text by Chia Chi Jason Wang
April 1977 saw the beginnings of the controversy concerning "Native Soil Literature" in Taiwan's literary circle. Kuo Cheng-Tsang was one of those few artists who took substantive action to write in support of the "Native Soil Literary Movement". In the February 1977 edition of the Lion Art monthly, he published the article "On Methods for Preserving Folk Cultural Heritage," in which he wrote: "In the frantic rush to retrace their folk heritage, people flock to historical towns and disrupted the local residents' lives. Those residents are merely monkeys in the zoo, which the historical towns have now become." Although he was opposed to the blind preoccupation with folk culture, Kuo still pointed out anxiously: "If we do not take immediate action to preserve our folk heritage, maybe in a couple of years not even a few meager scraps of folk art will be left. Then it would be too late." He also proposed "that the government legislate to preserve folk cultural heritage," and called upon the public to "acknowledge that while the new lifestyle in the cities is constructive and temporally meaningful to the country and its people, it would be a great pity to let rapid progress damage what is left of our folk culture and heritage." One sees clearly that Kuo had already noticed the impact of modern life on traditional culture, and hoped that an appropriate balance can be found between the two, so that both could continue to grow.
In March 1977 Kuo once again published in the Lion Art, this time an article entitled "Return to Our Native Soil? - On the Reconstruction of Folk Art." The article stated without reserve that "returning to our roots" was a slogan made loud in the beginning of the 1970s, and that its "direction was to find our roots, take back a handful of the soil, and truly review and look deep inside ourselves - returning to our roots." This article by Kuo was published right before the "Battle of Native Soil Literature" really got on the way, and debated on the issue of the future development of Taiwanese art. It might be said to be a rare and important - if not the only - article from within the art circles to support the "Native Soil Literary Movement". In this article Kuo analyzed: "Spiritually the return to our roots is still going on in a confrontational manner . . . the urbanization of the countryside is an increasing trend, and people are familiar with city life and trading. Under the massive invasion of industrialization, people have long forgotten what they had seen and heard in childhood. Yet newspapers, magazines and television programs talk now and then about contemporary countryside sceneries and folk art. . . . People occasionally absorb this information in their leisure time, and are at once nostalgic for their old lives, which are now vague in their memories, and feel increasingly the pressure from their city lives." Here Kuo poignantly pointed out that behind the 1970s slogan of "returning to our roots" was mostly a romanticized and imaginary nostalgia; when faced with the increasingly industrialized and urbanized Taiwanese social structure, this imagination and nostalgia for folk life was in fact extremely weak, pale and powerless. In other words, if "returning to our roots" remained merely at an imaginary level in the conflict between new and traditional cultures, it would ultimately only seem "pretentious".
Kuo believed that: "People's lives are forward moving, and that folk art would change with the times. If we force the locals to continue using old tools or live in old houses merely to satisfy our inclination for and infatuation with folk art, then in a few years' time we would no longer see a continuation in folk art. If art were not able to portray the special characteristics of the time, then there would be a gap in folk art that would become a conflict between life in the past and city life today." In his article Kuo emphasized the "conflict" between "new and old," "country and modern," confronting the society in the 70s. He was opposed to the cultural elites making specimens out of folk art, and pointed out that "they overlooked the fact that country people do not long for pure and plain things; they did not need to 'return to their roots,' as they were born there, grew up there, and would die there. Since childhood they had offered whatever they understood to be the most beautiful artifacts to the local gods, and those daring and vivid colors in fact reflect their nature." Kuo disliked the fact that many researchers of folk art at the time "had no concrete idea of people's lives as a whole."
According to Kuo's observations, "small temples were made from cement, concrete, and sculptures by artisans. Chemically mixed paints of daring and vibrant colors were then used to build a colorfully cheerful residence for the gods. Neon lights or Christmas lights were then placed near the gods, and all were pleased by the effect of the lights blinking here and there. They would not consider it out of place in any way." Accepting this, Kuo further presented his own aesthetic views: "Such daring colors fully demonstrated the fundamental drive behind folk art. By their adoption of modern materials in the building of temples, local artists unconsciously constructed folk art monuments that belonged to this age. A product that might appear discordant, ugly or contradictory to some in fact represented the folk art of the times." In other words, the discordant conflict truly reflected the reality of Taiwanese culture and society since the 1970s. To those researchers who defined folk and local art as being "pure and plain" and hoped to maintain its simplicity, he asked that they "be rational and give up all unnecessary sentiment and sighs."
At the end of his essay Kuo voiced his censure and hope for contemporary Taiwanese literary and artistic creations:
Literary and artistic works that claim to "return to their roots" are overly reserved and feeble. In fictional works, although there is much description of folk themes, the portrayals of characters tend to be overly idealistic and often create a pseudo-allegorical atmosphere. As for paintings... images taken directly from folk art or forcibly melded with western art often appear spurious. A theme taken from folk art today, if not completely absorbed, digested and distilled by the author so as to become a meaningful work, would never succeed in drawing an emotional response from the viewer. I hope writers and artists dealing with folk themes will stop thinking about them at home, stop circling outside the front door, but instead walk right inside to study them. There is just so much for us to contemplate and portray!
On the whole, Kuo's attitude towards art is to confront reality and face up to what is true now. He believes that we should directly confront the "conflict" created by the modernization, industrialization and urbanization in Taiwanese social and cultural development since the 1970s impacting upon traditional farming village lives and traditions, rather than avoiding it or whitewashing it. Such a cultural perspective and aesthetic attitude is still very much in evidence in Kuo's works today. He even sees this "conflict" as an important drive behind his works, helping him to develop his own vivid and unique artistic style.
Kuo was able to frankly and forcefully express his views about folk art not only because he himself came from a "historical town" - Lukang - but also because in 1974 he won sponsorship from the U.S. Asia Foundation to conduct a field study of Taiwanese folk art lasting several years. With the dogged approach of an anthropologist Kuo embarked on an in-depth field study of Taiwanese folk art, which allowed him to more clearly understand the close connection between art, life and culture. That was why he believed it was inappropriate to separate folk art from the realities of life and to treat it as a pure artistic specimen. Architectural or art historians may be able to distill and extract folk art by itself in their fields of study, so as to facilitate the study of history, but it is unrealistic and even absurd to demand that ordinary people live forever in history, or even to keep them within a stereotypical, historical glasshouse. The biggest blind spot of such attempts is that they are completely contrary to reality, and this unrealistic, dogmatic attitude exposes the dreamers' selfish and one-sided cultural imagination.
Kuo's field study on folk art took place roughly five years, from 1974 to 1979. Parts of his research were published in the Lion Art monthly from 1978 to 1980. His research not only enabled him to gain a greater understanding of the heritage and traditions of Taiwanese folk art, but also served as an important source for his later - especially from the 1980s to the 1990s - artistic creation.
In July 1977 Kuo published the article "On a Barren Contemporary Art Scene" in the "Art Forum" section of the "Artist" monthly. This long article not only conveyed his personal strictures concerning and comments on the Taiwanese - especially Taipei - art circles of the time, but also expressed his personal views on feasible and desirable directions in which creative Taiwanese artists could and should move. Through this article we can also roughly appreciate the ecology and atmosphere of the Taiwanese art circles in 1977.
According to Kuo, art galleries in Taipei at the time were mostly government-run. Private galleries frequently opened and closed, and principally "catered from a profit-making standpoint to capitalists with a taste for art," and "they preferred artists who have already made a name for themselves, or those who brought traditional art concepts... to home decorations. They rarely exhibited works with innovative perspectives." Therefore, Kuo's essay pointed out that "young artists with the drive and potential rarely exhibited in private galleries. . . ." Kuo revealed that "innovative exhibitions were usually held in public galleries, or the USIS Lincoln Center and the Tien Educational Center." He also stated that young artists differed from older artists in that: "on the one hand they absorbed modern painting concepts, on the other hand they had to accept economic and social changes, so that they did not have the luxury of thinking simply as the older generation did: to paint for the sake of painting, or to study pure art; they had to face the realities of society, of the country and its history, thoroughly comprehend their significance, and to expose themselves to new ideas." This analysis not only reflected Kuo's understanding and views of Taiwanese art circle at the time, but also described his own attitude toward artistic creation - that is, artistic creation cannot be separated from the external political, historical and cultural environment.
Kuo observed that the contemporary art circle in Taiwan at the time "lacked exciting and new exhibitions. Young artists lacked power, and most were either suffocated by the heavy atmosphere of entrepreneurship, or were waiting for someone else to make the first move, without bringing forward ideas of their own." He further believed that "young students often lost themselves in experimenting with mere techniques. This impeded their search for new art and resulted in a barren contemporary art scene." Kuo also pointed out that "concepts of philosophical and abstract paintings have taken deep root in the minds of contemporary artists in Taiwan. Philosophical and literary art generally depicted subjective, internal feelings of the artists. But feelings obtained from personal observations of the environment or from active pursuit of knowledge are relatively speaking quite enclosed and personal."
By critiquing the Taiwanese contemporary art scene, Kuo was clearly also demonstrating his intention to abandon abstract painting and idealism. He frankly stated: "The social changes and economic developments in Taiwan all tend toward a high degree of industrialization, and there are so many themes for us to explore and portray. It should be possible to use the special characteristics of Western neo-realism to describe our time. Otherwise, if we remain mere "wait-and-see" opportunists and hesitate in walking forward, how can we ever bring forth a contemporary art forum?" This showed that Kuo's personal art creation intended to shake free the influence of abstract painting, and instead seek to make use of special characteristics of "western neo-realism" (that is photographic realism) to actively reflect all kinds of views and perspectives about social realities through his art.
Kuo also noted: "Is there a conflict between taking material from folk art and from industrial art? If so, then that is why we have no good works deriving material from folk art, and no works taking material from industrial art. No wonder the contemporary art scene is so barren." It was later evident that at the time of making these comments, Kuo was already preparing to actively establish a new style based on what he referred to as the discordant conflict between "folk art" and industrial art," with a view to demonstrating the phenomenon of "self-contradiction" found in Taiwanese contemporary society and culture.
Earlier in June 1977, just as the "Battle of Native Soil Literature" began to stir heated arguments, Kuo held a joint exhibition with another senior artist Chen Ting-Shih at the USIS Lincoln Center. The exhibition lasted a week, from June 14 to 20. On invitation cards for the exhibition Kuo chose to print a photograph of himself splashing paint onto a canvas spread out on the ground with a Chinese ink brush, and his expression and posture naturally reminded one of the American Abstract Expressionist artist Jackson Pollock (1912-1956) in action. Also printed on the invitation card was a major three-canvas painting by Kuo entitled Protector (1977). On the upper left corner of the leftmost canvas, Kuo roughly outlined in thick, black ink lines the shape of a person wearing a Chinese official's cap of imperial age, and the canvas was filled with ink dots splashed on with the ink brush, like a sky full of stars; at first sight it led one to think of a heavenly official bringing good luck to all. The central canvas was red with splashings of green oil paint, still giving one the impression that all was jolly and well. When one came to the rightmost canvas, however, one found that the official's cap had fallen to the ground on the bottom right corner. Once again through the use of black ink lines, the artist demonstrated and hinted at the speed and process of the official's cap falling. A closer interpretation of the painting showed that the Protector was undoubtedly a criticism of society and politics, and naming it the Protector was even more mocking. According to Kuo's personal records of the exhibition, most of the pieces displayed at the USIS Lincoln Center exhibition circled around the theme of the "official's cap." Kuo used the traditional "official's cap," a symbol of bureaucracy from imperial times, to mock the darkness and government corruption of Taiwanese society and politics at the time. In light of the atmosphere of "white terror" prevalent at the time, Kuo's implicit disparagement of society and politics was already found in the "new art" called for in his essays. One can even say that these works exhibited at the USIS Lincoln Center was Kuo's concrete participation in the heated "Battle of Native Soil Literature" at the time.
Looking back, 1977 could be seen as a significant watershed or stepping stone in Kuo's artistic style and philosophy for art making. He began to tread fully and consciously on the path towards social realism; part of his inspiration came from what he referred to as the New Realism from the West, while the other part came from his caring for the Taiwanese social reality since the Native Soil Literary Movement. Not only so, even as he criticized that "contemporary painting in Taiwan still remained at the point of enclosed ideas and narrowly personal attitudes," he also provided his personal review of abstract painting that called principally for philosophical and literary perspectives.
In fact, just a few years earlier Lee Chun-Shan, Kuo's mentor, had once written to Kuo to suggest how he could turn the various difficult stages of his personal growth into powerful elements and driving force in his artistic creation. In a handwritten letter preserved by Kuo, of which only three pages are left today, Lee wrote in the tone of a mentor as well as a friend that:
Although you did not experience the poverty experienced by Picasso, your confusion, pain and sadness are quite like his. But not only are they not impediments to the study of art, they can serve as a nursery for meditative thoughts. You should produce as many paintings as you can; I am sure you will create outstanding works.
As for "sex" in painting, it is not too connected to "sex" itself. It is just some indirect and then more indirect association. You do not have to focus too much on the direct study of "sex" itself, falling into the abyss of worries. You should pay more attention to the creation of a meaningful world of images and the creation of abstract beauty in paintings. In other words you must return to the nature of painting . . .".
Taking the example of oil paintings by Kuo from 1971 to 1973 still existing today, one can see that before the mid-1970s, that is in works created before he was 25, he was mainly influenced and inspired by Lee Chun-Shan. Although Kuo emphasized many times that Lee never actually instructed him on how to paint, but primarily trained him to become an artist who could search inside himself, Lee's teaching method based on theories of psychology and psychoanalysis still made a deep impact on Kuo. Even now Kuo admits quite frankly that during his student years he was under Lee's influence and attempted to portray images from dreams and the subconscious in his paintings. In addition, while Kuo studied in the Department of Fine Arts at the Chinese Culture College (now Chinese Culture University) from 1968 to 1972, existentialistic philosophy and literature translated from the West were widely popular amongst the literary circle of Taipei. Many years later Kuo also acknowledged that his paintings at the time were influenced by such philosophy, and when combined with the painting theories taught by Lee Chun-Shan, his works demonstrated a "surrealistic" style.
Most of Kuo's works from 1971 to 1973 were abstract, with a tendency towards the semi-abstract and non-geometric, in a non-rational or lyrical transformational style. More specifically, Kuo at this stage appeared to prefer the depiction of transformed human bodies, and the coloring tended towards the simple and neutral. Through twisting and transformations, human bodies are left with only vague contours; in these contoured shapes he implanted or placed many semi-abstract and organic body parts suggestive of sex and sexual organs, such as the breasts, the penis, the female womb, or other imaginary internal organs. His works appeared to be the abstract art in the "amoeba" style termed by the 1930s American modernist art historian Alfred H. Barr, Jr. As described earlier in Kuo's own words, such artistic expression did tend more towards being "subjective, internal feelings of the artist," and appeared "quite enclosed and personal."
After 1977 Kuo continued to conduct his folk art field research, and in terms of artistic creativity he sought to break free from Lee Chun-Shan's influence. The most apparent change was the abandoning of the embryonic abstraction and surrealist styles in favor of turning towards a social realist style based on Photographic Realism. By September 19, 1979 when he held a personal exhibition at the Taipei Engravers Art Gallery, Kuo was already adopting "Real Life" as the main focus of the exhibition. The semi-abstract style that previously focused primarily on study of personal internal thoughts and feelings was now transformed into the spirit of social realism, emphasizing on the study of society and ordinary people. On the invitation card for this exhibition, Kuo no longer appeared as an artist working in his own studio, but selected a photograph of himself walking over a pedestrian crossing amongst a busy crowd, as a representation of his new self. The motif here was obvious: in comparison to the invitation card for the June 1977 USIS Lincoln Center exhibition, when he was the artist splashing away in a studio, Kuo had now walked out of the enclosed personal ivory tower of the artist to become a social artist in tune with the social pace of Taiwan in general.
In a series of works directly entitled "Life" from the "Real Life" exhibition, Kuo candidly presented various images abstracted from the Taipei streets, including a middle-aged hawker crouching by the roadside in Hsi-men-ting, selling fake jewelry; the back of a woman wearing a white, transparent nylon shirt that showed up the black brassiere underneath and excess fat on her upper body; and the half portraits of a few young ladies meeting in Taipei, abandoning the portrayal of the girls' face and upper body, and in an anti-aesthetic manner, instead depicting the lower body with gentle skirts, black shoes and white socks, hence hinting at their family background of wealth and plenty. He also adopted the perspective of enlargements of certain details, such as the backs and buttocks of women, deliberately highlighting their clothing made of nylon or synthetic fabrics, thereby conveying the characteristics of unnaturalness, exaggeration, or even falsity and pretension. Through the portrayal of female images, Kuo sought to highlight various facts in Taiwanese society and cultural development; these became basic and essential elements in Kuo's works. According to Kuo's description at the time, "Paintings should report the facts and reflect the reality, and not merely be hung on walls as pieces of furniture." He also emphasized that "paintings should walk out from life."
Particularly of note is that works shown in the "Real Life" exhibition in September 1979 already expressed a forceful visual perspective that was clearly and deliberately anti-aesthetical. Kuo also began to make use of vivid colors in large quantities, which were contrasting in both coloring and brightness, sweeping away the tendency for monochrome and neutral colors a few years before. These social realistic works depicting urban life may have first captured people on Taipei streets - particularly Hsi-men-ting - through the camera lens; in fact, the perspectives taken were quite unusual, for example, capturing particularly the backs and buttocks of women, instead of focusing on modern beauties freshly out of salons.
According to Kuo at the time, he was "moved by the simplicity of life in farming villages" while he conducted field study on Taiwanese folk art, and when the study was over and he came to Taipei to work, "the two dramatically different lifestyles made an enormous impact on him." Therefore, in Taipei "he began to mock his own boring and superficial life." At the same time, "upon self reflection he discovered that these characteristics have already become the common element in urban life; so he began to mock life, and chose the female theme - which placed the greatest emphasis on appearances - as the subject for his mockery of this common element." In terms of techniques, he also turned away from the use of oil paints and ink splashes of earlier years to use of acrylic media, because "its coloring and texture are suitable for my intention of satire and criticism. They are also vivid enough for reflecting the exaggeration, falsity and turmoil of the time." Such realism also carried with it clear characteristics of expressionism, forming Kuo's personal aesthetic style. From the 1980s onwards, Kuo's basic attitude towards the making of art continued to "reflect the exaggeration, falsity and turmoil of the time". Neither him nor his art ever departed from the elements of "satire" and "anti-aesthetics".
Returning to Taipei after completing his field study on folk art in 1979, Kuo began to work for a Taiwanese advertising company. By late September 1979, at the time that he held the "Real Life" exhibition, he was already the "manager of the production department of the advertising company". After this Kuo had twice decided to give up his work and become a full-time professional artist. However, the economic scale and cultural environment of the Taiwanese society at the time were still not sufficient to support the art industry; without any family wealth, Kuo's wish to become a professional artist remained only a dream. Nonetheless, according to Kuo, he still twice resigned from the advertising company during 1979 to 1981, in attempt to become a professional artist. Even today Kuo would occasionally refer to the economic dire straits he experienced in that period. "Buns" and "Birch Tree milk powder" were his two most basic foods after he decided to become a professional artist. Serving as charcoal eraser, a bun a day not only helped to develop his sketching skills, but also satisfied his hunger; the Birch Tree milk powder was an additional necessity for keeping up his strength and nutrition. However, even such bare needs could not support the basic costs of materials for painting, including canvases and expensive, imported acrylic paints. The dream to become a professional artist finally surrendered to harsh realities of life.
In 1981, at the earnest request of his good friend, another amateur artist, Su Kuo-ching - then already working at Choice Printing Company - Kuo also entered Choice Printing Company. He remained there for eight years, and became the first non-family-member general manager of that traditional family business. Now Choice Printing has become one of the leaders in the Taiwanese printing industry.
During the time he was employed by Choice Printing, Kuo was so occupied that he barely had time to hold exhibitions of any scale for his new works. According to Kuo's personal exhibition records, it was not until 1987 that Kuo held his first personal exhibition in the 1980s. Before then, he participated only in a few joint social or artistic exchange exhibitions in 1985 and 1986; participants of these exhibitions included many notables from the Eastern Painting Group, and Kuo was one of the youngest amongst them.
From January 9 to 22, 1987 Kuo held his first personal exhibition at the "Asia World Art Center" after being away from the scene for eight years. Based on information still available today, that exhibition consisted of works that were gradually completed by Kuo during the 1980s despite of his heavy workload. It was these works that established the thick black contour lines and putting together of classical and modern characters, which are most frequently mentioned, described and admired by viewers today. These works are much more sophisticated than those from the 1979 exhibition. Both the characterization and composition are dramatically different and novel, and the use of colors and contrasts are also more dynamic and organic. Kuo has also deliberately added more abstract, expressionistic strokes, forms and color elements. All in all, Kuo's works in the 1980s demonstrated a tendency towards more complex compositions, and the realistic paintings closely reflecting social realities now give way to expressionistic images. In this way Kuo has begun attempting to compress discrepancies of the times and gaps between Western and Eastern cultures, and juxtapose them on the same canvas frame. In other words, the material space of the real world has been replaced by the space of history and culture.
With regards to historical elements, Kuo emphasizes the disparities between the traditional and modern times; as for cultural elements, Kuo highlights the strong contrast between the East and the West. In addition, if ancient and modern history were taken as the longitude, and Eastern and Western cultures as latitude, then Kuo's paintings have deliberately placed them side by side so as to jumble the longitude and latitude. By compressing the Chinese, Western, ancient (traditional) and modern (contemporary) histories and cultures, Kuo further increased the drama and conflict found in his paintings. Here it appears that Kuo wishes to "replay" what he referred to in the 1970 exhibition as "the exaggeration, falsity and turmoil of the time," in a fuller, culturally deeper and historically richer manner. He ceases to deconstruct modern times with direct reflections of reality, but instead looks for historical and cultural sources in order to make more piercing observations and analyses.
Based on dated works still existing today, by 1983 at the latest Kuo had taken inspiration from the images of warriors, knight-errants, and immortals found on Han Dynasty pictorial tiles, particularly those at the Wu-liang Shrine. After collecting and studying pictorial and textual information on Han Dynasty pictorial tiles, Kuo extracted and transformed parts of the images and developed them into his typical style of thick black contour lines. This style is in fact quite distinguishable from the original fine line sketches on the Han pictorial tiles. In the transformation process, Kuo not only made the portrait images more lively and cheerful, he also increased the thickness of the contours to make them more dramatic, becoming black stripe outlines close to wood engravings. These images marked out in strong black lines serve as signs of historical or cultural significance, and are also given explosive personalities by Kuo. The vivid beauty gives viewers a great deal of scope for imagination and visual impact.
By placing ancient or traditional artistic images side by side with contemporary characters, Kuo's paintings clearly intend to create a certain "Eastern" aesthetics, which is not an imitation or duplication of the traditional, but transformation of specific traditional forms, sometimes even mutinying against the traditional. The transformation is also based on the reality here and now, that is there must be a sense of the contemporary. In other words, Kuo did not intend to return to the past but to stand firmly in the present, and create an individualistic, contemporary style. By this time Kuo had firmly established his unique style and artistic language.
During the period from 1983 to 1987, Kuo also attempted to mix and juxtapose side by side ancient, contemporary, Eastern and Western images - achieving an effect similar to the "collage" technique first adopted by the Cubist artist Pablo Picasso in the early 20th century - so as to attain a visual and psychological conflict and contradiction due to the confrontation or even opposition. Sometimes Kuo would even use this side-by-side technique in a dramatic fashion, so that the images would crowd against each other, or invade or pervade each other, thereby reinforcing the visual and psychological impact.
"Harmony" is clearly not an aesthetic characteristic sought by Kuo. On the contrary, he unhesitatingly foregoes harmony in order to make the painting more dramatic. Looking back, Kuo must be one of the few Taiwanese artists - if not the only one - who is able to use discord, confrontation, conflict and contradiction to achieve that artistic explosiveness.
Kuo's 1987 personal exhibition first took place in January at the Asia World Art Center in Taipei, and was then invited by the County Cultural Center of Chang-hua to exhibit there from July 3 to 12. On the invitation card for that exhibition, he selected a photograph of himself wearing a starched shirt and a tie, with his hair neatly combed. This was in stark contrast to his image on the invitation cards from the 1977 and 1979 exhibitions: a man longing to become a professional artist is forced by financial realities to dress up and bow to the business world. The invitation card also contained a paragraph written by Chu Ke in honor of Kuo's exhibition - one has reason to believe that Kuo personally identified with what was said there. This short paragraph so described:
Kuo Cheng-Chang, a native of Lukang, cares greatly about folk art. He is the first to combine ancient and folk figures with contemporary figures, and he prefers the use of colors generally associated with folk interest. Ancient forms primarily came from Han Dynasty pictorials of warriors and Meng Peng referred to by the Book of Huai-nan-tze, and such fierce and bearded characters are placed in the company of contemporary beauties. Most ancient forms are simply outlined in black, while the contemporary forms are painted in almost realistic colors. This consists of both "imaginary" and "realistic" ideas. . . . Most people today are still discussing issues of the traditional and contemporary, but J.C. Kuo has taken substantive action to realize his ideas.
Here Kuo has clearly defined his artistic goals, aesthetic beliefs and painting style.
After 1989, just as he reached the peak of his business career, Kuo determinedly gave up his well-paid position as the general manager at Choice Printing, and attempted for the third time to become a professional artist. This time he succeeded, relying partly on his savings from the eight years at Choice Printing, partly on accumulated resources and sound investments, and partly on income from painting sales. At the same time, the Taiwanese economy had grown to a scale that was finally able to support an art industry and market, although it was still rather fragile and enclosed. Based on his many years of experiences in the business world, Perhaps Kuo had already seen the future of the Taiwanese economy and the beginnings of an art industry, and was therefore daring to take the risk once more.
After becoming a professional artist Kuo dedicated himself to creating new works, and also frequently participated in various local and overseas exhibitions. From 1989 to 1995 he not only put on a personal exhibition every one or two years, he was also invited to participate in numerous joint exhibitions. After 1996 it appeared he intended to become less of a public figure, and concentrate more on realizing his personal artistic goals. Nonetheless he still required himself to continue displaying newly completed works every one or two years.
Since 1989 Kuo has been extremely and amazingly prolific, and he set for himself strict schedules, and planned for a certain number of large-canvas paintings in each schedule. Kuo since leaving the commercial arena had maintained a rhythmic and even pace, which centered completely on his artistic creations. Except for necessary outings and events, he primarily stayed in his house, his studio, or the community surrounding his home. To him, work is art, and art is work. That was why he had managed to produce works outstanding in both quantity and quality since 1989.
Insofar as development of his painting style is concerned, the technique that he created in the 1980s of placing ancient (traditional), modern (contemporary), Eastern and Western elements side by side continued to ripen, mature and intensify in the early 1990s. A number of solo exhibitions took place during this period, in 1989 (at Gallery Triform, Taipei), in 1991 (at Crown Art Center, Taipei), in 1992 (also at Crown Art Center, Taipei), and in 1993 (at Lung Men Art Gallery, Taipei), by which time his innovative style had achieved personal maturity and also received popular acclaim. Personal maturity here means Kuo was able to compose and arrange the traditional, contemporary, Chinese and Western elements at will in a confrontational or alien manner. Whether it be the use of the black contour lines, the placement of realistic and abstract elements, the arrangement of flat and three-dimensional images, the grasp of the emotive and the narrative, the contrast of monochromic and vivid colors, or the substantiality and vagueness of the picture, he had succeeded in conveying a full and enjoyable balance. One might say that concepts of the "imaginary" and "reality" mentioned by Kuo in his 1987 exhibition had formally achieved a balanced unison by the 1993 solo exhibition titled "The Phenomenon of the Mythical Age".
However, having always had an anti-aesthetic inclination, this balance and union that suggested "harmony" soon became subject of his deliberate rebellion and mutiny. They are replaced by a new confrontation, new conflict and new contradiction. Kuo's anti-aesthetic spirit of constantly overthrowing his own perspectives is not only rare in Taiwanese art, but also kept him perpetually conscious of the contemporary. Through this consciousness, Kuo deliberately kept himself spiritually young, and never concealed his rebellious and confrontational character in terms of artistic expression.
In February 1994 Kuo displayed his new works in the solo exhibition titled "Icon and Images of Taiwan" at Galerie Elegance, Taipei. In this series of works, Kuo added even newer opposing elements. Pictures that had originally achieved steadiness and maturity now gain many alien forms, such as collage of three-dimensional badges, floral patterns on traditional Taiwanese bed linen, and abstract lines that hint at acceleration and destroy the presentation. With the addition of these new alien elements, Kuo injected new explosive energies into his paintings, and highlighted the Taiwanese social and political issues that he intended to emphasize.
Through this series, including a sub-series entitled The Eight Generals, Kuo sharply and unreservedly criticized the disorder in Taiwanese politics, society and morals. Through a new technique Kuo portrayed the violence and turmoil in the society, putting the paintings in a chaotic or unsettling balance. By the extensive use of this "chaotic or unsettling balance," the sense of danger from the hidden ambivalence deliberated implanted by Kuo is easily conveyed to the viewer. This sense of danger makes one feel somehow rattled, and even a little alarmed and fearful.
The "Icon and Images of Taiwan" series exhibited in 1994 was extremely dramatic and powerful, and also substantively and microscopically reflected Taiwanese social and political realities. It therefore received widespread critical acclaim in the art circles.
In March 1995 Kuo continued with the exhibition titled "Picturing Taiwan", followed by the "'95~'96 Chronicles" exhibition in December 1996. These new works further heightened the confrontational, conflicting and contradictory characteristics of Kuo's paintings, and even deliberately provoked the viewer's perception, so that viewers feel the impact of an intense visual oppression. Kuo's works during this period can be seen as a personal search and exploration for new forms, concentrating in particular on the oppressiveness and over-crowding conveyed by the paintings; the more gentle and emotive black contour lines on white seen before 1993 are now swept away. One can therefore see the argumentative relationship in the forms and issues (that is content) presented in Kuo's paintings.
After the 1993 and 1994 exhibitions, the "St. TAIWAN" Exhibition in May 1998 was also an important landmark. Here Kuo not only pushed his expressive style to yet another peak, more importantly he found a new artistic language that could more comprehensively represent and describe "Taiwan" and her culture. To be more exact, Kuo had found the way to represent the "chaos" and "disarray" in Taiwanese culture. At the same time, Kuo was able to confidently and cheerfully inject all kinds of complex and sophisticated elements into each and every work in the "St. TAIWAN" series.
In the "St. TAIWAN" series, Kuo reviewed and censured all kinds of realities in the Taiwanese contemporary society, including all peculiar phenomena in politics, religion and culture. The "saintly forms" are in fact highly sarcastic, and these paintings are full of anti-fashion, anti-media control, anti-new-cult superstitions, and counter-perceptive attitudes, conveying a rebellious intention. Through these seemingly simple, not too complicated saintly forms, Kuo directly tore away the veil on the internal conflicts, confrontations, contradictions and chaos existing within the Taiwanese society - hidden behind are the cultural influences of the Taiwanese locals, Chinese traditions, post-Japanese colonization and contemporary Western trends.
Although the "St. TAIWAN" series was first exhibited in 1998, creation of the paintings on this theme in fact took Kuo six years. He first set a brush to canvas in 1996, and continued to develop this theme even as late as in 2001. The most recent work related to the theme of "St TAIWAN" was the massive Totem and Taboo completed in 2001, and exhibited at the Taipei Art Fair in November of the same year. It was principally a fusion of the two themes from "The Eight Generals" and "St. TAIWAN".
In January 1998, that is a few months before Kuo first exhibited works from the "St. TAIWAN" series, Kuo had begun to create a series of pictorial diaries using off-hand sketching techniques. Until then Kuo had been used to producing large scale paintings by following careful, detailed and well thought out plan, which eventually made him extremely serious and tense. Now he wanted to give himself some space to relax through more unrestrained sketching. At the same time, he hopes to delve more into his "unconsciousness." After all, "consciousness" is merely the tip of the iceberg of the human psyche, and it is the enormous iceberg underneath the water's surface that is the home of human creativity, spirit and psyche. The hidden iceberg houses all kinds of unknown potentials. Kuo continued drawing the pictorial diaries for more than three months, ritually doing one every day. Finally these hundred size ten sketches were compiled in the "A Hundred Days Diary" series and exhibited in January 1999 at Galerie Pierre, Taichung. These off-hand creations surprisingly provided new motifs and inspirations to Kuo, and became one of the most important resources for his later paintings.
In January 2000 Kuo exhibited the "About Faces" series, which were primarily painted wood sculptures completed in the period from 1997 to 1999. One of the works drawing a great deal of attention was a large-scale paintings entitled "Cocoon", in which Kuo adopted yet another new language. The "mask" images that often appeared in his earlier works now became an important expressive theme; the mask that originally served only as a sign or symbol has now grown hands and feet (this originated from the sketches as seen in the series "A Hundred Days Diary"), as if it has a life of its own, and as if the "purely imaginary" has now become "lively reality." Through the development of new themes, Kuo once again demonstrated his ingeniousness with the concepts of "reality" and "imaginary." Continuing with his study of Taiwanese culture in the "St. TAIWAN" series, the series of "About Faces" conveyed his personal research into the collective historical and cultural memories of the Taiwanese people, and further analyzed the connections and differences between Taiwan and China. It appears Kuo is intending to pierce the illusion of historical and cultural memories, and it seems he also intended to discuss more issues relating to Taiwanese and Chinese historical and cultural perspectives. Such a colossal project will surely result in even newer and large-scale works from Kuo, and we look forward to seeing them.
Looking back on the past ten years, Kuo, as if racing against time, has produced one exhibition after another, relentlessly dissecting the economic phenomena ("The Phenomena of the Mythical Age," 1993), social phenomena ("Icons and Images of Taiwan," 1994), political phenomena ("'95~'96 Chronicles"), collective historical psyche ("Picturing Taiwan," 1995), religious and cultural phenomena ("St. TAIWAN,"1998), and discussion of historical and cultural memories ("About Faces," 2000). One can be sure that to Kuo, each exhibition is a presentation of a new discourse, and a major discourse on the subjectivity of Taiwan itself.
Kuo's next exhibition is unlikely to be any exception.
(translated by Patty Pei-Jung LEE)
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