In 2007, Yin Zhaoyang crafted a grand landscape piece, portraying peaks and stone façades engulfed in the dwindling golden rays of sunshine before dusk, a hidden monastery beneath the cliffs, and serpentine paths that lead to this quiet sanctuary. With a palette of deep melancholic colours and strokes that are both seasoned and unpretentiously restrained, he evokes a sense of grandeur and seclusion.

This piece, Empty Mountain Sunset (《空山夕照》2012.003), stood out strikingly in his 2007 collection for its distinctiveness. First, its detachment from the ‘psychological field of reality’ presented a vivid contrast to other works of the time, such as A Poet (《一个诗人》2007.001) and Dizziness (《眩》2011.001), which engaged in an impassioned dialogue with this mental realm. Secondly, the remote monastery and the ambience reminiscent of the Northern school landscape offered a subtle tribute to Chinese traditional culture, an aspect scarcely seen in his prior endeavours. Thirdly, in contrast to his earlier tendency for impromptu expression, the work’s seasoned and introspective language hinted at a more nuanced method of articulation. Fourthly, the visual characteristics of the ‘preceding imagery’ seemed to subtly challenge the ‘contemporary visual’ norms that had become entrenched in public expectation. In the years that followed, these elements collectively signalled a new phase in his landscape painting journey.

Whether by design or chance, Yin’s pivot towards landscape painting essentially aligns with a traditional recourse among Chinese literati painters in navigating spiritual crises. This cohort of distinguished literati artists, spanning from Zhao Mengfu and Huang Gongwang to Dong Qichang and the Four Monks, regarded landscape painting not merely as an aesthetic pursuit but as a deeper spiritual comfort than religion itself. Their engagement with the canvas was less about the supremacy of aesthetics over faith and more about a deep-seated internal exploration that sought to transcend spiritual allegiance.

Yet the essence of Yin’s technique is undeniably modern. He often opts for thick, vibrant layers of paint, crafting intense, rich, and luminous hues. His method of stacking and scraping these layers yields a rugged, variegated texture. This textural quality, embodying a mix of gravity, bleakness, wonder, and stickiness, serves as a quintessential ‘spiritual imprint’ deeply rooted in the ‘Chinese context’.

Another facet of his artistic expression is his instinctive brushwork. There was a period when his brushstrokes wove through a complicated narrative, blurring the lines between realism, impressionism, expressionism, abstract expressionism, and the myriad styles of ‘contemporary painting’. This not only demonstrated his exceptional skill in painting but also revealed his ongoing quest to align this ‘language’ with his personal ‘present experience’. Yet, as these brushstrokes evolved into a profound awareness of ‘ink and brush’, he found a natural link between this artistic language and a ‘truer’ internal experience.

This shift creates a nuanced parallel between Yin’s ‘landscapes’ and the traditional ‘mountains and waters’ of literati painters. For those historic literati, their expressive approach was a response to the strict ideological constraints of autocratic societies and the self-discipline required of the ‘gentleman’s character’. In Yin’s work, however, the nuanced expression through ‘ink and brush’ arises from his sharp observation of the significant ‘crisis of expression’ that contemporary art confronts – a crisis of deep spiritual void amid varied critical postures. It also serves as his artistic strategy in navigating the new realities of a post–financial crisis world.