​Xu：Xu Hongxiang      Yu：Yu Ying

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Xu: It seems that my creation could be divided into two stages. Previously, it was about paintings and images, like the print you just mentioned, but I have stopped in that area. Later I did two projects, In the Field and Li Qiang, as well as a feature story called Mulian Village. It was from these projects that I started to draw sceneries that you’re seeing now, until this very moment.

 

Yu: From the first time I set my eyes on your work till today, I have a very strong feeling that your modeling awareness and painting methods have taken alternative roles in each stage of your creation. A Bunch of People, the work you created for graduation, focuses on the study of the image, and then you converted to painting directly on photographs, which can be seen as a change directly evolved from the printmaking experience. But there has been a new change in the latest batch of paintings. The oil paint has been applied in addition to the masking fluid, which presents the sense of cutting traces, rendering your thinking clues more implicit, and the drawing method has ceased to be a focal point.

 

In A Bunch of People and other similar works, though facial expressions are obscured, the image is still very specific. In those works that based on photographs, you explored different ways to destroy the specificity of the image, but there is still room for images to be read. At current stage, the image is no longer important, and the painting is now supported and constructed by the interaction of colors and the proto-elements of paintings. A notable consciousness can be detected from this process, which probably comes from your printmaking way of thinking, i.e. the surface order of your work is not the same as that of the classical paintings, those relations of glazing and color layers; it is closer to the logic of cutting, printing, and chromatic coloring, in which one layer of color is equal to another, and the image is formed through contrast, correlation and collision, instead of the relationships of deepening, specifying or denying between layers.

 

Xu: Yes. I would note down the ideas and key words in the process of drawing, and one of them is "trace". This is something that I care more about at the moment, whether it be traces left by dripping or by covering, or by the masking fluid; they have become more important than the image. This shift of focus is very different from the previous phase. It was from the year of 2008 or 2009 that I started to do works about images. Instead, I treated it as a way of painting. I applied this method to the canvas in order to change some images, and this practice lasted till 2015, when it became difficult to push it forward. Then I did more experiments, including collages, removed images and stretched images to the side of the frame, all intended to discover the relationship between painting and the image. And the result? A picture with no image whatsoever. But what is the point? I reflected upon what I did and returned to painting. I started all over. It was about the beginning of 2016.

 

Yu: Which studio were you working in when you were at CAFA?

 

Xu: In the woodcut studio.

 

Yu: As far as I’m concerned, there is a tradition in the printmaking department at CAFA, that is, a lot of methodologies could be drawn from the print language, and then conversions will be made to conceptual art. Xu Bing is such an example. He used the concepts of printmaking like plurality in his creation, and was a huge success. In your case, I sense two forces in place to push your work forward. One of them comes from painting itself. When you are dealing with shapes, images and painting materials, you would pay more attention on the more skillful elements such as touch and dexterity. It’s paramount that you paint well. The other is the power of conceptual art. A strong sense of conceptuality is demonstrated when you wash the printed images or exhibit your works in social spaces. What is your ideal state?  Are you seeking a balance between the two forces? Or do you value one over the other?

 

Xu: For now, I am focusing more on the painting itself. This is a shift of focus, but also an option at a certain point of time. Because I would not know whether a phase was coming to an end, and I had to consider whether to change to go on doing the same thing or give it a pause. I’m well aware of the ambivalent state you mentioned. It is very hard to find the balance, so I prefer to choose one way or another. In the past I would rely on some methods to wash or modify the image. But now I prefer to construct the work on a blank canvas. It feels different.

 

Yu: Compared with the previous images made out of print, what is your focus now in your selection of images?

 

Xu: Now I know what I want. I know where the problem lies. Since I focus on addressing issues in painting, there is not much difficulty in image selection. I used to consider the signified and the meaning of the image, but now the focus is on the form and structure. (Xu Hongxiang showed Yu Ying old books and pictures he bought) The materials I use now for reference are mostly collected landscapes like these. Sometimes they are useful, and other times they are not, like this conventional scenery (Xu Hongxiang pointed to a very traditional landscape postcard). Some of them may be used, like these children’s cards and my daughter’s image cards. They would offer me a structure, a starting point, from which I’ll explore more. This is not the same as before. I used to buy a lot of old books and pictures, and change the image after enlargement and printing. But after I realized what I wanted, I have ceased to use them.

 

Yu: I am impressed that as soon as I entered the studio and saw the "landscape" works, I was hit by a sense of deja vu. When you showed me the scenery postcards around the time of the reform and opening up policy, I instantly knew the source of this familiarity. I felt the connection between the images— a bit of Chinese literati tradition and the propaganda images after the socialist transformation. Are these images chosen out of aesthetic concerns, or conceptual ones?

 

Xu: I think it is the aesthetic orientation, but also an aesthetic inertia. It may also be a hinderance. Dragged by this inertia, I might spend much time getting rid of it. Now that I’m aware of these aesthetic or visual inertia, I will sort it out, but in a gradual manner. It cannot be changed abruptly. Therefore, I rely on the scenery, and paint them just as landscape paintings. Some of them are simply titled as “Good Scenery”, which I deal it with the method of painting. And the result would not have much connotation. It’s nothing more than a beautiful scenery, the point might stay on the surface of the painting as what you see.

 

Yu: I feel that the use of these images is exactly a very interesting point in your work. It is a continuation of your previous position where to handle the relationship with the audience. For them, these images seem familiar and approachable, but they are full of the charm of painting, which differ from the posters back then in terms of techniques. Another example can be found in Li Qiang, in which a relationship is built with audience through the shallow, explicit and precise image, and in the meantime the familiarity is being edited and tampered through the changed size, exchange and other practices. Likewise, these landscapes have also achieved the same level of intimacy with the viewers with their commonness and the removal of the signified, such as the grand narrative.

 

Xu: Indeed, I would not look for special images. Sometimes I would draw some figures, but they are lately absent in my works, because I feel I’m not justified to do it. The scene is getting smaller. I used to paint large fields, but now I would narrow the scope down on my computer to one part of a scene or a person.

 

Yu: Another thing I’ve noticed about these works is that they are highly abstract expressionist, and some of them feature German or Italian expressionist language. Have you ever been influenced by these artists?

 

Xu: Yes, I must have been. I think painters from my generation are all influenced more or less by that style, but it’s not as straightforward as you think, because no artist would happy to be seen as the same with others. However, at a certain point you’ve got to admit that some techniques are identical to an artist whom you could not quite name. It just looks familiar. For artists, it’s quite a nuisance, but it takes time to sort it out.

 

Yu: There’s one detail I’m quite interested in. How does it make you feel to convert from water-based material to the oil paint that you’re using now?

 

Xu: The most notable thing is that I feel emancipated from the restrictions of images, because those water-based works were quite restricted by images. When I’m painting a new work on a blank canvas, I feel free. Once the composition is done, the source materials may be laid to rest, and all I need to do is to finish the image bit by bit and may well create something entirely different from where I started. It is easier for me to paint these pictures because I’m no longer burdened by my previous bias. Of course, what I call free and easy is not about the process of painting, but the state of mind when you get rid of those burdens.

 

By way of making In the Field in 2016, I was able to gain access to a certain topic which is rather abstract. Later I painted a lot of human figures like the back view of children, building ruins and old ladies passing the grass. Li Qiang is also a feature project concerning the issue of “what the painting can do?” In early 2017 I made another set of paintings called Mulian Village, which also has a preset theme. In the beginning, I had intended to paint them one after another, but due to limited time, I was asked by the curator to make all of them in less than three months’ time. So I drew sketches to render the story clear. There was no script or a finished story. Did I tell you about it?

Yu: Yes, you did. Is Mulian Village in Hunan?

 

Xu: It’s the name of a place.

 

Yu: Is it fictional or...

 

Xu: There was such a place, but it no longer exists. This work originates from the fictional story I made up for my daughter. She was only a baby back then, and I concocted this Dr. Wang to coax her to sleep. Sometimes I was sleepy and unconsciously built my memories into the story. For instance, the place Dr. Wang lives is a small village where I grew up, a small bungalow by the mountain, something like the house where Chairman Mao grew up as well. This is also how I painted the house, a small bungalow in south China with a pond in front of it.

 

Yu: This is very much like Chairman Mao's former home.

 

Xu: Yes. (Xu laughs) I also added a willow tree next by the pond. He (Dr. Wang) grows a lot of trees in his yard, including mulberry, peach, pear and orange, all of which were used as the background. There are also dogs and chickens. I tried to make a world not so much scary but mysterious. Dr. Wang is a bare-foot doctor, so I drew a figure with no shoes on with gestures peculiar to Altman; he looks quite stupid and pompous. Gradually the image became rather clear. I also drew a tool case for Dr. Wang, which has seven layers. There are also a couple of pictures explaining how to use the tools. If a child refuses to eat, a device would be put into his mouth to help him chew. There is also a tool to tickle your feet. It is from such a fragmented story that I made this series of works. In fact, I was painting my childhood memories, therefore named it after the place where I was born.

 

When my daughter came to my studio, she is no longer afraid of Dr. Wang. She does not feel threatened by his existence (laughs). Sometimes she would ask about Dr. Wang, but I can no longer fool her with him.

 

The fictional story is not important. What I’m more interested in is the topics that can be used in my work. All these three projects feature the connection between my work and my life.

 

Yu: These projects have touched upon very inherent issues about exhibition. For example, part of Li Qiang has something to do with friendship and exchange of gifts. In the Field may reflect your own experiences, and create an alternative space for exhibition; as I mentioned in my essay, the fact that you bring your work to the public space reminds me of the multiple signified in the exhibitions at the garden of the National Art Museum of China by The Stars. On the other hand, you incorporated a fictional story into Mulian Village, which presents an authentic narrative about the relationship between you and your daughter through the fictional image of Dr. Wang.

 

At the same time, in terms of the materials you used, be it exhibitions, acquaintanceship, or the oil paint instead of acrylic, I think they are quite indicative of your willingness to shoulder the responsibility of art history. When you used acrylic, you might be continuing more modern histories like pop art, while the use of oil painting might have some bearing upon the more ancient painting history. This is why I asked you about your return to the oil paint. Judging by the development of your washing and printmaking works, I think you might embark on a different journey, choosing real life stuff to be integrated to your pictures. As pictures come from reality, this trajectory might be about editing images to reshape reality. But you chose to develop your painting with the act of brushing and then went on to paint with oil paints.

 

Xu: In that case, I would be going on a different path. I spent the whole year of 2015 thinking about these problems. I engaged myself with mixed materials in a messy studio and frequented the recycling station of waste paper. I was in an experimental state; the process was fascinating with its variables, and I realized that I could not rely on methodologies or interest to work.

 

Yu: You have been painting "landscape" at this stage. What does that mean to you? Is there any special meaning?

 

Xu: No, there isn’t. On the contrary, it is because thaose landscapes are ordinary that I use it. You cannot see anything special in them; the focus is not on the image.

 

Yu: Can it be said that it’s because that landscapes remain sensible after countless addition, repainting and repaired, but it’s not easy to do the same to an established image?

 

Xu: Well, I guess you could put it that way. For example, if I’m dealing with a human image with the coloring and shaping methods I’m using now, I would feel inaccurate or odd. This is also true with things in the industrious style. I could not paint a vehicle on the street because I don’t know how to do it. In comparison, these landscapes are easier to deal with because the structure is loose and I know there’s something to discover from them.

 

There is another reason why I don’t take into account the narrative or the signified when I’m painting the landscape. I believe there is another way to paint. If I want to express an idea, I prefer to package it into a set of thematic paintings. Like Mulian Village, it has a loose form where all the fragmented pieces serve one theme so that the work has a clear focus. At a certain point of the process, I would want to dig further into some part of it and make more complete pictures like a scenery or a scene. Some of my paintings were inspired by Mulian Village, such as Black Dog at Night and Peach Trees. These two parts are correlated in logic.

 

Yu: Are you paying special attention to the size of your recent works? I’ve noticed that they are substantially larger than those ones based on printed photographs.

 

Xu: Because there is a limit on the width of paper for a printing machine—no more than 150cm. But now I don’t need to worry about that. The size is important. It would result in different results even though you’re painting exactly the same thing. They must be handled in different ways. If you could not manage to paint a large-sized picture in the first place, try to revert to a smaller one, and later you’ll be capable of painting the large one. This is how I feel.

 

Yu: Have you ever attempted to paint in the same proportion as the real objects?

 

Xu: You mean the real size?

 

Yu: Yes.

 

Xu: I’ve never thought about this problem.

 

Yu: Because when I came in this studio, these latest works— the pine trees, the branches, leave me a very natural and direct impression. They do not seem to be reduced to the size of the paper; rather, it seems they were painted in the real size.

 

Xu: Maybe it’s because I narrow down the scope. In the past, I would paint a large scene, but now I would cut out a part of the scene, and it is interesting enough. As the view is getting closer, the scene is getting smaller. I have never thought of painting in the real size.

 

Yu: Do you think your landscape painting is closer to the idea of western style or the Chinese Shanshui? I have a strong feeling that your paintings have a very solid foundation of sketch skills as well as the literati sentiment peculiar to Chinese paintings.

 

Xu: This has never crossed my mind. It’s more of a habit to paint like the west or the east. I may choose a forest outside the fifth ring of Beijing over the woods in Canada. This is more related to my life experience. I think I’m now involved in two kinds of creation. One of them is about what happened to me, and the other is about what I see. I prefer to collect ideas and emotions to make a lasting work out of my experiences, and be urged to paint upon the immediate stimulation by landscapes.

 

Yu: I’ve been wondering whether a painting created with ordinary images, around a less important topic and put together by emotional means would be logically faulty. Because the danger is always there—the painting can easily be reduced to a creation incapable of raising issues.

 

Xu: As far as the image is concerned, there are indeed problems that see insurmountable. You might have had the experience like this. When you finished a painting, you might be satisfied with it, but after a while, it does not look as good, and you don’t know what’s wrong with it. Or are you trying to ask if these pictures, naturally made with multiple addition and revision, are logical?

 

Yu: Yes, that’s what I mean.

 

Xu: I think we need to give it a start, whatever it is. But once we begin to go down the road we know, we’re starting to wonder whether there are other possibilities. What’s worse, if you fail to discover a new foothold, or anything new, you would be anxious about what you’re doing, wondering if you’re doing something repetitive, useless, or meaningless. Since there is no reference to make, you need to keep thinking about if the painting is done, or if it’s good enough—there is no clear answer. This way you are in a quagmire and become mean and harsh towards your image.

 

Sometimes I can’t even tell if the picture is finished. You just asked me if this one is done. I cannot tell. Often my pictures are ruined when I try to alter them without an aim in my mind. It seems like that if there is no guideline to follow, then aimless strokes are invalid; it is messy in colors, brushes and forms. To be honest, there is an inherent logic in painting.

 

Yu: I have also painted a lot of landscapes since last year. I know that when we look at other people’s paintings, we’re equipped with customs and stereotypes from criticism. But this is no way to discuss the image per se in a novel manner, or rather there’s little to be talked about the image. I also feel that it is still valuable to paint out of talents, aesthetics, taste and sentiments, but to what extent? On my part, I still maintain the intensive sense of joy when doing a painting, but I know it is a habit. I wonder about the whereabouts of the subjectivity of the painter, in the sense of social structure, class or art history. We make connections with the audience through the canvas or enter into a system of exhibition, but does the joy of it still matter?

 

When I see you showing your works in the public space, even though the audience group is small, I can tell that your works enjoy more freedom. But if the studio production directly goes to the gallery for display, then I would say we’re still ringed in the art system and it is nothing more than a customary show. Nevertheless, it’s not a very big issue, because an exhibition can have different meanings. It might be some kind of a report or a cultural appeal.

 

Another catch is how to establish a new structure between the advancement of the painting language and art history and social reality. This is rather difficult.

 

Xu: I remember talking about this last time you were here. I agree with you on this point. It is impossible to talk about painting, and I think everyone who takes painting seriously suffers from this kind of anxiety, wondering about the meaning of what we’re doing in the sudio. Of course we can hypnotize ourselves by saying that the meaning lies in us making this painting, whether we’re scrubbing it, engraving it, shaping it, or dabbing on it. The traces made are the meaning, to us painters. I can’t possibly say we have anything to do with society, and when I was trying to talk about this, I did Li Qiang and In the Field. Di Xiaowei asked me why I didn’t invite farmers in the vicinity to see the show of Li Qiang. But I had never wanted it that way. If I had, it would be hypocritical. Because I’m trying to solve my own problem all along, and the painting is nothing more than the result of your effort. When shown in the public, it is very selfish to do so.

 

Yu: You mentioned Di Xiaowei. Do you read Huai Dan Shop (a WeChat account) a lot?

 

Xu: I would read a lot of his articles all at once, but not often.

 

Yu: The pushes are quite regular.

 

Xu: Well, it’s updated every day.

 

At: Sometimes I can read many of tweets at a time, and the endless list of painters leave me the impression that the time will never come when no painter exists in the world.

 

Xu: Yes, I also asked him about this matter. It is as if there are always new artists. It would be better to read his tweets once in a long time.

 

Yu: And the painters he tweets are quite mature ones. I feel the group of painters is a large one, but I also have the feeling that this group of people is disappearing, only showing themselves at art fairs. Huai Dan Shop is like this, similar to the Universal Exposition in the early nineteenth century.

 

Xu: It happens that there’re so many of us.

 

Yu: Perhaps the anxiety within our field is not important, but it’s incredible that the painting is such a disadvantaged media, considering the huge amount of painter base. Back to your paintings, I see that you use paint spray, splash and scraping of knife to different parts of your image. How did you manage the fusion of different painting materials?

 

Xu: The paint spray was an experiment; I just did that to test the color effect. I’m quite discreet when applying a popular style. Recently I rarely use the pen, because I don’t need to create the outline of something. My preference of colors is temporarily; sometimes I would be particularly attached to a few colors.

 

Yu: I noticed that dark brown, ochre and ultramarine take up the majority of your image recently, which is quite a change from your previous use of bright yellow and green. Your recent choice of colors is very much like the classical painting in terms of the tension between ultramarine, bright hues and shadows. Another thing is that ultramarine and dark brown are more often used at the beginning of the painting. What do you think of this?

 

Xu: It may be because I’m becoming more subjective. I would make an effort to understand the features of the pigment, and sometimes I can be very critical with the minute difference in the same color. There might be a couple of blacks in the painting, but the difference between them is very subtle. (Xu Hongxiang points to color plate on the back wall) I made them to know the color difference between different brands. It’s strange that we never learn such things at school, but now I think it’s rather important.

 

Yu: From my own experience of interviewing artists, usually the final question would be: What will you do next? What’s your answer to that?

 

Xu: I think for a painter, the thing he most needed is the time. Sometimes we feel that as long as we have time, we can definitely do a better job.

 

Yu: Probably for the artist, as far as the painting is concerned, all the questions already have the answer. If you look for answers, it may be difficult to have some meaning. The year of 2017 witnessed numberless interviews by the media and KOLs, trying to discover new ideas. But it all turns out a replay of established tastes, aesthetics, inclination and positions. It feels...

 

Xu: Pointless.

 

Yu: Yes, so it feels. Between fellow artists, we’re more inclined to learn from each other’s way of handling the image. Most often than not, the focus is on the “ailment” rather than the “cure”.

 

Xu: There’s no point to talk about cure, because the prescription is various to different people.