Six years ago， a winter landscape in Inner Mongolia inspired Wang Zhanwu to write “The Village of Aouni，” a narrative poem of a man who sends many letters to a woman he loves， until he returns to a small farm in the Great Khingan Mountains and finds her standing at the door.
This October， the poet and artist from Heilongjiang province opened his solo exhibition “A Letter to the Village of Aouni” in Beijings 798 Art District， exhibiting oil paintings inspired by the romance of the poem. Under Wangs riotous palette， small villages， mysterious women， and lifelike animals bring alive the personal emotions behind his work， which he shares with TWOC：
What is the connection between the poem and the paintings？
One night， when I was traveling in Inner Mongolia， I suddenly felt something， maybe inspiration from my past experiences， so I wrote the poem， and shed tears after finishing it. I sent it to my friends， and they all felt very touched， and asked me if this really happened. I told them that “Aouni” is not based on a certain experience from my life， but the sum of the experiences of my whole life. Picasso said that “art is a lie that tells the truth，” so “The Village of Aouni” is the truest lie. It does not exist， but there is a forest farm called Aouni in the Great Khingan Mountains， where I collected inspiration. In Aouni there is everything I want to pursue; there is such a woman waiting in the entryway of everyones heart， who is waiting for us to look back. Later， I started to create this group of paintings. The process was really unstructured and it took six years.
The village scenes look typical of northeastern China， where you were born. How did your upbringing influence your art？
I was born in northern China， and my grandmother is from Mongolia. I have a profound respect for the Inner Mongolian nomadic people. When I was creating this group of paintings， I went to Inner Mongolia many times for inspiration. The horse in my work “Thousand Miles Away” is the most important spiritual totem of nomadic peoples. It can be said that my paintings are full of spirituality and wildness. When people evaluate a painters work， they often use adjectives like “simple，” heavy，” and “light.” The most commonly used word for my paintings is “spiritual.” This may also have something to do with my art studies in Guangzhou， an open-minded city. My university experience allowed me to develop an unfettered creative style.
What do poetry and painting mean to you？
Writing poems is not my job. I write poems as a hobby and due to creative instinct. I also like to listen to music. I dont think artists should be separated into categories. Literature， music， and paintings all have beginnings， climaxes， and endings. Just as painting uses different tones， music also has tones. The colors of a painting make up the picture， and musical tones make up the melody; all of this is closely connected.
After decades of creating art， what do you see as your artistic mission？
My mission is to explore the “infinite psychological space.” Contemporary art has many forms of expression. Artists try to innovate with external forms， but I believe that the foundation of art is emotion. It is more important to find the spiritual core of creation than to pursue innovation on the outside. I can always experience a baptism of my heart when I paint. I think Im seeking for my soul in my paintings. When we expand the outer boundaries of art， we set boundaries for ourselves， but the dimensions of our hearts and emotions are infinite; what you get is a vast， endless world. – He Yingzi （賀樱子）
FORMLESS HEALING
The coronavirus is running rampant. People， panicked， stay indoors and in a constant state of anxiety. Within this “formless theatre” that human society is trapped in， artist Fan Bos immersive new exhibition at Today Art Museum in Beijing offers unique therapy by awakening the audiences experimental world.
As Fans largest solo exhibition in recent years， “Fan Bo： The Formless Theater，” is a milestone for the Tianjin-born artist who has become noted for exploring the systems of human perception. It consists of four closely connected works， which begin by recreating the immediate drama of the Covid-19 pandemic， before more broadly exploring how senses such as sight， touch， and hearing can be transformed， and imagination and cognitive ability can be made boundless.
The two works in the main hall， “The Advent” and “Like Shadow，” set up the social background of this exhibition. “Like Shadow” is a floor-to-ceiling thermal screen that captures the silhouettes and body temperatures of visitors who walk by， an exaggerated version of the same structure found in almost every public building in China. In this way， everyone who enters the exhibition hall is an actor on the artists stage. Their images， rendered different from ordinary cognition by the prism of diseases and fright， convey the “exceptional state” in which people live under the pandemic.
If visitors who walk into the exhibition hall are actors， then “The Advent” is the director. A humanoid figure is projected from the ceiling into a pool of water in the center of the main hall， and “conducts” this solemn procession of people who gather together in different corners of the world to participate in this show.
Walking out of the diffused and implicit “theater of physical senses” in the main hall， visitors enter a field where perception systems overlap and connect. “There Will Always Be a Black-Mat Boat Creaking and Squeaking，” based on a visually impaired girls poem about walking in a small southern Chinese town， combines Braille writing and a video of the girls monologue to recreate her world for visitors through voice and touch. This is an extension of Fans many recent artistic experiments on the cognitive systems of blind and sighted people， which often use a combination of Braille and images， such as his “Pathological Section” and “World 3” collection in 2016， and “The Fable” in 2017.
The final work of the exhibition， “Emmanuel，” is presented in part in a bright room that shows everyday household items covered with boxes of pills and medicinal powder， bringing healing and therefore hope to these scenes. A dark room， which forms the other part of the installation， replicates the environment of the visually impaired， with visitors relying on touch and hearing to experience the setting.
The isolation caused by the coronavirus， and the perceptual obstacles caused by visual impairment， both realistically portray how the human body is trapped in the present; while the medicines of “Emmanuel” and the conductor of “The Advent” bring physical as well as spiritual healing. As Zhang Ran， the director of Today Art Museum， explains of her ideas of arts role in the context of coronavirus： “No matter how long the pandemic lasts， or how many scars it leaves， it will pass. When we face life and death， suffering， the unknown， and confusion， art may provide paths for reflection and philosophical thinking on the overall state of human existence.” – H.Y.
