Category Archives: *Art Reviews

November’s Bits and Pieces

November had me on the other side of the globe again. This time I packed a couple of recent paintings to give as gifts for family. Lucky for me, framing in Beijing is much cheaper than in the States. I can afford to elevate my paintings a bit, which definitely makes the presentation better and adds to my confidence. Here are some of the paintings I gifted:

During my last long stay in Beijing, I decided to make the most of the situation by practicing watercolor. Oil wasn’t an option and watercolor stuff barely takes up any room. I am happy to report that I’ve actually stuck with the plan. My current goal in practice is trying to keep the colors clean. Small steps, but still moving forward.

Gallery-wise, I saw Liu Jude’s 刘巨德 solo show at the Today Art Museum: Hearts Aflame for the Firmament. Liu studied at the Central Academy of Craft Art in 1965 and later worked under Pang Xunqin 庞薰琹 (1906 – 1985) in 1978, researching the comparison between traditional Chinese decorative art and Western modern art. He believes that painting should imitate the Tao that births all things: using the invisible Tao to paint visible objects, and using visible objects to paint the invisible Tao. His art isn’t constrained by the classification of genre or technique; he adheres to the traditions of Chinese decorative art but modernizes that formal beauty, making him unique in the Chinese art world. The exhibition featured over 200 new pieces by Liu and more than 100 ceramic debuts. Divided into “Ode to Peace” and “Ode to Hometown,” the show presented a kind of “chaotic beauty” and deep emotions for his roots.

In his artist statement, Liu mentioned: “Every time I paint, on the clean Xuan paper, I always put down thick black ink first, trying to occupy, grasp, and stabilize the whole space. As for what object that ink block, dot, or line represents, it is ambiguous, and I am not entirely clear. It is precisely this uncertain relationship of abstract points and lines that triggers me, pulling me to wander with it.”

In comparison, the National Still Life Exhibition hosted by the Chinese Academy of Oil Painting felt … fine. Technically solid, just not particularly exciting.

Finally, on one perfectly sunny mid-November day, I took this photo of a path covered in golden ginkgo leaves, a staple scene in Beijing’s autumn. Doubao, ByteDance’s (owner of TikTok) AI app, turned it into a watercolor painting. Love it or hate it, AI art will be a staple of the art world.

A Stronghold for Realism: The New Salem Museum and Academy of Fine Art

If you’re driving from Boston westward—say, toward Ithaca like I was—take a detour to New Salem, Massachusetts. Nestled in the vibrant fall foliage of a classic New England town, the New Salem Museum and Academy of Fine Art (NSMA) is a treat for anyone who loves realist art.

The NSMA sits on 2 acres, surrounded by a vegetable and rose garden and a serene pond. The three-story 19th-century building was once part of the New Salem Academy. In 2023, Laura and Vincent Barletta purchased it, turning their passion for art into a public treasure. Their journey as collectors began 20 years ago when they fell in love with Michael Klein’s painting “Leaving Home” in a New York gallery. Two decades later, Klein, a leading artist in the revival of representational painting in America, was enlisted to curate and direct the museum and its academy. Their mission is to create a stronghold for contemporary realist art.

The museum, housed on the first two floors, showcases a collection of contemporary realist masterpieces, primarily from living artists, such as Jeffrey T. Larson, Jordan Sokol, Jeremy Lipking, Colleen Barry, Michael Klein, Kate Lehman, Oliver Czarnetta, Daniel Sprick and more. It also features historical gems by John Singer Sargent and Andrew Wyeth, connecting the past and present. The Barlettas’ commitment to sharing their private collection with the public sets NSMA apart. Many artworks, once acquired by private collectors, end up hidden in storage. By opening their collection, the Barlettas ensure these works remain vibrant and accessible.

The museum represent the Barlettas’, especially Laura’s taste in art, but it also embodies Michael Klein’s curatorial vision. Like his paintings, the display is a thoughtful and gentle invitation to experience truth and beauty. It is intimate but not small. Strolling from one gallery to another, you enjoy a natural flow of richness in substance and dynamic cohesion. The value of the art and the quality of the setting are in perfect harmony.

The collection is rotated and expanded regularly. I watched YouTube walkthroughs of past exhibitions, and the displays were different from what I saw, making NSMA a destination worth multiple trips.

The third floor houses the NSMA Academy, a hub for aspiring artists. It offers workshops and classes led by professionals like Rachel Li for painting and Stephen Saxenian for sculpting. The academy fosters creativity and skill development, creating a space for artists to grow and connect. NSMA also hosts an annual International Painting Competition with a sizable award, welcoming all subject matters in representational art. You can view the 2025 finalists on their website or watch a video review by artist David Kassan.

Following a tip from NSMA’s website, I visited the nearby New Salem General Store, a charming spot that’s part convenience shop, post office, and bakery. I grabbed a couple of freshly baked energy cookies and a hot apple cider, then picnicked in NSMA’s back garden. The view of the pond, paired with the treats, was unforgettable, a perfect complement to the museum visit.

The Pond

Michael Klein once said, “Painting is a luxury that brings joy to our lives; it allows us time to sit in front of nature and be awed by the beauty that exists.” (“Art, God, and Beauty”, Realism Today) NSMA is the perfect manifestation of that. Whether you’re an art enthusiast or just looking for a unique stop, NSMA delivers inspiration and beauty.

Alphonse Mucha: Art, Destiny, and the “Brilliant and Epic” Exhibition

The Today Art Museum in Beijing recently hosted “Brilliant and Epic,” an Alphonse Mucha exhibition showcasing nearly 200 original works, from posters and paintings to drawings and decorative designs. Intertwining the splendor of Mucha’s commercial art with the grandeur of his nationalistic narratives, the show intended to reveal the duality of his legacy: a master of Art Nouveau’s aesthetic revolution and a spiritual chronicler of Slavic heritage. Inspired by this exhibition, I offer not a formal review but a personal reflection on Mucha’s art, his destiny as an artist, and the enduring resonance of his vision.

A Personal Encounter: Mucha’s Painterly Mastery

My first encounter with Alphonse Mucha was not through his iconic posters but in a composition class, where I studied two of his 1920s oil paintings: Fate (1920) and Girl with Loose Hair and Tulips (1920). These works captivated me with their bold compositions and nuanced value choices. In Girl, the natural curvature of the seated figure contrasts with the geometric wall behind her, while her cascading hair divides the canvas into expansive shapes. The intricate folds of her dress and the unruly texture of her hair play against the wall’s emptiness, with muted tones punctuated by the vibrant red of a tulip. The result is a serene yet vibrant harmony, a balance of peace and subtle tension. Similarly, Fate juxtaposes a vast cream-white space above with the intricate patterns and folds below, the woman’s intense gaze and powerful hands set against the soft texture of the fabric. Every inch of these paintings feels deliberate, a testament to Mucha’s skill. 

My composition teacher remarked that Mucha’s fame as a decorative artist often overshadows his prowess as a painter. I was struck by Mucha’s use of liubai (leaving blank space), a technique central to traditional Chinese painting, where open spaces balance intricate details to achieve a minimalist-maximalist harmony, while guiding the viewer’s eyes without overwhelming them. Walking through the exhibition, it was obvious that the posters and designs reinforced how this harmony, rooted in liubai 留白, distinguishes Mucha’s work across mediums. Furthermore, both his painterly and decorative works were grounded in realistic sketches and live models, revealing a traditional approach beneath his stylized designs.

My composition teacher remarked that Mucha’s fame as a decorative artist often overshadows his prowess as a painter. I was struck by Mucha’s use of liubai (leaving blank space), a technique central to traditional Chinese painting, where open spaces balance intricate details to achieve a minimalist-maximalist harmony, while guiding the viewer’s eyes without overwhelming them. Walking through the exhibition, it was obvious that the posters and designs reinforced how this harmony, rooted in liubai 留白, distinguishes Mucha’s work across mediums. Furthermore, both his painterly and decorative works were grounded in realistic sketches and live models, revealing a traditional approach beneath his stylized designs.

There’s also a personal layer in my appreciation of Mucha’s art. My own maternal grandparents were both decorative artists active in China during the 1930s and 40s. Though I never met them, seeing their surviving works instilled in me an early fascination with design and pattern. One of my grandmother’s paintings (“Peony, King of Flowers”), features twelve female figures representing the flowers of each month, with peonies at the center, echoing Mucha’s fusion of women and blossoms into a harmonious union of humanity and nature. (See more about my grandma’s art and life at Xuying Art Gallery)

The Beijing exhibition also included Mucha’s Documents Décoratifs (1902) and Figures Décoratives, which illuminate his design process. Starting with naturalistic drawings, he stylized the forms into patterns, further abstracted the pattens to space-filling shapes, and finally applied it to various objects. My grandmother’s sketches, found in her archived drafts, follow a similar path. 

The overlapping principles and methods Mucha and my grandparents used in creating artworks make me think that the divide between fine art, decorative art, and even commercial art is so arbitrary – barriers the entire Art Nouveau movement sought to break. Whether painting or designing, for a product or for a gallery, there’s no shortcut to achieving an effective artwork. As long as the artist stays true to his craft and vision, there’s no high or low in the process.

Mucha’s Destiny: Art for the People

Born in 1860 in Ivančice, Moravia, Alphonse Mucha rose from modest beginnings to become the king of Art Nouveau, yet his ambitions reached beyond artistic movements. Trained in Munich and Paris, his career soared with the 1894 Gismonda poster for Sarah Bernhardt, launching the “Style Mucha”—sinuous lines, floral motifs, and idealized women. But Mucha saw his talent as a divine gift, carrying a responsibility to serve a higher purpose. He declared, “I wish to be an artist who paints for the people, rather than one who pursues art merely for art’s sake.” With this conviction, Mucha created posters not just for products but as art for all, choosing the format to democratize beauty. Works like The Seasons (1896) or The Arts (1898), with no commercial tie, were affordable and visible on Paris streets, meant to uplift the masses. Yet, his vision faced irony. The models for his elegant figures were often poor women, whose reality was far removed from the flowing bouquets, lace, and ornate garments of his art. His idealized style became a fashion for wealthy salons, an escapism that defined Art Nouveau’s allure. Mucha lamented this disconnect: “I saw my works decorating the salons of high society… My time, my most precious time, consumed on these, while my homeland was like a stagnant pool drying up. In my soul, I knew I was sinfully squandering what belonged to my people.”

The Last Days of Jan Amos Komenský in Naarden, oil on canvas, 8.1 x 6.1 m, 1912

This frustration drove him to create The Slav Epic (1912–1926), a series of 20 monumental canvases celebrating Slavic history and identity. Donated to Prague in 1928, it responded to the formation of Czechoslovakia, reflecting Mucha’s Czech pride and vision of Slavic unity. The Beijing exhibition’s final section featured a digital, animated version of the Epic on a large screen, a choice I found misguided. In The Last Days of Jan Amos Komenský in Naarden, the original’s somber stillness conveys profound hope, but animating the grass or figures dilutes its emotional weight. Perhaps I am old-fashioned, but I believe each art form has its own language, and I am never a fan of the popular trend of “immersion” experience where famous paintings are translated into 3D projection. On the other hand, I can sympathize with the show organizers’ intention in doing so – likely an attempt to draw a larger, younger crowd with modern technology. Given his own efforts to democratize art through accessible posters, one could argue that Mucha might very well embrace all the novel methods to spread beauty!

Mucha’s Legacy: Beauty, Unity, and Revival

Mucha believed truth, love, and beauty formed the foundation of the human spirit. Art Nouveau, with its organic forms and curves, rose against the academic rigidity and the drabness of industrialization. Mucha’s flowing lines and harmonious designs offered an antidote, a vision of creation rathe than destruction. Yet, by the 1930s, as modernism embraced abstraction, his style fell out of favor, seen as outdated. After his death in 1939, his work was neglected, with The Slav Epic stored away until the 1960s.

The 1960s counterculture revived Mucha’s aesthetic, his sinuous lines inspiring psychedelic rock posters and album covers. His influence extended to Japanese manga, particularly among the “Year 24 Group” of female artists in the 1970s, who pioneered shōjo manga. Works like Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon and CLAMP’s Cardcaptor Sakura echo Mucha’s floral backgrounds, geometric halos, and vine-wrapped compositions. Mucha’s influence on popular art laid the groundwork for his global resurgence, evident in recent exhibitions worldwide. This is also not the first time Mucha has been exhibited in Beijing. In fact, Mucha is so loved by the Chinese that there’s a museum dedicated to him in central China. I believe Mucha’s resurgence reflects more than stylistic appeal. Much of postmodern aesthetics prioritize incomprehensibility or deconstruction, while rejecting traditional beauty. Mucha’s art, rooted in continuous creation and human connection, offers a counterpoint. He wrote, “We must hold on to the hope that humanity can unite as one, and the more we understand each other, the closer this hope will become a reality.” His revival signals a yearning for love, beauty, and unity in a fragmented world.

Contrasting Canvases: The Modern Women of Cassatt and Lempicka

Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco recently offered a fascinating opportunity to view the works of two remarkable women artists: American Impressionist Mary Cassatt (1844-1926) at the Legion of Honor and Art Deco icon Tamara de Lempicka (1898-1980) at the de Young. Mary Cassatt at Work is the first major U.S. presentation of Cassatt’s work in over 25 years. With more than 100 pieces, the exhibition surveys Cassatt’s materials and processes across 50 years of art-making. Tamara de Lempicka, meanwhile, with more than 120 drawings and paintings, marks her first full museum retrospective in the United States. While both navigated the challenges of working in a male-dominated art world, their approaches to subject matter, artistic expression, public persona, and ultimate position in art history reveal contrasting yet equally compelling perspectives on the complexities of modernity.

Mary Cassatt was born in Pennsylvania, USA, into a well-to-do family and defied societal norms to pursue a career as a professional artist. She trained in Philadelphia before moving to Paris in 1866, where she would become one of the few American artists to join the Impressionist movement. Cassatt is celebrated for her paintings of women and children, but the exhibition sheds light on many aspects of her artistic exploration in both techniques and subject matters. In her oil and pastel painting, the airy and light infused brushwork, while typical of the impressionists, was also energetic and abstract, in sharp contrast with the delicate linework of her drypoint prints. Her composition, the use of big shapes and patterns, was influenced by Japanese woodblock prints, a craft she herself attempted. 

Apart from her technical versatility, the most interesting aspect to me was her choice of subject matter. Her earlier works often featured people around her. She chronicled her immediate surroundings, capturing her parents reading, her sister sewing, and domestic employees doing house work and taking care of children. Her later works narrowed in more and more on the mother-child theme. The composition was more staged, the brushwork more polished. 

Cassatt didn’t have children. Her focus on domesticity could be seen as a way to compensate for this lack in her own life. It could also have been a calculated choice to manufacture a narrative or a niche presence for her art. Many of her paintings, while seemingly catching an intimate moment, were created using paid models in carefully crafted studio fictions. Her own mother called her a woman who was “intent on fame and money.” This single-minded focus rendered her commercial success, but in comparison, her later art was less intriguing and experimental. In a time when woman had less opportunity to make a name in art, a woman artist must be more conscious about how she’s perceived by her peers and the public. The trade-off might have been necessary for a woman to succeed in this field.

Two paintings from the show stood out for me. “A Goodnight Hug,” a pastel, is the best showcase of her skills. It is impressionist in style, with a penetrating sense of intimacy, but it is carefully designed to avoid cheap sentimentalism. The soft, curvy shapes of the mother and child contrast with the straight lines and scratchy, broken patterns in the background, making the piece visually intriguing. “In the Loge”, 1878, another a masterpiece in design, also offers an important perspective on female agency. It features the side view of an elegant woman at the opera. Dressed in black, she is intently scrutinizing the performance through opera glasses. The woman dominates the painting, but her attention is elsewhere. The light-colored balconies curve and extend to partition the background into big shapes. Tiny figures of audience serve almost as decorations, except for one man, who is looking at her through glasses. The painting depicts a woman in public, consciously aware of her surrounding, but decided to pursue her own interests, ignoring male gaze. Her face is delicate but determined. The poster-like composition has a modern simplicity that echoes the decisiveness of the subject. 

While Cassatt presented herself as a serious and dedicated artist, committed to her craft and the pursuit of artistic excellence, Tamara de Lempicka is a more colorful image in the public eye. She embodied the spirit of the Roaring Twenties. Her “modern woman” is achieved not just through her art, but also her own life style, which mirrored the Art Deco aesthetic she became known for—sleek, luxurious, and bold.

Born Maria Gorska in Warsaw, Poland, she later adopted the aristocratic title “de Lempicka” and crafted a persona as a glamorous, independent, and sexually liberated artist. She studied under André Lhote (1885-1962), the pioneer of synthetic cubism. Soon Lempicka surpassed her teacher and formed her distinctive style, the sensual and monumental forms of the Italian sculptures with the geometric aesthetics Futurism. 

Lempicka’s early works were portraits of familiar people and humble still lifes, then she moved on to explore the sexual agency through female nudes. Her clothed figures, often members of high society dressed in the latest high fashion, are set against compressed skyscrapers in the background, reflecting the opulence and modernity of the time.

Lempicka embraced the role of the “artist as celebrity,” using her charisma and personal style to promote her work. She achieved considerable commercial success, with her paintings selling for high prices and attracting the attention of wealthy patrons. However, her popularity waned in the 1940s as artistic tastes shifted. Her 1941 show in San Francisco was an attempt to revive her popularity. It featured her paintings of people in distress due to the war, as well as some religious pieces. The artworks seemed contrived and inauthentic, and the review was mixed. Her later works saw a return to an overlooked subject  – still lifes, with more polished skills. As the aesthetics moving on to an expressive display of brushstrokes, her high finish and renaissance invisibility fell out of fashion. 

Kizette on the Balcony, oil on canvas, 1927

The paintings I like the most in the show are those where Lempicka used her daughter as the model, represented by “Kizette on the Balcony,” a piece that brought her first recognition. Unlike Cassatt, Lempicka married and had children, but she tried hard not to be seen as a mother. When “Kizette on the Balcony” was shown in Paris, it was simply titled “On the Balcony.” However, there is a sense of intimacy and sensitivity that makes this piece endearing. The young girl sitting on the balcony fills the plane, forms a diagonal relationship to the confines of the frame. This dynamism add liveliness to the painting. The smooth curvilinear shapes of the body set against the crowded sharp-edged geometric buildings in the background, symbolizing the contrast between childhood and the mature world. The girl’s presence is almost towering, and her expression inquisitive. There is wondering, but no hesitation.

Both artists presented modern women of their own time, albeit through different approaches and with different intentions. Cassatt’s pursuit of artistic excellence and her commitment to a more “appropriate” subject  for a woman artist helped secure her status as a major figure in Impressionism. Lempicka’s approach to promoting her art through a glamorous life style may have hindered a more serious critical appraisal of her work. Cassatt presented herself as loyal to the practice of art. Lempicka chose to live through it. As an amateur artist living in a time with fewer restrictions for women, the exhibition begs the question of how a woman presents herself in a professional world and what one should prioritize as an artist – something I don’t often think about. Perhaps, this is one of the most enduring questions left behind by these shows.

“He Makes the Distance Between All Things Disappear.”

[Note: The title is a quote from Spanish sculptor Francisco Baron’s preface to Car Li’s 1992 solo show in Spain.]

During my recent trip to China, I visited many exhibitions, and the works of one artist appeared in multiple shows, leaving a strong impression on me. He is Cao Li 曹力 (1954-), a professor of the Mural Department at the Central Academy of Fine Arts 中央美术学院. Cao Li has received traditional art training but does not carry the baggage of the academic style; in his work, he is unrestricted, and his imagination and artistic inspiration traverse ancient and modern, East and West. His themes range from reality to dreams, and his media include line drawing, watercolor, oil painting, wood carving, stone relief, etc.. His ability to move freely across different media reminds me of James Jean, though in terms of artistic expression, Cao Li is more mature and unrestrained. His works exhibit the absurdity of Dali, the seclusion of Klee, the alienating humor of Klimt, the multidimensional thinking of Picasso, the simplicity and innocence of Matisse, and the romantic imagination of Chagall. They also draw inspiration from traditional Chinese paintings, especially the murals of Dunhuang 敦煌, Yongle 永乐 Palace, and certain cave sculptures. 

In the artist’s own words, “Art knows no boundaries; it is the product of the soul, an expression of true feelings, the natural flow of life, a free flight. Nature itself is not art; only what flows through the filter of an artist’s soul can be called ‘art.’ It’s like the process of making wine: grains and grapes themselves do not intoxicate, but after brewing, impurities are removed, leaving the essence that can captivate and enchant people.”

Cao Li enjoys music, a recurring theme in his paintings. His lines, compositions, and colors move like melodies, possessing a lively rhythm. Influenced by his line drawings, his oil paintings almost always start with a planar structure of lines as the initial outline and main framework. He then enriches, thickens, and adds depth to the work through the organic organization of colors. He says, “I control the blocks of color, dots of color, color areas, and lines in the same way a composer arranges notes, tones, rhythms, and tempo. Once these ‘force points’ are placed in the right spots and combined in myriad ways, the disrupted calm space is reordered.”

One aspect that interests me when viewing works by Chinese artists is their effort to blend traditional Chinese art with Western painting. The design of figures and the use of color in Cao Li’s works have a distinctly national character. His ink paintings even introduce modernist traditions. His teacher, the renowned artist Yuan Yunsheng 袁运生 (1937-), has taken this fusion even further by applying Abstract Expressionism to ink painting. In the 798 Art District in Beijing, I was fortunate enough to see an exhibition of his works.

While visiting the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute 四川美术学院, I had the chance to view the “Chinese Painting MFA Invitational Exhibition 2000-2020.” These young artists originally studied Chinese painting, but now their works clearly show influences from oil painting, printmaking, and other art forms. Their use of media has also moved far beyond traditional paper and ink. They draw inspiration from the collision of diverse cultures, creating works that are more personal and profound. Unfortunately most of the artworks on display have glass cover, and makes it very difficult to photograph. I only captured a tiny portion of the treasures on display. 

Here are some paintings from one of my favorite artists from the show:

Amid all the talking about the “lying flat” culture in China, it is quite exciting to see the art scene there is lively and flourishing.

P.S. Unlike in America, most of the Chinese artists don’t maintain personal websites. Artron 雅昌 is platform where many artists post their works, but the level of accuracy and maintenance vary. You can find more works from Cao Li here: 作品

James Jean: Eternal Spiral IV

Recently in Beijing, I had the chance to visit Eternal Spiral IV, an exhibition by Taiwanese-American artist James Jean. It was a revelation. Jean began his career working for DC and Marvel, before transitioning fully to fine art in 2008. This exhibition showcases more than 200 pieces spanning over two decades of his creative journey, including paintings, sculptures, animations, installations, and even tapestries—a true multimedia experience.

The exhibition begins with Jean’s sketchbooks and drafts. These aren’t just technical studies; they offer a rare glimpse into his process. His lines are filled with energy, precision, and constant revision. As someone who has always been afraid to sketch freely, seeing how even a master like Jean frequently changes his mind, makes mistakes, and abandons ideas was oddly reassuring.  It made me realize that sketching is a form of exploration, a space to make mistakes and grow, not something to shy away from due to fear of imperfection.

From sketches, the exhibition moves into Jean’s paintings, mostly done in acrylic. His style is a fusion of cultural influences that reflects his identity as a “cultural nomad.” He draws from sources as varied as Chinese scroll paintings, Japanese woodblock prints, and Baroque art, blending them seamlessly with contemporary culture and digital techniques. The result is a layered, intricate narrative that feels at once both timeless and modern. His dream-like compositions often depict creatures and plants spilling out of the canvas, creating fantastical worlds where reality and fantasy blur together. These hallucinatory landscapes are vibrant yet tranquil, chaotic yet serene—like stepping into someone else’s dream. He plays with delicate lines and bold colors, using vibrant pinks, blues, oranges, and golds to make his worlds feel alive. “I enjoy making colors vibrate against each other to create sparks in the eye,” Jean said. 

The keynote painting of the show was Jean’s newest piece, Chimera, inspired by a visit to the Kaiyuan 开元 Temple in Quanzhou 泉州, Fujian 福建. The temple’s “Kirin Wall” and the tangled banyan roots influenced the composition, which also weaves in Jean’s personal family history. His ancestors were from Fujian, but much of that history was lost when his grandparents moved to Taiwan. In Chimera, the roots reach out, searching for something to grasp, much like Jean’s own search for his heritage. Quanzhou happened to be my ancestral home too, and I have visited Kaiyuan Temple as a child. To some extent, I resonate with the tension between the desire to search for one’s root and the acute sense of disconnection. Jean has talked about the creation of this painting on his Instagram

Chimera as the poster of Eternal Spiral IV

One particularly unique aspect of this exhibition is how it integrates social media. Jean, who has over a million followers on platforms like Instagram and Xiaohongshu 小红书, included 11 time-lapse videos of his creative process.  I’d never seen social media incorporated into a gallery setting like this before, and it added an intriguing link between the fantasy world create by the artist and the mundane modern life. 

The show includes prints of Jean’s series “Seven Phases,” a collection of 7 paintings representing each member of the beloved K-pop group BTS in the “spirits of flowers”. There are also prints of posters he designed for films like Everything Everywhere All at Once and The Shape of Water. Guillermo del Toro personally asked him to create the poster for the latter, which he rendered in vivid charcoal. My favorite is his poster for Blade Runner 2049— romantic and surreal. Jean’s ability to move between fine art and pop culture, and across different media, speaks to his versatility and boundless creativity.

A surprise for me was Jean’s love for tapestries. He has engaged with this unconventional medium for a while and his 2024 piece Year of the Dragon made its debut here. It features a dragon—one of the most powerful figures in the Chinese zodiac—woven from a mix of flowers and plants. The dragon symbolizes strength, but Jean reinterprets it in his signature style, making it feel both traditional and personal. This reimagining of cultural symbols is a recurring theme in his work.

Jean’s versatility doesn’t stop with tapestries. His sculptures, some standing over three meters tall, bring characters from his paintings into the physical world. They blend European myths, Asian folklore, and fairy tale elements. Some sculptures are based on the artist’s painting, and shown with large-scale animation, completing the cycle from 2D to 3D to “4D.”

The final room of the exhibition left me in awe. Six massive paintings, each over 10 meters long, sprawling yet detailed, demonstrating Jean’s ability to create on both an epic and intimate scale. Descendants—Blue Wood, inspired by Seoul’s Lotte World Tower and the fairy tale Jack and the Beanstalk. Aviary depicts an imagined world inspired by Chinese folk legends. Monks, bird deities, erhu … many traditional Chinese elements intertwine, emerging from the mind of a sleeping monk enveloped in flames. An enigmatic dreamscape!

Aviary, acrylic on three canvases, 246 x 120”

Eternal Spiral IV is more than just an exhibition of James Jean’s talent; it’s an invitation into his ever-shifting, multi-dimensional world where dreams, myths, and reality collide. It left me in awe and inspired. In Jean’s own words, “ultimately, it’s about having the freedom to create whatever imagery I want.” I believe that freedom comes from his impeccable skill and dedication to art. While Jean’s art has a distinct style, but he has managed to breakthrough with constant searching for both meaning and new ways of expression. 

Did I mention that his first NFT “Slingshot” was sold at $469,696.35? I have also picked up my long abandoned sketchbook. 🙂

Slingshot (3m tall statue, part of the “Pantheon” collection in the show)

Review: Fashioning San Francisco

The de Young Museum’s Fashioning San Francisco: A Century of Style promised to whisk us away on a stylish journey through San Francisco’s fashion history. It ambitiously aimed to cover over a century of women’s fashion through the works of more than 50 designers, from French couturiers to Japanese avant-garde designers, including Christian Dior, Alexander McQueen, Christopher John Rogers, Comme des Garçons, and Rodarte. But, let’s just say, it didn’t quite strut the runway as expected.

For starters, the vibe was off. Compared to the dazzling Guo Pei: Couture Fantasy, the vibrant Patrick Kelly: Runway of Love, or the elegant Contemporary Muslim Fashions (2018), Fashioning San Francisco felt more like a stroll through a dimly lit memory lane. The gallery’s lighting did the exhibit no favors; it was too dark, making it hard to appreciate the nuances and craftsmanship of the pieces. This shadowy ambiance, rather than creating an intimate setting, unfortunately, accentuated the weariness of the ensembles, making the fashion scene feel somewhat muted and dull. Ironically, the museum’s own catalogue of the show were taken in much flattering lighting. Mannequins with disproportional large head is another feature of the show.

The exhibition starts with the city’s recovery from the devastating earthquake and fire of1906, followed by its reassertion on the global stage with the exponential growth of international trade and the rise of department stores, and finally became the playground for the avant-garde. From the legendary “little black dress” by stars like Karl Lagerfield and Valentino to rad pieces by Japanese designers like Rei Kawakubo and Issey Miyake. The intend is to showcase the city’s role in the global fashion dialogue. The exhibition also pays homage to the “power suits” of working women and the significant role of footwear in expressing individual identity.

However, in a lay person’s eye, Fashioning San Francisco inadvertently painted the city as a lesser European town becoming a mediocre melting pot. De Young claims “The designs on view, many never shown before, reflect San Francisco’s long-standing tradition of self-expression through fashion.” If there’s anything uniquely San Francisco in it, I failed to grab. This Vivienne Tam’s 1995 “Chairman Mao” dress with print of the Chinese dictator by Zhang Hongtu is as interesting as it gets, but it could also be from anywhere with a Chinese tie. Maybe I need to see a similar show for NYC, Paris, etc. to finally see the underline identity.

The foundation of the exhibition is the 2018 gift of more than 500 ensembles the museum by Palo Alto author and fashion collector Christine Suppes. Suppes’ donations span the past 35 years. I wonder if the taste of the collector shapes the outlook of the show. 

The show will run into August this year. 

Rockwell (1894 – 1978) and Guo Pei (1967 – )

It’s been a while since I visited any museums and this summer while traveling from Boston to Ithaca, I accidentally found out that the Norman Rockwell Museum was on the way. What a delightful discovery! It was a tiny unassuming white building resting on a scenic site overlooking the Housatonic River Valley. The main exhibition features some of the most famous illustrations and paintings by the renowned artist. All the covers he made for the Saturday Evening Post – from 1916 to 1963, 323 in total – are on display at a lower level. His last studio in Stockbridge was also moved to the museum site in the 80s and guided tours are offered.

The museum also hosts other illustration related exhibitions, and virtual exhibitions on their website.

In a more recent and much shorter trip, I got to see Guo Pei’s Couture Fantasy at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco. Guo Pei is a Chinese fashion designer who is very popular among Chinese and Western celebrities. She’s one who designed the spectacular 2015 Rihanna’s Met Gala gown. Many of Guo’s designs feature intricate embroidery and lavish materials. They are quite labor intensive, and some took thousands of hours to make.

Instead of putting all the items in one dedicated area, the museum chose to set some of her works up among their permanent collections, creating some interesting juxtaposition.

From cozy comic daily life to extravagant haute couture, each of these shows is a change of scene from my currently skill focused art practice. They make me think about what art is and what art serves. But most importantly, museums are fun and I am back!

Oil and Watercolor

The way I learned to paint in oil, is to start with an underpainting. It could be a monochromatic value sketch, or a diluted full color draft. Either way, the underpainting would be covered by thicker paints as I progress and hopefully the process took the work to a better place. Once in a while, I just fell in love with the underpainting, and the continuation of the work was saturated with doubts.

This river landscape (a Watts homework) was an example. The one on the left was the underpainting and the one on the right, the final work. I hesitated quite a while after the first draft about whether I should proceed at all. There was a liveliness and richness of color that I loved and didn’t know how to preserve when I added more paint to it. Also got lost was a sense of flatness, something more graphic and watercolor-y. This is not to say the underpainting was a better painting, but it makes me wonder the different directions I could have taken in finishing up this work (if it is not a homework in realistic landscape). Even some of the pencil marks begged to stay!

Moreover, can I achieve a watercolor effect with oil paints? Well, somebody can.

Those men were children once. Julian Meagher, 100 cm x 100 cm. Oil on linen, 2015

That’s Australian artist Julian Meagher, who painted in oil but managed to achieve the transparency and the lucid aesthetics of watercolor. Apart from his website, Amber Creswell Bell’s collection Still Life: Contemporary Painters has a good section on Mr. Meagher’s work. He painted with extremely diluted oil paint, and did not hesitate to use the white of linen canvas instead of white paint. The result is a good combination of precision and fluency.

His works remind me of Giorgio Morandi (1890 – 1964), one of my favorite still life artists (as I mentioned many times before). The technical approach couldn’t be more different. Morandi is opaque and static, while Mr. Meagher is more colorful and vibrant, cleaner and much more scaled up. However, the solitude, the quietness and the thoughtfulness are there.

The more I see good art, the more I am wowed by the range and the potential of the each medium. We are only limited by our skills! (Is this a good thing or a bad thing? :))) )

James Tissot: Fashion & Faith

James Tissot (1836 – 1902) French painter, currently on view at Legion of Honor.

Elaborate details, descriptive brushwork, but not particularly exciting and innovative artistic style.

My favorite painting from the show:

Mrs. Newton with a Parasol – James Tissot, c.1879

The influence of Japanese print is quite clear.

The show includes some of his watercolor illustrations for religious stories, very refreshing.

One side effect of learning life drawing is that whenever I see a realistic figure painting, I can’t help thinking if the proportion makes sense, or if the anatomy is right … Sometimes, it ruins the viewing experience. 😦