Li Xin 李昕
lixinart@yahoo.fr
lixinart@yahoo.fr
Enfant, de mon jardin, je pouvais voir le fleuve Jaune. Les ombres des nuages qui cheminaient à la surface de l’eau ressemblaient à d’immenses fleurs mouvantes. Les bateaux à l’horizon, qui naviguaient parmi leurs pétales, me faisaient penser à des grains de riz. De l’autre côté du fleuve se dessinaient les cimes des montagnes, qui fuyaient à l’infini et disparaissaient dans le brouillard, entraînant mes pensées. Les vents changeaient leur direction, m’arrachaient à mes rêveries, et c’est ainsi que la nouvelle vision de la nature environnante m’apparaissait.
La nature se déployant à ma vue est une métamorphose en perpétuelle évolution. Je fus donc saisi par la petitesse de mon être dans cet espace fabuleux.
Avec un peu d’encre, d’eau et de couleur, le pinceau glisse sur le papier en laissant des traces qui se transforment, se lient, se rencontrent, se séparent… Faire de l’encre de Chine, c’est entrer dans une autre dimension du temps et de l’espace où la profusion de l’encre, avec la rapidité d’un éclair en couches planes, permet de fusionner avec la profondeur. Une simple feuille de papier de riz permet de retranscrire la fluidité et l’incertitude de la nature envahissante.
Silence. Mon attention est attirée par une goutte d’eau faisant frémir la surface tranquille du lac non loin d’ici. Elle est comme une goutte d’encre qui pénètre dans la feuille. La sérénité est désormais rompue : une par une elles tombent, fondent, se diluent, s’imprègnent, changent de rythme… Les gouttes, véritables notes musicales, créent une symphonie au son de bambou.
La nuit tombe. Elle est longue, calme et angoissante. La feuille blanche évoque ce silence et
l’encre renvoie à la noirceur de la nuit. Le blanc et le noir s’unissent, et soudain, la peinture fait sens, devient miracle et permet les traversées renouvelées entre les vides et les pleins,
entre le passé et le présent. L’esprit habite les régions montagneuses, ainsi il peut s’évader et rejoindre les paysages des peintres de Song ou de Yuan. La peinture est achevée, elle est pliée
dans un rouleau. Mon esprit à besoin de s’évader à nouveau, là-bas, dans les montagnes, transporté sur les pétales des fleurs géantes. Ceci est le jardin de mon cœur.
Lundi 1 janvier 2007
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When describing much of contemporary Chinese art, words such as “bold”, “powerful”, “assertive” and often “antagonistic” come into mind. 32 year old painter Li Xin’s work seems to exist in a gentler, more poetic world, taking much of its inspiration from nature and devoid of any social commentary.
Having grown up in Shanbei, a 400 year old Ming period village in Shaanxi, about 800 km far from the province’s capital Xian, Li Xin’s childhood memories are of the view out of his home’s garden onto the Yellow river peacefully flowing by, topped off by grey and blue layers of distant mountains and clouds merging one into another.
Li Xin’s father was a doctor hailing from Guangdong, sent to this remote region during the cultural revolution, accompanied by his mother, a pharmacist. The couple discovered a peaceful, sleepy country side, practically untouched by the upheaval of history. Li Xin remembers while growing up seeing old men who still sported the Qing era’s pig tail, much vilified and abolished elsewhere.
While his later life brought him into the big city - first to Xian Yang, a medium sized town close to Xi An, then to Beijing where he graduated from the Central Academy of Art and Design, and finally to Paris, where he currently lives and works, Li Xin’s childhood impressions remain very strong, fashioning his imagination and creativity and very much evident in his work.
Yet when asked about his influences, Li Xin cites Chinese calligraphy as the single strongest one. While taking his subject matter from nature, Li’ style is a constant search for simplicity and abstraction. He is fascinated by the horizontal line, quoting a saying by Lao Zi that puts the Chinese horizontal “one” trait at the center of the universe as the original source of everything else, which all springs forth from it.
The visual result of Li’s work is a uniquely fresh mix of traditional elements, such as the usage of ink colors and rice paper, and an obvious eastern sensibility in the painting, with very modern, western influenced abstraction. Li Xin mentions Western influences soaked up in Paris, such as Cezanne’s views of mount Saint Victoire, an early attempt at abstracting nature, to present day abstract painters showing in Paris.
When asked about his experience as a Chinese painter living in France, Li Xin remains pensive. It seems like being away from China in a relatively isolated environment (exile being too strong of a word) only served to reinforce the creative link with China, he says. Confronted with the modern reality of Beijing, he finds the ambient hustle and bustle almost too much to concentrate on his painting. Not to mention that his career has been taking off nicely in Europe with recent shows in Paris, Strasbourg and an upcoming show planned in Switzerland. However he does hope to come back more often and maintain a strong link with his native country. Besides, Li Xin smiles, one still finds the best quality rice paper and ink in China.
Time Out Beijing, DEC issue
By Felicia Schwartz
Having grown up in Shanbei, a 400 year old Ming period village in Shaanxi, about 800 km far from the province’s capital Xian, Li Xin’s childhood memories are of the view out of his home’s garden onto the Yellow river peacefully flowing by, topped off by grey and blue layers of distant mountains and clouds merging one into another.
Li Xin’s father was a doctor hailing from Guangdong, sent to this remote region during the cultural revolution, accompanied by his mother, a pharmacist. The couple discovered a peaceful, sleepy country side, practically untouched by the upheaval of history. Li Xin remembers while growing up seeing old men who still sported the Qing era’s pig tail, much vilified and abolished elsewhere.
While his later life brought him into the big city - first to Xian Yang, a medium sized town close to Xi An, then to Beijing where he graduated from the Central Academy of Art and Design, and finally to Paris, where he currently lives and works, Li Xin’s childhood impressions remain very strong, fashioning his imagination and creativity and very much evident in his work.
Yet when asked about his influences, Li Xin cites Chinese calligraphy as the single strongest one. While taking his subject matter from nature, Li’ style is a constant search for simplicity and abstraction. He is fascinated by the horizontal line, quoting a saying by Lao Zi that puts the Chinese horizontal “one” trait at the center of the universe as the original source of everything else, which all springs forth from it.
The visual result of Li’s work is a uniquely fresh mix of traditional elements, such as the usage of ink colors and rice paper, and an obvious eastern sensibility in the painting, with very modern, western influenced abstraction. Li Xin mentions Western influences soaked up in Paris, such as Cezanne’s views of mount Saint Victoire, an early attempt at abstracting nature, to present day abstract painters showing in Paris.
When asked about his experience as a Chinese painter living in France, Li Xin remains pensive. It seems like being away from China in a relatively isolated environment (exile being too strong of a word) only served to reinforce the creative link with China, he says. Confronted with the modern reality of Beijing, he finds the ambient hustle and bustle almost too much to concentrate on his painting. Not to mention that his career has been taking off nicely in Europe with recent shows in Paris, Strasbourg and an upcoming show planned in Switzerland. However he does hope to come back more often and maintain a strong link with his native country. Besides, Li Xin smiles, one still finds the best quality rice paper and ink in China.
Time Out Beijing, DEC issue
By Felicia Schwartz
