Van Gauys is probably one of the most well-known painters of the twentieth century. He died in poverty and insanity, but his paintings were sold for high prices behind him, and his paintings, depictions of himself, and "tributes" were endless. The writer Zhu Yong called this kind of behavior "plundering" and "grabbing", and the painter Leng Glacier was one of the "grabbers" he called.
Carving lines with knives on ink paper is a unique creative technique of the painter Leng Glacier. Therefore, in his pen, whether it is Van Gogh's cheeks or the sunflowers behind him, the lines are strong. The black and white printmaking technique has captured Van Gogh's most prestigious and magnificent colors, leaving only his coldness.
The writer Zhu Yong repeatedly pays tribute to Van Gogh in this world and repeatedly uses them as "plundering" and "grabbing", and the painter Leng Glacier is also one of the "snatchers" in his mouth. But in the face of Leng Glacier's re-creation of Van Gogh's paintings, he believes, "Leng Glacier is a good thief who strictly adheres to professional ethics." ”
The book "Nian Bai" contains 108 paintings created by Leng Glacier, including the Van Gogh series, and is accompanied by writers Zhu Yong and Jie Chen, who use paintings and words to confront art and literature.
The following texts and pictures are excerpted from the book "Nianbai" with the permission of the publisher. Author: Zhu Yong JieChen Wen; Cold Glacier Picture, Edition: Century Wenjing 丨 Shanghai People's Publishing House November 2021 edition.
Wen | Wish Yong The Dust
Pictured | cold glaciers
A poor man like Zhao Guangbao left a huge legacy to posterity, which is a strange myth and joke in the industrial age. Van Gogh is no longer the man who has gone crazy for art, but a lucrative stock, a soaring number like hormones on the gallery's price tag, an indispensable decoration item in Huang Shiren's new villa, the latest fashion in the brand store, the "humanistic" topic that the "literati" chatter about, and a word that Van Gogh himself was born afraid of: trading.
All plunder is directed against the weak,
Just as all flattery points to the powerful.
Van Gogh became one of the most abundant and weak lambs of the twentieth century,
It has become a public good because it satisfies the appetite of all.
He stared in horror at the scrambling snatchers.
The penniless Impressionist painters were once again looted.
Following the loss of love, dignity and ears,
He was once again sucked out of the pot,
Thieves do not hesitate.
The belated gangsters have a cold name — Cold Glacier.
The last bandit to arrive stole the painter's most precious thing—color.
The sunflower-like boiling colors disappeared, leaving only black and white. The two survivors are strikingly opposed, like two last extremists, armed with sharp weapons, uncompromising with each other. This sharp antagonism coincides with the truth of the world—all the colors are buried in black and white, as if alternating day and night, bringing everything in the world under their rule. Black and white, requisitioned by the devil and angels, hold supreme power in their respective territories, and those who look colorful and gorgeous are their humble people.
After the large area of light spots disappeared, we fought with Van · Reunion of the highs. His thin face, his frightened eyes, his ears wrapped in gauze (the roots of his ears) were his documents that he would never lose. We identify him from this. "Van Gogh" is a name that cannot be pretended to be—modern society is said to have evolved to concoct everything, such as children without fathers, disappearing hymens, and famous scholars with hard wounds, but they cannot reproduce a van Gogh. The ear that jumps away symbolizes some kind of abandonment and sacrifice. When art is reduced to a check for people's indulgence, no one wants to despise their flesh so much. The snow-white blade cut the distance between Van Gogh and the crowd. If the most familiar word for modern people is used, trading, then this may be the only delivery done by Van Gogh himself. The ear was the last gold coin in his body, which he paid to fate in ridicule. There was a clamor of the crowd, and behind his absent ears, exuberant sunflowers bloomed silently.
Van Gogh uses a paintbrush to express his views on the world. In foxtrots, the upper class admires the oil paintings in an elegant posture and believes that they have reached a tacit understanding with the painter.
Van Gogh's paintings circulate between the gallery and the living room, while Van Gogh himself travels back and forth between pitch-black mines and cold shantytowns. Dazzling sunlight and creepy stars, restless desires and iron-dull lives, songs and nightmares, intertwined and collided with each other in his brushstrokes. We see big plants — sunflowers, trees, wheat fields, irises... Seeing that plants also have nerves, groaning or shouting in undetected depths.
A friend said that poverty, like drug addiction, also has a special charm that is addictive, especially for those who are lonely and weak among the poor. Just as a person acquires a clear mind in the event of utter despair, very harsh embarrassment and poverty also bring us exceptionally sharp senses. For many years, human beings have maintained a delicate sense of poverty, which is a breathtaking quasi-emotional realm. For poverty plunges our bodies and minds into the true folk. The poet Bligh said that it is also beautiful to be poor and to be able to hear the wind.
Outside of civilized society, Van Gogh walked in his brushstrokes, poverty stubbornly enveloping him like the air of winter, leaving him with nowhere to hide. Poverty is a healthy smell of licorice and cow dung, very different from the aroma in the salon. In his letter to Theo, Van Gogh expressed a very simple wish: I want to tell people a way of life that is very different from that of our civilized people... If a peasant painting smells of ham, smoke, and potato heat, it doesn't matter, it never harms health; if a stable emits a stench of dung, so good that it would have belonged to stables; if there was a smell of ripe crops or potatoes or manure in the field, it was healthy, especially for the townspeople. Such a painting might teach them something. However, scent is not what a peasant painting needs.
In front of Van Gogh's paintings, the rich carefully put on snow-white gloves. They thanked God for giving the painter poverty.
Many years later, a talented Chinese painter met van der Leyen in the old-fashioned streets of holland. High unexpectedly. The Chinese painter's inner black and white negatives bear witness to his instantaneous expression.
His expression had calmed down much, and his gaze had changed from fear to depth, slightly closer to the self-portrait of 1889.
From his period of "The Potato Eater", "Sorrow", "Wheat Field", we see the scene in his eyes. Some regard Van Gogh as a "fraternal socialist". Julius Mayer-Grafe describes him in Vincent and Socialism as a saint —"a man burned by the Bible" who "seems to feel the shame of egoism that belongs to our whole epoch and sacrifices himself in the manner of great martyrs whose fate has fallen upon us since ancient times."
A friend once called tragedy, truth, and hero the most thing man has ever done. We have made many truths, rigorously measured by all the sacred yardsticks, and the stupid pigs who believed to be true charged with their arms and finally made themselves heroes. Just as truth has its insurmountable falsehood, so heroes have inner cunning. Compared to them, Van Gogh was only a low-energy man, and he made himself a madman.
He did not believe in anything, nor did he have any precepts worth obeying. Instead, he was vigilant against all those cloaked in the cloak of holiness. He believed only in his own logic and the morality of the earth. He was seen as a madman because he never used ready-made truths or borrowed his inner Scriptures.
The Fool's Ship was an important literary term in medieval Europe. People banished madmen to such boats and let them drift from one town to another. Van Gogh was the passenger on the ship, locked out by the noise and restlessness of the real world. This move masked the sense of loss of the townspeople, who in van Gogh's eyes were a completely ugly illusion, that they were imprisoned in it, and that he himself had become the freest and most open prisoner in his unworldly and unpredictable fate. When people laughed at him, he placed deep sympathy for the mockers. With extraordinary sensitivity and innate melancholy, he gazed at those distorted and helpless expressions.
Milosz verifies Van Gaugh's melancholy in the poem:
In fear and trembling, I thought I could end my life
Only in my public confession
After debunking the falsity of myself and my time
We were allowed to scream on the tip of the tongue of the gnomes and villains
But it is not allowed to shout words that are pure and generous
Who would dare to claim him under such a harsh punishment?
Think he's a lost man
It is said that the dream has existed for a long time, and it has always recognized its internal owner. Van Gogh, who had nowhere to hide in reality, then became a refuge for dreams. Dreams flocked to him, haunting him. Like a group of servants, they deceived the king's trust, dreamed, and became the poor man's most loyal interlocutor.
Dreams never give people a definite ending. They are never whitewashed or concealed, so dreams are often not welcomed by people, and even treat them as ominous things, as ghosts underground. People either locked them on closed roads, forbade them to sneak across the borders of the night, or tried to forget them. And Van Gogh never refused their visits, never let them wander the streets like lone ghosts, never discarded them in the oil-stained waste bin. In return, the dream brought him letters from the future, causing him to open the mysterious seals cast by the sunshine of tomorrow.
After Van Gogh's death, his dream was attached to the cold swag of the cold glacier, and the ghost did not disperse. So, after the color is omitted, we can still smell it. But Leng Glacier is a good thief with a strict work ethic, who steals the garbage in the eyes of others, that is, the colors and dreams that have nowhere to parasitize after the death of his master, and returns what he has acquired a hundredfold in the future.