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Sanlian Lifeweek Magazine February 25 2013
Drawing Fine Brush Painting while Listening to Rock Music
Zhu Wei sometimes pays tribute to his beloved Royal Court Painting School of the Song Dynasty like a game, and its fun only belongs to him and few “insiders”.
By Zeng Yan
I perceived some “new” things in Zhu Wei’s new exhibition held in MOCA Museum in Singapore: these figures are aging. Up to 2012, the figures in his painting from the Upcoming Spring series staring from 2003 and Spring series since 2005 are portrayed with more wrinkles. Zhu Wei remained being himself, demonstrating his skills in details and competing with himself.
It seems that Zhu Wei didn’t attend to his proper duties for three or four years after 2007: skating or practicing calligraphy in the day while watching movies or CDs at night; dwelling in the rock music circle for decades, shooting movies for Cui Jian’s music band, writing columns for art magazines about movies, Guo Degang, Olympics, Cabbage—that is, everything but serious art, however, he can’t change his “cynical” nature, anxiety as well as sarcasm seem to be born with, while sometimes he can just hit the vital part. For example, he once wrote about ink painting: “I swear not to painting ink painting any more every time I go to Liulichang. You just feel overwhelmed seeing all those painting scrolls, coverings of fans, thousands of galloping horses and over ten thousand purple grapes blending Chinese and Western styles. You need someone to spray you with icy water or eat an ice cream immediately.” “As contemporary art was not born in our homeland, the artists, critics, art dealers can only act like what railroad guerrillas did when they were fighting the Japanese soldiers--everybody hold a rake, as long as there is train driving near, regardless of the consequences, they use their rake to pull the stuff out of the train, no matter how much they can rake off.” He wrote on the utility of contemporary art. “Over the past dozens of years, whether you were vanguard or not, "85" or '"89", the people who are serious about art and with some sense of cultural responsibility are more or less feel depressed. No matter what they may say, their dreams have been shattered. For example, if we visit other people's home, and make a pizza with the flour and eggs we brought and their kitchen appliance. They would praise you if it tastes good. But if you want to make a Jianbing (the Chinese pancake), they would show their dismay immediately. ” He also kept alert and sensitive to the western artist who once recognized his talent.
Actually, Zhu Wei is one who still gets applaud with a Jianbing. He successfully marched into the western business track with traditional Chinese Gong-bi technique, materials and contemporary subjects. He witnessed the contemporary Chinese art over the past three decades and benefited from it. Born in the 1960s, Zhu Wei was one of the first group of artists being recognized by western business gallery and auction market. In the early 1990s, most contemporary artists gathered at Yuanmingyuan Park, while Zhu Wei chose to live at Wanquanzhang not far from there, preferring to be alone, where he lived for seven years in a rent house of 60 square meters. His early renowned works such as Beijing Story, Captain and Sweet Life were all finished there. In his own words, their generation went through a “west journey dream”: “I’ll leave the oil painting painters alone, good ink painting painters whose works thrived in the west are Xu Bing and Gu Wenda in the 1950s, Wei Dong and me in the 1960s, but there is none in the 1970s and 1980s.” Zhu Wei was already leading a prosperous life when I got to know him in 2005, listening to rock music as well as painting Gong-bi in the suburb of Beijing. Cui Jian once wrote a song especially for his solo exhibition named Villages Surrounding Cities. Zhu Wei, like always, keeps a proper distance from the contemporary art community so as to see things objectively.
Born into a military family in Beijing, Zhu Wei entered army at 16, and was admitted to the Art College of the Chinese People’s Liberation Army to study ink painting after serving there for three years. Someone asked him why choose ink painting, and Zhu Wei said it was because Xuan paper was cheap and pigment durable. Art college curriculum, in particular military college curriculum, was rather stiff in the late 1980s. Zhu Wei still remembers one basic skill training during school from which he benefited a lot: to fold a piece of paper into a hollow paper scroll with which to practice drawing lines and circles with elbows hanging in the air. That practice always goes for hour. Scrolls are harder to control compared with brushes. Painters must spend more efforts to portray smooth lines. It’s those tedious training that paid off in his later painting life.
Zhu Wei has been creating with the traditional boneless fine brush painting techniques to make contemporary works since the early 1990s. “Using Gong-bi, you need to first outline the objects, then color them layer after layer and finally naturally blend the lines and the color.” That’s why his paintings boast vanguard images and concepts, and at the same time extreme patience, including the material preparation. Zhu Wei’s paintings are mostly in a dark base color, and he has his special requirements for each of his painting: order a kind of firm and elastic paper made from mulberry, first, put stone bricks with lines or wood boards as bases, paint the first base color, and natural grids will be formed when the pigments condense; use rough blankets to add a layer of more delicate color when the paper dries to acquire the delicate emotions needed for each painting; needless to say, there is also careful depiction and coloring; finally, “wash the picture under a water tap before finishing the eyes and hair, rubbing some parts. This step requires extreme patience, experience as well as some courage, because many times the pictures had been ruined by this step. Still, it’s worthwhile for its fascinating effects--surface like ancient relics, special wrinkles and depth--though with risks.” Zhu Wei once told me how desperately slow his painting process can be: big pictures were almost two meters in length and three meters in width. After a day’s work, he only found himself finishing a space like a napkin. He even swore not to enter his studio any more, turning to drinking and rock music for salvation.
Zhu Wei sometimes pays tribute to his beloved Royal Court Painting School of the Song Dynasty like a game, and its fun only belongs to him and few “insiders”: Water by Ma Yuan was exaggerated in his Flood series from 2000 to 2001; a flower basket from Flower Basket by Li Song appeared at some corner of his Utopia series. Reasonable and careful transition along with models like red flag, podium and bronze ware turned into imaginations only insiders would understand. So, it’s not surprising to see he put “Big White Eye” of fish and bird by Badashanren (Zhu Da) on his figures.
Viewers always feel the mix of two things: wild images and careful composition. Painters without deep traditional culture qualities and techniques are hard to demonstrate those Gong-bi skills. “Zhu Wei is one of the few artists who try to interpret the status quo of contemporary Chinese society with traditional ink painting” and “one of the most important explorers and representatives in contemporary Chinese ink painting field”, according to the international art community. Three galleries dominated Hong Kong in the early 1990s—Plum Blossoms Gallery, Hanart Gallery and Schoeni Art Gallery, which paid the earliest attention to contemporary Chinese art. According to Zhu Wei, Wei Dong, Wu Guanzhong and him signed contracts with Plum Blossoms Gallery; Fang Lijun, Wang Guangyi and Zhang Xiaogang with Hanart Gallery; Yang Shaobin and Yue Minjun with Schoeni Art Gallery, Liu Dan, Li Huayi and him received the earliest attention by the western auction market after Sotheby entered Hong Kong with prices slightly higher than contemporary Chinese oil paintings. “The attention received and price gap between ink painting and oil painting only widened after contemporary Chinese art returned to local forms in the 21st century, especially when contemporary art was to be auctioned.” This is how Zhu Wei felt about the changes of the whole situation. “Nevertheless, he didn’t bury himself in that despair, but rather began to criticize and satirize both western and local arts, through comparing his personal experiences with the contemporary art development.”
At a courtyard of the IBM mansion in New York, stands a huge series of cooper sculptures made by Zhu Wei—two figures wearing Chinese tunic suits standing stiffly with their hands closely beside their body, trying to move forward though out of balance. These copper statues were supposed to be covered with a layer of dust, which was particularly made by the artist to make them look like unearthed relics of the pottery figurine from the Han Dynasty. While the Americans wiped them clean. So, the westerners may not truly understand him though having recognized his works a long time ago.
Zhu Wei’s works diverged from the past since 2003 with his distance kept from the art community and self-mocking. His early works, from Beijing Story to Eggs under the Red Flag, and highly recognized over 60 Utopia series works, all embody political senses or westerners exaggerated the “political codes” from his childhood memory and military uniform, and thus was judged as a member of “Political Pop” or “Cynical” family with the only difference of using ink painting instead of oil painting, which makes him perplexed and upset. Maybe that led him to remain some distance from the contemporary art circle. However, starting from the Upcoming Spring in 2003 and especially the Spring series after 2005, he seems to be liberalized, found broader space from traditional narration and ink painting interests—vague Chinese tunic suits, colors and figures with more freedom.
We can also vaguely perceive traditional pictures like Hundred Children Picture and Hundred Butterflies Picture in his paintings, for example, repeated appearance of one image to foster a visual feeling of continuation. Those figures were presented in an order designed by the artist, making people feel like floating with their roly-poly postures, similar to the dizziness when spring comes after winter. Zhu Wei once said, part of the class texts of this series come from pictures on pink china, that’s why we can feel a slight distance from those pictures, while Gong-bi peonies beside the figures and green leaves are like little branches of china images, adding more connotation to the pictures.
“Contemporary ink painting is being rejected by both the contemporary era and ink painting.” Zhu Wei once said. Many people have noticed that Zhu Wei doesn’t like freehand brushwork painting, literator painting, and rejects graffiti-like freehand, and he also can’t help revealing how much he loves the traditional Gong-bi techniques. For the controversy issues in contemporary ink painting, Zhu Wei basically stayed out it. There are only two articles from his column were on serious discussions of ink painting: Stories of Ink Painting and Ink Painting in My Eyes. “Ink painting is somewhat like the well-known Ping pang. Who dares to teach the Chinese to play Ping pang? It takes little space and whoever is willing to play can have some fun. ”
《三联生活周刊》二零一三年二月二十五日周刊
一边听摇滚，一边画工笔
他时常巧妙地在笔墨间致敬他所倾心的宋画院派，似一种隐秘游戏，并且其间智力的乐趣仅属于他自己以及少数“知情人”。
主笔：曾焱
在新加坡MOCA美术馆看水墨画家朱伟的新作展，仔细对比，看出“新”来：画中人似在不易觉察地老去。从2003年后延续至今的《报春图》系列，从2005年开始的《开春图》系列，画到2012年，面部日益加深的法令纹使他的人物有了世事了然的苍茫。朱伟还是他自己，在几乎不可见的细节中挥霍功力，和自己一决高低。
2007年以后，有那么三四年，自称“以画画为生”的画家朱伟好像不务正业：白天溜冰，练练书法，晚上大部分时间看电影、看光盘；他十几年如一日地继续混在摇滚圈，为老友崔健的乐队拍电影，然后给艺术杂志写写专栏，电影、郭德纲、奥运会、大白菜……什么都聊，就是不怎么正经聊艺术，可又改不了老北京“愤青”的那种仿佛与生俱来的焦虑和讥诮，时不时在文中对当代艺术之现状夹枪带棒地抡上几句，且多半时候抡中要害。比如他写水墨世态：“每次去琉璃厂都发誓以后再也不画水墨画了。就算是你脾气再好，定力再够，看着这铺天盖地的画轴、扇面，几千匹奔腾的瘦马，一万多个不中不西的透视感极强的熟得发紫的葡萄，你一定能当场瘫在地上，恨不得立马有人拿冰水喷你，或者赶紧吃一雪糕压压。”再比如当代艺术如今的功利：“由于当代艺术这趟火车不是从自家开出来的，艺术家、批评家、艺术二道贩子等等等等，大家摸不着头绪，只能玩当年打日本鬼子时铁道游击队拿手的，人人手里都拿着耙子，只要火车开过来，不管三七二十一抡圆了就是几耙子，划拉多少算多少。”他也曾经对给他带来一方天地的西方艺术人士保持着敏感和警惕：“几十年下来，不管前卫、后卫，‘八五’还是‘八九’，认真做艺术的、有点儿文化使命感的，心中多少还是有点失落，不管嘴上多硬，她们的梦其实是破灭了。就像我们到别人家去做客，你用自己带来的面粉和鸡蛋，用人家的锅碗瓢盆做了个匹萨，人家吃着一致说好，夸你了不起，说中国人的手艺还真不错，Great！你说我再给你们摊个煎饼，众人当时就把脸拉下来了。”
其实朱伟应该算是那个给人摊煎饼还得到叫好的那一个——用中国传统工笔技法、材料绘画当代题材并成功进入了西方商业轨道。对于中国当代艺术这30年，他是实实在在的亲历者和受益者。他是60年代生人，属于20世纪90年代最早一拨儿在海外产生影响并被西方商业画廊和拍卖市场接纳的中国当代艺术家。90年代初，搞当代艺术的都混在圆明园，不爱扎堆的他挑了离圆明园不远的万泉庄，在一套60平米的出租房里画了7年，早期让他得到认可的《北京故事》、《上尉同志》、《甜蜜的生活》等系列都在这间小屋里完成。用他自己写在文章里的话来说，他们这些人经历了一个“西征梦”——“当年被扔出去的这拨儿拿油画做梦的，我就不说了，拿中国水墨画出去蒙‘老外’混得不错的，并且还在做梦的，20世纪50年代有徐冰、谷文达，60年代有我和魏东，70和80年代的，没有。”2005年我认识朱伟的时候，他早已是衣食无忧，成天待在北京郊区，一边听摇滚，一边画他的工笔，对当代艺术市场旁观和自嘲。崔健曾给他的一次个展专门写了首歌，名字就叫《农村包围城市》。他给人的感觉还是圆明园时期那种心态，和当代艺术圈保持一定距离，又离不太远，不掺和事儿，却又看得到热闹。
朱伟出生于北京一个军人家庭，他自己在16岁那年入伍，服役3年后才得以进入解放军艺术学院习水墨。有人曾问他为什么要画水墨，说话不喜正儿八经的他回答说是因为宣纸便宜、颜料耐用。在他入学的20世纪80年代后期，艺术院校的课程还都循规蹈矩，军校尤甚，不过朱伟说起过，上学期间有令他颇为受益的一项基本功训练：将纸折成状如笔管的空心纸卷，以其尖端蘸墨，悬肘习画直线和圆圈，一练便是好几个小时。与毛笔相比，纸卷更不易把握力道，要想画得线条匀停，描画者须付出数倍定力。当年令人不耐的乏味训练，日后在朱伟的绘画生涯中给予了回报。
自上世纪90年代初起，朱伟就在坚持用中国传统的没骨工笔来进行当代观念创作。技法上，“画工笔时要先以细笔临摹出对象的轮廓，层层晕染敷色，最后使线与色融为一体”，所以他的绘画意象和观念前卫，过程却严谨精密极其挑衅耐力，包括材料准备。他的画作大多是苍老古拙的底调，对每幅作品的背景图纹便有自己特殊的要求：定制一种牢固而有弹性的桑树皮纸，先将有纹路的石砖或木板垫在下面，为画纸刷上第一层底色，颜料凝结时便形成天然的栅格图案。等画纸干燥后，再用糙面的毯子等为工具，加上一层更细致的颜色，以此获得每幅画所需的微妙情绪。绘画过程中的细笔描摹和晕染自不必说，最后，“在完成眼睛和头发之前，他把画纸放到水龙头下冲洗，揉搓画作的某些部位，这一步骤极需细心、经验和一些勇气，因为不止一次纸张曾被揉碎，整张画于是便被毁损。尽管存在风险，这一步还是值得的，原因就是那极其迷人的最终效果：古董般斑驳皲裂的表面，别具一格的皱纹和深度”。有一次，朱伟跟我说起自己的工作进度有时如何缓慢到令人绝望：大画至少都有2米高、3米宽，他在工作是里闭门一整天，最后发现自己不过画出一方餐巾纸大小的面积，以至于关门离开的时候都痛恨地发誓，明天和哥们儿喝酒玩摇滚去，再不要进这画室了。
他时常巧妙地在笔墨间致敬他所倾心的宋画院派，似一种隐秘游戏，并且其间智力的乐趣仅属于他自己以及少数“知情人”：马远的《水图》在他2000至2001年的《大水》系列里被变异放大；李嵩的册页《花篮图》里的花篮，出现在《乌托邦》等系列的某处角落。具有理性色彩的一丝不苟的格式化挪移，和他画中的红旗、出席台以及青铜器一般的现代人物造型放在一起，变成了会心者才能了然的想象力。与此相比，他将八大山人笔下鱼和鸟的“大白眼”用在自己的人物身上，倒不那么令人讶异了。
在朱伟的画里，观看者时常能感受有两种东西在胶着：意象奔放不羁，构图却如篆刻般严谨不苟，细笔工整入微，作画者没有深厚的传统文化素养和技法功底难以完成。在国际艺术界看来，众多的中国当代艺术家中，“朱伟是极少的几位以传统水墨画诠释当代中国社会现状的艺术家之一”，“是中国当代水墨画最重要的探索者和代表人物之一”。90年代初期香港有万玉堂、汉雅轩和少励三大画廊，都是最早关注中国当代艺术的。据朱伟回忆，当时万玉堂代理了他和另一位水墨画家魏东，还有老一辈的吴冠中；汉雅轩代理了后来当红的方力钧、王广义、张晓刚；少励画廊则是杨少斌和岳敏君的代理人。苏富比拍卖行进入香港后，他和刘丹、李华一等旅美水墨画家一起又最早被西方拍卖市场关注，价格一度还略高于中国当代艺术的油画。“21世纪中国当代艺术向本土回归，特别是当代艺术进入拍卖，水墨画、油画的关注度和价格才被明显拉开了。”这是朱伟自己对整个格局变化的感受，并如评论家朱朱所说，这导致了他在心理上产生落差，“不过，他并非陷入到这种落差之中无法自拔，而是通过将个人历程与当代艺术的脉络进行对照，进而展开了对于西方与本土的双重批判和讽刺”。
在纽约IBM大厦中庭，安放了他的一组巨大的铜雕，那是身穿中山装、站姿恭敬的两个人像，双臂拘谨地紧贴身侧，在失去平衡中仍力图向前。铜像表面本该有一层灰土覆盖物，那是艺术家用沙土造出的痕迹，看上去像是汉代陶俑一类的出土物。负责安装的美国人却以为那是尘土，将雕像擦得十分干净。西方人士早早接受了他的作品，却未必真正读懂了。
在绘画时，这种旁观多于热闹、自嘲多于自得的心理定位，似乎让朱伟在2003年后有了明显变化。先前的作品，从早期的《北京故事》到《红旗下的蛋》，以及在艺术市场上认可度很高的多达六十几幅的《乌托邦》系列，都有比较浓厚的政治意味——或者，是军装、革命时代的童年记忆等有意无意的“政治密码”被西方人士夸大了，因而他被评论归入“政治波普”和“玩世”家族的一员，唯一区别在他用的媒材是水墨而非油画。这让朱伟自己在很长一段时间里都感到困惑和别扭，他一直以来对当代艺术圈的若即若离，也未免不是这种别扭下的自我解决。但是，从2003年《报春图》开始，特别是到了2005年以后的《开春图》系列，艺术家好像解脱出来了，他从传统叙述和水墨趣味中找到了更为广阔的空间——中山装的形象被淡化，艺术家的个人气质从画面跳脱出来，色彩和人物姿态都变得更为自由自在。
在这一系列作品的局面中，我们也隐约看到百子图、百蝶图等传统书画化入，比如对同一物象的重复表现所达到的在视觉图像上的萦回和延绵的感觉。那些小人儿按照画家精心营造的序列呈现于画面，并因其头重脚轻的不倒翁姿态而有令人愉悦的漂浮感，像是冬后春来的晕眩。朱伟曾说，他为这一系列做的课徒稿有一部分来自于中国粉彩瓷器上的图案，所以我们能直观感受到多数画面之上那一层淡淡的色的疏离，旁落在小人儿边上的工笔牡丹和绿叶则如瓷器图案中的过枝，为画面添加了含蓄和凝重。
朱伟曾经不无感触地说过这么一句话：“当代、水墨都排斥我们，这就是当代水墨。”不止一次有人提到，朱伟不看重那种随意性很强的写意画、文人画，甚至对那种乱涂乱抹出来的写意颇为排斥，他也毫不掩饰自己对传统工笔表现方式的偏爱。至于对水墨当代化的争论，朱伟并非不参与，在他撰写的那些专栏文章里，正经提笔来谈论艺术的就那么两篇：《水墨的故事》和《我看水墨画》。他跟我说，水墨当代化没有参照物和理论依据，西方当代艺术理论也从来没涉及中国绘画，需要我们自己来摸索一套。“水墨画有点像乒乓球，家喻户晓，谁敢来教中国人打乒乓球？乒乓球不占地，好开展，谁都能来几拍子。”
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