Reminiscent of traditional Chinese paintings in composition, this work in Yao Jui-Chung’s “fake landscapes” series intentionally usurps the so-called orthodoxy. An isolated hut among mountains and mists traditionally indicates a lofty scholar’s reclusion—a literati pursuit. This painting, however, features a surprising secret lover. Painted with pens instead of brushes, decorated with flamboyant colors and gold leaves, this painting expresses an unavoidable influence of China’s traditions and the artist’s rebellion against it.

This work incorporates a symbol of rope braiding—a traditional folk art—into the landscape. The twisting parallel lines were executed with a special brush that the artist invented by dividing the hair of a wide brush into several subgroups, thus generating several thin lines of paint. The upper mountains were painted on crumpled paper. By manipulating the line, form, and space, this fantastic and majestic dreamscape emerged from the artist’s unique style and technique.

© Estate of Chu Ko, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva

This painting depicts a landscape among misty clouds, where the flow of qi (energy) is carefully rendered. Superimposed on natural scenery are fragmented forms, geometric doodles, and discursive lines that evoke urban architecture, digital signals, or the formation of Heaven and Earth. The broken lines are similar to the ox-hair texture strokes (niumao cun), yet the reference is overwhelmed by Leung Kui-ting’s modern twist, where he harmonizes traditional Chinese landscape paintings with modern spatial aesthetics.

Wang Tiande’s signature technique came out of a chance happening when, in 2002, the artist’s cigarette fell onto his paper. In his works today, he intentionally sears his paper using lit sticks of incense in place of a brush, layering burned landscapes and calligraphy atop paintings in ink and brush, allowing for glimpses of ink to peak through the negative space of his burnt strokes.

© Wang Tiande, photo: LACMA

The secret to understanding Qiu Shihua’s artwork lies in the time one spends with it. Almost impossible to perceive at first glance, Qiu’s nearly-white landscapes are actually painted in shades of red, blue, and yellow. Essential to the artist’s work is qiyun, or spirit resonance: as opposed to conveying a formal likeness, he aims to convey the spirit of his subject, so that it may resonate with future viewers.

© Qiu Shihua, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva

Fung Ming Chip is a reformer of calligraphy, morphing a millennia-old tradition into a practice that reflects contemporary life. He has created more than one hundred calligraphic scripts throughout his career. For Needle Script, the artist blurs the divide between the interior and exterior spaces of his characters by punctuating lightly-painted lines with rich black strokes, slashed across his paper. Fung stamps two of his own hand-carved seals on Accidentally Passing, seen in the upper right and lower left corners. The calligraphy reads:

This work features two large masses—one a shadow of the other. The dark form in the foreground is made up of repeated dabs of ink, growing drier at the center. Behind it, a light form is rendered in a similar manner, though in reverse. This time, wet brushstrokes begin at the center and grow drier moving outwards. The painting, with its dark and light forms, echoing one another, suggests the Daoist concept of yin and yang.

© Yan Binghui, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva

Kitamura Junko is a pioneering ceramist whose conceptually daring works extend the medium far beyond traditional rules of functionality. These signature works by the artist, stonewares decorated with painstakingly intricate lacelike patterns, exemplify her production methods. The minuscule concentric dots and geometric indentations suggest snowflakes, celestial constellations, or Japanese textile patterns. Kitamura instills her patterning with what she describes as “both quiet and powerful movement, some [designs] slow and delicate and others fast and bold.”

Zhang Yu’s signature fingerprint paintings are at once self-portraits, rubbings, and meditations. The artist repeatedly presses his finger print into his paper, commonly using red or black ink, but in this case, only water. Employing his fingerprint as a stamp, Zhang creates a textured surface in his water-only pieces, the trace of the action here conveyed through the indentation of the paper, as opposed to the stamped ink.

© Zhang Yu, photo: Maurice Aeschimann, Geneva