"From Rainforest to Mars", installation view, AIKE, Shanghai, 2021
Following the completion of Metal No.15 at the end of 2018, I spent a considerable amount of time pondering how to find a new direction to advance my artistic efforts. Historically, my works have been permeated with intricately arranged blocks and the lines or curves they form, with an emphasis on the geometric description of materials, while color has played a relatively subordinate role. Aside from various solid colors, most of the hues employed have been monochromatic, pertaining essentially to one-dimensional linear color grading—in a sense, they fall within the category of "Monochrome Painting." At the beginning of 2019, I embarked on this new series, shifting the focus towards color, solely exploring hues. I endeavored to discover a method that would allow for precise and controllable color transitions in all directions on a two-dimensional plane.
Metal N0.15, 2018, oil on canvas, 300 x 200 cm
Reflecting on my personal creative process, I seem to be an artist who prioritizes method. I consistently strive to identify exciting techniques, processes, or crafts that stimulate me and then create content through these methodologies. Originally, I manually calculated and blended the gradually transitioning colors on the canvas; I used long squeegees to spread the paint; tried vibrating motors to merge the oil paints sandwiched between two glass panes; or used the paint mixers available at paint stores to prepare the essential colors needed for my paintings, yet none of these techniques proved satisfactory. At one point, an idea emerged in my mind about the volume changes of these unmixed pigments in spatial coordinates. The inherent solidity and slow drying properties of oil paints perfectly suited this method.
Consequently, I utilized 3D software to slice through virtual space, designing a loosely knit mesh-like color palette into which I injected various pigments before combining them into a whole. I assembled a 3D printer, translating the mesh model into the physical world. When painting, I extruded the pigments from the grid-like an aluminum tube paint, achieving a pigment matrix with thousands of precisely controlled mixtures. We can conceptualize simple secondary and tertiary colors, such as the subtraction mixing of red and yellow yielding orange; red and green approaching gray. However, when layering dozens of colors, predicting the outcome becomes challenging. Therefore, the painting process continually offered surprises to me. Thus, the "Color" series evolved step by step from underlying logic; it is controllable yet unpredictable in outcome. Understanding my methodological approach allows one to deconstruct its structure when examining the color, envisioning its spatial form.
Color box
At the outset of creating the "Color" series, the canvases predominantly featured extremely subtle gradient transitions. In such a nearly monochromatic visual environment, the eye is most susceptible to perceiving the projections of red blood cells and protein clumps near the retina, resulting in phenomena akin to floaters. This serendipitously addressed some issues I faced; I felt that the colors, due to their defocused effect, receded into the background, and the absence of foreground elements led to a lack of structural completeness in the works. Besides the elements of the canvas, it was also necessary to resolve how to maintain visual engagement. Sometimes, when confronted with a barren canvas, one may struggle to focus; however, introducing some visual clues can provide grounding points, and multiple such points create a complex trajectory of observation. I did not want to evoke a sense of oppression or dispersion in the viewers but aimed to provide a controlled positive force. Thus, I played a game: I added subtle, semi-visible points to the canvas, most of which were composed of light and dark spots that visually created a slight impression of indentation or protrusion. I intentionally adjusted some of these points to be extremely faint, as seen in works like Boy 01 (2019) and Rainforest (2020), making them visible only from a greater distance, at a specific spatial separation. The color difference in these points was in fact only one or two shades deeper. These dots, blending and reflecting with the floaters perceived in our eyes, formed a wonderful equilibrium.
In these works, such as Creeper (2020), Ocean (2020), and Sakura (2020), the dots occurred randomly, formed by dripping paint onto the canvas laid flat on the ground from above. However, while painting, the process evoked sensations of tracing dust and pollen, which inspired me to deliberately arrange the dots in some pieces. In Mount Huang (2020), I positioned the principal stars of Orion, commonly visible in the Northern Hemisphere, into the composition. At the end of the domestic epidemic, I and my friends went hiking on Mount Huang. Standing at the Bright Summit's helicopter pad at midnight, witnessing the starry sky unfettered by urban light pollution, felt like the distant cosmos had re-entered reality. The dots on Mars (2021) are derived from a specific area near the southern polar ice caps on Mars, close to the center of a circular crater formation near the Promethei Terra cliffs. I intentionally arranged these points on the canvas, which have been randomly formed through billions of years of impacts on Mars. The Ming Sweet-white (2020) and Blue Glaze (2021), on the other hand, involve a reverse deduction based on the colors present in the artwork, attempting to decompose and reassemble the hues contained within the lustrous surfaces of ancient porcelain shards.
Creeper, 2020, oil on canvas, 80 x 70 cm
Blue Glaze, 2021, oil on canvas, 80 x 70 cm
Before the "Color" series, I named my artworks with a theme followed by a sequential number—arranged like a catalog—where each number delineated its relationship to the series as a whole. Many artists have a pre-determined theme or intended message in mind before creating their pieces, which also guides the title of the work. However, the "Color" series inherently possesses a very explicit directive, obviating the need for another imposed theme or message. I name the pieces after their completion, hence the title serves more as a retrospective and reflective look at a finished work. During the creative process, I absorb a variety of information from the environment, including the texts or images I observe, the music or noise I hear, and the people and events I encounter. All these inputs continually reside in my subconscious.
Until the completion of the artwork, when all information is synthesized, I can identify a keyword that belongs to this particular piece. This keyword represents an observation point drawn from the exceedingly broad theme of "color," providing a nexus with reality. Viewers bring their own emotions and experiences when examining the artwork. Despite fluctuations in their perceptions due to variables such as blood sugar levels, hormonal balances, health status, or external conditions like temperature and humidity, the "Color" series offers a framework that has a stable existence in reality. This framework, embedded with intrinsic balancing relationships, serves as a foundational base for interpretation.
Cloud, 2013-2014, arcylic on canvas, 200 x 300 cm
Throughout my artistic career, I have not confined my creations to a strict, fixed style. My early "Carbon" series (2008-2013), which featured diamonds composed of straight lines, evolved later into representations of wood grain, where the straight lines transformed entirely into curves, despite depicting the same element. In later stages of the "Cloud" series (2013-2019), I employed particle systems in 3D software to simulate and shape surreal clouds. By the time of the "Metal" series (2015-2018), I began to relinquish control at a conceptual level, accepting the computer's logic and aesthetics; I did not alter the complex computational outputs, using them directly as blueprints for my paintings.
Dissatisfied with the flat application of acrylic, I sought to introduce an element of uncertainty into the mechanical precision of my drawings, transitioning to oil painting materials. In Metal No.12 (2018), and Metal No.13 (2018), the transparent grid background focuses on the boundary conditions of the image, representing spaces left blank under the compulsive consideration of the "all-over" approach. Another work I particularly favor, Metal No.14 (2018), retains extensive traces of the initial draft, exhibiting a texture that inadvertently contrasts with the precise outcomes I typically strive for, yet I find it intriguingly enjoyable. Subsequent attempts to replicate this effect were unsuccessful. Since then, I have been reflecting on the interplay between certainty and uncertainty, exploring how to manage unpredictability on a macro scale while hoping to find breakthroughs within the more expressive medium of oil paints. Consequently, in the more recent "Color" series over the past two years, I have experimented with varying the thickness of brushstrokes to highlight the inherent texture of the oil painting materials.
"From Rainforest to Mars", installation view, AIKE, 2021
Each series of my creations results from observing the world in a particular manner, akin to experiencing changing vistas by shifting perspectives within Suzhou gardens. With each stop I make, I closely examine all that meets my eyes. Once I have sufficiently admired the view, I take another step, adopting a new angle to reassess the world. For me, no series ever concludes because the perspectives of observation are endless; I can always step back for another look before continuing onward. The exhibition at AIKE, which I have titled “From the Rainforest to Mars,” draws names from two of my works: the first large-scale painting created with a paint box, Rainforest, and Mars, which I completed just before the exhibition opened. This title hints at a common method both in creation and in viewing.
Rainforest, 2020, oil on canvas, 200 x 150 cm
Throughout our lives, our cognition is bounded by a certain limit or frontier. The only feasible action is to strive to expand this boundary as much as possible. My method involves initially establishing a framework, then integrating and filling this framework with the information I acquire. This process allows me to establish a connection with these elements. The experience resembles the feeling of exercising when muscle fibers are torn and scattered, followed by the hypercompensation recovery phase, where the fibers rebuild, enhanced by an assortment of newly absorbed nutrients. The overall rebuilding process is exhausting and chaotic, but subsequent to recovery, both the physicality and capabilities expand further. These series collectively form my understanding of and reflection on the world. Thus, my creative output represents a continuous, linear index, evolving from simplicity to complexity, and from the superficial to the profound.
