Text: De Villepin (former Prime Minister of France)
Translation: Dong Qiang
That was yesterday. The brush galloped, free, turned towards the future even though it drew tirelessly from the garden of childhood. With the precision of the seismograph, Wang Yan Cheng transcribes the movements of the soul in this strange year 2020. Taking advantage of suspended time, the gaze turns inward, to scrutinize the immobile present, no longer of a separate man and nature, but living in each other, in tame territories.
yesterday. The brush of freedom, galloping towards the future, while drawing inexhaustible nutrients from the garden of childhood. In the strange year of 2020, Wang Yancheng recorded the rhythm of the soul with the delicacy and precision of the seismometer. Time was suspended, so the gaze turned to the body, inquiring about the still present. Man and nature are no longer separated, they are one. Enter territories that are no longer unfamiliar.
After the vertigo of a season torn off from the other side of the mirror, the painter grants himself a stop. Gone are the strangeness, the shivering of the journey, the torment of the injury, the trembling of the catastrophe. Gone is the quest, the crossing of the gates, the counting of the sails, the hope of the Promised Land. We are here on the hilltop shore, under the spell of a confidence. Everything is in its place, every touch, every color tuned to a sign, a sound, an ancient emotion, in the happiness of being there, present and past embraced, thoughts and memories mixed. The being of life tasted without demonstration, without frills, in its obviousness.
The painter takes the reins and perches. Throughout the season, he has traversed a vertiginous and wonderful world. The fruits of travel, exotic atmosphere, tired scars, and hardships have come to an end. Read all the sails, no longer fly to Guanshan, no need to explore, and ask the road of xianxiang. Feel free to perch on the shore and feel the affinity and charm of the surrounding area. Everything has its place. Every brushstroke, every piece of color, and symbols, sounds, and emotions of the past form a beautiful chord. Coexistence is so blissful. Yesterday and today are intertwined, and thoughts and memories are intertwined. Enjoy the essence of life without support or embellishment. Manifest existence.
At the time of the pandemic, Wang Yan Cheng does not look away, quite the contrary; he directs it towards the spectacle of what springs in its first freshness. It is the life given, renewed since the origins, but rid of the superfluous and the commentary. Violence was imposed yesterday, a guarantee of truth, on a path made of eruptions and revolutions: it is now irrelevant since it has no future. The future and all its promises have given way to the immobile moment, always restarted, in the image of this river loved by Apollinaire: "Under the Mirabeau bridge, flows the Seine ... »
Under the epidemic, Wang Yancheng did not turn around to avoid. Instead, he swept his gaze to the landscape that burst forth in the freshness of the newborn. It is a life from its source, constantly renewing itself, abandoning all glitz and no need to prove it. Once upon a time, it was necessary to use violent force to reveal the truth and gallop on the road of collapse and revolution. Today, the fury has no goal and has lost its way forward. Both the future and the promise give way to the moment of stillness, to the enduring renewal of the self, just as Apollinaire loved the river: "Under the Mirabeau Bridge, flows the Seine..."
A question arises in these "times of necessity", in the white hour: is our gaze the same after the great confinement? Would the eye obey new laws? Didn't this abrupt break remind us how the painting is the only window to other worlds, and ultimately the only freedom? To what extent is art the only line of escape in times when everything seems obstructed, when the very horizon seems forbidden?
In this period of "urgent need", in this special period of incandescent incandescent, we naturally have to ask a question: After the universal confinement, is our vision still the same? Will our eyes follow the new rules? Doesn't this sudden rest of all things tell us that only painting opens the window of other worlds, the only freedom? When everything is blocked, when the sky is no longer visible in the extreme place, art has become the only point of view.
In Rome, tried so hard like all of Italy, in Rome, which has taught the world, through the centuries, the fragility of human things and the eternity of spiritual things, in Rome so many times visited by plagues, so often sacked, so many times raised. We would like to remember what was for the Renaissance the sack of 1527 by the armies of Charles V, to which André Chastel once devoted a luminous essay. Would Michelangelo's Last Judgment have been possible without the shaking of the disaster, he wonders? Is art doomed to shine only as much as the world sinks into darkness? Or is it the salvation?
And look at Rome, which, along with all of Italy, has been so tested. For centuries, it has informed the world of the fragility of human affairs and the eternity of the spirit. How many plagues have plagued Rome, how many times have they been destroyed by war, and how many times have they been reborn! In 1527, Charles V's army sacked Rome, and the Renaissance flourished. Andre. Shastell wrote a famous article about this. In the text, he asked: If it were not for this disaster, how could Michelangelo have created The Last Judgment? The more the world falls into darkness, the more art shines. Perhaps art is the salvation of the world?
What Wang Yan Cheng does here, in belief in the power of art, is to help raise colors to dry sweat and tears; to awaken the colors washed by the storm; to reveal the colors for the times to come.
Wang Yancheng has no doubt about the power of art. With the brightness of the color, he brushed away the sweat and wiped away the tears. He awakened the colors washed by the storm. He shows colors for the future.
Through the scholarly play of correspondence and a strange alchemy, each painting is discovered the same and yet another. Through the celebration of the moment, the painter reconnects, through the unleashing of the Furies and the blindness of the fighting, with the presence of the sacred who imposes his light. At the end of the quest, by the means of figuration or abstraction, here comes the time of Revelation, where from now on fear has no hold, and confinement more object.
Wang Yancheng found the magic of all things fit, and found the strange alchemy. Each painting is the same, but different. Through the acura moment, the painter travels through the storms of the sea, the blind battlefield, and rediscovers the divine existence. It is this divine presence that brings light. After years of exploration, after going through figurative or abstract paths, it finally came to the period of aura. From now on, fear will be terrifying, and confinement will be unconcealed.
Magic of the place and the formula, unsuspected surprise because, neither death nor suffering can encroach on this domain. What alters, gnaws, corrupts, has no hold on the brilliance of the Presence – a grace not granted from above, but well conquered, arises hand-to-hand with the canvas, by breaking in, as one reaches the clearing at the end of the forest, behind the thick brush and the alignment of the tall trees. The hand of the artist joins that of the creator to give and receive life. Wang Yan Cheng does not forget the praise, praise of the Elders, the Distant, the Elders, all those who nourished him and whom he still invites to share today, as a friend this time, more than as a disciple.
Territory and magic. This is an unintended gain, and it takes no effort at all. In this realm, there is no place for death or suffering. All the forces that can destroy, devour, and strike, in the face of the light displayed by the aura, are all extinguished. And this favor did not come from God, but from the painter's conquest. It suddenly appears after the painter's close hand-to-hand combat with the canvas, just as after cutting through thorns in a huge forest, a clearing in the forest suddenly appears in front of you. The artist's hand touches the hand of God, which can give birth to life and accept life. Wang Yancheng did not forget to praise because of this. He praised the ancients, praised the stones of his mountains, and praised his predecessors. All those who nourish him, in the name of friends, and no longer as disciples, invite them to share the present day together.
As we can see, immobility does not mean indifference or sterility, when the painting stands in grace and perpetuates praise. The wonder of life, in the absence of hope or hope, is always at work in the arrangement of colors, a light palette, of pinks, blues, yellows and greens, hints of purple, reminiscences of ochres and browns, whites especially in large impasto, transparent glazes or fine luminous gauze. Here and there, red touches or flat. The composition is based on the vacuum, of a material that has become breath. The space has expanded to give full place to light, a celebration of an eternal present.
It can be seen that stillness is not indifference, let alone barrenness. The painting is in grace and continues the song of praise. The beauty of life, even if there is no vain expectation, always exists in the work. It exists in the organization of colors. The clear palette is colorful: pink, blue, yellow-green, purple dot color, subtle brown and brown, large patches of white, transparent coating, just like bright fine yarn. From time to time there are red strokes or flat paint. The whole composition is built on the void, and the material is transformed into the breath of life. Space is carved out to carry only the fullest light. Everything celebrates eternal moments.
That's the big word dropped! Eternity, that flower that grows only on the slopes of sacrifice, in the hollow of catastrophe. Eternity, finally found and sung by Arthur Rimbaud, the poet seer, "It's the sea gone / With the sun". Magic occurs by concretion, juxtaposition, overprinting of successive layers where visions and emotions jostle to reach the brilliance of time. Art here joins the patient work of nature by geological sedimentations. On the surface of the canvas, sensations and feelings overlap, intersect, mingle until the emergence of the presence by simple vibration, like the living or dead star.
Yes, a great word blurted out: eternity! The Flower of Eternity, which blooms only on the slopes of sacrifice, blooms in the whirlpool of calamity. The eternity that was finally found was as Rimbaud, the psychic poet, chanted: "I have found eternity." / It is with the sun / The sea that rushes forward. "The magic is present: layer after layer of oil paint juxtaposed, overlapping, solidifying. Time shines under the impact of vision and emotion. Art here comes close to nature's long and patient geological accumulation movement. On the surface of the painting, sensations and emotions collide, intertwine, and intertwine with each other until they appear naturally like shining or extinguishing stars, just through the rhythm of tremor.
And if the canvas still shudders so deeply, it is not beaten by the winds, but inhabited by a breath, a brilliance, a music, trumpets, violins or flutes, which is indeed "of the soul for the soul", even if, through the adventure, it would have become monstrous.
Yes, the canvas is still shaking deeply. It was not the howling of the wind, but there was a breath, a light, a song of music perched on it. Trumpets, violins, transverse flutes, from "soul to soul", even through countless hardships, even if they have to pass through the glamorous rays.
A story ends at the end of the journey. The paintings collected by Wang Yan Cheng bear, for those who want to read, the scars of chaos. Under the foliage, in the games of water or the shimmer of glaciers, there is a red gap, a dark lava flow, an ancient murmur. It seems as if we were catching snippets of yesterday's world, lost refrains. But perhaps it is only an illusion, a remorse in the face of this time that no longer passes, these frayed clouds, these interrupted waves. A thick silence now envelops the canvas. To be there, simply, without question, without cause or reason, in this time according to history.
At the end of the journey, a kind of history also ends. These paintings by Wang Yancheng have left traces of being burned by chaos for those who know it. Beneath the tufts of leaves, in the glare of water or ice, there was a red notch, a dark red magma, an ancient murmur. At first glance, it seems that you can see the fragments of yesterday's world and hear a few fluttering songs. But this may be just an illusion, a hint of chagrin in the face of time that no longer flows. Facing this drifting cloud, this broken river. Thick silence, since then wrapped around the canvas. In the time after this history, there is no need to ask questions, no causes and no causes. Merely exists.
However, these works are not without memory, like the Ark carrying on its flanks the account of all species. Wang Yan Cheng carries with him engraved the momentum of ancient calligraphy, the illumination of Monet's Western masters in Rothko, as well as the imprint of the landscapes of his childhood in Shandong. He continues to draw this thread, because this is indeed the place, his place of earth and water, of color and spirit where the living is not divided into vain oppositions, but grows by the enrichment of opposites, posed as a principle of sharing. Thus, his pictorial art, art of the sensitive, becomes an act of resistance, a manifesto of the diverse; at its core, an art of life.
However, these works are not without memories. Just like Noah's Ark, remember the number of beings carried by all. Wang Yancheng's body carries the power of ancient Chinese calligraphy, the brightness of western masters from Monet to Rothko, and the imprint of his childhood in Shandong. He has always been pulling this line because it leads to his territory. A kingdom made of earth and water, a territory made of color and spirit. There, all living beings are not hostile, all are subject to the principle of common sharing, enriched by differences, and strengthened by opposites. Thus, his art of painting, as the art of the senses, became a force of resistance, a manifesto for the promotion of diversity. At the end of the day, it's an art of life.
Between near and far, he builds bridges, tames the infinitely large and the infinitely small, summons yesterday and today. The canvas each time reinvents the formula, emerging with the primitive force of a new rock age.
Between near and far, he built bridges. He tames the infinites and the infinitesimals, calling the past and the present. Each painting, rediscovering its magic, bursts forth with a new primitive power of the Rock Age. Thus, art follows the fiery fire of demand and enters into continuous regeneration.
Under the fire of an ardent need, art is thus in perpetual rebirth. O miracle of the vertigo that takes shape, of this virgin and new impulse that revives the human, like an ancient idol that was thought dead. It remains for the amateur to learn to see again.
Oh, miracle! Primitive and new power, nourishing humanity, finds its art form in the midst of a dizzying movement, like an ancient idol that people thought was dead. O art lovers, it's your turn to relearn and learn how to see this new world!
Former French Prime Minister Dominic de Villepin, known as the "poet of politics", was a politician, artist and collector. He is emotionally rich and delicate, and he is not afraid to show his true disposition. De Villepin loved art, especially abstract painting, and he visited the studio of the painter Wang Yancheng many times, communicated with him, and wrote an art criticism article for him, "Territory and Magic" (dong Qiang translation).
Dong Qiang, head and professor of the French Department of Peking University, was elected as a foreign lifelong academician of the French Academy of Ethics and Political Sciences in October 2016, the first Chinese corresponding academician of the academy in more than 200 years, and is known as the "ferryman of Chinese and French culture".