In 2007, Yin Zhaoyang unveiled a collection of new sceneries, marking a pivotal shift in his artistic expression. This raises intriguing questions: What prompted Yin to deviate from his established style? Why did he gravitate towards landscape art? Might there be a deeper significance to landscapes for him?

To decipher these new sceneries, one might explore three distinct dimensions. The first dimension examines the transition and differentiation between traditional Chinese landscape painting and modern landscape interpretations. This exploration is not limited to the realms of painting tradition and aesthetic preferences; it also encompasses the narratives shaped around landscapes and societal discourse since the founding of New China. The second dimension ties these new sceneries to Yin’s personal artistic journey, reflecting on its progression and interruptions. The third dimension delves into the context of Chinese contemporary art history and the shifts that have unfolded in recent years. A paramount inquiry here is how contemporary art engages with tradition, how it derives inspiration from it, transforms it actively, and imbues the artworks with a cultural identity. These three thematic strands weave together to form a rich, dialogic tapestry in the history of art. Yin’s reflections on his creative process, his trajectory in art, and his contemplation of the traditional-versus-contemporary nexus are deeply entwined with this historical and cultural backdrop.

First, the relationship between traditional Chinese landscape painting and contemporary landscapes, and the creative traditions they imply, is crucial. From the advent of landscape motifs during the Wei and Jin dynasties, through the evolution in the Sui and Tang eras, to the peak in the Northern Song period, Chinese landscape painting achieved unparalleled visual representation. Beyond the Northern Song, both the ontology of landscape art and its creative philosophies experienced profound shifts, gradually embedding themselves within the cultural discourse of the scholarly class. From the Southern Song period onwards, through the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties, landscape painting not only crafted an autonomous system in terms of artistic essence but also forged a comprehensive framework within aesthetics, appreciation, and criticism. Distinct from the tradition that emerged in Western painting since the Renaissance, Chinese landscape art cultivated the cultural ethos of the Chinese populace, shaping collective aesthetic preferences on a subconscious level. In the tapestry of Chinese art evolution, the distinction between ‘landscape’ and ‘scenery’ extends beyond mere terminology, subjects, and media; it fundamentally lies in the differing perspectives towards nature and the substantial divergence in the humanistic values depicted. Due to the dominance of sociological narratives in the trajectory of contemporary Chinese art, this artistic expression is termed ‘social landscape’. Here, ‘landscape’ acts as a vessel, with sociological narratives subtly intertwined beneath, guiding the trajectory of ‘landscape’ art.

At first glance, Yin’s new landscapes may seem only distantly related to traditional Chinese landscape painting. However, this is not entirely the case. In works such as A Valley Temple in a Sunny Autumn Day No. 2 (《晴峦秋寺之二》, 2013.007) and Black Pines and White Rocks (《白石黑松》, 2017.005) , the visual focus and internal structure do not adhere to the traditions established since the Western Renaissance, nor do they align with the visual experiences of impressionism. Instead, the internal composition of these paintings is more reminiscent of Huang Gongwang’s work. Yin’s expression of landscapes is concerned with the ‘spiritual mountains and rivers within’, rather than a reproduction of nature through the mechanisms of three-dimensional perspective. Even when using oil paints, the implied viewing mechanism in his works bears a closer resemblance to that of scroll paintings. Thus, there exists a connection between traditional landscape painting and his new landscapes, creating a dynamic tension through intertextuality.

The second dimension is the break in the artist’s personal creative path and the shift in his artistic thought. Yin, a prominent figure among China’s post-1970s contemporary painters, is distinguished by his intense subjective style, profound tragic sensibility, and unavoidable sense of injury, making him a notable presence in the art world. His work, in stark contrast with reality, adopts a critical stance, imbued with a visual language of ‘violence’. The Myth (《神话》) and Utopia (《乌托邦》) series signify a further advancement in the artist’s conceptual exploration. During the phase of new landscapes, Yin’s focus transitions from an introspective analysis of personal spirituality to a broader integration of personal development within the generational context of those born in the 1970s, seeking to articulate how their visual experiences and cultural aspirations were formed. Yet, the so-called political myths have crumbled, and the void of idealism has drifted towards nihilism, with collective narratives shattered by the harshness of reality. Yin’s perspective on the era of revolutionary romanticism and the historical circumstances confronting individual life journeys is mixed with reminiscence and melancholy, respect and questioning. The overarching mood is one of tragedy, absurdity, and deconstruction.

As he ages, the artist bids farewell to the anxieties and unrest of youth, preferring a tranquil approach to life and society, and is more inclined to venture into new realms, seeking novel possibilities within landscapes. This shift can be understood as the artist’s fatigue and rejection of established and successful contemporary painting paradigms. He remains vigilant against the encroachment of mundane sociology on painting. Even though the Utopia (《乌托邦》) and Square (《广场》) series are laden with political discourse and imbued with a sociological lens, they contrast starkly with the popular ‘pop’ expressions of the time and evade the pitfalls of post-colonial discourse. Furthermore, there is a resistance to image-based painting. Since 2000, imagery and symbolism have plagued contemporary painting. Evidently, Yin harbours a deep-seated desire for change, craving a rupture. The artist seeks to break free from existing references, shatter the constraints of creative inertia, forge new paths, and establish a personalised syntax and distinctive style.

Considering the shifts in the external cultural landscape and the valuation metrics of art history pertaining to contemporary art, the discourse on new landscapes inevitably ventures into a third realm: the re-engagement of contemporary art with tradition. This reconnection with tradition is seen as historically inevitable, whether from the lens of the entire cultural trajectory of the twentieth century, the construction of cultural modernity, or the national cultural strategic aspirations in the new millennium. Modern art, which since the 1980s has been predicated on the forms and languages of Western modernism or postmodernism, and the contemporary art of the 1990s, characterised by its ironic politics, cynicism, and appeal to vulgarity, have now lost their cultural grounding and avant-garde edge. Put differently, contemporary art is in need of a re-evaluation of its cultural veins and the establishment of new paradigms for writing art history. From this perspective, ‘tradition’ could, indeed, offer a wealth of cultural and intellectual resources for contemporary art.

In Yin’s perspective, contemporary painting’s claim to a return to tradition, based solely on the use of a few traditional motifs and symbols reminiscent of Chinese landscape art since the Song and Yuan dynasties, would be trite and shallow. So, how does one truly delve into the nuances of landscape painting, comprehend the continuity of tradition, and its enriching effect on painting? Yin advocates for a method he terms ‘reading paintings’. Over the last decade, Yin has explored numerous esteemed museums, immersing himself in a vast array of ancient artworks. He expresses a particular admiration for the landscape paintings of the Northern Song dynasty and the late Ming period. Not having formally studied traditional Chinese painting and having come from a printmaking background, Yin does not approach the ancient masters via replication. To ‘read’ an ancient painting is to engage deeply with the elements intrinsic to its art form, such as brushwork, ink techniques, layout, and structure, while also paying close attention to the evolution and extension of style and the aura that permeates the artwork.

To the artist, the evolution and allure of traditional painting stem from the resonance of its spirit. The ancients once said, ‘Learn from nature, find the source within the heart.’ This spirit begins with the external natural scenery, as Taihang Mountains to Jing Hao, Que Mountain to Zhao Mengfu, and Huangshan to Huang Binhong. The goal of ‘learning from nature’ is to catalyse an aesthetic empathy in the artist through the inspiration of natural landscapes. Moreover, this process allows the artist to ascend to a higher realm of aesthetics and philosophy. The concepts of ‘the essence of forests and springs’ and ‘the clarity of mind and taste’ encapsulate this idea. It is evident that, unlike the Western tradition of landscape that emerged since the Renaissance, where subject and object are often seen in dichotomy, Chinese landscape painting embodies an interwoven relationship between the two. To immerse in nature, to understand the essence of landscapes, and to experience what the ancients described as ‘wandering of the heart’ and ‘liberation of the spirit’, Yin has in recent years traversed renowned mountains and rivers.

For Yin, ‘learning from the ancients’ does not equate to strict imitation; ‘drawing from nature’ does not mean being tethered by the natural landscape. The masterpieces of the great masters shine like stars, forming lines that act as coordinates in the history of art, providing a frame of reference. Within this framework, Yin aims not only to absorb the essence and style of medieval paintings but also to reflect and critically evaluate his own work, thereby solidifying his artistic direction. From a cultural ecological viewpoint, tradition encompasses a holistic ‘quaternity’ that is reflected in the tangible form of objects, the embodied realm of practices and interactions, the institutional domain of ethics and norms, and the spiritual sphere of aesthetics and character. Consequently, beyond his landscape creations, Yin also indulges in collecting Buddha statues, architectural stone carvings, and various ancient artefacts, delighting in these passions. His fascination with Ming and Qing dynasty gardens drives him to constantly evolve his work and living spaces, aspiring to harmonise life with art. In the quiet unfolding of everyday life, he seeks to capture the subtle emanations of tradition.

In terms of aesthetic temperament, Yin’s artwork resonates with the grandeur associated with the Northern School of landscape painting, characterised by its bold compositions, emphasis on expansiveness, and majestic, vast scenes that captivate the viewer. Beyond a handful of ‘minor pieces’, the serenity, sparseness, bleakness, and simplicity cherished by the Southern School are scarcely found. Yin’s origins near Mount Song evidently influence his aesthetic sensibility, which is rooted in the culture of the Central Plains and intertwined with his personality and visual recollections. While there may be parallels with the spirit of the Northern School’s landscapes, Yin’s approach to spatial and visual composition contrasts starkly with that of traditional landscape art. Guo Ruoxu from the Northern Song Dynasty highlighted in The Lofty Message of Forests and Springs (《林泉高致》) that superior landscape works should invite observation, traversal, habitation and exploration. This suggests that viewers should be able to immerse themselves in a painting with every detail harmonised within a unified spatial framework. Yet, standing before Yin’s creations, viewers stand as ‘others’, unable to penetrate the depths of the canvas. On one side, the artist eschews a direct replication of nature’s reality, opting instead to condense the visual space within his compositions. On the flip side, when engaging with natural landscapes, his emphasis lies in uncovering a ‘meaningful form’, striving to endow his canvases with a profound visual structure. In this aspect, Yin is significantly influenced by Cézanne. His works deliver a visceral visual impact detached from traditional beauty, skewing instead towards the sublime in their visual psychology and aesthetic allure.

How, then, is this sense of sublimity generated? As alluded to earlier, the underlying intertextuality of the new landscapes with the post–New China ‘new landscapes’ lies in the romantic nuances that permeate these scenes. The melding of Romanticism with symbolic techniques imbues the images with layers of psychological resonance, embedding a sense of nobility within generosity and infusing valour with compassion. This aesthetic disposition might stem from the cultural psychology ingrained in the collective unconscious or the artist’s deep dive into personal visual recollections. Moreover, the sublime quality is also drawn from the artist’s admiration and awe for nature and landscapes.

Within Yin’s strokes, viewers occasionally spot Zen temples, monasteries, and pagodas, understated yet indispensable. Their inclusion, acting as signifiers, is intentional. The deliberate portrayal of these elements might be influenced by an ancient spiritual calling or an inner religious awakening. Indeed, the painting’s language itself plays a crucial role in cultivating this sense of the sublime. If shadows of Bacon, Freud, and Richter could be traced in the artist’s brushwork in his earlier pieces, then in the realm of new landscapes, the artist ventures into a synthesis of Eastern visual motifs and the vocabulary of Western abstract expressionism. Amidst the intuitive, subjective daubs, or perhaps the expressive strokes; beneath the stratifications of colour and the palette knife’s etchings; and along with the serendipitous mottled textures, the artwork emerges, resplendent yet fantastical, stark yet profound. Yin has consistently been an artist who has actively engaged with the language of his medium, and it is this very engagement that empowers him to discover his essence within the new landscapes, evolving in style and extending towards a state of purity.