In the realm of Yin Zhaoyang’s art, my initial reactions of ‘horror’ and ‘outrage’ set me apart as the first to articulate the atmosphere of his works in such terms, as he noted. He appeared to embrace my insights warmly, sharing with a frankness, ‘To be devoid of horror and outrage in today’s world is to live in abnormality.’ This remark is laden with profound implications. At a time overwhelmed by a frenzy of consumerism and a noticeable lack of action within the cultural sphere, to voice outrage is not merely an admirable quality but a luxury of the spirit, affirming one’s soulful liberty amidst the tumult. Through his artistic lens, connoisseurs of national heritage are unable to perceive any warmth or hidden leisurely charm; although one might recognise some familiar motifs and nuances, they are overshadowed by his art’s vigorous and commanding presence, which, in turn, accentuates the fragility and pallor inherent in the traditional scholars’ inkwork. The notion of gentle poetry finds no believer in the solitary wanderer; his canvas is a testament to the era he lives in and to which he bears witness, marked by unyielding and forceful images, vibrant hues, and an all-encompassing chaos of strokes – a monumental portrayal of the land and its current state, as seen through his own eyes and being.

Yin has always charted his own path, embodying the spirit of the untamed. In the oil painting sphere he might be considered an enriching external influence, yet among traditional Chinese painting and ink art circles, he more resembles a transient monk. This topic came up in our conversation. With his characteristic languor and detachment, he shared,

My alma mater is the printmaking department of the Central Academy of Fine Arts. My approach to oil painting eschews the conventional stylistic tendencies of the discipline, favouring personal exploration. Regarding Chinese painting, I’m essentially an outsider, yet the annals of Chinese art history brim with ‘amateur’ masters. I rely on my intuition and visual experiences. It might very well be that ‘the player is lost in the game, while the bystander sees it clear.’ My outsider perspective grants me the clarity to discern the dilemmas of the insiders, steering clear of the superficial allure of brushwork and charm, and more adeptly navigating towards my own expressive language.

Over the last decade, seventy artists not formally trained in Chinese painting have progressively ventured into making their artistic expression more culturally and linguistically indigenous. Yin is undoubtedly a leading figure in this movement. Seen through the lens of traditional Chinese art, these cross-disciplinary artists are certainly amateurs. However, historical precedent reveals that literati painting, which eventually took a dominant stance in the narrative of art history, evolved from the endeavours of literati amateurs venturing into painting. While it’s speculative to assert that history might mirror these developments strikingly, one assertion stands firm, echoing Yin’s sentiment, ‘The outsider’s vantage point, “the bystander sees it clear,” furnishes me with a lucid perspective on the insiders’ quandaries.’

At last year’s end, Yin graced me with his newly published tome, Yin Zhaoyang on Painting (《读画记》). Leafing through its pages revealed a spirited discourse akin to ‘debating heroes over wine’. With his fluid and reflective prose, he delved into the narratives of heroes from the Republic era onwards, upending conventional views. I find merit in his perspective: subsequent cultural contexts curtailed the ideation and linguistic explorations of these early modernists, rendering their contributions somewhat unripe. As Yin often remarks, ‘It leaves much to be desired.’ In his view, the journey of modern experimentation with Chinese script, from the ‘Western Painting Movement’ to today, has barely commenced – a stark contrast to the extensive timeline of literati painting.

Reflecting on this century, one is moved to lament its barren stretches, yet it’s imperative to harbour gratitude for those trailblazing experimenters. Their relentless forays into new forms, languages and rhetorical styles shattered the conventional, linear narrative of Chinese painting, paving the way for a modern visual tapestry rich in variety and complexity.

This century, brief as it may be so far, is laden with intrigue. The nascent state of modern experiments with Chinese scriptural language, albeit just beginning, is encouraging. It’s invigorating to witness individuals taking the initiative amid passivity, boldly venturing into the uncertain future against the backdrop of historical and contemporary pressures, willingly exiling themselves to the vast wilderness, and bravely forsaking the comforting poetry of the familiar for the untamed expanse of the jungle. Yin embodies this sincerity, marked by his directness and an unwavering determination to challenge the status quo in pursuit of sheer exhilaration.

Yin’s creative journey has always followed a profound thematic vein. His work from 2001 to 2007, a comprehensive seven-year period, marked a significant transition from sculptural form to scriptural expression. Throughout these years, he immersed himself in the study of ancient Chinese literati painting, achieving, without overstatement, a level of expertise. His extensive collection of materials and his concrete studies in linguistic expression set him apart from his contemporaries. His expertise also extends to the analysis of the emergence and dissemination of impressionism, expressionism, and abstract expressionism in China, and the modern explorations into the scriptural language by Lin Fengmian and Zao Wou-Ki, which he knows intimately. These investigations have informed his historical outlook and the historical context for his own artistic language. Compared to predecessors focused on conceptual art, peers engaged in anti-painting or ‘bad’ painting, and traditionalists lost in the warmth of poetic charm and superficial brush techniques, he stands wild and free, endowed with deep historical insight, finding a more robust point of engagement and a more gratifying mode of expression. Among the seventy artists of his generation, he is a pivotal figure in the conscious pursuit of scriptural language and, undoubtedly, one of the most triumphant.

Yin cherishes two interests: collecting antiques and gathering documents related to Chinese painting. Hailing from the Central Plains, his fascination lies with the genteel literary traditions of the Jiangnan area. In the literati paintings from the Ming and Qing eras, he gravitates towards styles characterised by their robustness and structural integrity. This preference essentially maps out the historical narrative that captivates him.

The seeds of his interest in literati painting were sown during his student days. At that time, driven by youthful exuberance, these inclinations were merely budding curiosities. It was only with the passage of years that he came to the astonishing realisation that his innate tendencies and the trajectory of his pursuits had long been in silent concord.

Yin exemplifies an artist who matured early in his career. His initial creations were notably conceptual; his works from the 90s were imbued with significant ideological symbolism and a language leaning towards shaping and crafting. With the inception of his Myth (《神话》) series, Yin shifted his focus to an exploration of pure linguistic expression, gradually transitioning from sculptural to scriptural forms. In 2010, when he pivoted to landscape art, he dove deeply into the study of ancient Chinese painting. A Nigensha reproduction of Ju Ran’s Wind in the Pines Among a Myriad Valleys(《万壑松风》) was a long-standing fixture on his studio wall. Adjacent to this print, he would spread out expansive sheets of Xuan paper for his own artistic trials, occasionally casting a glance at Ju Ran, as if working in tandem with a friend, ready to exchange a nod of acknowledgment. However, Yin was not about the wholesale replication of Ju Ran‘s style; his intent was to draw inspiration and invigorate his own urge to express, or as he puts it, to ‘give it his all’. He also engaged in the practice of meticulously copying Chinese paintings, interpreting and analysing the ancients’ forms, rhythms and essences in his own unique way, thereby enriching his practical experience. He holds a steadfast belief that ‘visual experience constitutes a form of experiential knowledge, and hands-on visual engagement can, over time, cultivate an unforeseen potent energy’.

Yin’s ink artistry is marked by its boldness and decisiveness, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. His work Travellers in Snowy Mountains (triptych) (《寒林图》2017.008), set against the backdrop of Taizi Temple in Mount Song, captures a group portrait with immense scale. The artwork features robust lines that dance with splashes of ink and colour, crafting images that are both striking and resolute within a grand atmosphere, leaving viewers in awe of his rapid mastery over the nuanced control of ink, materials and language.

Yin has consistently focused on the tactile quality of forms, especially in human figures and portraits. Prior to creating this monumental ink piece, he engaged in a thorough exploration of variations and experimented with the effects of materials, diligently refining the synergy between brushwork and the perception of form. His studio houses an impressive collection of paper exercises. For Yin, the perception of form is the most immediate visual expression of an artist’s unique language, a direct reflection of the artist’s insightful creativity. This tactile perception of form must flow seamlessly into the movement of the hand; it is only through proficient and smooth execution that vivid and dynamic forms can emerge.

In recent times, Yin has pivoted his scholarly pursuits towards Huang Binhong and Cézanne, engaging with these titans through the lenses of linguistic sensibility and artistic temperament. The influence of Huang Binhong’s brushwork and tactile impressions on Yin has been profound. A series of works on paper, displayed last year at the De Yutang Gallery in Shanghai, is testament to these explorations. These pieces exude a raw and spicy texture, with their chaotic surfaces and robust and sometimes startling strokes, conjuring a potent tension. A closer examination reveals a deliberate harmony between each stroke and swath of colour, showcasing a robust structure and meticulous organisation.

From his student days, Yin immersed himself in the study of Cézanne’s landscapes, even going so far as to meticulously copy Cézanne’s plein-air works. In the last couple of years, his research on Cézanne has become even more focused. A testament to this is the replica of Cézanne’s Mont Sainte-Victoire (《圣维克多火山》) that hangs in his studio, a faithful rendition that captures the quintessence of Cézanne’s artistry. Under Cézanne’s influence, Yin’s recent sketches of Mount Song similarly highlight rhythm and an inherent sense of structure. Yin excels in navigating the visual paradoxes, carefully balancing contrasts between the raw and the refined, the coarse and the delicate, the robust and the subtle. He masterfully uses elements of surprise to modulate the visual rhythm, ensuring that the depicted elements remain in a dynamic state of tension and conflict, thus forging a potent impetus in his works.

This approach is born out of rich experience; Yin shies away from a monotonous style of expression. What might appear as carefree and spontaneous strokes are, in reality, strategically placed to skirt the contours of objects, subtly enhancing their volume and spatial presence and imbuing them with a palpable sense of growth and movement. At times, he even opts for stark disruptions – a philosophy of creating through destruction. Adhering too closely to minute details and a slavish adherence to objective form can detract from the painting’s overall ambience and depth, a lesson echoed in Cézanne’s teachings.

Yin frequently juxtaposes Huang Binhong and Cézanne, noting their many convergences. Both exhibit simplicity in language, directness in technique, and shared visual motifs. Crucially, he identifies a kinship in their aesthetic preferences and cultural expressions. Having moved beyond the ‘Harshness of Youth’ of his early career to his middle-aged phase, Yin’s artistic expression has evolved from the unrestrained vigour of youth to a more nuanced approach. Cézanne’s influence on him extends beyond stylistic inspiration to encompass the grandeur of form, the purity of expression, and a robust, confident aura.

Yin harbours a profound interest in antiques, an enthusiasm that is genuine and deeply engaged. Initially scrimping to afford his collection, his later financial stability enabled more ambitious acquisitions. He has a special affinity for stone sculptures from the Northern Wei to the Tang dynasty, with a keen eye for appraisal and decisive acquisitions. Born in the Central Plains, Yin has a particular affection for ancient artefacts and stone carvings that resonate with a bold, vigorous, and substantial aesthetic – where coarseness and subtlety intertwine, much like the tactile sensibility and labour intensity found in his paintings. He possesses a nearly obsessive reverence for ancient aesthetics, often casting a critical eye on the delicate and refined tastes of the southern literati from his vantage point of high cultural esteem. The aged and sometimes fragmented ancient stone carvings, which might be seen as a form of visual assault to the refined sensibilities of the southern literati, stand as the boundary markers of Yin’s aesthetic realm. While he looks up to this aesthetic horizon, he also indulges his wilder instincts at ground level, revealing an inherent wildness rife with conflicts and contradictions. This intrinsic disposition and the juxtaposition of aesthetic preferences perhaps enable him to approach and interpret traditional literati paintings from a perspective vastly different from that of his southern counterparts. The nuanced rhythms and tempos hidden within delicate ink traces are reinterpreted by Yin into forceful swathes of colour and dynamic lines that erupt and flow across the canvas with unrestrained vitality, akin to lava in its fiery path. In the eyes of traditionalists accustomed to a more tender and restrained expression, such boldness might well be perceived as recklessness, even a provocation.

In recent years, the venerable landscapes of Mount Song have become Yin’s chosen subject for his plein-air paintings. The Taishi and Shaoshi peaks of Mount Song, renowned as China’s most intricate and complete ‘museum of ancient geological landscapes’, have seldom been explored by literati painters from the Ming and Qing dynasties to contemporary times. This rarity is precisely why Yin selected it as his source of inspiration. With a penchant for the overlooked and the desolate, Yin has an affinity for the serene and solitary. He transported large canvases to Mount Song, facing its timeless terrains with a raw and direct approach. There, amidst the ancientness, devoid of preconceived artistic vocabularies, everything feels newborn, invigorating the senses with freshness – where the age-old and the newly perceived intersect in solitude, creating an exhilarating experience. His latest work, An Ancient Temple in Archaic Rocks (《古寺苍岩》2015.010), embraces simpler, more vivid colours and employs bolder and more assertive strokes than his previous pieces.

Yin deliberately distances himself from the traditional poeticisms of classical Chinese study and dismisses the diluted essence of national culture celebrated by the contemporary middle class. He adheres to the philosophy that external influences can refine one’s craft and values the unexpected insights from transient encounters. Yin’s approach is strategic and indirect, adept at misdirection and effortlessly handling complex challenges, driven not by fear of magnitude but by the pursuit of intensity. He effortlessly gathers his expressive lexicon from the visceral visual encounters around him, shaping his rhetorical narrative through historical enlightenment.

The progression of art history is inherently a chronicle of how the zeitgeist of each era is continually encapsulated in form. Each epoch challenges and diverges from the conventions of its predecessors, adopting new forms and mediums, thereby necessitating a re-evaluation of historical paradigms and the essence of what is considered classic in light of contemporary settings. It’s fair to suggest that the advent of experimental, cross-disciplinary painting has nudged the traditionally inward-looking Chinese painting tradition into a more open, dynamic cultural milieu, paving the way for a confluence and hybridisation of visual experiences. In Yin’s work, we observe the emergence of such reflective inquiry, emblematic of an engaged and expansive view towards the annals of art history.

Since emerging in the late 1990s, Yin has set himself apart within the post-70s generation of artists with his astuteness, dynamism, and unparalleled capacity for realisation, emerging as one ‘not overshadowed by the times’. He considers this his good fortune. Yin, once young and successful, has consistently kept a vigilant distance from the cliques. Areas most entwined with collective discourse often lack excitement in modernity. Today, Yin is possibly among the few of his peers who grasp this notion, persisting in his solitary pursuit, stubbornly embracing his untamed freedom, avoiding being swallowed or commodified by worldly cynicism and the frenzy of commerce. In my perspective, this is also a stroke of luck he has secured through substantial courage and steadiness. Even more fortuitously, he engages with traditional Chinese painting with the perspective of an ‘itinerant monk’, endowed with sharper situational awareness and a robust creativity. Viewing and selecting from tradition through a modern lens marks a critical departure from the conventional method of seeking continuity from the past. It is plausible that art history is woven from discrete experiences, always favouring those daring, sometimes brash, individualists. Such personal breakthroughs ultimately forge new artistic semantic systems; thus, refreshing individuality reshapes the fabric of history.

Our youth has faded, and with middle age, our inner worlds grow increasingly hazy. Yin has stepped back from today’s consumerist frenzy, venturing instead into the wilds of Mount Song. ‘Reflecting on the austere past, one finds neither turmoil nor tranquility.’ The ease and self-assurance of someone seasoned by life, when invigorated by an untamed essence, undoubtedly transform into a formidable, explosive defiance. I wish for him to always embrace such defiance. ­