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拍品专文
"All images are political, as we have already lost our “natural” status. To me, everything on the computer screen is naturally present, and therefore not much intervention or creation is necessitated. I face millions of choices, and choices create reality. This is what abstraction is to me.” - Liu Wei
Standing before Liu Wei’s Purple Air III No. 4 , one is immediately struck by the immensity of the work. Measuring almost three meters high and four meters wide, the diptych fills an entire wall with the digitally rendered crosshatches of grey that are a hallmark of Liu’s Purple Air Series. One cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the monumental vista: in the foreground, dark branches and vines twist outwards, while looming masses of lines reach up to the top of the canvas. By painting a cityscape as a mass of digital lines and shapes, Liu Wei presents us with an alternative vision of the landscape that surrounds us, reminding us of the distortion that occurs in the face of achievement.
The origin of the title Purple Air stems from the Taoist phrase “purple air from the east” meaning a propitious omen of the coming of an emperor, sage or treasure. The phrase originates in a legend regarding the origins of the Tao Te Ching, where the coming of Laozi was heralded by the appearance of purple air in the East. The colour purple is also associated with the North Star and the seat of the Celestial Emperor in Chinese astrology, appearing as the first character in the traditional name of the Forbidden City in Beijing. In the context of Liu’s work, the title Purple Air , with its references to auspicious omens and royalty, brings to mind allusions to the rising economic might of China as an Eastern nation, while cheekily referencing the phenomenon of urban haze.
“Cities are reality; all of China is a city under construction, and of course this influences me,” stated Liu Wei in an interview. Using the city as a point of departure, Liu Wei’s Purple Air series deftly blends references to urbanity, digitization and classical Chinese art in his work. Purple Air III No. 4 is structured like a Chinese landscape painting, with branching foliage in the foreground, a mass of intersecting lines that resembles a skyscraper or mountain peak, and in the distance, the shadowy outlines of a contemporary cityscape. This is clearly a human-built landscape, created using a distinctly modern means of expression. Overlapping speech bubbles underscore the link to technology, serving as a reminder of the digital communication that is now a constant presence in our daily lives.
Visually, the painting resembles a work of Glitch Art, where digital mistakes and corruptions are incorporated into the final aesthetic of the piece. Lines bisecting the canvas draw our attention to formal qualities of composition and arrangement, overlapping in different densities and arrangements to create visual focal points and a sensation of perspectival depth. In its visual language and themes, Purple Air contains echoes of Constructivism, with its technocratic ideals expressed through ordered, geometric forms arranged in abstract translucent layers, recalling the work of Malevich and Moholy- Nagy. These artists sought to capture the fractured experience of modernity, using pure shape and colour as a means of exploring formal visual relationships.
Like the cities they are inspired by, works in the Purple Air Series are the product of many hands. First, Liu creates a digital version of the work using drawing software; the digital copy is transferred to canvas, onto which studio assistants then paint under Liu’s instruction. “I make all of my paintings with a mouse.” Liu states. “It’s an instinct, a necessity to continue painting. Painting is not so calculated – I don’t decide I want to do something, but rather I feel sometimes that I need to do certain things.” Because the work was originally executed using a digital drawing program, but then blown up to an immense size and scale, the final product is given a tactility that printing alone could not accomplish. Seen up close, the work has a clear painterly quality that is important to Liu, reminding the viewer that like the cities they depict, the painting was produced by human hands and required a degree of skilled labour to complete. On the subject of painting, Liu states that “it is not the most important thing – instead, I am always looking for reality.”
In the introductory text that accompanied his solo show at the UCCA, “[Liu Wei] has become a singular presence on the global art stage, known for crystallizing the visual and intellectual chaos of China’s myriad fraught transformations into an artistic language as versatile as it is distinctive.” By choosing to capture the impression of a cityscape abstracted into a network of digital lines, Liu Wei comments on the reality of human advancement, compelling the viewer to reflect upon what is gained and lost in our unceasing pursuit of progress.
Standing before Liu Wei’s Purple Air III No. 4 , one is immediately struck by the immensity of the work. Measuring almost three meters high and four meters wide, the diptych fills an entire wall with the digitally rendered crosshatches of grey that are a hallmark of Liu’s Purple Air Series. One cannot help but feel overwhelmed by the monumental vista: in the foreground, dark branches and vines twist outwards, while looming masses of lines reach up to the top of the canvas. By painting a cityscape as a mass of digital lines and shapes, Liu Wei presents us with an alternative vision of the landscape that surrounds us, reminding us of the distortion that occurs in the face of achievement.
The origin of the title Purple Air stems from the Taoist phrase “purple air from the east” meaning a propitious omen of the coming of an emperor, sage or treasure. The phrase originates in a legend regarding the origins of the Tao Te Ching, where the coming of Laozi was heralded by the appearance of purple air in the East. The colour purple is also associated with the North Star and the seat of the Celestial Emperor in Chinese astrology, appearing as the first character in the traditional name of the Forbidden City in Beijing. In the context of Liu’s work, the title Purple Air , with its references to auspicious omens and royalty, brings to mind allusions to the rising economic might of China as an Eastern nation, while cheekily referencing the phenomenon of urban haze.
“Cities are reality; all of China is a city under construction, and of course this influences me,” stated Liu Wei in an interview. Using the city as a point of departure, Liu Wei’s Purple Air series deftly blends references to urbanity, digitization and classical Chinese art in his work. Purple Air III No. 4 is structured like a Chinese landscape painting, with branching foliage in the foreground, a mass of intersecting lines that resembles a skyscraper or mountain peak, and in the distance, the shadowy outlines of a contemporary cityscape. This is clearly a human-built landscape, created using a distinctly modern means of expression. Overlapping speech bubbles underscore the link to technology, serving as a reminder of the digital communication that is now a constant presence in our daily lives.
Visually, the painting resembles a work of Glitch Art, where digital mistakes and corruptions are incorporated into the final aesthetic of the piece. Lines bisecting the canvas draw our attention to formal qualities of composition and arrangement, overlapping in different densities and arrangements to create visual focal points and a sensation of perspectival depth. In its visual language and themes, Purple Air contains echoes of Constructivism, with its technocratic ideals expressed through ordered, geometric forms arranged in abstract translucent layers, recalling the work of Malevich and Moholy- Nagy. These artists sought to capture the fractured experience of modernity, using pure shape and colour as a means of exploring formal visual relationships.
Like the cities they are inspired by, works in the Purple Air Series are the product of many hands. First, Liu creates a digital version of the work using drawing software; the digital copy is transferred to canvas, onto which studio assistants then paint under Liu’s instruction. “I make all of my paintings with a mouse.” Liu states. “It’s an instinct, a necessity to continue painting. Painting is not so calculated – I don’t decide I want to do something, but rather I feel sometimes that I need to do certain things.” Because the work was originally executed using a digital drawing program, but then blown up to an immense size and scale, the final product is given a tactility that printing alone could not accomplish. Seen up close, the work has a clear painterly quality that is important to Liu, reminding the viewer that like the cities they depict, the painting was produced by human hands and required a degree of skilled labour to complete. On the subject of painting, Liu states that “it is not the most important thing – instead, I am always looking for reality.”
In the introductory text that accompanied his solo show at the UCCA, “[Liu Wei] has become a singular presence on the global art stage, known for crystallizing the visual and intellectual chaos of China’s myriad fraught transformations into an artistic language as versatile as it is distinctive.” By choosing to capture the impression of a cityscape abstracted into a network of digital lines, Liu Wei comments on the reality of human advancement, compelling the viewer to reflect upon what is gained and lost in our unceasing pursuit of progress.