Yin Zhaoyang’s landscape paintings have evolved into a phenomenon within the Chinese art scene, becoming an inescapable discourse. His mastery in the art of painting and the allure of his visual language are indisputable. The heart of the discussion, however, revolves around the subject matter. This prompts one to question why the creator of the Youth Fades Away (《青春远去》) and Myth (《神话》) series has unexpectedly ventured into the realm of ‘landscapes’.

Yin’s pivot towards landscape painting commenced in 2011. Although he had sporadically produced a few such works before – either as sketches or finished pieces – they were never his focal theme. Prior to this shift, other leading figures in China’s ‘new painting’ movement had also explored landscape themes, but their interpretations had been intentionally transformed to reflect contemporary sensibilities, leading to their works being perceived not strictly as landscapes. Yin, seemingly indifferent to such transformations, aimed to establish a new frontier within an art world that had largely moved beyond traditional landscape painting. This unexpected direction baffles many. However, Yin’s true intention was not to innovate a new genre of landscape painting but, rather, to express landscapes as an ‘eminently suitable “spiritual solid”’.

In the circle of celebrated Chinese artists, Yin is notably attuned to the intricate and subtle experiences of the ‘self’. He invariably leans towards the authenticity of personal experience over the ‘modern allure’ found in artistic expression. Beginning in 1993 – during his undergraduate years at the Central Academy of Fine Arts – his extensive body of work, varied in themes, stylistic languages and forms, presents an in-depth exploration of the individual’s complex and profound internal journey. This exploration is unparalleled in Chinese artistry. The widely acclaimed Youth Fades Away (《青春远去》) and Myth (《神话》) series represent mere facets of this journey – and vibrant and illustrious facets at that. His art neither originates from nor is limited to these expressions.

Yet, it was the ‘immensity’ of Mount Song that prompted his definitive turn towards landscape painting. This immensity – a grand, robust, yet solemn beauty – strikes a chord with those who possess a grand vision and have navigated the depths of the soul.

Individuals shaped by life’s tumults often develop a profound appreciation for nature’s splendour. Dongshan Kaiyi remarked, ‘The joy found in natural landscapes was a revelation during the war. Facing the potential extinguishment of my life, I realised that natural scenes were filled with vibrant life.’ The pinnacle of traditional Chinese landscape painting frequently coincides with significant national and societal upheavals: Jingguan Dongju thrived amidst the turmoil of the Five Dynasties; Li Tang endured the Jingkang Incident; the Four Masters of the Yuan dynasty lived through the profound national tragedy of the Yuan Empire; and the Four Monks experienced the seismic shift from the Ming to the Qing dynasty. The intimate bond between the suffering of the soul and the allure of landscapes is unquestionable, no matter the perspective.

The same applies to Yin: only after internally ‘witnessing’ the ‘boundless world’ did the ‘vastness’ of Mount Song profoundly resonate with his psychological demands at that stage. This ‘psychological demand’ is a response to the inescapable predicaments of the spiritual realm, fuelling a dense and robust passion for life. The journey of painting Mount Song has been a solitary exploration of the evolution and transformation of this passion. Yin remarked, ‘The absolute solitude depicted in traditional paintings represents an extended loneliness. This is equally true in the West. I visited the place where Cézanne painted – Mount Sainte-Victoire, utterly devoid of human presence. Think about it: he painted there alone, embodying a state of primeval desolation that no poetry can more profoundly shock – except for engaging in dialogue with the cosmos, one is ultimately compelled to converse with oneself, achieving a transcendent state.’

Since 2011, Yin’s endeavour in ‘painting landscapes’ has spanned nearly a decade. In these years of communing with the cosmos and himself, he has passionately produced an extensive collection of works, characterised by a rich diversity of linguistic expressions. His creations span from the crafting of stark, tense visions of vastness to expressions of various intense, powerful, or majestic states of life, and further, to the refinement and purification of ‘languages’ that fuse the essence of the era with personal spirituality.

A statement by Yin might shed light on the reasons behind the complexity of his visual interests during this period: ‘I feel somewhat like I’m pulling myself closer to a profoundly deep tradition, treating myself as a subject of experimentation within the current context, using a place as an opportunity to forge a relationship, one that embodies both ancient and modern conflicts.’ These ‘infinitely intriguing’ artistic experiments are not only visual but also psychological – when he struggles to condense such complex inner experiences into a comprehensive yet clear artistic state, he deconstructs them into countless, diverse, yet interwoven aspects.

Yin made a deliberate pivot from illustrating the ‘boundless world’ to embracing landscape painting. This shift was driven by his acute realisation of the limitations inherent in attempting to ‘portray the truth’ through art. Such ‘truths’ have, after all, become well-trodden paths in modern literature, art, and sociology. Yet, the self’s authentic engagement with the present world is significantly more intricate than these established ‘truths’. Engaging deeply in self-reflection and particularly in soulful conversations with the masters of painting who captivated him, Yin recognised that the true maestros of art are those who delve profoundly into the ‘self’, mirroring the spiritual pinnacle of their times. This realisation was a breakthrough. ‘To me, landscape painting symbolises the utmost elevation and breadth the soul can achieve,’ essentially mirroring the spiritual apex of the ‘self’ in our era. Thus, in an age when many have forfeited the ability to dialogue with the world, he remains fervently engaged, assured that he has profoundly grasped the era’s deepest poetic essence.

The text Zhuangzi · Xu Wu Gui (《庄子·徐无鬼》) tells a story about Shi, a craftsman from Ying who possessed the remarkable skill to carve with his axe as swiftly as the wind, shaping chalk as thin as a fly’s wing on someone’s nose. When the sovereign of Song expressed a desire to witness this skill, the craftsman told him that while his expertise remained unchallenged, the craftsman’s partner    brave enough to have the chalk placed on his nose was no longer alive. Millennia later, Li Bai would voice his yearning for such unparalleled skill from Ying – the ability to transform a mere flick into a sweeping gust. In this context, it would be more accurate to say that Yin has unlocked the ‘code of the soul’ for our times rather than merely mastering the ‘language of painting’. This ‘code of the soul’ represents the essence of Ying, enabling Yin to execute his craft with the elegance and power of the wind.