1982-1986

I was admitted to the discipline of Design at the Shanghai Art & Design Academy in 1980, yet I spent most of my leisure time on teaching myself oil painting. I started to decipher the identity of professional artists when encountering various imported Western art theories at school in the early 80s. At that time, painting techniques of Paul Cezanne and Maurice Utrillo were my research cores. Utrillo never painted sunlight within his lifetime dedication of depicting Paris streetscapes; the atmosphere of his paintings could almost be felt in Shanghai. This is why I utilised his approach in seeking the sense of Shanghai, like painting en-plein-air in old streets and tiny alleys which were of quasi-colonial styles. This type of in-person comparative learning deepened my understanding of Western painting skills. Studying of the School of Paris departed me from the prevalent political art in China and the mainstream Soviet drawing style at that era. I could easily experience a myriad of changes within a year in the early 80s. Trained overseas, Guan Liang and Wu Dayu also had influence on me. In around 1982, I started experimenting with abstract painting.

In 1986, I returned to the Shanghai University to study traditional Chinese painting. In the midst of the 85’ New Wave, China progressed into learning modern art from the west. More and more catalogues of western art came into China, when I was in my early twenties and I was quickly struck by these new styles.

1987-1990

Until 1987 and 1988, I started exploring the art of abstract painters Piet Cornelies Mondrain and Frank Stella. This influence was a defining one, guiding me to construct a future-facing system and commencing the birth of an individual style. To me the abstract art that had emerged in China by then, including what Wu Guanzhong called ‘the beauty of form’, was semantic instead of abstract, bounded within a specific continuation of expression. That was the period when all forms of beauty entailed semantic aesthetics. Despite some abstract intent on the visual, the theme was still dragging spectators into the established dialectic scheme – a tendency that I would like to avoid. In 1987, I clarified the aim and direction of my abstract creation when I started making sketches related to the ‘Appearance of Crosses’: positioning abstraction within art and non-art.

I reflected a lot on this. For instance, I used rulers and tapes to obliterate traits of any hand gestures, making the abstract art succinct, composed and rigorous. I decided to pursue a path of abstraction in purity. This is how I named all my work with “Appearance of Crosses” and the year of creation, contrasting with the dialectic scheme of art in vogue.

On one hand, my motivation was driven by the greater context of the 85’ New Wave. I regarded this movement progressing towards two trends: one for expressionism and one for surrealism. These were explained by the urge of expression in the heated art circle at the beginning of China’s reform. Therefore, I hoped to offer a level perspective. On the other hand, I was craving for a new path. After reading many chapters of art history and understanding the century of evolution in Western modern art, I realized that a search for new emergence and possibilities was necessary for seeking breakthroughs. I had to withdraw any relic of western modern art and Chinese painting traditions within myself, starting anew.

1991-1992

In 1991, my work revealed a very precise and rational approach, accomplishing maturity and wholeness. In such a type of making, new challenges naturally arise. The complexity was originated from diverse aspects, directly leading to my shift in the way of painting. The work demanded to be laid flat with me bowing to paint, impairing my waist after a few years with issues in straightening. I had to seek new means of painting to alleviate the physical stress that it caused. Concurrently I stumbled upon the bottleneck of constantly innovating, especially when the painting system was being refined. The question was – how to ‘colloquialise’? I needed to alter the so-called notion of precision for new alternatives of language. To me it is liberation and relief. As I felt that my pieces had reached certain apex, the conceptual twist entirely loosened me up, granting my work much freedom.

1993-1997

During 1993, I began to introduce other means and materials into my painting processes such as charcoals, or mixing chalks with acrylic paints. From experimenting with materiality, my paintings started to develop towards diverse directions. New questions arose when charcoal was introduced, as it was pretty conflicting with acrylic. Due to the variances in material natures, a relationship of integration and coordination was challenging to realise. I almost exhausted all possible means in my experiments considering the incompatibility of these materials, not to mention how the roughness of linen intricated the exploration. Besides, I was magnetised by any possible materials that are light-reflective – the colour black, layered acrylic, pencils, ballpoint pens, ink. In these pieces, I basically used the conventional chalks from classroom teaching, within a narrow spectrum of six to seven colours. Shifting among these shades imposed limitations on my creation. It was always a proposition to me; to counter-react became my cause of breaking through.

By the end of 1993, my desire for new materials had surged. That was a period of a tremendous amount of experiment on paper. Then I started using chalk, charcoal and ballpoint pens to draw on corrugated papers, almost like writing on them directly. The traits of charcoal and chalk conjured up the image of silk manuscripts or unearthed fabric. The contingency and arbitrariness of the visuals are two critical elements in my art. Such effects could transform traditional culture into ‘artifacts’. These experiments lasted till around 1998.

1998-2010

1988 to 1998 was a period of flat vision; in which work rarely comprised of perspectives but only nuanced textures. The whole painting system was flattened, followed by the fluorescent series which focused on urban development from a top-down vantage point. My early aspiration to become a formalist painter was shattered by the rapid transformation of urbanization in 1998. The urbanisation of China that year, especially in Shanghai, thrived with the vibrancy of development that artists could not overlook. My fluorescent series addressed the urban progress of Shanghai, with an unspoken indication to all cities in China. Hence the tone and structure of the series were capacious with profound perspectives. The process of urbanisation goes beyond the notion of city, with details of everyday living, from the stock market to the neon lighting of the dynamic commercial districts at night. The biggest gift of urbanization is architecture; escalating towers have enhanced our experience of elevated views.

A raised perspective of our living space was rare in the sixties or eighties, though became banal to everyone from 2000 onwards. The period of my fluorescent series lasted for 12 years, in which criticisms on urbanism had grown intensively. The homogenisation of cities was vividly felt, while the textual qualities of conventional cities were disrupted. As the appreciation and enthusiasm towards urbanization gradually declined, I turned into monochrome painting.

I had aspired to become a formalist painter prior to 1998, disregarding political and realist concerns. The sheer pursuit in the form of painting was vaguely comparable to scientific investigation. Nevertheless, the question raised by Professor Serge Guilbaut from the University of British Columbia when he visited my studio the same year, had an impact on me. He was startled by the detachment of local painters from their contexts, as they had worked quietly within their own systems. 1998 – 1999 was the most rapid phase of development in Shanghai; in fact, I resonated with the gigantic transformation of the city profoundly. The swift evolution of the city displaced and struck me, and I wished to reflect the monumental changes in my works. Therefore, I started seeking new schemes of expression and discovered that neon light would be an apt representation of Shanghai’s characteristics in that era. Apart from the fleeting development of architecture, Shanghai was the first city to roll out lighting work. The city was exuded with numerous neon light advertisements, dazzling in the bright light of highways. Looking over the city from towers instilled a sense of glittering neon. This was why I started utilizing quite a lot of fluorescent and metallic colours in my work to express my genuine thoughts towards the actual world.

Sometimes I would be attracted or moved by certain colours in my creative process, but in these 12 years fluorescent colors had imposed a larger limitation on me than chalks. Basically, there are only three to four kinds of paints of fluorescent colours that I could pick; the most common ones that I picked were fluorescent green, yellow, orange and magenta. In the 12 years of constantly working with these basic tones and confronting varied challenges, I came to understand many so-called essences of painting to persist; it is not limited to being the most flamboyant language, but also carries a much timeless nature. The depth of painting represented a certain everlasting power. Fluorescent colours also induced similar predicaments to rulers, as the damage on my eyes was severe after 12 years of fluorescent colouring. This showed that within an artist’s career, one could experience both the magnificence of creative outcomes, and also the necessity to relentlessly change, evolve and identify new possibilities.

2011-2014

Since 2010, I have proceeded into the stage of ‘upward looking’. With the development of my creation, an amassing understanding of art and the world as well as an expanding horizon, my perception of art-making has constantly evolved. I no longer constrain myself within certain rules or alleged rationality, simultaneously empowering my current work with a broader window and a more macroscopic and holistic angle. On this note, my wrok has exceeded pure rationality, progressively amalgamating sentimentality. Sometimes I hang my 1991 work in my studio and am reminiscent of the period when I placed the canvas between two benches and painted bit-by-bit with my rulers – the time without exhibitions, art markets and visitors, but a blind aspiration driven by the spirit of youth to be remembered today. Nonetheless, it is impossible for Chinese artists to follow a singular line of making when our society has been undergoing phenomenal changes. Naturally we are craving for more substances and greater vitality in our art. It is important to me that an art piece has an everlasting quality for appreciation and an ability to stir up resonance, an engraving for the current age.

If the fluorescent period illustrated how I had unceasingly pulled forward the lens of city-viewing to introspect the shimmering textures of the entire city, then the monochrome stage after 2011 signified another shift of seeing, a distancing spectacle. Visuals had pushed cities afar, muddling in the ambiguous shades of black, white and grey. The core theme of monochrome making was still urbanism, yet devoid of the penetrating intensity as in fluorescent period. In fact, dim colors mirrored my doubts on urban themes. I desired to occupy a higher and further position to view the sky and the greater world, hence increasing the transparency and the dynamics of consecutive paintings. Internal conflicts of visual forms had also grown exponentially, which I perceived as a unification and explosion of a certain painting competence.

2015-2019

After 2015, I have started exploring materiality again for the solo exhibition at the Long Museum. The spacious exhibition hall was similar to a church with natural light shining from above. Its interior was built by cast-in-situ concrete which had rough and sturdy textures. This type of space was in fact more suitable for work like installation and sculptures, while paintings could be easily engulfed by the atmosphere. Nevertheless, this restraint ignited my interest instead. I hoped the space to be wholly dedicated to paintings without a single sculpture, giving the paintings full control. Considering that work on paper in normal sizes could give a soft outlook without much momentum, I decided to increase the size of my paintings and alter their materiality to balance the space. I thought about using wood boards as they had tougher edges than canvases, and a greater size with a maximum of 480 x 240cm to match the height of the space. Though for the sake of innovation, painting on wood boards was no exception considering traditions of classical painting. After a while I thought about the possibility of slicing wood boards with knives, and gradually incorporated wood carving into my visuals.

Certainly, holding knives is distinct from holding brushes. As I had started using brushes since a tender age, I could manage them better. The biggest issue of knife carving is its limited room to modify and its stricter requirement of accuracy, demanding one to be more focused in enhancing control. Considering that I had never learned wood carving, I even consulted a professor in the printmaking department to study the fundamentals of knife work and wiring skills with the intent of fusing painting with wood carving. In reality, it was easier said than done. Initially I started on a white board, yet what was painted and carved could not merge well at all. Then I thought about carving on additional layers, but the outcome revealed an unexpressive wood texture instead of a white tone. It was more similar to the screen of printmaking than actual paintings, and deviated from my expectation. Further on I acquired new rollers and oil ink, though such a drying process, which exceeded two weeks, was too time consuming. I kept experimenting with various materials, and realised that only the quick-drying acrylic was optimum for layering. At the end I decided to first make multiple acrylic layers on a basswood surface, followed by knife carving and brush painting. The outer surface of basswood was pretty tender, allowing smooth transitions of knives. All arbitrary traits carved are critical details of the painting, even though being slightly excessive and rough. All are but the expression of an artist’s temperament, hence it is better to maintain the gestural traits within visuals.

Recent Years

My practice in recent years revolves around light with new epiphanies and approaches. Bothe ambiguous or stark edges of patterns are accentuated with halo effects along the evolution of light. For instance, haloes started emerging around the periphery of patterns in my 2019 work, reflecting my sublimation and inference of an intrinsic graphic system. The boundary of artificial fluorescent colors crashed with patterns to create intensely contrasting relations, like the optical stimulation along the edge of clouds which are submerged in sunlight. These new patterns, whether spreading outwards from the core, or distributing evenly across the surface, are all originated from an expression of unfathomable world perspective and self-consciousness.

My art was rooted in rationality. The influx of information in the eighties propelled me to seek a certain breakthrough, or to converse with the Western mainstream of contemporary art. I was still a student at that time, almost with an impulse to declare a manifesto. As that was the period when Chinese contemporary art was converging on the so-called expressionism, neo-expressionism, surrealism, I wished to subvert via a locale of rationality. However, with my practice maturing, I had abandoned these limitations, such as an unnecessary urge to be rational. My accumulating life experiences have taught me to disregard these confines, but focus on expressing authentic artistic thoughts and emotions. Today these elements are completely unified without a stringent segregation.

The major turn in my work of 2020 is the proliferation of light and vigor in my work. In such a special moment within the past six months, I spent most of my time in the studio, investing in nuanced changes like ways of dotting to advance my practice. In the making process, I have not stopped reflecting on my past social and creative experiences, and contemplating on prospective directions of art. Perhaps we were over-optimistic in the past 5 years when art was like a feast for all. After this global incident, however, we might need to look inwards and deepen our exchanges with the inner mind. Art demands sentimentality, direct connection and resonance with the audience. Both milestones and trivialities in life could redefine our practice.

Edited and published in the Ding Yi: Cross-Style, 2020

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