From the Lyrical to the Epic - Three Paintings by Meiyu Chen

All artists strive to evolve as their career progresses, be it stylistically, philosophically, or spiritually. Dramatic changes are usually a conscious effort, triggered by life events and creative experience, but sometimes more subtle transformations are subconscious. Here, in as few words as possible, I will try to bring attention to, what I consider an interesting formal progression in three of the central paintings of Meiyu’s career, namely White Camellia and Green Birds, The Cranes, and A Solemn Pledge. What caused these stylistic changes have already been outlined in the pages of this book.

In Camellia and Green Birds, a single form, the camellia bush, dominates the surface. The branches gently reach for the edge of the painting, thus limiting the sense of spatial depth. As we explore the shallow interior of the camellia, it becomes clear all the details have equal visual value. Every leaf, branch, and bird is painted with the same care. The color range of the palette is measured and perfectly accentuates the blissful lyrical atmosphere of the scene.

The subject matter of The Cranes vary from Camellia and Green Birds where the animals among the branches were incidental to the overall dominance of the plant. Attention has shifted from flora to fauna, but that is not the only difference. The composition includes two separate forms, with the two adult cranes constituting the primary shape. The composition is more open, and, although the golden background remains primarily abstract, the sense of spatial depth is strengthened. The color scheme, no longer naturalistic, has been restricted to white, black, gold, and red. The marvelously rendered feathers, taut skin, and beaks are defined textures rather than a world of separate details. Our interest is directed to the movement of the cranes. Their gentle interaction creates a graceful atmosphere of tenderness and affection.    

With A Solemn Pledge the artist developed these stylistic concepts even further. The separation of form has now evolved to a grouping of multiple forms. The internal dynamics of the shapes remain very lively, but the details no longer capture the repetitious multiplication of leaves, flowers, birds, or texture. Instead the human figure, although rendered in its divine guise, has become the object of attention. The composition has opened up, allowing the background to occupy more than half of the painting. The relationship between the shapes has shifted, too. Depth has been achieved with the figures of the heavenly host diminishing in size as they recede into the background. The coloration has been reduced to a bare minimum, and, except for the celestial, white glow of the abstract background, every shape and volume has been created by black lines.

These three stages describe a complex stylistic journey: From single dominant form, via separation of form, to grouping of form. From volume of form to volume of group. From naturalistic color to en grisaille. From surface dynamic to spatial depth. From plant and animals, to the human figure. From lyrical beauty and profane scenery to epic and divine narrative. The consistent progression of these stylistic changes bear witness to Meiyu’s acute artistic power. A rare thing in our day and age.

Ceramics and Metaphor - Thoughts on a Recent Exhibition of Ceramic Works by Lin Jin-Zhong

When it comes to beauty, we all have our own personal tastes. Our predilection for certain configurations may be based on anything from experience and serious reflection to raw feeling and instinct. Some people are stringent and analytical, while others are more emotional. Those who favour the analytical approach will, when they look at ceramic artifacts, assess the design and function of each vessel. They tend to evaluate the beauty of the objects based on form and function and whether a balance has been struck between the two. Others of the same analytical bent, but who prefer to see these same objects as pure forms or abstract shapes devoid of meaning, judge their beauty according to criteria such as material, composition, rhythm, chromatics, and skill. Sometimes, however, the whole analytical apparatus can be disrupted in the most delightful manner. This happened to me at Lin Jin-Zhong’s recent exhibition in Taichung Cultural Centre.

Analytical disruptions usually happen when I am faced with powerful images, objects, or sounds too strange or complex to comprehend or categorize in typical fashion. Strong emotions are suddenly stirred that sidestep normal analysis, and metaphors burst forth. When method and preconceptions go out the window, metaphors seem to help me capture the confusing flux of disconnected ideas and free association, and they do so in meaningful words and narrative. This way the initial aesthetic shock is rendered in meaningful and somewhat poetic form until my analysis catches up with the sensory overload. Eventually even the most disruptive experience will become part of my analytical apparatus, but the integration of new or unusual concepts and configurations can take a long time.

At first glance, the exhibition space at Taichung Cultural Centre looked more or less like any other: Decent display cases with vessels presented in flattering light. However, after just a few minutes of sober examination, I felt Jin-Zhong’s works were resisting my gaze. I was mystified, as I am not usually at loss for words when it comes to aesthetic judgement. Indeed, I consider art to be my vocation, and although I often find the act of artistic creation difficult, I feel I am fluent in the language of art itself. Yet, there I was, trying, without much luck, to decipher the mysterious serenity of the Aurora vases.

Each vessel appeared to be shrouded in a glaze of subtle pastel nuances, shifting and moving across the surface, sometimes shiny, like mother-of-pearl, sometimes with an unfamiliar metallic, opaque sheen. Indeed, again and again the glaze seemed to defy the material itself. The noble simplicity of the shapes, combined with the enigmatic shifting surface, evoked in me the image of the mysterious Sphinx, the mythological creature with a human head and a lion’s body. To gain access to the Sphinx’s secret knowledge, the hero had to answer a riddle. A wrong answer meant certain death. Like the Sphinx, each of Jin-Zhong’s vessels was in possession of a secret. Like the cryptic smile and inscrutable, beautiful eyes of the Sphinx, the vessels would spellbind the viewer. With each attempt to read or make sense of the glaze, the vessel, together with its secret, seemed to move just beyond my grasp. Frustrating and exhilarating at the same time. There is a beauty there. That much is apparent. However, there is a secret embedded in this beauty, in this elusive truth of the shape of each of Jin-Zhong’s works. That is a rare and fascinating phenomenon.   

The next room was dominated by a series of impressive, large vessels, fired over and over, until they collapsed in various states of devastation. I have seen several ceramicists explore the aesthetic potential of failure, but they usually do so to make some banal or obscure postmodern, political point. The American, Steven Young Lee, springs to mind. However, it seems certain that Jin-Zhong has little patience for postmodern strategies. His glorious clay catastrophes work as powerful counterpoints to the serene perfection of the other vessels in the rest of the exhibition. One catastrophe appears to have burst open, as if the secret, of its own volition, had burst through the chest of the Sphinx. The others looked like they had been ripped open, and the secrets ripped out by greedy hands. Like crumbling ruins of past civilizations, they evoked in me, notions of nameless reverence, an almost sentimental longing. The effect was profoundly dramatic, almost theatrical.

Close to the exit, I noticed a group of smaller, elegant vessels where the impenetrable, fluctuating nuances of breathing glaze were opened up by touches of contrasting colour. At first, I thought the colourful glaze had been applied to each vessel with a single, decisive brushstroke. However, after closer inspection, what I first believed to be direct intervention by the artist’s hand turned out to be fortunate results of dripping ash and intricate chemical processes during firing. No matter their origin or purpose, these touches of colourful glaze somehow broke the persistent silence and finally seemed to allow for some intimation of the nature of the secret still guarded within each vessel. It was a very fitting end to a strong and inspiring exhibition. The secrets no longer felt beyond reach. It was as if I had scratched the surface of beauty and found signs of truth underneath. Truly uplifting. This is art. Indeed, this is how you make people come back for more.

I decided to retrace my steps and leave through the exhibition entrance, and as I walked past the display cases for a second time, the vessels seemed to assume a new character, namely that of a family, or rather a clan. An old, proud clan, exiled and no longer with the right to a coat of arms. Jin-Zhong is also a kind of exile, a proud artist and a craftsman, lost in his work and creation. Artist and creations, united in exile and adversity. Now, each vessel, or rather, each clan member, stood there, stoic, silent, and subdued, yet they all retained definite, individual characteristics and history as personal as a fingerprint. I thought it will not be easy to coax them into sharing their life stories, dreams, and secrets, but it will certainly be to be worth a try. Jin-Zhong placed before us a series of secrets in clay, glaze, and fire of, an impressive collection of profound creations of exquisite quality. I for one intend to wrangle with these secrets while I wait for his next project to be unveiled.

Muslims at Gates? Again?

Dating from February 3, 2006, this is a short recording of a big crowd of crazy first-, second-, and third-generation Muslim emigrants spewing their typical bile outside the Danish, Norwegian, and French Embassies in central London. Enjoy!

The repulsive hate-fest, staged by the Al-Muhajiroun ('The Emigrants') organisation, was in fact one of the more peaceful Muslim responses to the "blasphemous" Mohammed cartoons published by Jyllands-Posten.

Remember the Battle of Tours (October 10, 732), remember the Golden Horde and the Vienna onslaughts of September-October 14, 1529 and July 15-September 12, 1683? Nihil sub sole novum...

The Mercedes-Benz Movement?

Åh ja, 1968! Love, Benz, and rock'n roll. The 280 SL is undoubtedly the finest product of the flower-power generation. "Don't be square, man. Benz out!": 

The earnest hippie-slogan "Make Mercedes-Benz, not war!" is as meaningful today as it was back in 1968. Yes, my fellow Benz-nicks, take it to the streets. Speak truth to power:

This is the lovely Mercedes. Innocent? Hardly. Emo? Probably. What is certain, though, is that, like, she is really, really sorry about what happened to her boyfriend Edmond, and that she is, like, totally against all kinds of wars in the world of the Benz brand:

The rainbow-community fully endorses Mercedes-Benz, and they are not afraid to show it. "Say it out loud, I'm Benz, and I'm proud!" Having devoted their lives to building bridges between warring communities, it should come as no surprise that they would appreciate the possibility of driving across those very bridges in true style:

Even today, many people believe that Mercedes-Benz need to be part of the solution to the Palestinian problem. True, the Benz-process has experienced many set-backs over the years, but the road-map without Mercedes makes little sense:

Young and unemployable Wahhabi lads can often be seen driving around in their uncle's expensive Mercedes-Benz, cruising ominously up and down the high-streets, windows rolled-down and the car-stereo blasting the latest jihad music hits. Actually, it seems that Muslim women are beginning to catch the Benz-fever too. For example, the young girl in the picture below is a true Benz-enthusiast, bravely showing that she is prepared to risk her life by criticising in public the well-known Fatwa prohibiting Muslim women from driving Mercedes cars. She too wants to embrace that sinful four-wheeled icon of German culture:

It is common knowledge that the E-Class Mercedes-Benz is one of the most popular taxis in the world. It certainly is by far the most popular taxi in Denmark. Maybe that is the reason why so many Muslim men living in Denmark like to work as taxi-drivers. Yes, it all makes sense now...

Hold Pølserne For Dig Selv & Keep Mouth Shut!

Ak ja, dog. Could this be yet another example of outrageous political correctness and dhimmitude in Denmark? On February 5, several Danish newspapers reported that the owner of one of Copenhagen's many saussage and hotdog-stands might have been the victim of a violent racist attack. This, by the way, is what a typical Danish hotdog-stand looks like:

The alleged attack took place on Frederiksberg on Friday afternoon, February 3. Two young men "of immigrant background" approached a hotdog-stand and asked for two pieces of hotdog-bread. When the bread was handed over the counter one of them quickly grabbed the wrists of the hotdog-man, shouting "You Danish Pig! You are selling unclean (tainted?) meat!" At the same time the other man produced a wooden bat or cosh and began to beat the arms and hands (10-15 times) of the terrified sausage-vendor. It all happened very fast. After the two attackers had run away, the victim went to the hospital for treatment. Both his hands were very bruised. The incident was reported to the police the following day. Nothing surprising in all that...

The real outrage started on February 7 when the police told the press that they now believed the incident never happened and that they had decided to press charges against the hotdog-man. Because there were no witnesses to the attack, the police concluded that the injuries must have been self-inflicted, thus insinuating that the hotdog-man must be a racist who had invented the story to aggravate the tension between ethnic Danes and immigrants living in Denmark. Since the Muhammed cartoon controversy was dominating the news at the time the story was given a fairly high profile in the Danish press. The hotdog-man was branded a typical racist Dane. End of story!

Well, nearly the end, that is. Why? Because on May 23, three judges quickly reached an unanimous decision to dismiss all the charges brought against the unfortunate sausage vendor. The judges made it clear that the prosecution had brought a very dubious case before the court. When asked about the possibility of the prosecution appealing the verdict one of the judges said, "I really cannot see that happen, not in my wildest imagination..." Of course, the exoneration of the hotdog-man, as well as the implicit criticism of the police's embarrassing handling of the case was only reported by Frederiksberg Bladet, a small and very, very local newspaper. Today, more than three weeks after the verdict, Jyllands-Posten has finally found space to print a comment on the case written by two members of Venstre, the main conservative party in Denmark.That is all. One small comment-piece buried in the Debate Section (page 10) of one big, Danish newspaper. 

So, remember, if you are a fair-skinned pork-enthusiast living in Denmark who has been attacked or harassed by immigrant youths, then you need to think twice before you report it to the police. Unless you can produce independent witnesses to back your story, the police is likely to treat you as a potential racist swindler. Trying to bring your injuries to the attention of the police will probably not help your case. Your bruises and cuts might just be used against you, as the police will claim that you must have done the physical harm to yourself. Sadly, it seems the police is prepared to drag people to court based on flimsy evidence and lofty dhimmi-speculation, accusing people of bringing false charges and smearing them in public as a sinister racists. Velbekomme...

WMD and Doctor Who?

This, my first real post, will deal with what might be considered a rather silly topic: Doctor Who as Anti-War Propaganda. 

 

It seems that two of the recent episodes of the new and highly profiled thirteen-part BBC science fiction series, Doctor Who, served as a mouthpiece for the movement against the war in Iraq. A respected public service channel like the BBC should not be promoting a particular political agenda, but the episodes Aliens of London and World War Three did just that. Instead of a couple of hours of harmless television entertainment about strange aliens and space travel, we were served a wild storyline insinuating that the English government deliberately lied about the Iraqi weapons of mass destruction. Very disappointing, indeed. Bad politics and bad judgement by the BBC producers. A short synopsis of the storyline will probably be helpful to understand the reasons for my criticism:

A spaceship crashes directly into Big Ben, but manages to make an emergency landing on the Thames outside the Parliament. Inside the vessel, the body of what is thought to be a wounded alien is discovered. The people of Earth are divided. They either celebrate or fear this sudden arrival of a strange creature from outer space. Strangely, the English Prime Minister and the rest of his cabinet ministers are nowhere to be found. Is it a case, we wonder, of ‘first contact’ or inter-galactic terrorism?


Does this scene ring any bells?

It turns out that the destruction of Big Ben was part of an elaborate plan to destroy Earth and the entire human race. The alien found inside the spacecraft turns out not to be really alien, but just an advanced gene-modified pig. The real extra terrestrials are the evil Slitheen, a family of big, smelly, green, and baby-faced monsters with long claws and hanging bellies [Slitheen is their family name]. We find out that the Slitheen have eliminated the Prime Minister and most of his staff. Moreover, they have assumed the identities of fat people in powerful positions, and are now wearing perfect human body-suits. Thus, they manage to pass for real human beings, and very soon they control the government as well as the Metropolitan police force.


The Neo-Con syndicate in the flesh...

Now, by cunningly spinning a web of lies about the intentions of the poor gene-modified pig as well as fabricating a story about alien ‘Massive Weapons of Destruction’, the Slitheen successfully persuade the delegates of the United Nations to pass a resolution that will give them the power to start a nuclear war on the blue planet. Why would the Slitheen do that? Well, they want to annihilate mankind and sell what is left of earth as radioactive fuel to the highest bidder of the galaxy. For that purpose they transmit, from a spacecraft hidden deep in the North Sea, an advertisement signal to prospective buyers throughout the Milky Way. Of course, it all goes terribly wrong for the slitheen, and the human race is saved in the end…


Yes, pigs can fly!

Yes, it is all there: Weapons of mass destruction, the passing of a United Nations resolution based on fictitious intelligence-data, a deadly war for mere profit, and anti-American slander. I was watching in disbelief. Was the new Doctor Who really endorsing extreme conspiracy theories, the kind of allegations usually found in the more radical editorial columns of leftist newspapers like The Daily Mirror and The Guardian? To begin with, I thought I might be wrong, that I was too suspicious of the BBC. So, I decided to watch the two episodes again, and this time I remembered to write down some of the more problematic parts of the dialogue.

Since the attack on the World Trade Centre, the internet has been haunted by a host of strange people peddling their damning conspiracy theories. Ever so often, we read that the Bush administration must somehow have been involved in the attacks. However, it is usually the Israeli government and the Mossad that is held responsible for orchestrating the vile murders of the thousands of innocent victims. The conspiracy-mongers maintain that only sophisticated agencies like the CIA or Mossad would have had the resources and expertise necessary to execute such a complex task to perfection. It is exactly the same kind of suspicion that prompts Doctor Who to suspect that the gene-modified pig could not be the real mastermind behind the attack on Big Ben and pose a threat to Earth.

The Doctor: “It’s just too perfect!”

In true anti-Zionist style, we hear the sceptic female backbencher thinking aloud: “Aliens are faking aliens!” Like Mossad faking Al Qaeda!? The only difference between the wild internet accusations and the various sentiments expressed in the two Doctor Who episodes in question is that it turns out the Doctor and his friends were right to be suspicious.


The advisor, the Slitheen, and the backbencher!

We are also treated to the usual complaints about ‘scare-mongering’ tactics, suggesting that there is no real terrorist threat.

Female Backbencher: “They put the entire planet on red alert!?”

A real leftist cliché, the female backbencher is worth mention. She is introduced as Harriet Jones of Flydale North constituency, an MP who appears to be a slim version of Claire Short. This woman is very interested in the plight of cottage hospitals, and eager to present her case for the Prime Minister. Indeed, she seems to be the only white politician in the two episodes who is serious, honourable, and hard-working. The rest are either dead, of what appears to be Asian ethnic background, or fat and evil extra terrestrials in disguise. At the end of the World War Three instalment, we find it is her fate to become the Prime Minister, elected for three consecutive terms, and, as the Doctor puts it, “to become the architect of Britain’s Golden Age!” Is she not the embodiment of the true leftist or Liberal Democrat ideal?

Remember the innumerable anti-war placards protesting that the invasion of Iraq was all about oil? We hear the same opinion expressed by the Doctor. Is it a mere coincidence? Hardly:

The Doctor: “A massive diversion ... It’s not a diversion, it’s a trap! … They are out to make money!”

Female Backbencher: “Gold, oil, water?”

Yes, ‘it is all about oil’, is it not? If it is not Halliburton and their foul brethren, then it is the bloody Slitheen. 

 

It is no secret that the anti-war movement truly adore the United Nations. The United Nations is their answer to all evil in this world. Forget about the ‘Oil-for-food’ scandal, mass rapes by UN soldiers, the Rwanda infamy, the Darfur indignity. The list of errors is very long and bitterly shameful. No matter, to the anti-war crowd the United Nations cannot do anything wrong. The writer of our two Doctor Who episodes betray his unquestioning loyalty to Kofi Annan and his pale blue bureaucrats by making sure that nuclear weapons only can be deployed after an UN resolution, a rather bizarre notion, but crucial for the development of the story:

Female Backbencher: “The British Isles can’t gain access to atomic weapons without a special resolution from the UN”

Female Side-kick, Rose: “Now, that’s never stopped them!”

Female Backbencher: “Exactly - given our past track-record - and I voted against that, thank you very much! The codes have been taken out of the government’s hands and given to the UN.”

However, the most extraordinary part of the story is the scene where the main Slitheen family member is addressing the United Nations, disguised as the interim Prime Minister:

“Ladies and gentlemen, nations of the world, human kind. The greatest experts in extra terrestrial events came here tonight. They gathered in the common course, but the news I bring now is grave indeed. The experts are dead, murdered [by the Slitheen, of course] right in front of me by alien hands. People of the Earth, heed my words, ‘These visitors do not come in peace!’ Our inspectors have searched the sky above our heads, and they have found massive weapons of destruction, capable of being deployed within forty-five seconds. Our technicians can baffle the alien probes, but not for long. We are facing extinction, unless we strike first! The United Kingdom stands directly beneath the belly of the mother ship. I beg of the United Nations: ‘Pass an emergency resolution! Give us the access codes!’ A nuclear strike at the heart of the beast is our only chance of survival, because from this moment on, it is my solemn duty to inform you: ‘Planet Earth is at war!”

This is obviously a deeply sarcastic and slanderous rewriting of Tony Blair’s speech to the House before the invasion of Iraq. Of course, instead of Weapons of Mass Destruction we have Massive Weapons of Destruction. Instead of a forty-five minute deployment threat we have forty-five seconds. Everything is turned on its head: An evil alien instead of Tony Blair. Not a Prime Minister hoping to liberate the Iraqi people from tyranny, but an impostor bent on destruction. We are informed about a dossier, which is an outrageous lie. It is true wickedness in the name of profit. We are invited to giggle knowingly while recalling how another document was ‘sexed up’.

The dossier is then presented to the unsuspecting and trustful delegates of the United Nations. It is sinister misrepresentation, to put it mildly. Beautiful propaganda! Good thing, the Doctor knows what is going on:

The Doctor: “He is making it up! There are no weapons up there! There’s no threat! He just invented it!”

The Female Backbencher: “Do you think they will believe it?!”

Female side-kick, Rose: “They did last time!”

The Doctor: “They want the whole world panicking, for you lot, you get scared, you lash out!”

Yes, ‘they did last time!’ In this short exchange the screen-writer more than hints that we - a large section of the public - are behaving like mindless sheep, that we are (and have been) too easily bamboozled by the devious Tony Blair and his cronies. According to the same humble screen-writer, the public is also a childishly fearful entity, an entity that needs proper guidance. The producers of BBC entertainment programs probably believe that such vital guidance is most effective if managed by intellectuals, liberal journalists, and leftist pundits.

 

Marr maneuvering the frame?

Nevertheless, despite all the brave efforts of the Doctor and his side-kick Rose to expose the lies of the Slitheen, the otherwise omniscient United Nations decides to believe the intelligence-data about the Massive Weapons of Destruction. All the honourable delegates are fooled by the alien impostors and they pass the fatal resolution. This is how the media reports on the eve of the event:

BBC Anchor Woman: “It’s midnight here in New York. The United Nations has gathered. England has provided them with absolute proof that the massive weapons of destruction do exist. The Security Council will be making a resolution in a matter of minutes, and once the codes are released, humanity’s first inter-planetary war begins … The Council says: ‘Yes! Release the codes!’”

It reads like an edition of The Today Programme, does it not? Thankfully, the Doctor finally challenges the ruthless Slitheen capitalists:

The Doctor: “You [talking to the aliens] get the codes; release the missiles - but not into space, cos’ there’s nothing there. You attack every other country on Earth; they retaliate, fight back. World War Three! Whole planet gets nuked!”

Female Backbencher: “But you’ll destroy our planet, this beautiful place! What for?!”

The Doctor: “Profit!”

Slitheen Family Member: “There’s a recession out there. Everybody are buying cheap!”

Ah, the profit! Oil, Halliburton, and endless American violent intervention. Yes, all the wild slurs and accusations of the anti-war movement have been included. Well done. Surprisingly, there is no real mention of Slitheen imperialism, as the alleged American desire to rule over foreign countries is one of the most popular agendas of the radical anti-war protestors. However, it is perhaps no coincidence that the Slitheen aliens are presented as a family and not merely as an alien race. Remember, most of the radical chic representatives of the anti-war movement – for example, George Monbiot, Michael Moore, Noam Chomsky - consider it legitimate practice to refer to the Bush administration as a ruthlessly authoritarian plutocracy. To be fair, sometimes concepts like hegemony or oligarchy are added to the characterisation, possibly for the sake of nuance. Hence the family of aliens is supposed to be a clever allusion to the nature of the present American government.


The vile Neo-Cons can hardly contain themselves...

Throughout the two episodes, the aliens are shown as war-crazy, greedy, unscrupulous, fat politicians, laughing as Armageddon approaches. Of course, the fact the loathsome capitalist aliens have replaced, what we might assume to be, a more dignified host of British politicians, is a rather crude comment on the American influence on British foreign policy. Watching and listening to the constant parade of unsubtle political innuendo, we know precisely what we are meant to think of these green abominations: That they are like neo-conservatives and capitalists of the real world, right?

Following the customary leftist narrative of victimisation, we find the Slitheen seeking to frame the innocent alien whistle-blower. That is, they attempt to blame the honourable Doctor Who - the hyper-intelligent alien being with the paranoid conspiracy theory who is always right - for being behind their conspiracy. Is it not exactly what Tony Blair and his despicable thugs did to the principled Andrew Gilligan? No? Well, as the female backbencher assures us: “You pass it to the left, first…”

Crass leftist bias is typical of journalists of the mainstream media. It has been so for decades, and it seems that it is something we must try to tolerate. Nevertheless, should we also have to accept that even innocuous entertainment programs like Doctor Who are being transformed into platforms for leftist agendas? It would be sad.