Longing for That Person
Yang Jian
For generations, we have lacked integrity. How can we preserve ourselves in time without it? How can we exist within time? Why have we lost our integrity? Why has integrity, once the highest principle, fallen to dust, to shame, to worthlessness, while profit has become the first priority? This is our betrayal of our own civilization. What else do we have left? It seems nothing. Thus, we turn our gaze once more to the ancient past: how did they exist amid the flux of time? How did their art endure beyond life and death into today? Thousands of years have passed, yet they can still connect heart to heart, unhindered by time or space. When they had no paper or brush or ink, they had only their hearts; when they did have paper, brush, and ink, their hearts merged completely with these tools. Thus, they could connect heart to heart. The immortal works painted by immortal figures millennia ago were gifts to kindred spirits—this was their integrity. We have only profit. The turning point must begin here: if every stroke of our art is for profit alone, without integrity, how can we transcend life and death? Time is running out. Can our generations still create works that surpass profit, time, and mortality?
Sometimes I feel profound sorrow. The trees by my door, even those in my courtyard, have achieved transcendence. We are worse than the trees by our own doors—many have died, yet they live on, growing more elevated day by day.
In the art of the past, the heart was the painting, and the painting was the heart. In our art today, the heart is not the painting, and the painting is not the heart. We have driven in the opposite direction. There is no integrity in our art, and where there is no integrity, where is humanity? When there is no humanity or heart in art, that is the true crisis. Even into the Republic of China era, our colors and language remained deeply, seamlessly connected to the core of our essence. Now we are completely detached, left only with selves drowned in habit and obsessed with asserting individuality.
In truth, art itself has not changed—it is the person beneath the art who has changed. In truth, the person has not changed either; it is their heart that has changed. In truth, even the heart has not changed—only habits have deepened, until they become our masters. Our outward appearances keep changing, but the hardest return is to the countenances of noble gentlemen and literati. Our peak achievements were created by noblemen and scholars, not by profit-seeking petty souls. In that core current, mountains could transmit its spirit, and waters its vitality. Why have we lost our soul and spirit, left only with the most pragmatic concerns, fixated solely on this life? Thus, we have lost our soul. For generations, we have ignored the soul, and now the soul is the most desolate, marginalized, and helpless thing. Without spirit or soul, there are only beings who resemble humans. Thus, from Wang Wei to Master Hongyi, it was the same heart, but from Wang Wei to us, it is no longer the same. We have strayed from that heart—the heart of the noble gentleman who merges with heaven and earth. Such a heart is rarely seen in the art of our generations; on the canvas, there are only hands, never hearts.
Whether your art is physical or spiritual, realistic or transcendent, temporal or eternal, it all depends on whether you turn inward or outward. If you keep looking outward, destruction will continue until the day you turn inward, and only then will the destruction pause slightly. The unprecedented outward focus has brought unprecedented destruction. Thus, we have no peace, no rest, no stillness, for we have always looked outward, never inward. Turning inward—this is the most urgent need. On the level of the heart, we have made no progress; we no longer recognize ourselves. We are stranded here, and few are spared. This is a fundamental truth. For generations, we have all looked outward, rarely inward. Our master is no longer ourselves, but the external world we gaze upon. Inward and outward—two entirely different lives, two different arts, two different civilizations.
At a certain university, where ancient vines clung to buildings and old trees shaded the paths, a new administrator, preferring sunlight, had the vines and trees removed. The shade that once sheltered the campus became a beautiful memory—this is the failure of transformation. There is someone who has been vegetarian for years but still feels the urge to catch fish—this is the difficulty of transformation. We may have mastered the techniques of ink painting, but the inner spirit may no longer be our own. Without truth and sincerity, we only obscure and distract ourselves. Life has been replaced by profit, not integrity. By abandoning integrity, we abandon our place in history, like turning in a blank scroll in the current of life—this is the fundamental difficulty of transformation. Fan Kuan’s Snowscape with Cold Forests is like a giant mani pearl, born from years of turning inward, inward, inward—a transformation that reshapes the soul. Perhaps only by turning inward do we have hope of transformation; that is the work of noble spirits.
A painting with only hands but no heart, with only emotion but no heart, with only impending profit but no heart, with only the mark of the father but no compassionate mother.
Art exists to convey spirit: the spirit of things, the spirit of humans. Some artists connect with spirit early in life and convey it; others labor a lifetime until late years to achieve this. Spirit is not mysterious— it is seen through accumulated sincerity. The artist is not a conqueror but a servant, serving the cyclical, the innocent, the vital. The human spirit must not sink into materiality. Can you make your spirit and integrity shine for all the world to marvel at, to illuminate the earth? Who will be that one?
Who truly makes the first and final strokes? Art itself matters little; integrity comes first. Without integrity, how can transformation be achieved? This is the true turning point. If we cannot turn here, there is no hope. When a time comes where truth and sincerity are rare, it is both sorrow and tragedy. Art is accomplished by those of the highest character and integrity—this is the root of our cultural voice.
July 19, 2025
Artists
Li Xianting
A renowned contemporary art critic, theorist, and curator, Li Xianting was born in Jilin Province in 1949. He graduated from the Chinese Painting Department of the Central Academy of Fine Arts in 1978. He has served as an editor for Fine Arts magazine, assistant researcher at the Art Research Institute of the Chinese Academy of Arts, and editor for China Art Daily. Active in the 1980s and 1990s, he has had a profound influence on the emergence and development of Chinese contemporary art.
Pu Guochang
Born in Chengdu in 1936, Pu Guochang graduated from the Central Academy of Fine Arts in 1959, studying under masters such as Huang Yongyu, Li Hua, Wang Shikuo, and Li Hu. A professor and master’s supervisor at the School of Fine Arts, Guizhou University, he has dedicated his life to developing an independent system within ink art. He has held solo exhibitions in over a dozen regions, including Beijing, Tianjin, Taipei, the United States, and Nanjing, and is featured in more than 30 important historical and academic publications. His works are collected by museums and private collectors at home and abroad.
Yan Binghui
Born in Tianjin in 1956, Yan Binghui graduated from Tianjin Academy of Fine Arts in 1986. He is currently a professor and master’s supervisor in the Chinese Painting Department at Tianjin Academy of Fine Arts and a member of the Chinese Calligraphers Association. As a pioneer artist in experimental ink art, Yan’s career has centered on exploring the “contemporaneity of ink.” While upholding the spiritual core of brush and ink, he has expanded the boundaries of ink art with an open creative attitude. His works and practices offer invaluable case studies for the development of Chinese contemporary ink art, establishing him as a representative artist with both traditional roots and innovative spirit.
Liu Qinghe
Born in Tianjin, China, in 1961, Liu Qinghe graduated from the Chinese Painting Department of the Central Academy of Fine Arts (CAFA) in 1989, receiving a Master's degree. In 1992, he was a visiting scholar at the Faculty of Fine Arts of Complutense University of Madrid. Currently, he serves as a Professor and Ph.D. Supervisor at CAFA, Deputy Director of the Academic Committee of CAFA, Deputy Director of the Chinese Painting Art Committee of the China Artists Association, Ph.D. Supervisor at the University of Macau and Communication University of China, and a visiting professor at the Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts.
As an important representative of contemporary ink art, Liu Qinghe's artistic perspective focuses on the themes of human existence in the process of urbanization, including the awkwardness, dilemmas, and absurd realities of survival. However, his portrayal of these conditions does not extend into grand historical or realistic narratives; instead, it is rooted in the hidden aspects of real-life existence and explores the complex, obscure areas obscured by mundane order. Through a sentimental tone, his works reflect the potential contradictions and conflicts within Chinese society during its modernization process, as well as the creative subject's introspection and contemplation on individual existence. His works are collected by numerous art museums, important institutions, and private collectors at home and abroad.
A Hai
Born in Nanjing, China, in 1963, A Hai graduated from the Department of Fine Arts at Nanjing University of the Arts in 1989. He currently works and lives in Shanghai and San Francisco.
A Hai is one of the important contemporary Chinese ink artists. His works exhibit the delicacy and refinement of traditional Chinese meticulous brushwork in their representation, yet convey the profound connotations unique to freehand brushwork in their emotional tone. Using ink and brush as the core medium on paper, he achieves the reconstruction of rules through breaking past norms, realizing a contemporary transformation of his art. Over three decades of artistic practice, A Hai has ultimately established his own "Southern Narrative"—one characterized by aestheticism, decadence, and nihilism. With keen sensitivity, he perceives the world and pursues poetic representation, expressing through his paintings a wanderer’s reminiscence and homage to their spiritual homeland. As he ages, his recent works have become more refined and composed, incorporating reflections on life and death. Stripping away superficiality, these works draw closer to the essence of life itself.
Academic Chairs
Michael Kahn-Ackermann
Michael Kahn-Ackermann, a renowned German sinologist, translator, writer, and curator, has held key positions including Director General of the Goethe-Institut China, Director of the "Germany and China Moving Forward Together" project, China Representative of the Mercator Foundation, and Senior Advisor to the Confucius Institute Headquarters. He currently serves as the China Representative of the Mercator Foundation.
Since the early 1980s, Ackermann has maintained close engagement with China’s cultural circle, focusing particularly on the development of Chinese contemporary literature and art, especially ink art. He has curated numerous exhibitions of contemporary ink art in both Germany and China and translated works by writers such as Mo Yan, Zhang Jie, Wang Shuo, and Liu Zhenyun, successfully introducing the first wave of Chinese contemporary literature to Germany.
Yang Jian
Born in 1967, he currently resides in Ma'anshan, Anhui Province.
Yang Jian is one of the representative poets of modern Chinese poetry. He has been creating poetry since the 1980s and has received numerous awards, including the Liu Li'an Poetry Award, Rougang Poetry Award, Li Shutong International Poetry Award, and the Annual Poet Award of the Chinese Literature Media Awards.
In the field of painting, Yang has been deeply engaged in ink art since the turn of the millennium, developing a unique style without precedents. His artistic practice is marked by profound imagery and strong spiritual symbolism as its typical aesthetic identifiers. Through his creations, he explores the essence of life, pursuing inner transcendence and the return to a contemplative mind. His works are collected by multiple private art museums and institutions, including the Guan Shanyue Art Museum in Shenzhen, Shiyuan Art Museum at White Horse Temple, Yushan Contemporary Art Museum, Nanjing Xianfeng Bookstore, and Beijing Taihe Art Space.
Curator
He Yongmiao
Founder, Art Director, artist, and collector of Renke Art
