Ma Desheng’s exuberance is contagious, his personality captivating the attention of those around him. The Beijing-born and Paris-based artist is one of China’s more outspoken provocateurs. In 1979, just three years after the death of Mao Zedong, Ma and a group of artists—including Huang Rui, Wang Keping, Qu Leilei and Ai Weiwei—founded the Stars Group (Xingxing), the first post-Mao avant-garde collective to challenge the oppression and censorship of the communist regime. Working in different media, Ma has consistently used his art to fight for the freedom of expression. ArtAsiaPacific sat down with the artist during his recent trip to Hong Kong, for his solo exhibition at Kwai Fung Hin Art Gallery, and spoke to him about the evolution of his works, his opinion about the rise of ink art and the art market.
You have incorporated different mediums in your practice—woodblock, ink, acrylic—what prompted these transitions?
At first I wasn’t really interested in woodblock prints. I didn’t think they were stimulating. I worked in a factory for ten years and during the day I would go to work while in the evening I would make art. But it was difficult to work with oil paint, or in general with color, in the evening. Someone suggested that I try woodblock prints and, once I started carving, I was drawn to it. My first prints were shown in the first issue of Jintian magazine (1978), which was pasted on the Democracy Wall in Beijing. The strong contrast of the black and white was appealing and effectively communicated my views toward society and life. So it wasn’t because I was particularly drawn to print that I started, but there was really no other choice. As political pressure grew stronger, I got in trouble with my prints so I turned toward abstract ink painting.
Contemporary ink art is getting more popular. What do you think about this trend?
I think the popularity of contemporary ink art is warped. This may sound a little outrageous, but I believe that it’s because the Chinese economy is doing better and people have money that they want to spend on more than just the usual items from the West. At some point, people realized that it was time to start promoting traditional art. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but why the sudden interest in ink art? Before, it was all the same post ’89 works from people like Zhang Xiaogang and Wang Guangyi, which were aesthetically very western. In the last century, people have tried to find more ways to modernize Chinese ink art. People are trying to reinvent it, but I think it may be in vain. Western and Japanese artists have already walked down that path. Even Hong Kong and Taiwan have developed these areas already. In 1982, I was considered an early adapter of Chinese ink art. Of course, there were artists working even earlier in the genre. I can’t see how anyone can really create anything new in ink art. In my opinion, it is a fad and will not amount to anything substantial.
When did you start painting in acrylic?
In 1982, I started to get into modern ink art. The brush, ink stick, bamboo paper and ink stone are all traditional, but I incorporated new ideas. From then until 1984, I drew half-abstract, half-landscape compositions. Unlike pure Chinese landscape painting, I did not draw trees or pavilions, let alone figures, but the paintings were still very full of imagery. But then, I changed to acrylic painting for a few reasons.
Firstly, because of the political situation in China and also because, after some research into traditional Chinese painting, I found that there were conflicts between traditional ink painting and my modern ink painting. Lastly, I got into a car accident. I sustained some injuries to my hands, which made painting with ink more difficult so I moved to acrylic since it is an easier material to work with.
In every instance where my art changed it was either due to a physical condition or social situation. People need to learn how to deal with changes in their lives, to not be afraid to adapt and change when they face difficulties or unfortunate circumstances. One needs to find ways to go through these situations. If you don’t try to see the positive and merely focus on the pain, the anxiety or the sadness, nothing good can come out of your experience, or worse, it can make you sick. Life is sweet, sour, bitter and spicy—you need to accept it all. Once you do, you will find a peace and calmness. That will allow you to gain the wisdom to find solutions.
Would you like to return to China?
I would and wouldn’t like to return to China. If I were to go back, I would need to write a letter guaranteeing that I would not say or do bad things. Why should I write such a letter? If I were willing to do so, I wouldn’t have left in the first place. Also, I am in a wheelchair so who knows when my time will come. I would rather enjoy every day and take every chance I have left to work to create and be happy. If I were to go back to China, the government might say I talk too much. It would cause too much trouble for my family, for society and even the communist party. Why would I want to cause such inconvenience? It’s better to be outside of China pursuing my practice. There are many visitors from China and I am happy to exchange opinions with them. With the Internet there are no borders, you can share your perspective on democracy, culture, art, society and people from anywhere.
What are you currently working on?
Recently I’ve been working on pieces relating to the female body. People have told me that I cannot sell these works, and that’s fine because making these works makes me happy. If I start thinking about making works that sell, it will become problematic. In China, when one style of art sells, people follow that trend. That is fine, since everyone needs to make a living, but one needs to try to develop their own style, eat their own food, sing their own song and dream their own dream.
Sylvia Tsai is associate editor at ArtAsiaPacific.