In 1082, Su Shi elegantly wrote: ‘As a migratory goose heralds autumn’s arrival, so do events vanish like spring dreams without a trace’. This poetry seeks to explore the delicate threshold between the tangible and the ephemeral. Nonetheless, it fails to escape the melancholy of missing old friends and the yearning for spiritual connection.

Years ago, the emerging artist Yin Zhaoyang had shared his experience of holding a stone from the roadside that was imbued with an intense spiritual essence. Yin, however, leans towards the mythical. For him, the fidelity of memory holds little significance. He yearns deeply for the gravity of myth, even if it stems from falsehood.

His conviction of the values of civilisation sets him apart in a circle teeming with sceptics, causing a rift between his art and the political ideologies of Pop Art and cynical realism. The harsh realities faced by artists adrift in a sea of conformity perplex him deeply. In the end, Yin uncovers that reality is the genuine, tormented, and inescapable dream.

In the same theatrical space, Yin has crafted another answer, distinct and deeply insightful. He resonates with Richter’s philosophy: ‘I adhere to no single viewpoint, no system, no school of thought. I lack a plan, a style, any kind of steadfastness…. I dodge the constraints of rigidity. My approach is inconsistent, indifferent, passive. I am drawn to the ambiguous, the limitless, and the ceaselessly changing.’

Since 2007, Yin has turned his creative gaze towards the realm of landscapes, a theme subtly present in his earlier stone series. What distinguishes his later works is his employment of robust brushwork and a palette of stacked colours, creating expressive force through the marks left by his palette knife. Seen from another angle, the tangible heaviness is ingeniously compressed within a slender planar space. This approach brilliantly showcases a dialogue between the styles of ‘landscape’ and ‘mountain-water’ painting, granting Yin a fresh blueprint. In this schema, he leverages the dense texture and hues of oil paint to evoke a sumptuous and deepened experience within the traditional Chinese landscape painting idiom.

In his 2013 series Black Pine, the once prominent intense overhead illumination and the fantastical dance of light and shadow are notably missing. They are replaced by a type of lighting reminiscent of traditional landscape paintings, characterised by its high-key brightness. Despite the use of thick, modernist colours imbued with psychological depth, the signature of high-key light cannot be erased. The artist even incorporates a clearly defined texturing technique in A Valley Temple in a Sunny Autumn Day (《晴峦秋寺》2013.007), aiming for a desolate yet steady expression. In these recent works, Yin appears to move away from his familiar methods, including the portrayal of the human form and historic squares – elements previously essential to his art are now casually set aside. Embracing a novel direction, his technique becomes relaxed, subtle, and exceptionally evocative.

Yin aims to weave elements of past introspection into new imagery or, more precisely, into his interpretation of nature itself. Even in a piece like The Red Pine (《红松》2013.003), with its abruptly unsettling landscapes, there exists a sense of finality akin to solidified volcanic lava. This depth of character, once mirrored in the human figure and anxious expressions, is now placed by the artist into his conception of the expansive world. This move might just represent the epic culmination the artist has been seeking: a rebirth in ancient sensibilities amidst cataclysmic change. This notion of the ancient carries dual aspects. First, a faithful reimagining of motifs from Chinese Buddhism, including mountains, temples, and caves, such as the expressive portrayal of Maijishan, where psychological projection is still applied within the landscape format. Secondly, it focuses on a poetic interpretation of the spirit of Chinese landscapes, not confined to tangible subjects but more directly engaging with and reflecting on this spirit. This signifies a departure from ambiguous readings of historical themes, aiming instead to redefine the essence of true mountains and rivers within a modern setting. The artist’s ultimate goal is to forge psychological mappings that resonate with enigmatic historical experiences, offering a response to the heroism that has vanished amid a landscape of hollow images.

Reflecting upon majestic mountains and great rivers is a tradition of civilisation. Yet a soul refined by modernism and conceptualism won’t simply engage in cursory exploration for sheer amusement. Rather, it’s the grand aspirations of figures such as Fan Kuan that inspire this artist from the north to reveal the power of nature as a manifestation of civilisation. This raises the question: why are stones and mountains, instead of other subjects, chosen for transformation? Thus, the issue of identity and temperament as a Chinese artist is brought to the forefront. Temperament itself may well serve as the foundation for a linguistic shift. The ancients provided exemplary models in this respect. Even as contexts change, the core of civilisation remains untouched by these shifts.

Whether this represents a culmination followed by a cessation or merely a brief interlude before Yin ventures onto new paths is uncertain. The question worth pondering is: does the Chinese character emerging in his paintings hint at the reawakening of something timeless? The adage that persistent contemplation yields resonance rings true here.