In Wei’s most recent work, he visits a common theme in Chinese contemporary art: in the curious existence of a commercial culture in a socialism society. The juxtaposition implies absurdity, yet a unifying harmony dominates. His careful construction suggests palpable tension with a logical resolution.

Wei’s commentary on his process suggests unconcern with larger debates in the artistic community about the evolution of guo hua, and his personal style certainly seems to be proof of this attitude. Regardless of his intentions, he has effectively demonstrated the flexibility of the medium and the continuing relevance of this traditional form of Chinese visual expression. His personal vision links his post-modern idiom to the ethos of the traditional guo hua landscape: the never ending unraveling of visual and imaginative possibilities.

Although other cultures have ink painting traditions, the medium is inextricably and most famously linked with Chinese visual expression. In Chinese, it is even called guo hua, or ‘national painting,’ thus identifying it more closely with its geographical origin than with its distinctive medium. Practiced and refined for centuries by generations of scholar-painters, ink painting joined calligraphy and poetry to form the san jue, or ‘three perfect things.’ Over the years, this simple, elegant medium became shouldered with technical prescription as the Old Masters dictated stroke, process and subject matter to posterity.

The Chinese Modernist movement that flourished briefly in Shanghai during the 1930s saw the Gao brothers challenging some of these strict rules. While preserving technical and philosophical approaches, they challenged the Old Order by incorporating unorthodox subject matter such as biplanes and modern buildings and by employing one-point perspective. The forward-looking denizens of Nationalist Shanghai welcomed the emblems of modernity, and the spatial illusion of linear perspective was an import from the Europeans, who infested the great port city. After Mao’s 1949 victory, the government cut off these paths of exploration as the venerable art form itself became linked with the bourgeoisie and declared off limits.

Fortunately, guo hua was clandestinely kept alive until the reforms of Deng Xiaopeng in 1979 allowed it to re-emerge into the light of day, where it immediately met and became conversant with the newly discovered Western movements that were freshly flooding into China. Since then, the ancient practice has been completely resuscitated and reshaped. Students of guo hua are required to learn the rules set by the masters, but experimentation has also marked the regeneration.

As we settle in to the 21st century, vociferous scholars debate the validity of new ink. The more doctrinaire question its ontology: Is this even guo hua? New visual languages are alternatively celebrated or condemned.

Wei Qingji has demonstrated superlative skills in the traditional techniques, but has nevertheless embarked on an emphatic departure from the rigid limitations. His approach encompasses a personal, symbolic social commentary while simultaneously demonstrating a deep understanding of the nature of his media. His technical virtuosity along with his unmistakable signature style has established him on the vanguard of contemporary guo hua.

We can usually identify Wei’s work by the presence of a central, hegemonic image. Its velvety blackness reveals the impenetrable opaqueness of the ink. It commands our attention. They can be icons of consumerism (McDonald’s arches, the Hollywood sign), quasi-cryptic political symbols (Mao’s disembodied, outstretched arm) or original pictographs (a girl jumping rope, a serpentine dragon). Upon closer examination, we can observe that the stark contrast implied by the inky silhouette against the pristine white background is treated more subtly and gently at the border. Here, Wei reveals his exceptional skill with inkwash. As the deep black gives way to shades and waves of gray, entire landscapes can be extrapolated from the abstract forms. They sometimes intermingle with a sepia-wash (achieved with tea) that lends the composition an additional mystical dimension. Finally, these unexpected symphonies dissipate into the white void.

Moving past the main image and its coterie of inkwash embellishment, we encounter more elements to decipher. Often sketched in pencil or pastel colours, other symbols quietly inhabit the periphery, but upon closer examination, they seem to subvert the hegemony of the central figure. Hammers and sickles lurk ominously beneath ubiquitous logos. Spears and swords glisten beneath Puma’s puma.

These monumental ink creations reveal Wei’s ability to reveal the brute force of
nk alongside its capacity for delicate subtlety. In doing so, Wei demonstrates an innovative exploration of the nature of the medium. He uses its powerful, penetrating darkness to establish an apparent visual hierarchy and then calls upon its capacity for gentle translucency and ambiguity to dismantle it.

In Wei’s most recent work, he visits a common theme in Chinese contemporary art: in the curious existence of a commercial culture in a socialism society. The juxtaposition implies absurdity, yet a unifying harmony dominates. His careful construction suggests palpable tension with a logical resolution.

Wei’s commentary on his process suggests unconcern with larger debates in the artistic community about the evolution of guo hua, and his personal style certainly seems to be proof of this attitude. Regardless of his intentions, he has effectively demonstrated the flexibility of the medium and the continuing relevance of this traditional form of Chinese visual expression. His personal vision links his post-modern idiom to the ethos of the traditional guo hua landscape: the never ending unraveling of visual and imaginative possibilities.

Tally Beck 2009