Contemporary Art 11


in the present and the many cats which slouched lazily around his studio. ‘I collect cats,’ he exclaimed with a smile. ‘I have nine now and my favourite is a one-eared four year old named Wally.’ Wally has fur the colour of warm chocolate and shuffled over for me to tickle its one ear. ‘Te cats make me feel calm and help me control my anxieties without the need for medication,’ Cheng said. I wonder if it is this sense of anxiety that lays at the core of Cheng’s films like a dark malaise lurking under their cinematic sheen. Tere is nothing sheen-like about Yilun’s


Zhou studio, a damp


warehouse set on the northern rural fringes of Hangzhou situated at the end of a scruffy cobbled lane. His neighbour – a cabinet maker – has numerous pot plants that spill over the cobbles in a leafy green frenzy. Close by is a cage of hens that peck at exhausted earth. Te actual entrance to the studio is obscured by piles of rubbish and the interior is not that different, piled high on all sides along with works started, and then discarded and which are now buried among thousands of objects rescued from the streets – metal and wood, old photo frames, plastic kitchen appliances and shop manikins. He loves the way these discarded objects possess an accreted age and will often incorporate them into his work;


everything has a value and everything has potential. Even though he has stopped collecting he never throws anything away,


he said. Such


acquisitiveness is an integral part of Yilun’s art practice and the plethora of objects strewn around the studio are testament to his inventiveness. ‘I started collecting things at


primary school. I used to collect shells and old porcelain. But when I went to university and lived away from home I really started collecting. Ten one day I reach a point when I asked, why do this? And then I just stop,’ he said. Te studio is like an arte povera trove, but the more one looks at the unruly mess the more one can see how, in Yilun’s hands, they are transformed into treasured installations. Much of Yilun’s work incorporates


this retinue of junk but it is the activity of painting that resides at the core of his practice and it is his paintings that assault the eye on all sides of the studio leaning several layers deep against breeze block walls. Te accumulated colours are dazzling, with many abstract and figurative works happily coexisting together. All however display a riot of exuberant colour: some with thick impasto paint others with paint thinned to the


1 - 5 November 2017 Preview 31 October


Zhou Yilun in his studio for Yilun,


consistency of water and applied in a frenzy of activity. As I navigate the studio it does not take me long to understand why Yilun has recently been taken on by the Los Angeles based, Nicodim Gallery where, included in the artist stable is Romanian painter Adrian Ghenie whose thick impasto painting disfigures portraits of many 20th- century tyrants, Ghenie’s preferred subject matter which he paints with palette knife and stencils. Tere is a sense that Yilun’s art tells a vital truth. In a world saturated with soulless advertising and media images Yilun’s painting is passionate, visceral and dynamic and he is happy to embrace serendipity along the way. ‘Te imperfections become better than perfection,’ he said. I sense that Yilun is a restless spirit


and wonder how it is that he is able to sit still long enough for Junyong to ink his skin. He lifts his shirt to show me his back, a swirling almost Celtic looking interlocking design ink there by Junyong recently. He said almost casually, ‘Tattooing is very popular here. But they like American-style tattoos mostly’. As I looked closely at the tattoos all


three artists have I realise what might be obvious to others. When I was young only sailors wore tattoos inked onto bulging biceps. Today tattooing is a social signifier as well as sub- cultural decoration. It is a classless and ageless identifier of social grouping, signifying membership to criminal street gangs to tribal and cultural affiliation and along the way embraces traditional where it


Samoan pe’a (tattoo) is applied painfully with


mediaeval-like sharpened tools of wood, bone and turtle shell and where the inflicted pain is part of the accepted process.


Even though


Junyong has the latest tattooing system imported from Japan, I visibly winced when he offered me the chance of receiving one of his tattoos. Tere is only so much commitment to writing a story.


30,000 pieces


Hand-picked, stylish and eclectic Unrivalled choice


For details and tickets visit olympia-antiques.com


Image: Laura Bordignon Antiques General view of Zhou Yilun’s studio from the mezzanine J335844_WFAAF03_Ad_Asian Art_Fair_128x363mm_2017_V4.indd 1 Untitled-1 1 12/10/2017 11:46 13/10/2017 12:14 NOVEMBER 2017 ASIAN ART


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24