Review: Life Is a Series of Battles《Battle City: Finale》

During the exhibition of Battle City: Finale at the MoNTUE (Museum of National Taipei University of Education) on Heping East Road, a striking scene unfolded each morning before the doors even opened: lines of visitors— a long line of visitors, including young people, students and families with small children, wrapping around the museum. Even three months later, the image of those eager crowds remains vivid. From May 4 to July 21, 2024, the exhibition attracted 123,000 visitors over 79 days, setting a new attendance record for the museum. This overwhelming response surprised both the artist, Chang Li-ren, and the museum, with many attendees expecting an anime showcase, a miniature wonderland, or a model exhibition.

Battle City: Finale resonated so deeply perhaps because its meticulously crafted 1:12 scale city felt almost lifelike, reflecting elements of each viewer’s own daily experiences. Familiar streets, shops, and businesses came to life within the installation, allowing audiences to project their own “cities” onto the artwork. The piece featured the ubiquitous icons of 7-Elevens, post offices, McDonald’s, meatball shops, Chinese herbal medicine stores and clinics, pharmacies, department stores, Konica photo processing shops, wedding card printing shops, land broker offices, bike shops, eye clinics and theaters. It even captured the details from the faded ads for medicine pills and private investigation agencies, to the powerful Holian air conditioners roaring like tanks in cram schools. Yet, was there ever a city quite like this? Was it real enough to warrant 14 years of painstaking, solitary dedication by an artist?

Before Battle City: Finale debuted, Chang Li-ren was already a prominent figure in Taiwan’s visual arts scene. From his time at National Taiwan University of Arts to his graduate studies at Graduate Institute of Plastic Arts at Tainan National University, he consistently won major Taiwanese art awards. In 2009 alone, he swept three major prizes: the Kaohsiung Art Awards, the Taipei Arts Awards, and the 7th Taoyuan Creation Award. In 2010, he was shortlisted for the prestigious 8th Taishin Arts Award.

Yet, despite these achievements, the success offered little assurance of an easy artist’s path. Chang rented a small 165-square-foot walk-up apartment in Yonghe District, one of the most densely populated areas of New Taipei City. In that cramped space, he began constructing the painstaking work Battle City: Finale.

n filming, the production art department often constructs fictional cities tailored to a specific narrative purpose, with strict deadlines and a focus on precision and efficiency. In contrast, Chang’s work is an introspective dialogue with himself, where neither time and efficiency hold significance.

Reflecting on his childhood reading of Journey to the West, Chang recalls wondering: why didn’t the Monkey King simply use his cloud-somersaulting powers to retrieve the scriptures from the West? Why didn’t the Buddha, with all his power, just hand the scriptures directly to the monk Tang Sanzang? Perhaps the scriptures were never the point, but rather a pretext for the prolonged journey of self-cultivation, which ultimately transformed the travelers themselves. After all, how many readers who finish “Journey to the West” truly remember the content of those scriptures?

Chang Li-ren’s solitary creative process may appear to be a relentless struggle with the passage of time—much like the Monkey King, tormented by the tightening headband, misunderstood and punished by his master, and seemingly forever trapped within the Buddha’s control. Yet, by the time the Monkey King reaches the West Haven, he has transformed and is no longer the mischievous stone-born being. Perhaps Battle City: Finale is Chang’s destined scripture, a creative journey demanding constant trial and error, forcing him to confront challenges and refine his spirit through years of dedication.

In Chang Li-ren’s solo animated film, Battle City Part 1: The Glory of Taiwan, the impoverished elementary school friends like Jhih-Ciang, Siao-Ming, and A-Rong, along with the revolutionary A-mei, navigated a shadowed and treacherous path. Much like the artist himself, they cling to fragile dreams, struggling to break free from the entanglements of harsh reality.

Dreams may be rosy, but reality often bites. In Chang’s Battle City, the characters struggle to survive in the shadows of urban life. The protagonist, Jhih-Ciang, suffers a debilitating workplace injury, loses his city residency, and is ultimately exiled to a nuclear-contaminated rural wasteland, as the city has room only for the wealthy. Much like his characters, Chang, committed to solo creation, must navigate the harsh realities of the city, carving out room for his art within the unforgiving cracks and crevices of daily life and balancing the ambition with the weight of an indifferent world.

Inside the cramped confines of his 180-square-foot apartment on the city’s outskirts, Chang constructed a miniature metropolis, a microcosm of urban Taiwan. But halfway through filming the first installment of “City of Battles – Glory of Taiwan,” his lease expired and his funds ran dry. The limited space, barely enough for five buildings and a single road, also constrained the film’s depth of field. Chang himself lived a life mirroring his miniature creations. Over 14 years, he was forced to move 6 times due to financial hardship and other challenges. Each move posed the difficult question of whether to dismantle the city and tear down the houses he painstakingly built.

In 2014, during the Sunflower Movement, Chang and his friends were simply wandering near Jhongshan South Road, when unexpectedly they found themselves climbing barricades and joining the occupation of the Legislative Yuan. Witnessing the historic event firsthand spurred Chang to seek a workspace spacious and affordable enough to bring his creative visions complete to life. He relocated to a disused tin factory in Tainan’s Syuejia district, where, for the same rent, he gained a 2,645-square-foot space. For the first time, he had a place to call his own—a chance to build his own city after leaving the real one behind.

Reflecting on the aspiration of Battle City, Chang explained: “The project’s essence lies in existing parallel to the real world, interwoven with the actual timeline. As I create, time continues to move forward outside, and the factory’s temperature shifts with the seasons. It’s like watching the scenery outside through a car window—constantly moving ahead, while I remain behind.”

Life living in his temporary space was far from comfortable. The heat conducted through the tin roof often startled him awake, leaving him questioning his purpose. As dusk descended, a profound sense of desolation set in. The long shadows cast by Tainan’s sunsets marked the end of another day, bringing with them existential questions like “Would these days blur into years? A decade even? Why am I here? Why am I doing this?” Life remained precarious with the constant financial strain of affording basic sustenance and art supplies. To make ends meet, Chang sold DVDs of his own films and took on freelance work to cover the rent.

An unexpected conversation with Father François Verny, a French priest fluent in Taiwanese and based at the Houbi Jingliao parish, provided an epiphany for Chang. The priest shared his efforts to raise funds for the restoration of the church he served, and the conversation provided answers to questions that had long troubled him.

The Holy Cross Catholic Church in Jingliao, designed by Pritzker Prize-winning architect Gottfried Böhm, resembles a pyramid. Years of neglect had taken their toll, prompting Father François Verny to launch a public fundraising campaign and recruit volunteers for its restoration.

Chang asked the priest, “Since this church was designed by a Pritzker laureate, why not seek government funding? Wouldn’t that be a faster way to complete the restoration?”

Father Vayne replied, “If the government provides the funds, we will have to follow their timeline—that’s the worldly time. But if we raise funds from the community and restore it together, even if it takes longer, that is God’s time.”

This simple statement created a profound awakening within Chang, bringing clarity to Chang’s long-standing existential questions. “The meaning of an individual lies in their connection to others. The significance you hold for them, and they for you. What can one person truly accomplish? The meaning changes entirely in the context of connections with others.”

Constrained by the realities of his circumstances, Chang approached the creation of Battle City in phases. He began by outlining the project’s framework, followed by crafting the character designs. Using the most accessible material—tissue paper—he brought his characters to life. The paper was soaked, pulped, mixed with white glue, pressed into molds, and then painted with faces, hairstyles, clothing, and accessories. The figures’ crude, makeshift appearance wasn’t just an outcome of the materials—it was deliberate. Chang saw it as a reflection of Taiwan itself: a place that embraces assembly and improvisation over precision.

In 2014, Chang Li-ren began sketching storyboards with one hand while constructing a 1:12 scale miniature city with Styrofoam and cardboard with the other. He even created faux television programs —news broadcasts, talk shows, cooking segments, and commercials— broadcast on tiny, functional screens within his miniature world, further bringing out the characters of Battle City. Drawing on childhood memories of his hometown, he sought to capture this gritty gray city infused with rich history and personality. The skyline featured the rusty, red-tiled roofs, rooftop water tanks, and rooftop additions, while vivid shop signs strived to outshine one another in size and brightness, mimicking the relentless competition of city life.

Chang meticulously pieced together his urban landscape, adding parked motorcycles on street corners and the glow of blinking traffic lights, as well as interior furniture details visible through tiny windows. This painstaking realism invited viewers to project their own experiences onto this fictional city. But at the center of it all, a road led directly to a miniature America, a hint to the artist’s deliberate design of this urban plan – also built to serve as the backdrop for his ambitious Battle City trilogy.

Ultimately, Chang created 108 characters, each with a distinct persona and destiny. Every character came with unique accessories, echoing the Taiwanese “Jhua Jhou” ritual, a tradition where a one-year-old chooses an item said to predict their future path, whether marked by fortune or specialized skills.

Aware of the intricate link between language and identity in Taiwan, Chang devised a unique language to voice each character in his animation, a deliberate choice allowing viewers to detach from conventional interpretations and experience the story with a fresh perspective.

Chang’s art has long attracted significant attention, earning him numerous invitations to exhibit his work. However, due to its immense scale, Battle City could only be shown in fragments. In 2023, as TSMC planned to establish its cutting-edge 3nm chip factory in Tainan, the once-remote countryside—detached from mainstream society—suddenly became a hotspot. The quiet and casual pace of life in the region shifted dramatically. Even the rent for Chang’s studio in Syuejia doubled almost overnight. Though his lease was set to expire in August, the landlord extended only a brief grace period until the end of the month. After more than eight years of relative stability, Chang found himself once again forced to move.

This time, however, the stakes were much higher. With no alternative location to house his magnum opus, the 14-year project Battle City faced potential demolition. While parts of the model were on exhibition in France at the time, Chang had already decided to dismantle some of his work. He recounts the experience with an outwardly calm, but the weight of that decision must have been immeasurable. Would Chang bow to these pressures, or would he somehow find a way to keep his artistic vision alive?

Before turning 40, Chang made one last audacious attempt by submitting his Battle City project to MoNTUE’s 2023 “Dreamin’ MoNTUE” open call. This time, luck was on his side. Out of 62 submissions. Battle City: Finale stood out and was selected. The museum decided to showcase the work in its entirety, the first time the work would be fully displayed. For Chang, the moment felt like a twist of fate, akin to drawing a “Chance” card in Monopoly, or proving the proverb: “Luck favors the prepared.” Despite precarious living conditions, he had relentlessly pursued his creative journey, delving into his vision with unwavering dedication.

Upon learning of Chang’s impending displacement, the MoNTUE extended him the title of artist-in-residence. This provided him with a stable workspace near the exhibition site, allowing him to meticulously refine each intricate detail of his project. The 108 characters, along with their unique accessories, were carefully encased in transparent containers, neatly displayed along the exhibition walls.

The exhibition also featured stunningly detailed miniature replicas: the Presidential Office Building, a U.S. Capitol press briefing, A-Rong’s modest apartment reflecting his aspirations of becoming “Taiwan’s pride,” and Dr. Wang’s lab plotting to challenge global hegemony, etc. The level of detail resembled a series of meticulously crafted dollhouses, captivating visitors of all ages with its intricacy. As Chang himself reflected, the exhibition, a decade in the making, offered a closure and finally a chance to realize a complete vision of his imagined world, an opportunity that couldn’t happen ten years ago. In this sense, Finale does not mean a definitive end to Battle City but a culmination, a pause for reflection before the next chapter to unfold.

The MoNTUE museum features an expansive glass window overlooking the elevated Wenhu Line train tracks. As trains glide by, they infuse Chang’s miniature cityscape with a dynamic interplay of depth and perspective, blurring the lines between reality and the imagined world. Perched above the buildings, a model of an Indigenous Defense Fighter jet circles in perpetual motion, symbolizing the precarious fate of an island nation positioned on the First Island Chain. The jet captures Taiwan’s dual battles: the ceaseless external pressures of hybrid warfare and the persistent internal divides within its society.

Jhih-Ciang and A-Rong in Battle City mirror these complexities. Here, “battle” extends far beyond war, encompassing the everyday struggles for survival. For Chang, who committed himself to pursue an art career true to his ideals, the 14-year struggle is best described in his own words: “It’s that feeling of not wanting to be defeated by reality.”

(Featured photo by Sean Wang on MoNTUE Facebook fan page)