Quietly Pacing Back and Forth Between Sleep, Wakefulness and the Mood of My Paintings
Text/ Chen Yun
Every morning when I wake up, I still remember scenes from my dreams, as if I can still smell the air that permeates in the dream, or hear some sounds and whispers. Familiar and unfamiliar scenes, people and things intersect, often unfolding in different dimensions, and in the blink of an eye, traveling all around, vivid and ethereal like a reflection in water or a movie reel, sometimes interrupted, sometimes connected. Everything and everyone leaves an afterimage on the retina in the rapid flashing of light, and a thin memory is imprinted in the mind, alternating between similarity and dissimilarity.
I love to depict nature and the characters related to it. Nature is a projection of ideal reality. Whether in reality or in dreams, immersing myself in nature has always been a great way to relax. When the contours of things in life that should be clear gradually become entangled by many confusing thoughts, walking in nature will gradually extend the unclear lines along the ridges of the mountains, making everything return to order. This is why I love the mountains. I also love the sea. The waves that continuously break on the shore are both dynamic and eternal. Things that matter slowly drift away with the tide, and breathing follows the rhythm of the waves, like the thin diluted pigments in a painting, mixing with the water's color powder, layer by layer flowing and drying, and stacking up the hazy breath of the sea. Whether it's the mountains or the sea, they both contain immense vitality. Like tiny magnetic particles, I am attracted and moved by them, grateful to return to the frequency of nature.
We have all heard the sound of pebbles being pounded and rolled into the sea, seen foam forming and disappearing with the waves, smelled the fragrant air of a morning mixed with fresh soil and plant scents, and observed dewdrops reflecting the world's reflection. And when we leaf through our notebooks, we may find a piece of a certain scene or place. I hope to depict all of these experiences, not just to leave them in sensory memory. In life, there are too many things worth commemorating: perhaps a reignited emotion, a bond born between siblings, an affection for quiet nights, or the sudden growth of troubling thoughts in one's heart. These recordings may be one of the ways to prove that they once existed in the world, and I hope that they can resonate with other people and things in the world in a personal way. In daily life, there are still many feelings that are difficult to express, and I do not want to indulge in the release of these sensations too much. Instead, I hope that these emotions are expressed more deeply and inwardly, and that's why I often portray characters who do not have obvious emotions and overly dynamic poses. They are not empty expressions, but invitations to explore their inner world.
One day, a friend gave me a book, and as I flipped through the pages, I came across a Polaroid photography collection by a Russian film director. With his extraordinary narrative technique, he captured fleeting moments of everyday life with his camera. Some of the photos in the book were accompanied by his simple words, some feelings and some notes. I really like this kind of little book, where images and words understand each other. If the images and words are separated, they may not be related, but when placed together, they can easily touch our imagination. Words and images are like the branches of a big tree, and the reading process is like the morning light following the veins of the leaves on the top of the tree. Although they follow different contexts, they eventually converge in the trunk of the tree. While reading, we travel along with the book's images through fragmentary memories that are not our own, yet we feel a strange familiarity, like a dream. In real life, we often deduce cause and effect from other people's thoughts, form different imaginations through various experiences, and respond with personal emotional experiences through various media, creating different thinking universes at all times. This is a phenomenon that has long interested me.
In this exhibition, my works are all composed of two to three canvases, inspired by images from magazines, the Internet, or movies and TV shows. They are like dream scenes, a certain moment cut and divided, and each condensed image connects to the past and future.
