Do Your Thing at Bing Bing's Yan Club

here is solid argument that while Beijing is at the cutting edge of China's art world, much of what constitutes art - in particular how artworks and activities are presented has become all too predictable. The sector is losing its ability to make you gasp or, indeed, come running.

Despair not. Tucked away in a dreary industrial area close to the Lido complex is an exciting development set to change the face of the city's arts community. With awesome vigor and soaring optimism, the Yan Club has transformed part of a factory into a thriving arts center. Winter sunshine streams through roof windows onto long white walls lined with canvases of Jackson Pollock-style colors and patterns. There's flowing water, still water, lilies clawing for the surface in tall glass tubes, a gaggle of stepping-stones through snowy grass, intimate balconies suspended high above the central forum, dust mites in the sunlight dancing to background music, hideaway alcoves ... Visitors senses are instantly engaged.

Conceived as an art gallery that simply had to be located outside the "predictable city centre" the Yan Club has quickly evolved into a full-blown arts center that provides an environment for performing arts too. Think of it as a mini version of London's famous Barbican. With more than 1,000sq m, a seating capacity of 800 and a stage with state-of-the-art lighting and acoustics, the center is bringing together the best of music, theater, dance and all forms of experimental art. All are supported by a team of renowned artistic advisors with their fingers firmly on the pulse of Beijing's art scene.

The Yan Club is also used for meetings, parties, press conferences, fashion shows and a place where you can simply hang out. It is not, however, a bar in the accepted sense (though there is one), nor a restaurant (though there is what seems to be a kitchen).

Enter mastermind Li Xue Bing Bing Bing to all who know her. After setting up the highly popular Jam House in Sanlitun and writing a book which is soon to published, she became restless. Not for the first time, she found herself frustrated by the limitations of the creative society of which she was so much a part. The difference this time was that she decided to do something about it.

Bing Bing thinks of herself as being a "bit crazy" for which (say friends) read impulsive and unpredictable. Although blessed with a proven good business sense, much of what she does is usually with little forethought. Pressed on why she set up the Yan Club, she said: "I need it." Here was the passionate, collective voice of arguably a majority of Beijing's young, thrusting, creative people-far less stifled than in the past but, to their minds, still with a way to go.

She expanded: "China needs a new face. Chinese lives are too deep and heavy. We need new ways to express ourselves, new rules. The Chinese don't laugh enough! We will have fun among all the presentations of serious art. I want to make people excited.

Bing Bing argues that opportunities to interact heighten this excitement. For her, interaction with art is crucial. Conventional art galleries allow observation. The Yan Club allows interaction, contribution. Ideas fly thick and fast. It is difficult to follow, difficult to find a line. For now, of course, there is none. Yan represents creation at work. Theme parties allow every guest to play-act in their own costumes, make-up artists standing by. Music composers bring their work on CDs. Painters hang around, natter and drink coffee in one of the alcoves. There is talk of a UK singer coming to perform here.

The club is above all a signature for change. All those who daily come in and out are changing and eager for change. They want to provoke and be provoked. They want to excite and become excited. They want to educate and be educated. Above all they want to be understood.

Soon the club will offer classes in dance, qigong, traditional Chinese medicine in food (now there's an art form), Zen yoga and fengshui. Bing Bing wants to know how you want to express yourself.

She has a yen for it. Or, rather, Yan.