From Cai Guoqiang’s “Sky Ladder: Rising Dragon” Fireworks to the Question of Media Professionalism and Objectivity

By: Richard Ren / Art Critic, Freelance Writer / LAPost

Cai Guoqiang is an artist I have long admired and respected. His creativity, the impact of his works, and their cultural resonance have already earned him global recognition.

On September 19, Cai staged a fireworks performance titled “Rising Dragon” in the Relong area of Gyantse, Tibet (at an altitude of about 5,500 meters). He named the local mountain “Relong,” and in the space between mountains and fields, he ignited vibrant fireworks that unfolded into a grand, majestic visual spectacle.

Yet, the artistic experiment quickly sparked controversy. Some netizens argued that Tibet’s ecological environment is “too fragile” and declared the performance would cause “irreversible damage.” Media outlets amplified these criticisms, ultimately forcing the artist and his sponsors to apologize. But does this logic truly hold up?

Many reports cited so-called “outdoor enthusiasts with dozens of trips to Tibet” as credible voices. But let’s ask: don’t repeated self-driving tours and flights into Tibet themselves create environmental burdens through exhaust emissions, food transportation, and resource consumption? If we’re going to moralize, then what about the construction of railways, highways, airports, or even the downstream hydropower project on the Yarlung Tsangpo River—announced this July with an investment of 1.2 trillion yuan and five cascade dams? Do these not carry a far deeper ecological impact? Why are such massive projects justified as “necessary for development,” while a brief fireworks display is branded with “original sin”? This selective criticism exposes the double standards in public discourse.

I once witnessed one of Cai’s large-scale daytime fireworks in downtown Los Angeles. The smoke temporarily filled the air, but there were no penalties from environmental agencies, nor was there an uproar of condemnation. Instead, the event became part of the city’s public art memory. Clearly, fireworks are not inherently destructive; the key lies in how we choose to interpret them.

Cai’s art has consistently emphasized a profound dialogue between humanity and nature, between culture and the cosmos. He is not a “pyrotechnician for spectacle,” but an artist who paints with gunpowder and uses the sky as his canvas. To place such an artist on a public trial today is nothing more than an outburst of emotional bias.

The media and the public bear a responsibility to evaluate with professionalism and objectivity—not to sensationalize and drag artists into unnecessary “public trials.” Even if one disagrees with Cai’s artistic explorations, the discussion should remain rational, not exaggerated beyond measure.

Artists are not a dominant class; their only power is their work. Criticism and debate are fair, but reducing them to scapegoats for clicks and traffic is unjust. What should worry us is not the fleeting smoke of fireworks, but the rashness of collective vilification.

Art requires sincerity and inclusiveness, not narrow-minded labeling. What we should see in Rising Dragon is the cultural imagery and imaginative force it ignited—not allow its meaning to be drowned out by noise. Under the Tibetan sky, what rose that night was not only fireworks, but also cultural confidence and artistic power.