The journey of Yin Zhaoyang into the realm of landscape painting can be traced back to the dawn of the 1990s, a time when he was immersed in his studies at the Central Academy of Fine Arts. He reminisces about his second year, in 1992, when he joined the Printmaking Department. It was then, through the practice of sketching from life, that he encountered the style of Lin Fengmian, leading him to produce several watercolour landscapes.[1]

This exploration offers a glimpse into the continuity of influence that Lin Fengmian (1900–91) and his contemporaries who returned from Europe in the mid-1920s had on the evolution of art in China. They championed a vision for an art that harmonised Eastern and Western elements – a principle that remained influential in China’s art academies into the early 1990s. Lin Fengmian’s commitment to integrating this vision into a coherent practice, especially in merging Chinese landscape with Western scenic painting, culminated in a distinctive style in the 1940s.[2] Yin’s engagement with Lin Fengmian’s approach during his student years signifies not only an exploration of the expressive possibilities of landscape painting but also an acknowledgement of his place within a lineage of aesthetic thought.

In Yin’s 1995 oil painting titled Sunset (《夕陽》1995.001), we witness an early foray into landscape as a subject matter.[3] The work embraces a perspective of distant observation, suggesting that the grand and magnificent mountain scenery may draw from an actual landscape. Yin masterfully renders the expansive mountain ranges, open fields, and rustic villages, yet he sparingly details these elements, leaning towards a stylised depiction – representational, but not meticulously realistic. The canvas is awash with the radiant glow of the setting sun, enveloping the world in hues of red; this high contrast also bathes the faces of a few onlookers, who stand admiring the mountains, in a vivid crimson. Foregrounded by a dark, almost black thicket of trees that resembles a low barrier, it physically separates the observers from the distant mountains. This barrier, both visual and psychological, not only enhances the allure of the distant beauty but may also subtly express the artist’s own longing for the future, hinting at a deep-seated bitterness and melancholy present at the time.

In 1996, after graduating from the Central Academy of Fine Arts, Yin took a memorable journey through the grasslands of Inner Mongolia. Following this expedition, he drew upon his travel photographs to complete a landscape painting named Yu Dao Kou (《御道口》). Reflecting on this piece more than a decade later, Yin described it as ‘a painstakingly detailed portrayal of the grassland – each clump of grass and patch of earth vividly rendered. The depiction of the sky and distant mountains captured my early engagement with Western classical painting, echoing the pseudo-classical and realistic artistic trends that dominated the early ‘90s art scene.’[4] This self-commentary reveals Yu Dao Kou(《御道口》) to have been meticulously crafted in a realistic style, demanding several months to finish. This 1996 work contrasts starkly with the 1995 Sunset (《夕陽》), which offers a view of an endless, uninhabited plain. Yin’s later reflections and critiques suggest that this painting, along with others on themes of flowers and classical women, not only aimed to please the audience but also displayed a certain pride in his mastery of technique at that time.[5] In hindsight, despite the considerable effort and time devoted to Yu Dao Kou (《御道口》), it stands as a transient, incidental work within his evolving artistic journey.

Since 2007, Yin’s landscape works have unmistakably evolved from the pivotal piece Sunset (《夕陽》), which was created in 1995.[6] Intriguingly, his approach to depicting rocky landscapes, evident in the Stone (《紅色石頭》2005.003) and Myth (《神話》2005.001) series between 1999 and 2001, provided early glimpses of his emerging style.[7] A significant shift in his technique involves applying paint directly onto the canvas, abandoning the traditional method of pre-mixing on a palette. This process allows colours to intermingle on the canvas through deliberate layering, scraping, and smudging with a palette knife, fostering a dynamic interplay of hues and creating a richly textured volume characterised by nuanced fluctuations. Moreover, the artist’s intuitive mixing of colours results in a complex web of form and colour, encapsulating a texture that balances meticulous control with elements of chance. The overall impact of his work, whether it portrays mountains, rocks or cliffs, is a testament to its sculptural intricacy, with the paint itself mirroring the essence of the natural rocky terrain.

The ability to encapsulate images has always been at the heart of Yin’s artistic prowess. This skill underpins the profound visual impact his works across different periods and series have on viewers. In his latest landscape series, Yin has charted a personal course: he intends for the initial segments to embrace a more traditional aesthetic, characterised by denser compositions; as the series progresses, he aspires to adopt a broader scope, reminiscent of ‘historical paintings’.[8]

Present observations reveal two distinct thematic strands in his choice of titles. The first strand faithfully references China’s Buddhist sacred mountains, grottoes, and ancient monasteries; the second strand adheres to the tradition of naming in Chinese landscape painting, with a strong emphasis on poetic connotations. The former delves into a reflection on nature, the eternal, and faith, evoking a sense of ancient serenity; the latter appears to lean towards a more personal creation of realms, establishing an unconventional dialogue with traditional Chinese landscapes. The adoption of grandiose and diagonal compositions has emerged as two signature landscape styles in his repertoire; the influence of traditional landscape painting is also evident in the prevalence of vertically oriented scrolls.

Re-engaging with landscape as a subject, Yin delved into the dichotomy between traditional Chinese landscape painting and Western landscape art, an inquiry previously undertaken by Lin Fengmian in the early part of the last century.[9] Yet, instead of shifting towards ink media like Lin, Yin chose to navigate the contemporary milieu, tearing down the traditional East–West divide to embrace the raw experience of ‘authentic mountains and waters.’[10] While his landscapes are grounded in real vistas, they do not mimic reality but rather distil and conceptualise the essence of nature, weaving in personal subjective impressions, thoughts or crafted consciousness. Hence, his landscapes occupy a space between depiction and creation, marked by a profound fusion of abstraction and expressionism.

Yin has remarked that engaging with traditional Chinese painting evokes a ‘poetry in memory’.[11] Through his landscape endeavours, he appears to deliberately revisit and relish this profound heritage. When discussing his own landscape series, he candidly reveals that these works mirror his personal longings and state of mind, specifically reflecting the contemplations of midlife, marked by ‘an immortal idealism’ and a rich tapestry of sentiments.[12] Clearly, his landscapes are an amalgamation of deep-seated impressions and actual vistas.

In his quest to interpret landscapes and craft a unique visual language, Yin simultaneously advances his work on portraits and the Square (《廣場》) series, albeit on a grander scale. It becomes apparent that his avowed ‘immortal idealism’, along with an enduring heroic fervour, propels him to unfold a narrative of monumental historical scope.