Talk to Artist | Mobai Lin: Moonrise at Ito | Interview on Art Yourself Atelier

MOBAI: Most of the time it’s Beijing. Izu is more like a vacation house that we occasionally visit.

MOBAI: That’s correct, I actually only came to Beijing for college, but it’s been more than a decade now. In Japan, the region I live is called Ito. It feels like a combination of the Chinese South and North. I’m originally from Fujian, where the land is burdened with heavy vegetations growing relentlessly in the humid weather. And the weather, burdened as well with cloud. Clear days were a rarity. Ito has the vegetations similar to South China but also with more clear days throughout a year. I guess that’s where you can trace the vegetations and weather condition on my canvas.

MOBAI: I don’t like to walk around on my own. I need someone to propose a walk first. And when someone indeed proposes a walk, I will usually enjoy it quite a lot. Have I made myself clear? If you ask me to take a walk outside, I’m usually willing to do it, and to do it for an elongated time.

I remember all the long walks we have taken when living in Japan. The place we stayed was a fairly minor town at the back of the mountain, and our house was halfway up a small hill. I was preparing for a new series and my husband was there with me. I started painting every morning and wouldn’t stop till slightly past the mid-day. Around 1pm or 2pm we had our light lunch and took a walk in the late afternoon. We usually walked to the other side of the mountain where there’s a viewpoint. We walked very slowly, slowly passing by the tiny playing field, the scattered houses, and then a basketball field, a football field. Further up, you would see the starting point of the cable cars, and then a small park. From there, the trail narrowed down and was usually covered with moss, shrubs most time of the year. The trail would lead you to the deep forest and all the way up to the summit. When we arrived at the summit, it’s usually the sunset hour. And duet with the sunset, the moon also rises. At the view point, you can observe the moon rises slowly, steadily. Your mind was always there, and also not. We would talk for a while till all the light evaded us and slowly felt our way back home. At the foothill, there’s a tiny bistro, or probably not even a bistro. We usually had our dinner there, and then slowly walked up the hill where our house was located.

I still think a lot about the long long walks I have taken. Within the timespan of a late afternoon and evening, so many things would flow into you, all the way into the night. The sun and the moon have their nocturnal weight. Our house harbored us at night, and there’s usually several hours for evening TV show. That’s the walk I can think of, the dearly scenes, dearly rhythm, and consciously or unconsciously, they are in my work.

MOBAI: I think the farthest my memory can go is back to the time when I was preparing for my B.A. thesis. From that time forward, my frame started to take on a different metamorphosis than what’s traditional in my genre. At college I painted mainly with fine brush and loosely woven silk. The loosely woven silk is a delicate, semi-transparent material, and throughout the whole process of painting, we will just stretch the silk unframed, hold it against the light, and that’s where you can observe how the paint is slowly soaked up by the minute surface texture with a slight fat-like shine, while also maintaining a fragile thinness. But the routine process afterward is that you will lay the silk on top of a rice paper and frame it. The fine, fragile texture I observed in the process will soon be gone after the framing, and the colors are solidified, deprived of their flowing suggestiveness.

Therefore, when it came to the time of preparing my own B.A. thesis I really wanted to find a way to maintain the thin fragility in finished paintings. I still painted on the loosely woven silk, but at the time of exhibition, the silks were hung completely unframed and without the contrasting rice paper. In order to make it work, we created a stand, and the silks were attached to the stand with strings that were left suspended. There was a contrasting background but kept a long distance away from the painted silk – the similar distance as you would have during the painting process. And of course, the lighting was also deliberated and functioned to bring out the semi-transparency of the silk base. During the whole process I worked closely with the framer: I came up with the idea and he tested it for practicality or looked for different ways to achieve the effect. In retrospect I feel it all started with the dissatisfaction I have with the traditional framing.

Though having worked with extremely skilled framer, the whole process was still very time-consuming. And every work was of a different size, and every size entails different handling. Gradually it became clear that it’s not practical nor financially-wise to work with a framer in the long run, and that I have to deal with the frames on my own. That’s when it started to become excitingly experimental, and frame became a fertile field for many new ideas. For the first several works, it’s just simple frames but specially painted to be aesthetically coherent with the painting. I realized people did like the painted frames, and I went further to expand my paintings onto the frame, to make the frame part of my extended canvas. In the later series, I have also tried narrowing down the frame, turning it into a miniature or singling it out and giving it back onto the canvas as a structural element. In whichever way my intention is always to hold the frame and the canvas in an organic harmony. I don’t like it if the frame stands out abruptly or being completely ignored, I want to reconsider the possible relationship between the canvas and the frame.

My present works do not strictly fall within the category of Chinese painting, but neither can they be categorized as Western oil painting. I paint on rice paper, and there’s something from Chinese painting in it, something exists in the form of oil painting. Among the extant methods there isn’t a perfectly compatible framing for me, and this requires me to constantly experiment.

MOBAI: When I’m preparing for a specific exhibition I will constantly think about the physical environment of the exhibition room. What is the light like in the room? Will it fall on my paintings from aside or fall as a pale lighted spot? How does it feel like, solemn or relaxing? And I will also imagine my paintings being in the environment, being hung there against the wall – what will it look like? There are two different walls in my studio, both textured, but one light and one dark. And I also visualize my work against a white-washed wall. There was a series in which I just left half of the paintings empty, and the emptied half was either glass or hollowed-out. When this series was placed against the wall, the wall would become part of the painting, and the completion of the painting thus became interactive with the environment. Leaving blankness is a traditional technique in Chinese painting, and I want to make a physical blankness, a factual blank space that allows the painting to pick up part of the environment.

MOBAI: I think for my own capacity of visualizing and taking control of the scene, mid and small-size is the medium I feel most comfortable with. And for small works there’s a shorter trajectory to bring your visual experiment into completion, and it requires less time. It’s a way to rapidly try out different things. On the other hand, large-scale works and the process of creating them indeed pose some physical challenge for me: to move them around, to try and erase color, it’s all difficult to me. My own method is to conduct multiple experiments on small size works, and if the experiments turn out to be sensible and repeatable, I might carry them on to large-scale works. And of course, the cycle of finishing a large-scale work is usually very long; the number of large paintings I can finish within a year is extremely limited.

For me there isn’t a gender connotation in the scale, as people would usually assume. It’s just how rapidly you can carry out your initial design. And personally I also need to shift between different scales in order to maintain an equilibrium for my creativity. If I have been engaged with making large paintings recently, my thinking towards the scene and theme tend to be heavier, more serious, and more contemplative. And in comparison, making small size works usually allows me to be flexible, whimsical. The creative mentality involved is also drastically different.

Usually after completing the frames for large-scale works, I will have an impulse, a strong desire to realize what I have visualized, and the frame is also there to work as a reference, a seduction. My large paintings usually start from there. Most of the time I will come out of a large painting fairly exhausted, and with a burdened mind that’s been engaged with heavy thinking and laboring for a long time. The highly disciplined mind calls for some small paintings to loosen up, to mess up; it allows my mind to go back to a comfortable balance. And after several months solely with small paintings, there will again rise an impulse for the big paintings. The circle goes round and round, and that’s the clock I find works for me most.

MOBAI: I’m more like the opposite of the immediate presentation. Going back to my works, there are many marks, many layers of marks on the canvas. They cannot be finished immediately within one sitting; they are like an old wall that has to undergo years of tossing. No matter it’s to paint and then wet, or to tear and mend a certain part, in order to have the natural marks you can see at the end the painting has to go through an extensive amount repetition, erasing and alteration. There is the lengthy process, and then it leaves the natural marks. All the textures in my work come from paint and tear and tear and paint, all the way till the very end. For this reason, I might work on several different paintings at the same time at first, and immerse myself in a single work when it’s at the final stage.

MOBAI: Yes. When I first started painting something like the Wabi-sabi I actually had no idea about how it should begin, and for some reason very accidentally the nature intervened. I was halfway through a painting and left it outdoor when in the afternoon there unexpectedly came a storm. When I returned to my studio the next day, the painting was wet and naturally dried again. Some of the paint has fallen off, but fallen off in a very beautiful way. This accident might be the inspiration. I like to go back and forward, to paint layers and to tear, wet and wear them. It started as something accidental, but it now becomes my technique.

MOBAI: Most of the titles/words were only given after the painting’s completion. A few were vaguely conceived during the process, and some were thought of afterwards. I want to have a poetic title, a title with the blankness of a verse. And I want my work to contain the blankness, to be less substantial, and less dense. The title amplifies the blankness in the painting, so to speak.

I can never paint based on a passage of words. Every artist has their own method: some can go from abstract to concrete, but it’s the opposite for me, I have to go from concrete to concrete. The imagery, the light and shadow I need won’t walk up to me from abstract, but when the work is completed, I also need something to compliment with the concreteness. In the best case, it’s the verse with some blankness, it reduces something from the painting.

Usually, based on the trope or theme of the exhibition I will constantly look for myself the creative core, and once I hit the core the whole series can go on. Some series go around a poetry collection, some around a very vague, rough imagination that was later developed into a whole series. But it is always the vague notion instead of a fully developed idea that carries me forward in painting. I would like it to be a bit empty, to be ethereal and playful. And for a series, as long as they’re sensible being alongside each other.

MOBAI: I am not a serious literature reader in any sense, and the passion for reading you had as a teenager or in the twenties has long left me. I used to read from cover to the end, and books used to cast a deep impression to me. But I can barely read like that in recent years. My reading right now is more like going through several pages and leaving it be for a while, and very randomly when it feels right I will return to the book. It’s not an unstopped, serious reading, it’s more like when I am painting, much scattered and loosened up.

I like The Heart is a Lonely Hunter as a kid, but that one I have read a long time ago. Later I grow to like Michio Hoshino, a Japanese photographer, and that’s when I started painting. He is capable of relaxing me down, he has a perspective I can understand without any mediation, and all his scenes I can see them through the words. I am not sure what other people feel like when reading Hoshino, but this transition is very natural and most intuitive for me, a very easy read. In the past several years when travelling was made difficult by Covid, I also returned to him.

The other book I’d like to mention is Wim Wenders’ Once. Like Michio Hoshino, he also writes as a photographer. The book is mainly composed of fragments, fragments that resist going into the deep water, and accompanying the words are his black and white photographs. There aren’t that many texts or photographs, and a large blankness is embodied. You can read the blankness, or choose not to, and it feels good to me. And I recently discovered it is out of print, and it feels even better.

MOBAI: If it’s only painting, it’s not very difficult to me. I think the difficult part is in life.

With that being said, I also had my years of mere practicing like it’s a hard labor. My dad is also a painter and a calligrapher. When I was a kid, whenever it’s a summer break or any days off, it’s a requirement that I shall paint or practice calligraphy on top of the regular schoolwork. I am required to write the calligraphy even if I don’t know the characters. Years after years, it’s always like that, and I have never been excited about summer or winter breaks. I didn’t understand what all this was for, and of course, I complained, I fought, I tried to talk with my dad, but nothing could be changed. I kept writing calligraphy all the way till I was 18, that’s the year when I applied to China Academy of Art and got in. I have always been very grateful of all those years, of having started at such a young age to paint with brush, and I know if it weren’t for my dad I might have stopped halfway. Later on, I have taken the transition from calligraphy to painting, and it has been very smooth thanks to the early years of meticulous practicing under the instruction of my dad.

MOBAI: yes, there definitely were. At the beginning, you know you want something, but this something is very vague and its configuration is not yet clear to you. Meanwhile you knew very clearly the thing you want was not what you were at that moment. This process is tormenting, but still I think it is essentially good to have the desire. It points out what’s not good enough about you, and to know you want something, to try to reach it, it’s all very important to me. The process is a torture, but the torture will clear out.

MOBAI: Sort of, but more like through expanding the knowledge and notion. I used to stay only within the inner circle of painting and focus only on my own work. I was very ignorant about other genres and the artists who engage themselves with other media. A friend of mine who’s doing ceramics pulled me out of this, and it was through her that I realized there were many more materials that I can learn and work with on my painting. It feels like obtaining a key, and when you have the key it naturally clears out. I become conscious of where my talent lies, and the use of the newly-adopted materials is an exciting thing I have never tried before – and it works out very easily. It feels very good to have cultivated your own small lot of creative land.

MOBAI: Yes, you will feel it is smoothly easy and exciting to do things. When you finish your work every day, you immensely look forward to returning to your studio and continuing working on the painting the next day. It’s a very pleasant process. I was co-sharing a studio with my artist friend, and my friend can sense that I’ve found what I want. Actually, I have had doubt before. I am not sure whether I paint because I truly like painting, or I paint merely because I can paint. But when I found the tiny spot that affirms my talent, I think I know.

MOBAI: 其实以北京为主，日本伊豆是偶尔会去住一下，类似于vacation house。

MOBAI: 对，我从读书开始来北京，在这有十几年了。而日本，我待的城市叫伊豆，它的气候很像南方和北方的结合。我是福建人，福建的植被是湿润地区的植被，天气也以阴天为主，晴天很少。伊豆有着类似中国南方的植被，但一年晴天也多，大概是我画中植被和气候的出处。

MOBAI: 其实我是一个不喜欢自己散步的人，我需要别人拉我去散步，当这两件事情都符合的时候，我特别喜欢散步，这样我有说明白吗？如果你拽我出去，我就挺愿意走，挺愿意一直走的。

我原来散步最好的记忆是住在日本的时候。我住在日本一个很小的地方，住处背面是座山，我住在一个小山腰上。那时候创作是我和我先生同住在那。每天我可能从早晨画到下午一、两点，然后吃个饭。吃完饭可能就三、四点，然后我们就开始往外走，可能会绕到山的另外一边去。它有一个观景台，我们可能从家一直慢慢溜达往那个山边走。路边会经过一些小运动场、小居民楼，然后是一个篮球场，一个足球场，再往上是一个缆车，一个小公园，然后再走就到了一径山林小路，一直走到山顶。走到山顶的时候太阳就落下来了，月亮也升起来了。观景台是看月升的，我们会坐那聊一会儿天，觉得已经快看不到路的时候，再顺着山往下走，然后回家，慢慢回家。可能山脚有类似饭店的什么小店，坐进去吃一口，再溜达回家。我的家也是个小山，回家也是走到一个小山上去，从山脚慢慢往上走。

我非常非常怀念，就是从下午一直经过那么多东西，然后一直走到夜里，太阳沉了月亮都升高了，然后我们可能会回家再看个电视剧睡觉。对，就是这一趟，我特别喜欢，我想到的所有散步最好的画面都是在那里。

MOBAI: 我自己回想大概从毕业创作的时候，我的框就跟别人不太一样。那时候其实画工笔和用绢比较多，在画的过程中因为绢是一种半透明的材质，所以颜料在上面有一种特别润又特别透的效果。但是一般作品完成之后，我们都需要把绢托裱在宣纸上，然后再装框沉淀。在画的过程中我觉得特别美特别好的质感，在托裱后都消失了，所有颜色都变得很死板。

所以我当时毕业创作的时候就一直在想怎么能够在作品中保留在画的过程中的美感，也因为这个原因我当时绢的作品是没有托裱。我的毕业创作是用绢来画，但是它的整个框是做成了一个悬空的架子，而绢就悬空绷在框上。后部的背景板和画是有很长一段距离的，和我们绘画时候的那个状况差不多。配合打光，观者会觉得效果跟常见的绢本有些不同。当时做这个设计的时候，是找装裱店店师傅，我告诉他我要干嘛，他帮我想主意。现在回想，就觉得可能我对框这件事情很较劲就是从对一般的装裱感到不满开始的。

一开始的时候可能是我和装裱店的师傅提需求，但做得非常的麻烦，渐渐的师傅也不喜欢伺候我了。他觉得我的画一张就是一个尺寸，也不能批量地去处理，每一幅尺寸变化都特别大。慢慢的我就只能自己来想办法解决这些问题，在这个过程中框就变得非常有趣了，很多想法也是在这个过程中出现。起初框可能就是简单的画框，但我希望它和我作品的质感是统一的，而大家可能强烈地觉得这个框很好看。于是我开始把这个框延伸成画的部分，延伸到框的位置上去画画。后来也有尝试过把框缩小，或者把框这一元素摘出来，再放入画面中去，变成构图的一部分。总之我希望画和框是能很合理地放在一起的，不希望只注意到框，或只注意到画，或只是重新思考的框的这一形式。

我现在的作品其实没有那么中国画，也不是那么西画。我画的是宣纸，有一部分中国绘画的东西，但又是基于绘画的形式存在。在正常的成品画框里，我没办法选到我觉得合适的材质和形式，所以也只能自己去创造。

MOBAI: 其实我在为一个展览创作的时候，是会想着那个空间去画的。比如这个展览的展厅是有一点点阳光的，它是侧光还是暗暗的一个小光点？它是什么样的气息，是肃穆的还是轻松的？我会去想这个画面，在画画的时候也会想这样的画在那幅墙上会是什么样的。我的工作室里也有一深一浅两面墙，墙上也有肌理。有时候也会想如果在一面全白的墙上会怎么样。所以其实有一个系列我是把作品留空了一半，一半是玻璃或者镂空。作品挂上去之后，墙就变成了作品的一部分，而如果在不同的墙面上，这个作品的完成就是不一样的。我当时是因为有这个想法便去创作了这样的一个系列，让它有实际意义上的留白，然后去和环境融合。

MOBAI: 我觉得对我来说可能我的整个能力覆盖，在一个小和中尺寸的作品里更游刃有余一些。对，而且我觉得小作品它的实验的路径更短一些，实验的时间也更短，我可以很快地在一个很小的作品里边做很多尝试。以及做大作品确实对我来说有物理上的困难，比如说搬动它们、冲洗、试色，都是一个挺费劲挺费功的事。所以我更喜欢在一个小作品上，做很多尝试，如果这个尝试我觉得是合理的，而且可复制的，我可能会把它用在一个大作品上。大作品整个来说周期一定是长的，我一年画不了几年大尺幅。

但我不觉得尺幅之间有性别之分，只是能力覆盖的问题。还有就是我最近如果一直在画大作品，那我可能对画布整个思考和对内容的补充上面会更严肃一些，更具思考性一点。相对而言小作品上面就可能会随意一些，再灵动一些，我觉得对我自己来说是有这样的区别。

比如最近大的画框做完以后，我特别有冲动、有欲望，很想把它实现，我就画这样大的。而当我画大的画累了，我觉得我一直在用一种非常凝重的方式去思考、创作的时候，我就会觉得特别的疲惫，这时候我需要一些小的作品让我能“放肆”，要凌乱一下，这会让我觉得很舒服。可能小的画够了，我又觉得不行，得来个大的。需要这样来来回回地折腾，我觉得这个流程是适合我的。

MOBAI: 我比较像这个的反面。因为你看我的作品本，我觉得我作品比较多痕迹。它的痕迹不是一次画够的，它就像一面老的墙面，需要经历特别多的折腾。不管是涂刷它然后洇水，还是撕破了重新补上，它会有这个过程，才会有一个自然的痕迹。我所有的作品里的质感都是需要一遍一遍，一遍一遍地画，再一遍一遍地剥脱，最后才能呈现。所以我可能会在几张作品中间横跳，但到最后要结束的时候，可能会在很长的一段时间里沉浸在一张里面。

MOBAI: 对。刚开始想要画这种算是wabi-sabi风格的时候，其实是不知道怎么开始的。起初是个意外。比如说这个画可能画一半，我把它放在户外晾着，结果下了一场暴雨，第二天过去看，暴雨也晒干了，它的颜色被剥脱掉了一些，我觉得它的剥脱特别好看，可能是这个过程启发了我，过程中可以来回地去折腾这幅作品。它一开始是来自于一个随机的事情，慢慢变成了我的技法。

MOBAI: 大部分作品都是在最后才起名字，有一些作品在绘画的过程中就已经把那个名字的方向想好了，也有一些是要在完成之后再去找的。我想让画的名字再诗性一点，因为诗是有留白部分的，我希望我的作品也不要那么实，不要那么满，因此需要有留白的文字来做一个补充。

我就没有办法根据标题做命题作文。每一个人创作的思维路径或许不太一样，有的人是能从抽象到具象，我是从具象到具象。我需要的图像或是光影是不会从抽象中走出来对，但当作品完成之后，我需要一些抽象去补充具象的作品。它可能是抽象的句子，作用是给画做一个减法。

我会根据意象或者展览的主题一直寻找自己想要画的那个点。待我找到了这个点之后，这个系列就可以一直很完整地往下走。有的系列是来自于一本诗集，有的是围绕着很粗略的想象，根据这个想象画一整个系列。我是带着这样的感觉而不是深久的心情去画的。作品比较空灵会比较有意思一点。最后把它们摆在一起，会觉得这就是一个系列，它是合理的，它们放在一块是对的。

MOBAI: 我不是一个深刻的文学爱好者，也很久没有小时候或者十几岁二十岁读书的认真劲了。以前读书是从头看到尾，所以那时候对所有喜欢的书也印象深刻。但现在的阅读状态更接近于读两页就放边上，然后哪天我觉得状态更适合读这本书就再读两页。不像是连续的阅读状态，很像是创作的时候，更零碎也更松散。

小时候很喜欢《心是孤独的猎手》，这是很久之前读的了。再后来喜欢读星野道夫（Michio Hoshino），他是一位日本摄影师，到真正开始画画的时候，觉得读他的书很轻松，觉得他的视角跟我是相似的，他在写所有场景的时候我可以通过文字直接看到画面。我不确定别人读星野道夫的时候是什么感觉，但我会觉得这种方式的转换对我来说很容易，读起来很轻松，所以在之前不能旅行的时候我很喜欢读他。

还有就是维姆 · 文德斯（Wim Wenders）的一本书叫《一次》，他也是以摄影师的状态去写作的这本书。书中所有的细节都是非常片段的，浅浅一说就停止了，然后旁边配有他的黑白摄影作品。他的文字量和作品量很少，但这个少之后是一个很大的留白。这个留白你可以读，也可以不读，这种感觉很好。而且我买完之后发现这本书变绝版书了，我就更喜欢了。

MOBAI: 如果只是画这件事情，对我来说不是很难的事，我觉得可能生活才比较难。

我也有练苦功的时期。小时候我爸是画家，他也练书法，想起来我童年所有的假期，从暑假、寒假到任何其他的假期，除了完成作业以外还有很多的时间是要画画或者写书法的。我被要求必须写书法，即便这个字我都不认识我也得写，每年都这样，所以我也不喜欢过寒假暑假。我当时也不知道为什么，也反抗，也会跟我爸写信、控诉之类的，但没有用，但还是一直写。写到了我18岁去考美院，我就非常感谢他，我觉得如果再来一次我可能吃不了这个苦，真的是他让我那么早就拿起毛笔一直在做这一件事。这个真的是童子功，所以我从书法转到绘画的这个过程真的很丝滑，很容易，这个容易是来自于他早年对我的要求。

MOBAI: 有的，有的。刚开始是你想要什么，但是那个想要的东西不具体，但是你又知道不是你现在所在的这个状态，这个过程就很难受。但我觉得有这种欲望是好的，能有这种知道自己不够好，知道自己有想要的东西，然后你要去触摸，这对我来说很重要。很折磨，但是磨出来就开心了。

MOBAI: 是通过扩大自己的认知范围。原来我可能只是画画，也不和其他艺术家往来，不去认识。后来可能跟一位学陶瓷的朋友交往，我突然间觉得很多材料其实都是可以去认识的，在那之后就突然间觉得有得到一个钥匙，把钥匙拿到手之后就很舒服了。你会发现自己的天赋原来在这儿，并且各种材质的使用对我来说是新的，而且是我还很容易去实现的，我很兴奋。也觉得在创作这件事情上，终于找到了属于自己的那个小小的空间，这个感觉太好了。

MOBAI: 是的。你会觉得做一件事情极其容易，而且极其兴奋。每天做完就想第二天马上去工作室画画，想看看前一天的东西现在什么样了，这个过程是非常非常开心的。我以前其实有怀疑过，我是真的喜欢画画，还是因为会画画才画画？当我找到那个点之后，我就确认了。当时我和一个朋友共用一个工作室，他非常羡慕我当时的状态，因为他也能够看到我找到了。