Taiwan is a country with an island culture, which is always ready to accept new
cultural values from dominant countries such as China, Japan and the United
States. The number of
people with a good taste has been dwindling despite the fact that Taiwanese ink paintings began taking root in 1949. How do painting
artists of the new generation deal with this plight? Undoubtedly, Chinese ink
paintings would not have achieved its aforementioned success without promotion and advocacy from
the elitist circles. How do Taiwanese artists find a way out in an era dictated by secular culture, where few
attention has been paid to the art of ink paintings, let alone the distinction
between ink and black?
2013 is a year of contemporary Chinese ink paintings, when “experimental ink paintings,”
“new literati paintings,” “ink painting installations,” “new meticulous
paintings” and “new ink paintings” had flourished. Taiwanese ink paintings have
also seemed to
benefit from the economic growth of China, and there is a general expectation
of a boom in the market. Not all the artists who have stood out and drawn
attention in recent years opt for a traditional method – painting on paper with Chinese
brush pens and
pigments. For instance, Lin Ju and Lin Chuan Chu employ oil paint; Yao
Jui-Chung paints with ballpoint pens; Yuan Jai, Pan Hsin-hua and Chien-Chiang
Hua draw with gouache or acrylic paint; and Chen Chun-Hao creates with gauge
nails. There are also artists who adopt traditional forms and themes of
rethinking the culture, or even social issues and abstract expressions in terms
of subjects. Several contemporary ink painters have received high marks,
including Wenda Gu, Xu Bin, Xu Lei, Zhu Wei and Hao Liang from China, as well
as Liu Dan and Li Hua-Yi from overseas. They offer new examples of styles and
concepts unseen in the past.
The trend of creating with new media reflects the possibilities of
development of diverse contemporary ink paintings, as well as a determination to
apply ink-like materials to one’s own works without a brush pen. That is, every
water-based medium deserves a try. How to make a good painting that echoes the times, with or without a
brush or ink, is a more worthwhile issue to look into.
Human artistic activities are often a result of an ongoing revolt that
gives birth to new beliefs or forms. Ink painting artists in Taiwan tend to find themselves
constrained by the burden of overwhelming traditions, since the established
creeds seem deep rooted and unbreakable. Every meaning and definition, however,
is in fact anchored
in a specific time and space, and people’s mindset has changed with the times.
Imposition of these antiquated frameworks would only fuel the revolutionary
drive, triggering a denial of existing authorities and conventions.
We may as well regard revolt as revolution. The modern Western art has
virtually developed under a revolutionary ideology, which gives rise to a diversity of painting
schools and beliefs. Liu Kuo-Sung, a pioneering figure in modern ink paintings, proposed
the idea to “revolutionize the zhong-feng (center-point) brush technique,”
which emphasizes that an outstanding piece of work should not be confined to a
single ink painting skill, but be defined by how the artist exerts his ingenuity without boundaries or
restrictions.
A revolt is grounded on an inextinguishable desire to make
breakthrough, and its supporters are not constrained by conventional ideas or
established rules. In other words, they have to gain thorough knowledge and
understanding of their targets of subversion before advancing groundbreaking
new approaches and methods. The revolutionary idea of applying self-made black
pigments occurred to me when I was conducting a research on ink and black. I
thus made a total of nine pigments, including pan-bottom black, pomegranate black, tung-oil black,
and mat-grass black, and later turned the pomegranate black pigment into pomegranate
ink. Using the self-made ink allowed me to draw a fuller picture of what makes
ink, ink. Moreover, is it necessary for a landscape painting to include trees
in the foreground against a backdrop dotted with boats, carriages and human
figures? If yes, can a work featuring only a tree or mountain count as a
painting? There is a Chinese saying that describes something as “too tacky to
be acceptable.” Is being tacky or too popular falls outside the realm of art?
Then, how do we interpret the idea that art should “appeal to both refined and
popular tastes”? Here lie the boundless possibilities of artistic creations.
It is a blessing to be a painter living in Taiwan, where he can at least
incorporate whatever theme and form he likes into the works. There is no lack
of support and sponsorship from a small number of loyal fans, and being “out of
ordinary” makes an artistic work all the more appealing. Nowadays, thanks to joint effort
from numerous artists of diverse styles, the ink paintings in Taiwan have reached
a flowering rarely seen in recent years, and been well received by various art
institutions and collectors at home and abroad.
The Tai Chi symbol in Eastern philosophy represents two extreme forces,
the union of which leads to endless transformations with no conclusive results.
Because Yin
and Yang coexist in everything, and everything embraces Yin and Yang, there are
opposite yet complementary energies in pairs such as “solidity and void,” “black
and white,” “waxing and waning,” “refinement and popularity,” and “fullness and emptiness.” As
opposed to the kaleidoscope of colors in our natural world,
ink paintings consist only of black and white. As white is purely fictional, black
sets the main tone for the painting. This far surpasses the illusion of
physical representation, and is akin to a spiritual pursuit.
It is my long-term goal to defy the existing frames of materials while
maintaining the form of ink paintings. Mastering the concept of “writing,” in
my opinion, is critical to achieving the goal, and the art of writing far
surpasses the act of
drawing lines. There is a major difference between “drawing lines” and” writing
lines” in that the former aims to outline the subjects, and the latter, modify
the lines through addition and deletion. The vases of flowers painted by Sanyu,
for example, are easily conceivable yet full of visual tension. The process of
writing forces the artists to think and put their thoughts into order in their quest
for perfection.
Modification is not a method commonly used in traditional ink paintings; yet, without reiterative practices and adjustments
throughout their life, poets and calligraphy artists would not have produced remarkable masterpieces. Writing requires repeated
rumination, and word-for-word revision. For the calligraphists, imitating a
copybook for a hundred times is merely part of their assignment. While revision
itself is an act of perseverance, creating is a healing experience in which the
creator needs to anatomize himself before piecing himself back together. Each
step is taken to review life’s journey, uncover its hidden values, and empower the vulnerable self by drawing
inspirations.
I try to emphasize this idea and put it into practice by adopting
intricate lines and revising them repetitively. While it takes a large amount
of time to draw and revise the lines, the behavior of painting with a brush
becomes an extension of antimatter, as well as a substantial embodiment of
writing. Calligraphy is about writing, which seeks to “study the phenomena of
nature to acquire knowledge” and thus represents the concept of detachment and simplification. I
hope to select a few out of hundreds of colors based not on the exact color of
the object, but on subjective perceptions of it. I also endeavor to enhance the
depth of a single color, since ink means much more than black. Density and moisture of ink vary
with the amount of water used; an exceptional painting,
therefore, depends
not on the number of colors it utilizes, but the depth and subtlety of colors
it demonstrates.
Being an artist is a lonely profession, from ancient to modern times. No one
can predict if he can turn into a master going down in history or not, so scrupulous
dedication to every work is something required of a painter. Discarding the use
of brushes, ink, paper and ink stones altogether might
be a relief and a new start, but it remains far from a solution to the core problems facing artistic
creation. In the pursuit of art, the creator cannot
be limited by conventions, nor can he blindly follow the
trends. Reflection of the self is more crucial to
artistic practice. The difficulty of painting depends on the wisdom of an
individual, who should be able to see his own weakness and strength. A mindset of ignorance and arrogance would hinder his chance for improvement.
Taiwanese ink paintings have flourished on a scale previously unknown
in the past two decades due to the rapid economic growth of China. A wide spectrum
of exhibitions of ink
paintings or on the theme of Asian spirituality has been taking place in public or private exhibition
spaces. In addition, this is an era marked by blurring boundaries between ink and black, and Western
visual dominance. As the alternative concept of “anti-Xuan
paper” or “anti-brush
and ink” has become all the rage, the doctrine that advocates a single medium or technique has
given way to a preference for media or concepts with a contemporary
personality. It seems time for us to make choices and find our own paths.
It is certain that, without this
recognition, we would suffer from narcissism and a failure to accomplish our aspirations. There
would be a whole new world, in contrast, if we could break out of the traditional modes of thinking. As Taiwanese, we are under no
obligation to shoulder the historical task to revive Chinese culture, so we
can devote ourselves to art that mirrors a profound life experience or social
values. Let’s do art for art’s sake, and express our truest innermost thoughts. Whatever the times, commitment to research
and practice is integral to our role as artists.
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