Zhang Hongtu
"Blurred Boundaries"
by Michèle Vicat |
Calligraphy by Liu Yongqin © 2010 |
Portrait
of Zhang Hongtu, photograph © Michèle Vicat, 2009 |
As
a number of reviewers have pointed out, "blurred boundaries" is
the expression that best expresses the way Zhang Hongtu moves back
and forth from one culture to another and from one artistic genre
to another.
It is the quality of being blurred that allows us to weave cultural
elements into each other and enables the spectator to travel
in his
imaginary world. His latest work, which he defines as “an on-going
painting project, “ is a study of the essence
of Chinese landscapes. In fact, the painter rejects the western term “landscape”
and prefers to use the Chinese expression “shan-shui painting”
because in Chinese art a “landscape” painting deals with
the feeling for the interaction between shan (mountain) and shui
(water).
Water and mountain are the motifs of a traditional Chinese landscape.
Shan-Shui is very symbolic because it represents the Chinese vision
of what China is. In this spirit, Zhang Hongtu started in 1998 an
exploration of both the classical idea of “shan-shui paintings”
and western Impressionist and post-Impressionist techniques. |
What you
can see in this painting is not a copy, it is a new collaboration
between Fan Kuan, Cézanne and Zhang Hongtu himself.
The original work, “Travelers amid Mountains and Streams,” was
executed by Fan Kuan, a painter from the Song Dynasty (960-1279).
This composition was copied by generations of Chinese painters
inspired by the overwhelming beauty and presence that nature
exercises over man. Zhang Hongtu treats the new “shan-shui
painting” with the vigor of Cézanne. We have in
this a cross-cultural exchange between familiar themes for
Chinese and familiar techniques for Westerners. More than that,
we have the commencement of a dialogue between artists on the
symbolism of nature. This is a typical example of a “blurred
boundary” in which the notions of copying and interpreting
are subtly examined. |
|
Fan-Kuan-Cézanne, oil on canvas, 64"x32",
1998
©Zhang Hongtu |
Lately,
Zhang Hongtu has gone even further by challenging our vision of
beauty and reality.
The artist is quite shocked by the transformation
of nature today and more particularly of water. What was once tranquil
and beautiful in nature is now transformed or even vanishing. In “Re-Make
Ma Yuan's Water Album," a new series of twelve oil paintings
on canvas done between 2007 and 2008, the painter’s inspiration
goes back 780 years. In the paintings, he keeps the format and the
general composition of the original work. He tries to find the boundaries
between today and yesterday. Zhang Hongtu is interested in the nature
of water today and what people are doing to it. “I think that
half of the rivers in China are polluted with industrial waste,” Zhang
Hongtu told us in an interview in his studio in Queens, New York,
last March. “I am not a defender of rights of people but I
am using my heart to express my ideas and to make things visually
beautiful.” |
Re-Make of
Ma Yuan's Water Album A, 780 years later, oil on canvas, 50"x72",
2008 ©Zhang Hongtu
|
Re-Make of Ma Yuan's Water Album L, 780 years later, oil on canvas,
50"x72", 2008 ©Zhang Hongtu |
If in his new
paintings, the mountains are still intact (although in reality
many hills in China are covered with a green
mesh that contains tons of rubble, earth and sand dumped on the land
as refuse by urban construction workers), it is because the end
of the world is not
yet here. It
is because there is still a tension between past, present and future
that alerts us to the disappearance of this perennial magical beauty
that has defined the rules of the aesthetics in China. Water already
carries chemical, human and occasionally radioactive waste. Waste
is damaging the quality of water and Zhang Hongtu wants to alert
us by using a vivid palette of colors to depict the water. Traditionally,
old Chinese masters rarely colored the water. They relied on the
texture of the paper itself. Because of that, it had a natural sense
of flowing and created a peaceful feeling that we were going somewhere
where we could find our identity. Zhang Hongtu shows the change through
color. Today, water no longer has the color of the paper. He paints
it green, or pink, or dark brown. The visual shock jars our retina.
The world depicted is already dantesque and we have the sense that
something in the composition is not working. Attention is required.
The ink and brush strokes in traditional shan-shui paintings brought
us to a subtle world of expected emotion. But, with Zhang Hongtu,
there is a fine line between beauty and destruction. We are no longer
confronted with an ideal world in which the visual parameters have
been repeated generations after generations. But was this world ever
ideal? When Monet charms us with a maritime landscape, a mist captures
our sensibility. It looks beautiful, romantic but the mist is probably
pollution. When Monet was painting, the mist and the mystery it created
attracted people. But something was already wrong with nature. Industrial
pollution had already begun. So, what is beauty and what is reality?
When water becomes dark brown, beauty is challenged; the nature
of the shan-shui painting is altered and this time not only for Chinese
but for Westerners too. Beauty is not only for the eye. “In
my new work, I take the beauty of an old work and I try to make beauty
from the reality of today," Zhang Hongtu explains. "I still have
a painting but something is changed inside the landscape, something
that is
a reflection
on
what is happening today.” Water and mountains are like the
yin-yang. They interact in the painting in order to create the painting
itself. A star, a tree, a boat, a human being can be added to balance
the composition but it is the dialogue mountain-water/shan-shui that
expresses nature, the ideal environment for Chinese. “Re-Make
Ma Yuan” forces us to re-evaluate our approach to the
artists’ work. Monet, Van Gogh, and Cézanne revisited
by Zhang Hongtu tend to reshape our acceptance of the other. This
is not an iconoclastic work. It is a work that juxtaposes cultures,
creates an emotion, and makes us think about the notions of nature,
image, and boundaries. |
Blending the
familiar and unfamiliar characterizes Zhang Hongtu’s
work since his arrival in New York in 1982 at the age of 39. Before
that, he tried to survive as an independent
artist in China. A younger generation was starting to challenge the
system. He was already older than many of the artists in the
avant-garde. Born
in 1943 in the northwestern province of Gansu, Zhang Hongtu had acquired
a life-time experience at being different since
his Muslim family was officially catalogued as “minority.” It
put him at the margin of the Han society though the Chinese government
tried to assimilate minorities to the
official culture. In 1950, his family moved to Beijing where his
father worked as a chief editor for “Chinese Muslim,” an
official magazine. In 1957, the family was labeled as “Rightist,” an
epithet similar to enemy of the people. |
Ping-Pong Mao, mixed media, 1995, ©Zhang Hongtu
|
From an early
age, Zhang Hongtu wanted to be an artist, but, there
was little future for him in China where artists
at the time were enrolled as propagandists. He chose
to leave rather than suffocate
in the stagnation of Socialist Realism.
As a “CIA” person (Chinese Immigrant
Artist) as he ironically defines himself, Zhang Hongtu
had first to exorcize the influence of a society that deprived him of free expression
and made it impossible to connect his artistic vision to his life. He
created a name for himself in the international art world with his Mao series.
What the general public in the West may consider as a joke or an assimilation
to Pop Art, was for the artist a way to eliminate the load of the omnipresence
of the Great Chairman. Growing up in
the Muslim tradition of the non-representation of a human being,
Zhang Hongtu’s generation
was paradoxically flooded with Mao’s image. He recalls that
even Muslim families had an image of the Chairman in the main room
of their house. The notion of “image” was assimilated
to the projection of power and it would have been considered sacrilegious
to put Mao in any other context. Mao as the Quaker Oats Man, Mao
in soy sauce, in popcorn, on a dress designed for Viviane Tam, even
as a hole cut in the shape of Mao’s head out of a ping-pong
table allowed the artist to
emotionally exorcize “the authority of the image,” as
he puts it. He could then explore other paths because guilt and pain
were finally cast out.
The Mao series helped Zhang Hongtu to pursue his exploration of the
connections between artistic languages. He had in a sense no other
choice. Having voluntarily left China, his Mao series made it impossible
for him to return until 1997. By then, he no longer felt
the shock of East versus West or the old versus the new. These former
distinctions were
no
longer sharp. The road was open to his own future, to his own
struggle. Memory, time, the self, and art itself became his new “blurred
boundaries.”
For more information about Zhang Hongtu and to see more of his
work, visit his web site
http://www.momao.com |
All material
copyright 2009 by 3 dots water
|