Yang Jian, Painter 

Jan Laurens Siesling

Yang Jian has chosen as his subject matter the alms bowl and the pair of sandals, objects that link the paintings inevitably to the world of Buddhism, or, more precisely, the concrete world of the Buddhist monk. Bowl and sandal have in common the virtue of self-chosen poverty. The bowl can receive alms in the form of pennies and dimes, or rice for a sober meal. By begging, the monk ignites the sense of generosity in the giver, the sense of the vanity of riches, and the recognition that some accept poverty for the well-being of the other. The straw sandals are on their side the shoes of utmost modesty, as well behooved to monks. Sandals in their simplicity show weariness and fatigue of the pilgrim; they are the visible symbols of travel and trek on sandy or rocky roads; their wearing out are projections of the wearing out of the wearer, but also of the courage to accept life as a pilgrimage. 

Chinese commentators have immediately translated Yang Jian’s bowls and sandals as signifiers of the Buddhist life style, and connected this honorably to the meaning of the paintings, the meaning for the painter. They inadvertently make Yang Jian a Buddhist himself, which is not necessarily erroneous, but in fact out of the field of our vision. Consequently, they write out their ideas on Buddhism in old or new China. This now is a method we will try to avoid. Let me state this clearly: Yang’s paintings and drawings are not Buddhist, they are not religious art, as are for instance icons in the Greek Orthodox Church. They are not destined to a temple, but to an art exhibit; to a collector’s mansion; to a museum. It does not mean that they are not spiritual. On the contrary, they are involved with the spiritual notions of our time. If the meaning of an alms bowl is to be found in the realm of a religion, a devotion, or a philosophy, the meaning of the painting of an alms bowl is to be found in art. If the artist is a Buddhist, or not, is here of little relevance.

However, a connection to the Buddhist religion that is relevant, and that seems to have been overlooked so far, is this: the two typical objects defining the monk of old, may well, in the painter’s or the observer’s vision, symbolically refer, in our time and our society, to the artist. The bowl as the mendicant’s tool, the slippers as the mendicant’s vehicle, suggest in fact an interesting association with the duty, task, role, in short, the place of the artist in the modern model of a society. While monks, and their vows of a sacred life, have lost their place and visibility in that society, artists have taken over the banner of this idiosyncratic idealism. Art is a vocation, like priesthood or monkhood, beyond reason. Artists accept a life of insecurity (utter blasphemy in the money society) without complaining; they show to the world a life opposed to this world, the other side of our threatened moon. They are useless and replaceable, but not less objects of awe and incomprehension, of applause and nonetheless subject to refusal by fathers and uncles and teachers. Artists know, by a purely human but decried instinct, that they are the ones who preserve the sacred fire. That torch is burning in their heart. Today the society, modern society, has found ways to integrate (often to corrupt) art into the big financial system, just like monasteries became rich and powerful in older societies, of which the alms bowl became, at best, a cynical illustration. In this society, where monks have been replaced by eunuchs and lackeys, Yang Jian, listening to his instinct as a poet, trusted the fundamental honesty of the human heart. He proposes a return to a purified idea of art, more like the original Buddha would have it, aware of the fact that money, that ultimate desire, is the rot in every human institution. And just like the monasteries had to be constantly reformed, so art. To accomplish that, this artist, with the arrogance of his poetic intuition, after contemplation and concentration, chose the alms bowl as the central and symbolic theme of his endeavors.

Unconsciously, Yang Jian the artist had spoken right: the alms bowl or the rice bowl was his “potboiler”, the pot of modesty, the pot of art, also said the pot of Buddha.

Not only in his role as the essential mendicant, also as the essential traveler in his slippers is the artist in his role of the contemporary monk. In this sense: he knows where he is from, not where he is going, but he goes. He knows about far-out places without having been there yet. He knocks on foreign doors and they will open because he is an artist. The world doesn’t know where he is from, but doesn’t fear or care if only he shows knowledge of the skills and the clues and the mysteries. Isn’t art the only mystery that is left to us, orphans of broken ideals? To all, the artist might be the bringer of good news and good news has universal resonance. His modest craft will provide him a living in every town; and in every village, he will find a listening ear and a willing hand. He is the servant of an unknown god.

By painting earthen or metal pots and straw slippers, endlessly the same, though always differently, Yang Jian delivers a meditation on art and a visual discourse on the role of the artist. And just like for every monk the highest task is to redefine the gods and saints of the religion he preaches, be it by replacing a comma and a dot in his prayer, the artist in his every work, redefines the essence of art.

(Excerpts from a book by Jan Laurens Siesling, forthcoming)