For Ma Jin’s Solo Exhibition
Song Yongxing
May 26, 2022
Blue Roof
“I don’t like painting, but in this final semester I have released three years, and a lifetime before that, of pent‑up feelings.” In this message, Ma Jin clarifies his relationship with art: he dislikes treating painting merely as a display of technical skill, as others often do. He seeks catharsis in his work, projecting his life experiences and emotions into his art. In other words, creation is Ma Jin’s own necessity—not just completing an assignment, nor creating to satisfy the value judgments of others. This active, self‑driven consciousness is exceptionally rare among the graduation works of students at our institute, and it is precisely this consciousness that imbues his work with passion and power.
Truthfully, I knew little about Ma Jin beforehand. He was a graduation student supervised by Wang Ying, and I only met him for the first time when Kang Haitao and I visited the diploma exhibition of the three‑year college program. Perhaps due to the competitive pressure of advancing to a bachelor’s program, students from the college class have always struck me as comparatively reserved and humble. Yet they are remarkably diligent in class, their demeanor revealing a determined intensity, as if contending with something, devoid of the restlessness and perfunctoriness common among many bachelor’s program students. At first meeting, Ma Jin carried an aura not much different from his peers—youthful, timid, slightly nervous around teachers. However, once the conversation turned to his own creations, he would eagerly flip through his phone to show his works, talking incessantly with a firm and unwavering gaze…
In terms of painterly language, most of Ma Jin’s works combine mixed media and Expressionism, with materiality being a primary expressive element. Splashed paint, passionate brushstrokes and textures, melted wax, ropes piercing through the canvas, and cold wire… His works contain almost no recognizable imagery, breaking free from painting’s representational and narrative functions to engage instead with the intrinsic relationships of the medium itself: material, structure, color, tonal values. Although he may not consciously trace these visual experiences to specific artists or movements, fragmented visual learning has clearly been internalized into an instinctive response, lending his work a distinct resonance with the abstractionism of the 1950s and ’60s.
The methodology of early modernist abstract painting explored the possibilities of the medium through its planar elements. Historically, however, such an approach risked leading to stylistic formula and a loss of the artist’s social experience, resulting in a lack of spiritual depth. Consequently, in its later stages, one faction of abstract artists moved beyond painting toward conceptual and installation art, while another pursued the expression of spirituality through abstract form. It is heartening to see that Ma Jin is not confined to further technical refinement or creative inertia. In another part of his oeuvre, we see a conscious exploration, an attempt to seek variation in both language and expression. For example, in one series, he partially painted over sections of discarded figure studies by former students, transforming the complete, representational human forms into scattered, flattened fragments of body parts, demonstrating a clear conceptual painting awareness. In another piece that initially appears as a mixed‑media painting, he suspends an old kitchen knife bound with wire in the upper part of the picture plane. The knife is held by a wire clasp, but if released, it slides down along the inclined wire path to the other end of the composition. The blade strikes a twisted knot of wire blocking its path, producing a percussive sound, giving the work a distinct exploratory quality of kinetic installation. Ma Jin says the sound of the knife sliding and colliding in the quiet of the night excites him deeply.
Emotion, individual consciousness, lived experience—Ma Jin projects these into his creations, maintaining a fervent creative drive and deriving great enjoyment from the process itself. I believe this very pleasure and experience the work brings him is the core motivation for his creation, beyond any external factors. His work exhibits a conscious desire for expression, born from an embrace of the unknown within the artistic process. This craving and dedication to the unknown fully embodies the essential qualities of an excellent artist and is a driving force in the development of art. Such a state is especially precious amidst the widespread pragmatic anxiety and utilitarian tendencies common among university students today.
Of course, Ma Jin’s work also reveals evident areas for growth: relative inexperience in wielding his visual language and a need for deeper research and reflection on art‑historical developments. However, if he persists in a serious and dedicated engagement with art, these issues will naturally resolve themselves. “I feel I might be somewhat different from other classmates, but I *want* to be different!” Ma Jin’s sense of isolation is only part of the challenge he faces; he will confront the larger, pressing realities of survival, especially in today’s climate of significant international and domestic change. Nevertheless, we should feel encouraged by the emergence of an artist like Ma Jin. His presence serves as a vital stimulus to the overall learning atmosphere of our institute, acting as an effective “catfish” in our pond. As teachers, all we can do is offer our wishes, hoping he can negotiate skillfully with reality and find a path requiring the least compromise. The road in art is long and arduous. The rest, we leave to time.
Truthfully, I knew little about Ma Jin beforehand. He was a graduation student supervised by Wang Ying, and I only met him for the first time when Kang Haitao and I visited the diploma exhibition of the three‑year college program. Perhaps due to the competitive pressure of advancing to a bachelor’s program, students from the college class have always struck me as comparatively reserved and humble. Yet they are remarkably diligent in class, their demeanor revealing a determined intensity, as if contending with something, devoid of the restlessness and perfunctoriness common among many bachelor’s program students. At first meeting, Ma Jin carried an aura not much different from his peers—youthful, timid, slightly nervous around teachers. However, once the conversation turned to his own creations, he would eagerly flip through his phone to show his works, talking incessantly with a firm and unwavering gaze…
In terms of painterly language, most of Ma Jin’s works combine mixed media and Expressionism, with materiality being a primary expressive element. Splashed paint, passionate brushstrokes and textures, melted wax, ropes piercing through the canvas, and cold wire… His works contain almost no recognizable imagery, breaking free from painting’s representational and narrative functions to engage instead with the intrinsic relationships of the medium itself: material, structure, color, tonal values. Although he may not consciously trace these visual experiences to specific artists or movements, fragmented visual learning has clearly been internalized into an instinctive response, lending his work a distinct resonance with the abstractionism of the 1950s and ’60s.
The methodology of early modernist abstract painting explored the possibilities of the medium through its planar elements. Historically, however, such an approach risked leading to stylistic formula and a loss of the artist’s social experience, resulting in a lack of spiritual depth. Consequently, in its later stages, one faction of abstract artists moved beyond painting toward conceptual and installation art, while another pursued the expression of spirituality through abstract form. It is heartening to see that Ma Jin is not confined to further technical refinement or creative inertia. In another part of his oeuvre, we see a conscious exploration, an attempt to seek variation in both language and expression. For example, in one series, he partially painted over sections of discarded figure studies by former students, transforming the complete, representational human forms into scattered, flattened fragments of body parts, demonstrating a clear conceptual painting awareness. In another piece that initially appears as a mixed‑media painting, he suspends an old kitchen knife bound with wire in the upper part of the picture plane. The knife is held by a wire clasp, but if released, it slides down along the inclined wire path to the other end of the composition. The blade strikes a twisted knot of wire blocking its path, producing a percussive sound, giving the work a distinct exploratory quality of kinetic installation. Ma Jin says the sound of the knife sliding and colliding in the quiet of the night excites him deeply.
Emotion, individual consciousness, lived experience—Ma Jin projects these into his creations, maintaining a fervent creative drive and deriving great enjoyment from the process itself. I believe this very pleasure and experience the work brings him is the core motivation for his creation, beyond any external factors. His work exhibits a conscious desire for expression, born from an embrace of the unknown within the artistic process. This craving and dedication to the unknown fully embodies the essential qualities of an excellent artist and is a driving force in the development of art. Such a state is especially precious amidst the widespread pragmatic anxiety and utilitarian tendencies common among university students today.
Of course, Ma Jin’s work also reveals evident areas for growth: relative inexperience in wielding his visual language and a need for deeper research and reflection on art‑historical developments. However, if he persists in a serious and dedicated engagement with art, these issues will naturally resolve themselves. “I feel I might be somewhat different from other classmates, but I *want* to be different!” Ma Jin’s sense of isolation is only part of the challenge he faces; he will confront the larger, pressing realities of survival, especially in today’s climate of significant international and domestic change. Nevertheless, we should feel encouraged by the emergence of an artist like Ma Jin. His presence serves as a vital stimulus to the overall learning atmosphere of our institute, acting as an effective “catfish” in our pond. As teachers, all we can do is offer our wishes, hoping he can negotiate skillfully with reality and find a path requiring the least compromise. The road in art is long and arduous. The rest, we leave to time.
Song Yongxing
May 26, 2022
Blue Roof