Zhenyu Zhang 2024 Spring
This research paper delves into my understanding of contemporary art and navigates the complexities of my artistic journey, exploring the interplay between information overload and the experience of moving from one cultural environment to another.
In the journey of life, individuals often find themselves navigating through a complex interplay of effort and destiny. This paper delves into the idea of effort as the exertion of one's best capabilities within the controllable realm, contrasted with fate, representing outcomes beyond personal control. The everyday human experience lies in the diverse array of strengths and weaknesses of each individual, shaping their respective fates.
Moreover, this paper explores the notion that freedom is achieved when individuals embrace their true selves while allowing others the same liberty, The paper seeks to shed light on the pursuit of a consistency in human intention and behavior.
My work serves as a messenger, exploring the tumultuous nature of information overload. Information overload is the expression for feeling overwhelmed and unsure how to react when suddenly faced with an abundance of information is, as I define it: "I feel overwhelmed and at a loss for how to react in the face of a sudden influx of information." This encapsulates a sense of confusion, ambiguity, and the initial inability to grasp an overwhelming amount of information at first glance. The sentiments conveyed by my work mirror the bewilderment and perplexity that often accompanies my encounters with information.
In the process of learning Chinese calligraphy from a young age, I was taught to imitate famous ancient calligraphic works such as ancient poems, letters, and inscriptions on steles. For the younger me, the shapes of the characters and their intended meaning were very difficult to understand, which had led to a lot of confusion in processing this information.Calligraphy exists as a form of art, and now as I repeatedly transcribed these characters, I experienced the complexity of the culture, leaving me feeling once again, overwhelmed. unsure how to comprehend it all. It's like an insect that has only lived through summer,
seeing ice in winter for the first time, suddenly unsure how to express its feelings and emotions. At the same time, this information also refers to how I, as a child, perceived everything in the world around me, feeling everything as fresh and intriguing. My curiosity has not diminished over time and age, I still retain it to this day. I feel I am privy to a vast amount of information, perhaps due to my high sensitivity and the child-like perspective that I maintained into adulthood. I constantly remind myself to keep the innocence, and to be open to understand anything in the simplest way. I strive to be non-discriminatory towards things, avoiding judging them as inherently good or bad. I prefer to have no preconceived notions about the existence of things, believing that they exist as themselves with their own reasons and stories, their own origins and destinations. Of course, this understanding has gradually emerged after countless days and nights of feeling overwhelmed. Even now, I maintain this sense of being overwhelmed, though age has made me appear more composed and adept. I know that I am still just a small child facing a world as formidable as a flood or a wild beast, a mere speck of dust.
As we continue to absorb new information and ideas, we start to develop a better understanding of the world around us, even though the world in our conception is still in the process of being complete.
Our understanding of the world is constantly evolving as we gather new information and experiences. This ongoing process allows us to see the world from both objective and subjective perspectives simultaneously.
On one hand, objectivity involves trying to view things as they truly are, free from personal biases or preconceptions. It involves examining evidence, considering different viewpoints, and striving for accuracy and fairness in our understanding.
On the other hand, subjectivity acknowledges the role of personal experiences, emotions, and perspectives in shaping how we perceive and interpret the world. No two individuals see the world in exactly the same way because our backgrounds, beliefs, and values influence our perceptions.
So, as we learn and grow, we strive to balance these two perspectives, recognizing both the objective reality of the world around us and the subjective lens through which we interpret it. This ongoing process of refining our understanding allows us to navigate the complexities of life with greater insight and empathy.
This could also be considered as the process of learning to see the world in an objective way and a subjective way at the same time.
In my work, I strive to convey a sense of confusion, ambiguity, and the inability to understand an overwhelming amount of information at first glance. At the same time, my work expresses the bewilderment and perplexity towards information.
Another main objective of my work is to articulate the personal journey of engaging with the complex and profound culture of Chinese calligraphy from a young age. This journey involves grappling with the challenging shapes and meanings of characters derived from ancient poetry and inscriptions, leading to feelings overwhelmed and confused.
Despite these challenges, the process is deeply intertwined with a broader exploration of art, culture, and personal growth. The narrative reflects a commitment to maintaining a child-like curiosity and openness, an inclination towards non-judgmental understanding, and a philosophy of appreciating things in their inherent nature. My perspective is informed by a lifelong sensitivity and a desire to perceive the world without preconceived notions, embracing the complexity and richness of life with innocence and a willingness to learn. The ultimate goal is to navigate the vastness of information and experience with a sense of wonder and humility, acknowledging the continuous journey of discovery and understanding in the face of life's vastness.
It is true that when we are presented with an overwhelming amount of information, it can be challenging to understand and process everything immediately. The process of learning and growth happens slowly, as we begin to make connections between different pieces of information and relate them to our own experiences.
In my work, I layer text and gold foil on the canvas. I use text as a material to symbolize the overwhelming amount of information that piles up before my eyes, and I use gold foil to gild this excessive information, expressing my respect and awe for these truths or dogmas.
The reason for me to bring out the gold foil is that my mother believes in Buddhism. When I see Buddhists express their devout respect for their faith, they gild the statues of Buddha. They choose to revere a Buddha statue as if it were a deity in their hearts. To me, the statue is not Buddha himself but a worldly sculpture of Buddha. The Buddha is not in our homes; his image resides in every household, his divine form in the hearts of his followers. It is the power of belief that leads devotees to repeatedly gild these images with gold. The question to ask is: Do we believe in Buddhism for our own desires, or for the sake of being desireless as a human being? Buddhist doctrines teach its believers to renounce their desires, as desire can lead to a path of suffering from all the wants that can never be satisfied. Through this process, Buddha declares that all his followers would eventually come into a state of being desireless, which is considered to be the happiest and ultimate state in life. However, believing in Buddha and believing that there is an ultimate state to be achieved seem to be a desire in its essence.
As I gild my calligraphy, is it for the so-called enlightenment that these principles can bring me? Is it to understand the emotions of this world that are not understood? Or is it to bestow an extra blessing on the people who wrote the poems and verses I copy? Is it for me or for others?
Why am I not the person itself? And why is the person not me?
My age and experience make it impossible for me to understand all of this, and even the most nourishing truths become gold foil on Chinese rice paper, like decorative fragments in my memory. In the later pieces of the series, the text as a symbol gradually transforms into ink dots, representing a process from specificity to abstract, from details to the whole, and from misunderstanding to understanding. It also expresses my contemplation of abstract symbols as an artist with an Eastern cultural background who has received Western education.
Chinese artists who work with both ink and acrylic mediums have built a bridge between tradition and modernity. This artistic practice not only demonstrates a deep understanding of traditional Chinese ink painting but also reflects an exploration and integration of Western modern painting techniques.
For example, Wu Guanzhong was a contemporary Chinese painter widely recognized as a founder of modern Chinese painting. He is considered to be one of the greatest contemporary Chinese painters. Wu's artworks display both Western and Eastern influences, such as the Western style of Fauvism and the Eastern style of Chinese calligraphy. Wu painted various aspects of China, including its architecture, plants, animals, people, as well as many of its landscapes and waterscapes, in a style reminiscent of the impressionist painters of the early 1900s. He was also a writer on contemporary Chinese art.
“For people’s hearts to communicate, there must be genuine emotion to strike a chord. Whether the feelings and perceptions of modern Chinese can find resonance in the West depends on the emotions, if they are true or false. Intelligent viewers can discern what is real and what is false.” Here, Wu Guanzhong explains that in order for people (such as those of the East and the West) to communicate there must be true emotions from the heart that can be understood by all audiences. [1]
Also he mentioned that “Abstract beauty is the heart of the beauty of figurative art. It is a natural thing to which we all respond. As a child loves to play with a kaleidoscope, so everyone likes pure form and color.” [1] Wu Guanzhong explains abstract beauty, which shows his appreciation for abstract art along with his traditional Chinese training.
This specific quote shows how difficult it was in 20th century China to integrate abstract Western art as a result of their fears and how this impedes Wu Guanzhong's ability to freely discuss it.
The concepts in Wu Guanzhong's works resonate deeply with my own ideas, not to mention how profoundly and aptly this master artist, who has established the path for Chinese pure art to the world, has blended Eastern and Western cultures. He expressed his thoughts on how Chinese audiences treat art, as well as our own traditional artistic notions versus Western art concepts. In our country's context, the barriers between things we call specialization; most people find it hard to understand how we can cross the boundaries between mediums to form a kind of art form of the heart. The innovation and the courage to face innovation that Wu Guanzhong left in this regard are something I really admired.
But this also inevitably leads me to ponder the situation of contemporary Chinese fine arts. If we always stick to the old rules without reforming and innovating to extract the essence and discard the dregs in our own art, we can only learn others' styles and appreciate others' methods, rather than defining our own history. How to develop something new of our own based on our history’s accumulation is another major issue for contemporary Chinese arts.
Back to the main topic, my series delves into the intricate relationship between chance and individual intentions.
In this collection, I harness the fluidity of ink as a metaphor for
words, and when blended with acrylics, these two mediums dance freely across the canvas. By adjusting the canvas's orientation as they merge, I influence the spontaneous patterns they create, mimicking life's unpredictable nature. In many facets of our existence, there are elements beyond our control, where destiny seems to steer our course. Amidst this vast tapestry, we grow, fueled by our self- awareness, yet often remain unaware of the subtle nudges of fate. My artwork contemplates this uncontrollable essence of life, shedding light on the delicate balance between destiny and our own evolution.
I seek a semblance of balance amidst chaos and a touch of tranquility in complexity. In my new series, I aim to re-examine the relationship between negative space and the space occupied by the paint. I aspire to craft multiple layers, capturing the essence of life's layered experiences - seemingly untouched by external influences, yet bearing the traces of its journey.
Therefore, in my process of painting, I repeatedly contemplate this age-old question: ”子非鱼，焉知鱼之乐？“ which means How can one who is not a fish know the joy of fish?
The original text is as follows:
庄子与惠子游于濠梁之上。庄子曰：“鲦鱼出游从容，是鱼之乐也。” 惠子曰∶“子非鱼，安知鱼之乐？”庄子曰：“子非我，安知我不知 鱼之乐？”惠子曰“我非子，固不知子矣；子固非鱼也，子之不知鱼之乐，全矣！”庄子曰：“请循其本。子曰‘汝安知鱼乐’云者，既 已知吾知之而问我。我知之濠上也。”
Zhuangzi and Huizi were strolling on the bridge over the Hao River. Zhuangzi said, "The minnows swim about so freely, following the bends and turns. That is the joy of fish."
Huizi said, "You are not a fish; how do you know the joy of fish?"
Zhuangzi replied, "You are not me; how do you know I don't know the joy of fish?"
Huizi said, "I am not you, so of course I don't know what you know. But you are certainly not a fish, so you can't know the joy of fish."
Zhuangzi countered, "Let's go back to the beginning. You said, 'How do you know the joy of fish?' implying that you already knew that I knew it and were asking me about it. I know it from being here above the river."
"子非鱼，焉知鱼之乐?" comes from the work "Autumn Floods" within the collection of writings by the ancient Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi. This statement serves as a parable to elucidate his philosophy of "wei wu wei" or "action without action." In this parable, Zhuangzi engages in dialogue with a man from the region of Xu, who expresses his skill in raising fish, stating, "I am skilled in caring for fish. They thrive in the rivers, and I am at peace with them." Zhuangzi then poses the question, "You are not a fish, so how can you know the joy of fish?"
Through this question, Zhuangzi conveys the notion that humans cannot truly comprehend the feelings and happiness of other beings, as we cannot escape our own perspectives and experiences to view the world from the standpoint of those beings.
Therefore, in my works, even if I grant my materials what I believe to be their full freedom, this "freedom" I provide is still based on my own assumptions. I cannot know if the "freedom" I give is what the ink and acrylic on the canvas consider freedom. I also do not know if they need what I consider important. Just as "How can one who is not a fish know the joy of fish?"
This thoughts also refers to the previous question I mentioned, which is when I gild my calligraphy, Is it for me or for others? Why am I not the person itself? And why is the person not me?
On countless nights and mornings, I gaze at the ink and acrylic on the canvas as they blend, repel, expand their territories, or consume each other's colors. I begin to ponder: are we, as tiny individuals, also repeating small, meaningless struggles in the silent river of history? Is the rusty green produced by the fusion of ink and acrylic on the canvas the result of countless wars? or, what are they?
From another point, my work also materializes narratives associated with migration and cultural amnesia. This practice talks about a sense of inability to go back to the past.
My practice conveys my values. I think of my perspective as a filter, and my mind as a container. My mind carries the things I have come into contact with, and while my perspective has helped me filter some things, I am left with the feelings I recognize, constantly updating my thinking over time. However, the things left outside of the filter still exist.
As I grow up, I admit that the world I excluded through employing the filter is not without its merits. What I rushed to, such as the problems I faced at different stages of my life, the things I liked, and the paths I tended to take, may not always be “correct” at that moment. The correctness here may be another cage of understanding the world. We are trapped in the inherent world, confined by the environment around us. The views of those around us instill in us a notion called conventionality. Within conventionality lies what is deemed right and what is deemed wrong. But who brings about this concept of right and wrong? Whose world is this conventional world? Is it another system of value kidnapping us, or do we willingly seek the approval of others? For me, in the process of continuous introspection, I have created my own system of responding to the outside world instead of listening to others.
Our experience helped shape who we are, my work is philosophical and reproduces my thinking about this world. For me, this worldview may refer to being born with an Eastern cultural background but facing Western culture from adolescence. I consider this as my perspective. Cultural differences have shaped my worldview, outlook on life, and values, and I don't like to be inclined or partial to any ideology. At the same time, it is easy to feel isolated in the middle of almost opposing ideas of culture. Blurring reality and fiction, my projects blend cues of real time-space to create.
In the intricate tapestry of Western art history, the late 19th and early 20th centuries seem to mark the most extensive era for abstract painting. This was a time when people were dedicated to change, innovation, and creating something uniquely their own. This period was also marked by skepticism and misunderstanding towards abstraction. My work is also deeply influenced by the abstract expressionist artist Cy Twombly, who flourished during this era. I find in him an inspiration from the pioneers in history and a resonance that transcends time. In Twombly's 70-year painting career, he is most acclaimed for
breaking the rigid boundaries between oil painting and drawing, challenging contemporary art notions with his "scribbled" brushwork. Enthusiasts often say that within Twombly's seemingly child-like doodles lie a unique expression of his profound appreciation for ancient poetry and culture.
From my perspective, I believe that in Eastern culture, the use of text as a visual pattern to please the eye, and to either transcend or coexist with the literal meaning of the words, holds a special place. It represents a narrative technique distinct from Western traditional painting. My own work is influenced by traditional Chinese calligraphy, a practice I engaged in from childhood, where text is appreciated as an artistic pattern. However, as I grew older and received Western art education, which shaped my values, the magical fusion of these two influences is evident in my work, expressing itself both subconsciously and consciously. In exploring history, I find my feelings and perceptions strikingly aligned with those of the predecessors. In Twombly's work, I see his admiration for Eastern art and his fascination with poetry. His brushwork carries an understanding of Western painting, akin to sketching, yet is combined with the delicacy of soft brush details. What appears as doodles actually harbors a deep understanding of the relationship between patterns and text, seeking a balance in the subtle composition. This is precisely what I hope my work can convey.
Just as described by Mary Jacobus in her 2016 article "Reading Cy Twombly: Poetry in Paint" published by Princeton University Press, Cy possesses a comprehensive understanding of the graffiti-like patterns in his works. His expression of balance, as well as his judgments on composition and interpretation, is imbued with meaning and purpose. Much like the many questions I have faced over time, viewers often have numerous inquiries about my artworks. Have I completed it? How do I define the so- called balance within the work? When do I know when to stop? And when is it just right?
From my perspective, Eastern culture places a distinct emphasis on the use of text as a visual pattern, a practice designed to please the eye and transcend or coexist with the literal meaning of the words. This narrative technique is distinct from traditional Western painting. My own work is heavily influenced by traditional Chinese calligraphy, a practice I engaged in since childhood, where text is appreciated as an artistic pattern. However, as I matured and received a Western art education, which contributed to shaping my values, the magical fusion of these two influences became evident in my work.
In abstract painting, one of the main themes is about what the artist is able to control and what the artist is unable to control. In a broader context, this is related to the concept of chance, which is also about what is controllable and uncontrollable in everyday experience. In other words, chance is about how individual intentions can be disturbed by external factors at any time.
The word "control" refers to the power or authority to influence or direct something or someone, typically to manage or regulate a situation, process, or behavior. It can also indicate the ability to restrain or govern actions, events, or variables in order to achieve a desired outcome or maintain order. Additionally, "control" can refer to a standard of comparison used in an experiment or study to ensure that the effects of certain factors are accurately assessed.
Whereas the phrase "under control" implies that things are being handled effectively and within the bounds of what is considered acceptable. However, we all live within a vast unknown, influenced by factors beyond our control. For example, we hold strong personal beliefs, but do these beliefs truly represent anything? Or do we truly live in the ideal world we envision for ourselves? Are our thoughts the driving force behind everything? Or can this driving force truly lead us to the destination we desire? Can all of this cause and effect be determined by our efforts?
So that my thought delves into the intricate relationship between fate and individual intentions, which is how I define, analyze, and express the concept of chance in my work.
From my perspective, in many facets of our existence, there are elements beyond our control, where destiny seems to steer our course. Amidst this vast tapestry, we grow, fueled by our self- awareness, yet often remain unaware of the subtle nudges of fate. My artwork contemplates this uncontrollable essence of life, shedding light on the delicate balance between destiny and our own evolution.
I seek a semblance of balance amidst chaos and a touch of tranquility in complexity. I aim to re-examine the relationship between negative space and the main subject. I aspire to craft multiple layers, capturing the essence of life's layered experiences - seemingly untouched by external influences, yet bearing the traces of its journey.
The I Ching[4], also known as the Book of Changes, is an ancient Chinese divination text and the oldest of the Chinese classics. It explores the concept of change and provides guidance on how to navigate life's transitions through a system of symbols, hexagrams, and commentary. It addresses various aspects of life, including relationships, career, and personal development, offering insights into the cyclical nature of existence and the importance of adapting to change with wisdom and flexibility. In practice, the text of I Ching guides people to ask the deities for the answer of a question that concerns them through practicing divination using six coins.
Life sometimes seems magical to me, as I perceive the differences and changes between people. Despite many growing up under similar backgrounds, with foundational variables of their lives resembling each other, they end up becoming completely different individuals. What leads to their transformation always makes me marvel at the unpredictability of life and the unfathomable future. It seems as though there's a force that shapes us into who we are, guiding us onto the paths we ultimately take.
Just as I demonstrate in my work, my creation process involves letting the mediums flow on their own. I choose the same materials as the constants in life, like ink and acrylic, which I use throughout this series as the unchanging foundations. I let the ink and acrylic flow freely on the wood panel, and the process of them integrating with each other represents change. As they blend with each other, they form their own lives. ”I am both curious and helpless about what I can and cannot control. Sometimes, people cannot decide their own direction, as life is full of inevitabilities. This is similar to how despite giving the materials plenty of freedom, they may not necessarily create an effect on the wood panel that satisfies me. But is this unsatisfying outcome not what my mediums wanted? I cannot know for sure. Yet, I still hope my works exist within a visually controllable range. It seems that as the uncontrollable variable in my work, I too have discovered my own inevitabilities in facing the unpredictable situations in life.
The changes and difficulties in life make me feel powerless, and in my work, I try to find a semblance of balance. Much like the Song Dynasty poet Song Dunru (1081-1159 CE) whom I greatly admire, writes in his poem Xijiang Yue:
“The world's affairs are as brief as a spring dream, human emotions as insubstantial as autumn clouds. There's no need to overburden the heart with toil, for everything is predestined.
Fortunate enough to enjoy three cups of fine wine, and moreover, to encounter a freshly bloomed flower. Let us cherish the moment of laughter and closeness, for tomorrow's weather remains uncertain."
This poem is written after the poet was expelled from public office by the emperor. By that time he was already 75 years old, this is how he expressed his attitude towards life. It encapsulates the fleeting nature of life and relationships, suggesting that instead of laboring over the hardships, one should embrace the preordained flow of life, finding joy in the transient pleasures that come our way.
In life, there are many controllable and uncontrollable factors. Sometimes, despite your best efforts, the outcome is not satisfactory. Other times, without much effort, you achieve great results. What we focus on, what we love, may not necessarily be good for us. Life offers many paths; are we able to choose the one closest to our ideal destination? Can we rely on our supposed wisdom to break free from the fear of destiny?
We never have a definitive answer. Faced with the myriad uncertainties of the external world, we feel helpless, unable to provide it with a response using our supposed wisdom. How then can we find inner harmony? How can we discover the ideal path we seek?
Negotiating our environment becomes my challenge, while simultaneously finding one’s self within circumstances. Forging my own path becomes an important mission of my life.
So, in my work, I create a kind of freedom for my elements. A freedom that I cannot obtain in this reality. People often find themselves speaking insincerely and assuming different personas in various situations. Can we truly be ourselves? I cannot say for certain. But what is tragic is that despite this freedom, it still exists under my control as the “creator" in my work; meanwhile, I find out I am unable to control the chaotic fusion I bring to the work. I need them to visually satisfy me that I have completed the work. I need the people in my world to like it. This means I cannot escape the control of my experiences and past, nor can I provide a free world for my materials as they imagine and also as I imagine. Because I cannot know their lives and pasts, I cannot create a kind of freedom for each person from their perspective to satisfy them as they wish and also as I wish.
In my work, ink and acrylic integrate with each other. An interesting fact is that after water is added, either ink and acrylic expand to occupy a greater space on the wood panel. Ink and acrylic seem to have “self-consciousness” to compete for a bigger territory on the wood panel, which for me expresses a universal desire to always seek more. I consider that an inevitable weakness in humanity.
In many people, I see this kind of weakness. A weakness that is unrelated to gender, age, wealth, or status. Some endure it for a long time, while others experience it fleetingly. This weakness manifests in various forms; it can be timid and shy, it can be fierce and aggressive, it can be arrogant and overbearing, but its essence is still weakness. It's a weakness born from prolonged inconsistency and envy, denied by external forces. They lack the ability to resolve conflicts, so when faced with external contradictions, they either completely avoid them or over-defend themselves.
They lack the means to protect themselves, so when facing power imbalances in an entrenched environment, they either betray friends for personal gain or surrender without a fight. A weak friend or teammate can cause you great harm because although they cherish their own life, they only value their own, and when necessary, they can sacrifice anyone else's life for self-preservation. And if, unfortunately, you are the weak one, and even more unfortunately, you're the one who always yields, I won't urge anyone to be brave because bravery is difficult. I can only say you deserve a better life. But you've wasted too much time. How many years will you be trapped by old stories? Trapped until you finally have nothing to lose and nothing to gain?
When you find yourself confined within an unyielding and unalterable environment, it mirrors the world we inhabit. It also mirrors the “The inevitability of life." Numerous elements remain beyond our influence, while many circumstances defy escape. How does one navigate such a predicament? In my quest to grant autonomy to the materials within my creations, I aim for them to discover their own essence. Yet, in the complexity of human existence, who among us can claim immunity from moments of forced compliance and disingenuous expression?
This idea of free will is also reflected in my work, as I sometimes wonder if the ink and acrylic is “self-conscious,” do they intend to be involved in a competition for territory on the wood panel? If there is an intention, is it a mere result of outside force?
In summary, I've endeavored to grant freedom to the elements within my creations within their predetermined worlds. Yet, I cannot deny my uncertainty regarding whether this liberation is truly beneficial for them, or if my interpretation of freedom aligns with theirs. I also wonder if they acknowledge the efforts I've made on their behalf. Life unfolds like a movie script we cannot choose, leaving us born into existence without understanding the purpose behind it. If we're handed minor roles in the grand theater of life, how can we find happiness and perform with grace?
How can we win a game with a hand dealt poorly? Is this struggle within our predetermined environments the essence of life's challenges? It feels like a struggle forced upon me, yet one I must endure. When I see the fusion of materials on my canvas, I'm reminded of individuals striving in the sea of humanity to carve out their place. It's disheartening, but everyone has their own path to follow, and each person has their own tasks to fulfill, and intervening in someone else's life won't necessarily benefit them.
Their burdens may only increase, and your responsibilities will grow, yet you may receive no gratitude in return because ultimately, you may not have truly helped them. Indeed, because in their eyes, you haven't really helped them either. As it also refers to "How can one who is not a fish know the joy of fish?"
As the saying goes, water does not nurture grass without roots; the Tao's path is broad, only ferrying those destined for it.
When faced with an environment I cannot escape from yet find no solace in, all I can do is strive to do my best with what I have. It's akin to living in a world I cannot judge, trying to find harmony within myself. For such is the way of the world, and I am powerless to change it. I may even go unnoticed by those around me. If I were to live within the realm of my art, I would endeavor to bloom to my fullest potential rather than submit beneath the authority of others. This unfamiliar terrain, the home ground of others, is not to my liking; it's the so-called external control that I vehemently seek to break free from.
Because I prefer to inhabit an environment of my own choosing. I've always believed that there exists a utopia akin to the Eden of my dreams. It's my life's aspiration, though its actualization may be uncertain. Nevertheless, I will strive to carve out a space within this controlled world where I can assert some autonomy for myself.
For what I can do to the best of my abilities within my capacity, I call it effort, within my controllable range. However, when I exert all my efforts but fail to achieve my desired outcome, I attribute it to destiny, which lies beyond my control. Yet, the essence of being human lies in our individual strengths and weaknesses, that is also the reason that each with its own destiny. Allowing oneself to be oneself and others to be themselves may indeed be the greatest freedom I seek and the harmony I've always wished to live in.
Contrastingly, what I term as destiny transcends personal control. I define fate as the culmination of outcomes influenced by external factors beyond individual influence.
Exploring fate as a manifestation of life's inherent unpredictability, I discuss the implications of accepting the existence of fate as an integral part of the human experience.also The relationship between prediction and controlled environments
Between desiring results and listening to one's material.
I contend that understanding humanity lies in embracing complexity, arguing that humanity roots in the unique blend of strengths and weaknesses in each individual, and there is a certain complexity in the shaping of individual fate and human experience. It is important to me that I discuss the importance of embracing one's authentic self while respecting the autonomy of others, which naturally results from the complexity in human experience and behavior.
Considering freedom and the pursuit of a consistency in intention and behavior, I propose that self-consistency is attained when individuals embrace their true selves. I explore the importance of granting others the same freedom to pursue their unique paths and personal fulfillment.
This is reflected in my work through the chaos in the shapes and lines created on the wood panel through the use of ink and acrylic. There seems to be no pattern or organization in the final composition of my work, which is an implication of how no individual can be defined by specific phrases. And only through the embrace of true selves, the embrace of the chaos of human experience and complexity, we can finally find true freedom.
The influence of my inherent culture imbues me with a sense that fate is inexorable, yet within Western culture, the individual's power is profoundly potent. Thus, I find myself in a state of isolation, yet simultaneously shaped by two contrasting ideological forces.
This duality engenders both self-belief and a belief in fate. Perhaps this juxtaposition is the beneficial outcome of my purportedly neutral perspective, and it undoubtedly contributes to the distinctiveness of my creations and reflections.
Guanzhong, Wu, Lucy Lim, Xiong Bingming, Michael Sullivan, Richard Barnhart, James Cahill, and Chu-Tsing Li. Wu Guanzhong: A Contemporary Chinese Artist. San Francisco: Chinese Culture Foundation, 1989. Print.
Jacobus, Mary. 2016, Reading Cy Twombly: Poetry in Paint/Princeton University PressTyson, John A. "Cy Twombly's Cardboard Prints: Impressions, Inversions and Decomposition", Print Quarterly, Vol. XXXV No. 1 March 2018, pp. 27–38
Greenberg, Clement. "Avant-Garde and Kitsch." Partisan Review, Vol. 6, No. 5, 1939, pp. 34–49.
Wilhelm, Richard, trans. I Ching. Rendered into English by Cary F. Baynes. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1967.