers - each depict something familiar and yet wholly different.

To watch this foreign "species" is to turn it into an animated Hello Kitty playground, a world which we can find either cute or curious - but which will always entertain, amuse, horrify. Walking around the galleries I was beset with the sensation that we are treating China as our plaything; that whilst we feed off our own revolting pride for having given platform to the exotic, we simultaneously muffle the genuine clarity of its voice.

The cosmopolitan ephemera which comprise this show - the websites, posters, fashion (in short: the product) - fall far short of any conjectured ‘window' on China. Rather what we are presented with is a ‘mirror': our own image is reflected over-and-above any genuine portrait of otherness. What is most terrible - and dangerous - is that China's becoming, its development, is recognised only now that it has started to resemble something approximating our own form.

In truth we are playing the wolf in granny's get-up; we lure the ‘foreignness' in with the promise of riches only then to violently extract payment. China acquires what we tell China it ought to want - but the sacrifice is high, for the particularity of its voice is muted in favour of the anonymity of the product-line.

Globalisation is indeed faceless: for behind each product there may be a producer not of our concern. Indeed, the ‘product' on-show in this exhibition could have been made anywhere, by anyone. As the blurb itself pronounces, this is a showcase of the ‘wealth of product' now evident in China and we need not concern ourselves with the haunting traces of life.

The exhibition ends in the museum shop and it is here that I find the ultimate irony. The final frontier is...sales. Propaganda prints from the Cultural Revolution, Mao-emblazoned enamel crockery), an updated cheongsam made from jersey material, packs of papercut designs: each point to the simple fact that even our aggressively ‘cultural' dealings with China take the form of capitalist exchange. Much could equally be made of the sponsors: Liberty is the ‘retail partner'; HSBC the ‘cultural sponsor'.

Here we have art reduced to its purchase and part of the exhibition is even housed within the aforementioned department store. We are buying into China in a big way and, though of course there is no denying that China will gain from such promotion, our own gain is the larger. Though we seem to be ‘reaching out', extending a hand to China, we are simultaneously ‘reaching in'. What we consume is the image of them consuming us: the narcissistic act of encounter with some ‘other' which is overtly attempting to mimic and to mime, ourselves. The mockery is flattering, the self-validation is addictive.

Just because the artists themselves may ‘issue' from China, does not mean that the work is indicative of any Chinese essence. Therein lies the confusion of globalisation. To call China's increased contact with the West its development is the last straw. This attitude suggests that West is more evolved, giving it the moral, political, aesthetic, social and technological high ground. It is nothing but imperialism and its ‘gift' is one imposed by the missionary.

China Design Now offers comprehensive coverage of the ways in which the contemporary artist can communicate his mores. What is a shame is simply that the exhibition fails to recognize the Western viewing posture. It is a dual aspect which was succinctly articulated by a graphic designer in the exhibition, who plays with the twin meanings of "kou", the Chinese word for "mouth". The word means simultaneously to consume as well as to expel; likewise this exhibition reflects not simply the Chinese speaking of their Chinese-ness, but also of their effective consumption of the West. It is the ‘East' saying just how ‘West' it is, how similar, as China throws itself right back at us.

 

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