Wang Jieyin, vice chairman of Shanghai Artists' Association, isn't your typical self-obsessed painter. He's neither high-strung, nor given to tantrums. Admitting a certain lazy streak, he avoids undertaking large-scale works. And as an art professor, he refuses to inhibit his students' creativity, only commenting on their technique. How, then, has he achieved a degree of success and recognition other artists can only dream of? Wang Jie asks.
Artists are generally not known for their mild manners. Picasso could be a terror. Indeed, creative souls tend to be highly opinionated, temperamental, given to flying into rages or deep, prolonged depressions.
Then there's Wang Jieyin, an artist in his early 60s who seems downright imperturbable.
Sitting in the La Vie d'Art, a gallery nestled on a fashionable stretch of Huaihai Road, Wang appears surprisingly detached, without the slightest outward display of emotion.
"I am not a person easily moved, nor am I a social butterfly," says Wang, vice chairman of the Shanghai Artists' Association and professor of the Fine Arts College of Shanghai University. "Isn't it ironic that I'm engaged in a highly passionate profession, yet remain calm and collected?"
Wang deliberately chose to lead a quiet life as his contemporaries have taken a more aggressive approach. Wang cites his former classmate at the Shanghai Academy of Fine Arts, Chen Yifei, who has achieved an unprecedented degree of fame in art and entertainment, as an example.
That is not to say that Wang has not achieved a significant measure of success in his own right. His work has been collected by the Portland Art Museum and hangs in the Macau Governor's Mansion. It is also part of the collection of the Pacific Asia Museum in the United States, and the Musee de Gravellines and Bibliotheques in France. Overseas critics, such as Wolfgan Hutter at the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts, have said Wang's work is "a perfect combination of Western skills and Oriental traditions."
Not everyone understands Wang's vision, but most agree that his work is intriguing. "I couldn't tell you exactly what Wang has painted, but his work conveys a unique image of ancient China," says Bob Shen, owner of L'a Vie d'Art. "Naivete and odd hues are his trademark. The 'archaeological' hues plus the childlike scribbles conjure up a mysterious Orient."
Unlike some successful painters whose egos are as large as their canvases, Wang is modest and unassuming. "I am not an artist to win overnight fame, which enables me to have a clear consciousness of myself," he says.
Like most of the oil painters of his generation, Wang came under a strong Russian influence.
"Even during that period, my curiosity in art was not only limited in Russian paintings," he recalls. "I could spend a whole day at the library studying volumes on African or Indian sculptures."
As some of his peers began moving abroad to pursue a more colorful art world in early 1980s, Wang was ambivalent about travel.
"I'm essentially lazy," he jokes. "I though it would be less taxing to just stay put."
However, in the spring of 1986, he received an invitation from the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts - an invitation the "lazy" artist could hardly pass up. Without much difficulty, Wang, at the age of 45, packed his bags and headed for Austria. During a year and a half there, Wang immersed himself in the European culture and art.
"Seeing is believing. Until then did I realize why the impressionists painted in such ways," he says. "Different regions do nurture different styles. I greatly appreciate the Western art education system, as it leaves much space for students' creativity. The Western teachers just teach you the basic skills and won't step on your ideas."
Upon his return to China, the European influence on his work was obvious. Both his art and teaching methods changed. "I'm more cautious when critiquing a student, because I don't want to inhibit their creativity," he says.
While Wang may not have a painter's passionate temperament, he does have the independent spirit of a true artist, refusing to be "contracted to any gallery" because he finds it "uncomfortable to deal with businessmen." "All artists want to sell paintings. But for me, money isn't my raison d'etre," he explains.
In keeping with his character, Wang's paintings are not large-scale works, screaming for recognition. "I seldom paint big pieces as they demand much energy and passion," he says. "But I don't feel depressed. Perhaps I will turn to rice paper in the future. After all, life is to be enjoyed."
(Eastday.com May 7, 2003)
