While the series of shan shui paintings feature imitations of traditional Chinese ink paintings, the pieces are different in that they are finished with a fine-point pen (hard lines) rather than a calligraphy brush (soft strokes). The inked lines are layered on to the rough surface of paper, with shades of varying intensity, to simulate the visual effect of flatness through arrays of busy and comparably neurotic lines. In this way, the “pseudo landscapes” formulated through intensive labor evokes the tragic solemnness exemplified in Chinese literature: “the silkworm only stops weaving upon its death.” Gold leaves fill the empty space in the composition, possessing a charm typical of Buddhist wall paintings. The trees are covered in glitter in ways similar to children drawings, with finishing touches. I deliberately avoid traditional materials and methods such as inscriptions, seals, rice paper, moss dotting, traditional binding, brush strokes, and ink wash, etc. in the creation of this series. The resulting transformed remix style, which appears to be recognizable within traditional aesthetic parameters but cannot be truly identified, can be seen as an implicit rebellion against grand conventions. Through these seemingly minuscule changes, I have adapted and appropriated classics of Chinese art history by redefining them with occurrences in daily life. On the one hand, this reflects my long time interest in manipulating and altering historical texts to subvert legitimacy; on the other, I feel as though this act brings me closer to the classics. For someone untrained in Chinese ink painting, there is no pre-established rule to follow, no inscriptions, empty spaces, seals, moss dotting or strokes to put in place, much less the vitality, use of brush, depiction of form, or application of color in Xie He’s Six Principles of Chinese painting to look for. I see things as they are—the mountains as the mountains—and nothing more.

The painting Long Live/Landscape I (2012) was created with this idea in mind, but I have inserted political implications that require closer examination. The painting is an imitation of On the Way to Shanyin by Wu Bin (active ca. 1583-1626), a representative artist of the Transformational School of the late Ming Dynasty. The unexpected twists of the landscape in the original composition is a good fit for the dry yet lush, treacherous yet unusual Taiwanese mountains. The small island of Taiwan on the bottom left of my composition is surrounded by mountains. A black-clad leader in a wide-brimmed hat stands on the island, once used as the base for the Chinese Culture Restoration Movement. The man’s arm is raised in salute as he calls out: “Long Live!” While the second part of the series, which is yet to be completed, a China-shaped cave will be situated on the top left corner, in which a brass-sculptured leader will call out “Long Live!” with his arms raised. The two pieces respectively symbolize the current state of separate rule across the Taiwanese Strait. While I am painting them separately in a deliberate simulation of the actual political climate, reservations as to whether the two pieces will come together in the end depend on future political changes. I would compare this “reunion” to the event of Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains by Huang Gongwang (1269-1354), which may be more political manipulation than artistic value. Still, faced with majestic landscapes and their eternal existence, everlasting political dominance is nothing but a speck of dust in history. In an era of Chinese shanzhai, I use "pseudo landscapes” to imitate Chinese treasures, as a response to the hegemony of Chinese culture, hence titling them “Long Live Landscape.”



Everything Solid Dissolves into the Ether: On Yao Jui-chung’s Long Live/Landscape Feng Boyi

1 In this day and age, it has become difficult to critique an artist’s current work simply on its own merit and from a linear understanding of the artist’s life and circumstance. More emphasis is placed on the artist’s overall mode of existence and action, including self-reflection and the fundamental standpoint towards art, life, and the future, in order to reach a comprehensive assessment. In other words, our analysis of the work and by extension, the artist, has expanded to include a complete state of the artist’s ideology, expressed beliefs and modes of action. The work is only one of the aspects or layers considered, while the artist’s ability to traverse multiple spheres, their sensitivity to the current status quo, and the subsequent influence they bring are the most crucial factors of assessment. To give specific examples of artists that may withstand such assessment, some of the Chinese artists I am familiar with include Ai Wei Wei and Xu Bing. Similarly, from the understanding I have of Taiwanese artist Yao Jui-chung’s character and work, which I have garnered through collaborations and my personal relationship with him, I can say that his radical nature, vibrancy, sensitivity and eagerness for challenge, along with his multimedia approach to art (including accompanying texts), would place him amongst the class of artists who possess the quality of experimental “visual action.” The idea of “experimental,” as I understand it, is relatively neutral, without too much political or ideological implications, but is also highly inclusive, and can be used to describe the artist’s personal view of art as well as any type of trial-based approach towards content, form, language, medium, space, and presentation. Of course, any kind of art making can be seen as an experiment. However, I believe one can separate experimentation into two types: The first is experimentation within a specific artistic tradition, while the second is experimentation outside tradition. Experimentation within traditions (such as oil painting, Chinese ink painting, printmaking, and sculpture) is the advance and enrichment of the style and vocabulary of those traditions. Experimentation outside traditions, on the other hand, places emphasis on the redefinition of pre-existing systems. What the latter hopes to achieve is a disintegration of traditional forms, expressions and values, as well as a redefinition of artistic expressions. On that account, the latter is not geared towards perfecting the aesthetics or vocabulary of a certain genre of art, but fulfills a revolutionary, subversive function. This manner of “experimental” is what I will use as reference in the following critique and analysis of Yao Jui-chung’s work, specifically the recent experimental “ink paintings.”

2 Yao’s new body of work “Long Live Landscape” “adapt[s] and appropriates[s] classics of Chinese art history by redefining them with occurrences in daily life...” I have always believed that it is unlikely for traditional Chinese ink painting to undergo revolutionary changes produced from within its tradition, as Chinese ink painting, specifically the genre of painting created by literati, has long since been developed, perfected and solidified with a set system. For example, one of the essential elements of traditional Chinese ink painting is its emphasis on the “brush-and-ink.” Formed over several thousand years, “brush-and-ink” is the basis on which artists strive to achieve their individual styles. Those in the know can judge the quality of a work solely by looking at the brushwork. The artist must focus his attention into surpassing predecessors in the realm of “brush-and-ink,” effectively concentrating all his artistic worth into this one element. While it carries pleasure and a transcendence of taste, the pursuit of this element has no direct correlation to contemporary society. The obsession over “brush-and-ink” is a form of escapism from contemporary circumstance, to the point where escape becomes its only relevance. This is one of the obstacles keeping painting from modernization. Perhaps we do not even have to consider the concepts of ink painting; after all, the forces that move and shake the very core of Chinese ink painting do not often come from one specific area. Just as Yao’s so-called ink paintings demonstrate his most recent conceptual, intellectual and methodological understanding and attempts, these investigations do not come from his role as a painter, but rather was gradually developed through his tenure as a contemporary experimental artist. For me, Yao’s current work utilizes postmodern methods which expand outward from within an artistic tradition, targeting the central idea and boundaries of “classics” in the Chinese ink painting tradition as well as the works themselves, and conducts a series of actions, such as appropriating, parodying, altering, and adapting. The most explicit example is his reconstruction, definition, stipulation and revision of classical concepts and images within the realm of visual art. Such a treatment not only references his “long time interest in manipulating and altering historical texts to subvert legitimacy,” but also broadens the uncertain state of classical values in juxtaposition with the “marginality” of Taiwan’s political status and the ambiguity of subjective consciousness.

3 Yao said that “all the paintings [he] imitates are classics of traditional Chinese landscape paintings” such as the works of Gong Xian (1619-1689), Tang Yin (1470-1524), Shi Tao (1642-1707), Dong Yuan (active ca. 934-962), and Wen Zhengming (1470-1559). The unclear “original” images he found online were then “imitated,” and can be traced back to legitimate sources. There are two major approaches which he employs in order to parody and remix classic works: The first is to abandon the tradition of brush, ink, rice paper and inkstone, brush strokes, calligraphy inscriptions and seals in favor of the oil-based fine-point pen and handmade paper. With carefully placed, dense multitudes of points and lines, Yao creates a textural disparity of oil-on-water and a visual sleight-of-hand in his imitations. This mechanical and even comparably neurotic imitation process eliminates the diffused, ethereal rendering and clustered notes characteristic of traditional ink painting. At the same time, Yao adds gold leaves to the empty spaces in the composition, alluding to historical, religious and power symbols. This is a deliberate transformation. He not only is the transcriber of the piece, but the subject, and also the metaphor through which he garners the meaning of these classics from history, memory and reality. Furthermore, imitation is not in the pedestrian sense of the word, but an action which he articulates uncertainty towards tradition, the present and the future, and his thoughts on the multiplicity of meaning, and the profundity and attraction of visual images. His second major approach is more whimsical, as he juxtaposes or inserts commonplace objects such as cars, antennas, and scenes from modern living such as swimming pools, chat rooms, the daily activities of a three-member household, and even anime, into classic masterpieces in the ink painting tradition. One can see a remix with the simulation of the Chinese ink painting tradition, the poetic nature of history, and the endearing realities of the world the artist resides in, all to create an ultra-imitative collage of a parodying effect. The intrigue of common living which has been repressed and rejected from the grand narratives of traditional literati painting is the creative trigger in Yao’s work, given the mission of ridicule and subversion. It could be that when the desires of daily life have been legitimized and deemed important, will one use the discoveries to signify one’s own existence and self-worth. Yet that significance is often centered on consumerism. Only through consumerism can an individual discover himself and manifest his individuality, making the act of consumerism a prerequisite for existence. When the value of the details of daily life and consumerism have both been brought to the forefront, the history and action of the individual is imbued with greater meaning. This is not so much an unfolding of the meaning and concept of a grand subject, but a narrative of an individual’s actual experience of existence. Such experience is not a absolute rejection of reality, but the gains from a discursive relationship with the real world. This transformative tendency of Yao’s work can also be seen as a indication of modern reality. For the sake of argument, let us say the process of modernization is analogous to a series of alterations. From the grand construct of culture, urban infrastructure and nature to one’s personal image, everything has undergone the operation of being overlain with the same unified “expression.” In fact, Yao’s work reaches out from a place in reality for a point of contact between reality and classics, and can be seen as a contemporary interpretation, reconstruction and experimentation. In other words, through his approach, it is possible for classics to survive and expand in one or more alternative forms. From a sociological perspective, the analysis of composition is similar to an analysis of social phenomenon. These works are not only the true portraits of the cultural habitat of past and present, between the West and the East, but a fusion of postmodern society, displayed visually with a mix from reality. If we inspect this from a methodology of visual art, the contemplations and sensitivity to cultural circumstance will lead to a restructuring of methodology for pre-existing art forms, and the artist must find a way to materialize these very ideas. Perhaps the transcendence of modernity over the profound trauma of history can only be achieved through a process of global interconnection. This is also what I believe to be a transcendence of Yao’s earlier works: a content for the everyday, and an wishful expression of satisfaction, both the cultural symbols of this age, and combine playful imitations. This approach of dealing with classics within their own confines breaks control, altering the directional force for previous classics. By revealing the limitations of conventions, this approach issues a challenge to the grand narrative, so that the standards established through these familiar works are rendered temporary and undependable, and the viewers implore further speculations as they experience the joy of breaking rules, and blasphemes, ridicules and absurdity. In other words, Yao does not make pre-determined value judgments based on art history when using sources of interest to him, but takes on a relatively objective attitude, visually comprehending the meaning of classics, the traces of time, and the austerity of life—all of which he feels keenly—onto his own work. What the viewers obtain in this exchange is the relationship between reality and unspecified reality of images, as well as some sense of judgment and interpretation for the classics. This reality, away from disturbances, allows his work to retain emotionally-charged details while enhancing the quality and innovation of his artistic language. When I see his work, I find these details. That is what Yao Jui-chung does: He resolves and liberates his memories, inclinations, and humor in these tiny pieces of life he cuts out from his experience of reality.

4 I believe this is a new method in approaching history and reality. On the one hand it restructures the complex relationship between art, history and reality; on the other, it emphasises the solidity of life, so characteristics begin to emerge. Futhermore, what Yao conveys is not just an objectified emotion (or an emotion-as-object), but a concrete, measureable space. Consumerism consumes not only the object, but also highly virtual emotions and private worlds. To some degree, consumerism has also shook the foundation of many ideas of art making, rendering the characteristics of contemporary society into paradoxes and splinters of cultural aesthetics and material pleasure. Consumerism has also, on an essential level, shifted art making into the spiritual self-portrayal and narcissism of the educated man. Of course this is my own extrapolation of the relationship between the logic of reality and the understanding of common-ness and popularization as manifested in Yao’s work. It is also the purification of common-ness and the rediscovery of meaning in the everyday. Perhaps it is exactly due to the awkward emptiness that grand histories and realistic narratives often fall prey to, that the necessity for art arises to express the experiences of commonplace, daily life. In addition, the act of juxtaposing fact and fiction of classic Chinese paintings is not solely Yao’s experiment on the Chinese painting tradition, but also his musings on the loss of daily living and classical art with the passage of time. That is, the process of imitation is his way of sampling the traces left behind by time. This allows the viewers to realize as they begin scrutinizing these works, that the text before them is no longer classics in the traditional sense, but a “new” visual image produced after Yao’s copious revisions, a piece of visual text deeply etched with his personal creative branding. Perhaps for him, our ability to create modules for the complicated human experience is inadequate, and that is why mankind needs to constantly shift its point of view, explore new metaphors, and create new patterns, so as to fight stagnation or chaos and provide some sense of release for numerous other narratives and memories repressed by tradition. And so, instead of seeing Yao’s work as an imitation or copy of classics, we may well say that he is clearing past visual memories and experiences. From the images to the treatment of images, each work is created through the process of imitation by one’s subjective consciousness. The works are not just the fragmentation of aesthetic values and patterns from different historical periods, but also the attempt at collage and construction. As for the concepts supporting Yao’s experimentation, I think that aside from the unwillingness to prolong a solidified personal style, he is also attempting to free his work from binary interpretions of imitation versus original, surface versus depth, and reality versus unreality. One can say the depth of the works has come to a consolation through his act of planar replacement and reconstruction, and between self-exile and tranquility.

5 There is no known way to recreate a life in retrospect, not even if one were to write a giant tome of history. However, something as small as a painting or a photograph can often reveal the musings of individuals within a specific historical period. Often it is at the end of language that an image comes to life. We should admit that it is difficult to challenge classics, due to the amount of cultural risk involved in an individual artist’s act of selection and ridicule. Still, since there is no longer stipulation nor standards limiting the creation of art, contemporary art finds itself on the stage of self-identification and the strategy of inflation. The commercial hype born of the consumption of classics or classics of consumerism has transformed works into products of pretension and kitsch, losing their own cultural character. Even so, as a standard, the idea of classics still live deep within the heart of a true artist—even Yao’s anti-classics harbors the standard of classics at its core. While the obscured nature of this standard may suggest that the artist adopt a posture of distain for classics, we must ask, who can truly identify the actual signified of classics amongst repeatedly sliding signifiers? Who can transcend the undifferentiated, planar creation of today’s world and return to the height of historical introspection, and re-interpret the classics, especially for those artists who are just preparing themselves to become the classics of this classic-less age?