The Ravenna-based illustrator and scriptwriter have created a book of rare intensity and poetry, in which the personal story of one of the world’s most famous artists is intertwined with the 12 signs of the Chinese zodiac.
By Serena Simoni for Ravenna&Dintorni (Italian weekly)
Twelve chapters of a graphic novel narrate the personal story of Ai Weiwei—arguably the world’s most renowned Chinese artist—while simultaneously portraying the culture and history of China from Mao’s Cultural Revolution to the present. This is Zodiac, a book born from the collaboration between the artist and two creatives from Ravenna: Gianluca Costantini (illustrations) and Elettra Stamboulis (script). Recently published in Italy by Oblomov Edizioni, it had already been released in the U.S., Germany, France, Portugal, and Thailand. In Ravenna, the book will be presented on Friday, November 29 (6:30 PM) at the Oriani Library, with journalist Danilo De Biasio, director of the Human Rights Festival, hosting a discussion with the authors.
The success of Zodiac owes not only to Ai Weiwei’s fame but also to its layered narrative complexity: a multifaceted, engaging memoir, beautifully illustrated and scripted. The storytelling interweaves past, present, and future without burdening the pace, unfolding through the twelve signs of the Chinese zodiac. Each sign inspires memories, reflections, and events blending private and collective history. The book opens with the myth of the zodiac’s creation, depicted through fantastical imagery that perfectly aligns with Costantini’s elegant style. Each zodiac sign introduces a theme, offering reflections on survival under oppression, where even access to books was limited to those sanctioned by the regime, evoking an Orwellian reality.
A sense of the fantastic pervades the narrative: myths, legends, and popular tales enhance emotions and deepen historical events’ meanings. At its heart is Ai Weiwei, born in 1957 to a dissident family exiled to northern China. The early imprisonment of his father is recounted in the chapter on the rat, a symbol of cunning and survival, aptly reflecting oppressive power. The narrative skeleton is built around reflections on freedom and antidotes to complicit silence, while personal memories shed light on China’s long history—from Maoist revolution to the Gang of Four, from Deng Xiaoping’s era and the Tiananmen Square protests to Xi Jinping’s rise.
The grand arc of history, Chinese culture, and the artist’s biography are not the sole narrative threads. Thanks to a finely balanced approach, Ai Weiwei’s distant past and family history connect to present-day dialogues with his son, Lao. This intergenerational passage—woven from myths, hardships, desires, hopes, and choices—adds a deeply human richness, stitched together masterfully by Stamboulis’s script. Extensive interviews, live meetings with the artist, and in-depth research on Chinese culture and history created a narrative tapestry where personal memories, ancient and modern art, history, fables, proverbs, and myths converge powerfully.
In Zodiac, Ai Weiwei appears not only as a resolute activist and visionary artist but also in a deeply human dimension. Recurring memories of his father, Ai Qing—a famous poet and multiple Nobel nominee—reveal a poignant narrative. Ai Qing was forced into menial labor after the “Hundred Flowers Campaign,” which punished intellectuals critical of the regime. The reflection on paternal bonds and his own fatherly role is one of the many emotional threads. Weiwei grapples with the notion of excess truth, ultimately counterbalancing it with an understanding of fear, both publicly and privately.
The book offers profound reflections on time and art. In the chapter on the rabbit, a zodiac symbol tied to the future, readers are invited to abandon Western ideas of musealization. Though an avid collector, Ai Weiwei integrates objects into his installations without detaching them from everyday life, as often happens in the West. Through installations, architecture, and artworks, Zodiac recounts his artistic career, linking his creations to autobiographical moments, such as his formative years in New York, or emphasizing his activism.
One notable example is the piece exposing the deaths of thousands of students in poorly constructed schools during an earthquake—a revelation that led to Weiwei’s abduction and 81-day detention without trial. His works also reflect on broader themes, such as the reimagined dragon symbol, featured in his Alcatraz installation, representing the deprivation of freedom.
The book also offers a collective artistic narrative. Beyond Weiwei’s story, Zodiac introduces readers to the Chinese avant-garde of the ’70s and ’80s, largely unknown until the mid-’90s. The narrative intertwines relationships with companions from his New York years and friends left behind in a China often impossible to return to. This underscores the bittersweet dimension of exile, which runs throughout the book with a touch of melancholy.
Art as resistance and freedom of expression—core tenets of Weiwei’s work and activism—emerge as a categorical imperative, albeit one that enforces separation. It’s a condition reminiscent of another exiled genius, Brodsky, who claimed that while art may not save the world, it serves as a formidable “accelerator of consciousness, thought, and understanding.”
