Brush And Heart: Interview With Yang Jiechang

As one of the first contemporary Chinese artists exhibiting in Europe, Guangdong-born Yang Jiechang made his debut at the Paris exhibition “Magiciens de la Terre” in 1989 alongside the esteemed Chinese sculptor Huang Yong Ping and the late video artist Nam June Paik (1932–2006). It was in “Magiciens” where Yang gained recognition for his “100 Layers of Ink” series (1991–98), where he applied black ink every day onto xuan paper to ultimately create a textured field of saturated black color. Yang has since moved on to other media, including video and sculpture, and has also become an itinerant artist who moves between Paris and Heidelberg, Germany. On the occasion of his recent major solo shows—“Yang Jiechang: Good Morning Hong Kong” and “Early Works By Yang Jiechang: 100 Layers of Ink,” at Hong Kong Central Library Exhibition Gallery and Alisan Fine Arts, respectively, which collectively surveyed his last three decades of work—the artist sat down with ArtAsiaPacific to reminisce about the early years of his artistic career, his academic education and his outlook on what “contemporary” means today.

You recently had two exhibitions in Hong Kong, one of your recent works at the Hong Kong Public Library Exhibition Gallery and another of your early paintings, from your series “100 Layers of Ink” (1995–97), at Hong Kong’s Alisan Fine Arts gallery. What did you think of the timing of these parallel exhibitions?

This moment marked a passage for me: it traced the first time I came to Hong Kong with my series “100 Layers of Ink” [in the exhibition “Enlightened Blackness: Ink Paintings by Yang Jiechang“ (2001) at the University Museum and Art Gallery]—which was also when Alisan Fine Art took interest in my art—up to my new paintings of today. I made the old works 30 years ago, so they are completely different in terms of artistic language, and resemble a more conceptual approach to ink art. They can also be seen as a type of calligraphy or “drawings,” and similar to traditional Chinese stone rubbings. Actually, I find that all of my paintings are an offspring of calligraphy, even the figurative ones—so they have that in common.

Your art is seen as being more “provocative” today than it was back in the 1990s, switching from more silent, contemplative ink layers to erotic and figurative elements in painting and other media. You exhibited these new works in the exhibition “Good Morning Hong Kong”; were they meant to “shake up” Hong Kong, or greater China in particular?

Yes, exactly. It is a call-out to artists to do something innovative, [because] most of them are just thinking about production, about a comfortable lifestyle. My whole life—in France, Germany or China—is about following my heart. I try not to think too much and just “do.” Following the trends of money, the market or even a museum concept can be a very dangerous habit. Artists tend to follow conception or philosophy. Looking back at the last ten years, I am very happy with myself and what I have created. I trust my process of art and that inspiration comes to me from a spiritual realm.

For the exhibition “Good Morning Hong Kong,” I wanted to create a direct connection to the local audience and less art that concerned only myself. That is what I mean by “provocative”: picking up actual subjects and engaging in contemporary life.

Despite your recent work being inspired by particular environments such as Hong Kong, your practice still seems to be founded on your extensive knowledge on philosophy and painting methods.

Yet my knowledge is very complex. I come from the education of Mao Zedong and was once a Red Guard. In my opinion, I am the most traditional, culturally well-read, technically refined artist in China. Chinese culture is so rich and it has led me to study so many subjects: Buddhism; Taoism; Confucianism; and Qigong, for example. These ideas have shaped who I am.

Being based in Germany and France, how do you see these European cultures influencing your perspective?

I have a German passport, come from Guangdong and live in Paris. I’ve lived in France for more than 26 years, but I don’t speak the language. If I learned how to speak French, I would lose myself, because French culture is very strong and deep.

In this respect, one could say that Zao Wou-ki was my teacher. I met him when I first arrived in Paris, and he told me, “You are a lucky man. Now that you are in France, there are two things you need to know: First, you have to learn French. Second, don’t mingle with Chinese people.” That concept was hard for me to grasp, I came to Europe to study, not to become French! I just did the opposite of what Master Zao told me, and that is where I am today.

Do you consider yourself more Cantonese in spirit?

I am human and, like the Cantonese, I love life. Cantonese people work hard, but it is all part of life. The morning teahouse bustle in Hong Kong—you don’t have that in Germany or France. I invited my mother to Paris once, and she told me afterwards “I’ll never go back to Paris. No life.” No teahouse, no mahjong, no Hong Kong TV. This is the power of Cantonese and Hong Kong culture.