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Lot Essay
‘No man is an island / Entired of itself/ Every man is a piece of the continent/ A part of the main.’——John Donne
Zao Wou-Ki’s "Oracle-Bone" period between 1954 and 1958 might seem transitory to the artist’s nearly seven-decade-long artistic odyssey, yet it represents a pivotal phase that informed his own aesthetic and creative visions. Painted in 1956, Ile (Island) is emblematic of this phase as it exemplifies Zao’s transcendence beyond the confines of imagery and narrative. Through his masterful representation of intricate spatial dynamics, exquisitely textured surfaces, and the enigmatic, profound interplay of light and shadow, the artist delved into more expansive and profound abstract themes, embracing the mysteries of nature and even the cosmos itself.
The symbol-like forms, evoking the ancient gravitas of epigraphical inscriptions, infuse the composition with a timeless solemnity, as though touched by a divine revelation from a distant past. These symbols, marking the birth of human civilisation, elevate the present work to a realm beyond time and space, by offering a grand, transcendent perspective. In this way, the "island" breaks free from the confines of mere landscape imagery, emerging as a mysterious and enduring emblem of civilisation’s past—a secluded paradise, a treasure trove full of adventures, or a nebulous and ethereal utopia.
In Ile (Island), Zao establishes the foundational structure with dense swathes of blue-grey and milky white, while symbols reminiscent of oracle bone script delicately scatter across the composition. These symbols are arranged with an animated rhythm, floating and fluttering within the intricate layers of oil paint, allowing the artist to deftly manipulate and experiment with spatial construction. What may initially appear chaotic and disordered reveals itself, upon closer inspection, to be a cohesive structure, where overlapping colour blocks create a profound sense of visual depth. The placement and composition of these elements also draw upon the techniques of traditional Chinese landscape painting, notably the scattered perspective and bird’s-eye view employed by Zhao Bosu in Autumn Colours of the Mountains. In that handscroll, the balance between visual concentration and dispersion, as well as the harmony of void and solidity, is elegantly realised.
As the viewer draws closer to the painting, however, its textured surface gradually reveals itself, disrupting and even reconfiguring the spatial relationships within the composition. Zao wielded his brush to dab, sweep, and rub across the canvas, creating intricate patterns that echo the cunfa (texture strokes) technique in Chinese ink painting. Particularly striking is the ivory-coloured block in the upper left corner, where thick layers of paint were applied with a palette knife and then pressed with a fine-textured mesh fabric, leaving a distinctive imprint. The substantial texture and vibrant painterly traces make this block almost leap from the depths of the canvas into the foreground, much like a sail breaking through a storm in a Turner painting. Similar textures can be found in the light blue and blue-white areas of the lower left and right corners, subtly shifting the spatial relationships with the surrounding colour blocks. By challenging the dominance of single-point perspective through these surface textures, Zao transformed Cubism’s deconstruction and reshaping of space, seamlessly blending it with the dynamic cavalier perspectives of traditional Chinese painting. This approach orchestrates a layered, intertwined spatial dialogue, laying the groundwork for the artist’s later, more radical deconstruction of space in the 1960s.
Blue was a recurring theme in Zao’s aesthetic trajectory, where he regarded it as a colour of serenity and introspection, yet alive with infinite potential for transformation. His reverence for blue was intimately bound to his deep emotional connection with water. As a young man, Zao spent countless days meandering along the shores of West Lake, mesmerised by the ever-changing horizon where sky meets water, and by the radiant dance of light across rippling waves. This enduring imagery of water imprinted itself indelibly on his consciousness, flowing seamlessly into his artistic creations. This is evident in other contemporaneous works such as River, Marsh, and Sound of Water, all of which echo Zao’s profound affinity for water and its surrounding landscapes, recurring as a central theme throughout his oeuvre.
In Ile (Island), shades of blue engage in a dynamic dance—contending, fermenting, and stretching across the canvas. Wrapped in the deep embrace of midnight blue, Prussian blue and celadon blue carve out their own realms in distant corners, where they meet silver moon white and dark green-grey, punctuated by delicate whispers of vermilion. , Borrowing from Western techniques of depicting light and shadow, the artist scattered light across the canvas with a mottled white, where the ebb and flow of blue and white orchestrate the very heartbeat of the canvas. This technique, as Zao once described, sought to ‘make the canvas come alive through the contrast and multiple vibrations of the same colour, with the discovery of a central point of light’ (W. Zao, quoted in Self Portrait of Zao Wou-Ki. Taipei 1993, p. 135). The result is a visual symphony reminiscent of Claude Monet’s The Rocks at Pourville, Low Tide. With masterful artistry, Zao explored the intricate dialogues between colour, light, and shadow—mist rising effortlessly between land and sea, waves locked in eternal struggle with the shore. This ethereal dance evokes the atmosphere of Ma Yuan’s Studies of Water, offering the viewer a visual journey where the luminous blues and whites seem to ferment, expand, and endlessly unfold.
In the mid-1950s, Zao Wou-Ki found himself at the crossroads of dual challenges in his artistic journey and personal life. On one side, the approach of abstraction inspired by Paul Klee, which had once illuminated his path, began to thwart in the evolution of his distinct style. On the other, his marriage to his first wife, Xie Jing-Lan, was reaching its final chapter. Yet these trials of life, rather than stifling his creativity, ignited a period of profound introspection, experimentation, and ultimately, artistic breakthroughs. Through a process of ‘repeatedly repainting, destroying, and starting over,’ the ideal images within his mind slowly began to take form. In 1954, he painted his first non-narrative work, Wind. From that moment, ‘symbols became forms, and the background became space’ (W. Zao, quoted in Self Portrait of Zao Wou-Ki, Taipei 1993, p. 104), giving birth to a visual language that, while inheriting the traditional essence of shuxie (calligraphic writing), transcended mere reference and ventured into a daring new realm.
Zao Wou-Ki’s "Oracle-Bone" period between 1954 and 1958 might seem transitory to the artist’s nearly seven-decade-long artistic odyssey, yet it represents a pivotal phase that informed his own aesthetic and creative visions. Painted in 1956, Ile (Island) is emblematic of this phase as it exemplifies Zao’s transcendence beyond the confines of imagery and narrative. Through his masterful representation of intricate spatial dynamics, exquisitely textured surfaces, and the enigmatic, profound interplay of light and shadow, the artist delved into more expansive and profound abstract themes, embracing the mysteries of nature and even the cosmos itself.
The symbol-like forms, evoking the ancient gravitas of epigraphical inscriptions, infuse the composition with a timeless solemnity, as though touched by a divine revelation from a distant past. These symbols, marking the birth of human civilisation, elevate the present work to a realm beyond time and space, by offering a grand, transcendent perspective. In this way, the "island" breaks free from the confines of mere landscape imagery, emerging as a mysterious and enduring emblem of civilisation’s past—a secluded paradise, a treasure trove full of adventures, or a nebulous and ethereal utopia.
In Ile (Island), Zao establishes the foundational structure with dense swathes of blue-grey and milky white, while symbols reminiscent of oracle bone script delicately scatter across the composition. These symbols are arranged with an animated rhythm, floating and fluttering within the intricate layers of oil paint, allowing the artist to deftly manipulate and experiment with spatial construction. What may initially appear chaotic and disordered reveals itself, upon closer inspection, to be a cohesive structure, where overlapping colour blocks create a profound sense of visual depth. The placement and composition of these elements also draw upon the techniques of traditional Chinese landscape painting, notably the scattered perspective and bird’s-eye view employed by Zhao Bosu in Autumn Colours of the Mountains. In that handscroll, the balance between visual concentration and dispersion, as well as the harmony of void and solidity, is elegantly realised.
As the viewer draws closer to the painting, however, its textured surface gradually reveals itself, disrupting and even reconfiguring the spatial relationships within the composition. Zao wielded his brush to dab, sweep, and rub across the canvas, creating intricate patterns that echo the cunfa (texture strokes) technique in Chinese ink painting. Particularly striking is the ivory-coloured block in the upper left corner, where thick layers of paint were applied with a palette knife and then pressed with a fine-textured mesh fabric, leaving a distinctive imprint. The substantial texture and vibrant painterly traces make this block almost leap from the depths of the canvas into the foreground, much like a sail breaking through a storm in a Turner painting. Similar textures can be found in the light blue and blue-white areas of the lower left and right corners, subtly shifting the spatial relationships with the surrounding colour blocks. By challenging the dominance of single-point perspective through these surface textures, Zao transformed Cubism’s deconstruction and reshaping of space, seamlessly blending it with the dynamic cavalier perspectives of traditional Chinese painting. This approach orchestrates a layered, intertwined spatial dialogue, laying the groundwork for the artist’s later, more radical deconstruction of space in the 1960s.
Blue was a recurring theme in Zao’s aesthetic trajectory, where he regarded it as a colour of serenity and introspection, yet alive with infinite potential for transformation. His reverence for blue was intimately bound to his deep emotional connection with water. As a young man, Zao spent countless days meandering along the shores of West Lake, mesmerised by the ever-changing horizon where sky meets water, and by the radiant dance of light across rippling waves. This enduring imagery of water imprinted itself indelibly on his consciousness, flowing seamlessly into his artistic creations. This is evident in other contemporaneous works such as River, Marsh, and Sound of Water, all of which echo Zao’s profound affinity for water and its surrounding landscapes, recurring as a central theme throughout his oeuvre.
In Ile (Island), shades of blue engage in a dynamic dance—contending, fermenting, and stretching across the canvas. Wrapped in the deep embrace of midnight blue, Prussian blue and celadon blue carve out their own realms in distant corners, where they meet silver moon white and dark green-grey, punctuated by delicate whispers of vermilion. , Borrowing from Western techniques of depicting light and shadow, the artist scattered light across the canvas with a mottled white, where the ebb and flow of blue and white orchestrate the very heartbeat of the canvas. This technique, as Zao once described, sought to ‘make the canvas come alive through the contrast and multiple vibrations of the same colour, with the discovery of a central point of light’ (W. Zao, quoted in Self Portrait of Zao Wou-Ki. Taipei 1993, p. 135). The result is a visual symphony reminiscent of Claude Monet’s The Rocks at Pourville, Low Tide. With masterful artistry, Zao explored the intricate dialogues between colour, light, and shadow—mist rising effortlessly between land and sea, waves locked in eternal struggle with the shore. This ethereal dance evokes the atmosphere of Ma Yuan’s Studies of Water, offering the viewer a visual journey where the luminous blues and whites seem to ferment, expand, and endlessly unfold.
In the mid-1950s, Zao Wou-Ki found himself at the crossroads of dual challenges in his artistic journey and personal life. On one side, the approach of abstraction inspired by Paul Klee, which had once illuminated his path, began to thwart in the evolution of his distinct style. On the other, his marriage to his first wife, Xie Jing-Lan, was reaching its final chapter. Yet these trials of life, rather than stifling his creativity, ignited a period of profound introspection, experimentation, and ultimately, artistic breakthroughs. Through a process of ‘repeatedly repainting, destroying, and starting over,’ the ideal images within his mind slowly began to take form. In 1954, he painted his first non-narrative work, Wind. From that moment, ‘symbols became forms, and the background became space’ (W. Zao, quoted in Self Portrait of Zao Wou-Ki, Taipei 1993, p. 104), giving birth to a visual language that, while inheriting the traditional essence of shuxie (calligraphic writing), transcended mere reference and ventured into a daring new realm.